Date: 2013-10-30 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Post Apocalyptic; Science Fiction; Dystopia; Zombies; Horror; Young Adult; Apocalyptic; Fantasy; Action; Fiction
Description: In less than a day everything they've ever known has vanished and the world is in chaos. Uncertain where to turn and who to trust in this strange new world, they must band together in an attempt to survive. However, they slowly begin to realize it’s not only the crumbling earth, and treacherous people around them that are a threat, but also something unseen and even more lethal. *Note* This book is the second compilation of a serial story. It does not have an ending. *Due to language and graphic content this book is recommended for readers 17 and older.
Publisher: Smashwords

The Survivor Chronicles

Book 2

The Divide

Erica Stevens

Copyright 2013 Erica Stevens

Smashwords Edition

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Thank you for downloading this eBook. This is the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy.

Also from the author

The Captive Series

Captured (Book 1)

Renegade (Book2)

Refugee (Book 3)

Salvation (Book 4)

The Kindred Series

Kindred (Book 1)

Ashes (Book 2)

Kindled (Book 3)

Inferno (Book 4)

Phoenix Rising (Book 5)

The Ravening Series

Ravenous (Book 1)

Taken Over (Book 2)

The Survivor Chronicles

Book 1: The Upheaval

Book 2: The Divide

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Eric and Steve.

Thank you for bringing so much joy and laughter into my life.

You are still loved and missed every day.

Special Thanks

Special thanks to my husband for putting up with me,
to my parents for keeping me alive and being an endless source of support,
my siblings, nieces and nephews who make life more interesting and fun.

To my friends for helping to keep me sane.

To Leslie Mitchell for being such a good friend and amazing help,
and to all the fans who make everyday such a wonderful adventure!

Table of Contents

Other Works

Dedication

Special Thanks

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Where to Find The Author

About The Author

PROLOGUE

Riley understood the statement shaking like a leaf as she kept her head bowed behind the ATM. She couldn't bring herself to move, she had no idea what had just happened. No idea where Carl and John were and absolutely no idea where the ass with the gun was. She had to look out, but he hadn't known where she was and there was a chance he was still out there, still alive.

But she couldn't hide behind the machine forever.

If he was still alive he would eventually find her. Taking a deep breath, she released it as she steeled her courage and cautiously peeked around the machine. She half expected to get a bullet in her forehead before she could peer out completely but the store remained as hushed as the ocean on a foggy morning.

One eye peeped out around the machine; she realized she had stopped breathing as her lungs began to burn. She released it on a small exhale as she spotted the man on the floor. There was a growing pool of blood around the right leg of his prone figure. Even as the thought of him being dead crossed her mind his head tilted back and his brown eyes met hers.

There was a moment, when their eyes locked, that Riley felt as if the earth screeched to a halt. A moment when the stillness became complete and she saw in his eyes a madness that had nothing to do with the sickness raging outside and everything to do with a sickness inside of him. He'd meant to kill them when they'd entered this store, and she was certain they wouldn't have been his first victims.

Their eyes remained locked before she forced her gaze to the gun lying five feet away from the both of them.

The world lurched back to life as Riley burst out from behind the ATM at the same time the man lurched forward. Even maimed he was surprisingly quick as he scrambled for the gun. Years of softball had honed her ability for the headfirst slide and she used it now as she threw her arms out and launched for the gun.

Her fingers nearly grasped it but they knocked it aside in her fumbling attempt to grab it. It skittered just beyond her grasp as her forward momentum carried her beyond the weapon. She threw out her left hand to block the rack of magazines she was heading for. The rack toppled over with a loud clatter as she crashed into it.

She threw her hands over her head as magazines rained down on top of her. One of the magazines bounced off the bridge of her once broken nose. The break, which had occurred six years ago when she'd lost a baseball in the sun, still brought tears to her eyes every time something hit her nose. It didn't fail to do so now as she blinked back the tears that filled her eyes.

A hand wrapped around her ankle.

CHAPTER 1

John

Somewhere in Mass.

John held onto the handle above his head, his one leg was braced against the dashboard as the truck bounced over the ruts and holes marking the road. He warily watched the beat up Honda bouncing over the road in front of them. He was amazed the truck was holding up, never mind the dilapidated looking car.

Rochelle was bracing herself against the dashboard as Carl released a harsh breath that whistled between his teeth. The struts and shocks groaned loudly, and John wouldn't have been surprised to see one of their tires break off and go rolling past them. The car made a right turn onto a side road that was in far better condition.

Relief filled him as his teeth stopped chattering against each other. Rochelle slid limply back against her seat. Her brown hair had been pulled into a loose ponytail, but tendrils of it stuck to her neck and flushed face. Her doe brown eyes were wide as they shifted toward him. She was a tough kid, but she was still just a kid and right now she looked even younger than her twelve years.

"I think we just went off the intended track," Carl muttered.

"Yeah, but much more of the intended track and we were going to destroy both vehicles." John released his death grip on the handle and dropped his foot back to the ground.

"I don't like this." Carl's knuckles were white as he leaned forward to peer over the steering wheel. His battered Red Sox hat was pulled low over his watery gray eyes in an attempt to block the sunlight. The tips of his light brown hair curled around the edges of the cap. The lines in his weathered face appeared even deeper as he frowned at the road.

"I don't like any of this either, but what choice do we have? The river cut us off from the highway and the road was barely passable."

John leaned forward as they entered into a small town that he'd never been to before. Buildings had collapsed in on themselves; the sidewalks had cascaded upward in what reminded him of some sort of demented domino game. Trees, uprooted by the upheaval of the sidewalks, were tumbled haphazardly into the street. In front of them Al pulled the car onto the sidewalk as he sought to avoid the toppled trees cluttering the roadway.

John had become so used to the chaos, destruction, and crunching of animal and bird bones beneath the tires of the truck that it took him awhile to notice the complete stillness that surrounded them. His eyes darted over the broken buildings and sidewalks in search of any sign of life. He could see the smoke smoldering on the horizon but at least he didn't see leaping flames or the reddish glow of lava anymore.

He leaned even closer to the windshield. All the towns they'd gone through had been relatively quiet, but nowhere near this quiet. There was no one wandering the streets, no one in passing vehicles. Nothing to mark that there had actually been people living within this town. "Carl…"

"I know."

"Where is everyone?" Rochelle inquired.

John strained to see into the windows of the buildings that remained standing, but curtains and blinds blocked his view, and the rest were covered in dirt or ash, or some other dark substance that obscured the glass. Most of the buildings appeared to be commercial but a few of them had apartments over them. There were bars and restaurants mixed in with hardware stores, jewelry stores, and a Dunkin' Donuts. Saliva filled his mouth as they drove past the coffee place that had been his main staple of life since junior year in high school.

He almost asked Carl to stop, but didn't have to as Al had parked on the broken sidewalk and the three of them were already climbing out of the car. Riley stretched her back as Lee placed his gun on the roof of the car and surveyed the empty coffee shop. Apparently they were as much of a coffee addict as he was.

Except, he realized, they weren't staring at the coffee shop like he was. He felt like an idiot as he climbed out of the truck and followed their gazes to the small convenience store nestled in between a pharmacy and a liquor store entitled Franklin Liquors. Well, at least he knew what town they were in now, though it did him little good as he had no knowledge of this area of the state.

"It doesn't look like that store has been raided yet, and I don't know about you guys but I'd rather be over-prepared than under." Al nodded toward the small convenience store as he strolled over to join them. "Plus that car is tough on a person's body."

"You can say that again," Lee muttered.

"Are you sure this is where you want to stop?" Rochelle inquired as she glanced nervously around the deserted streets.

"No, but do you want to pass up the opportunity? We may not get another one," Al rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he eyed the store. His blue eyes were sharp behind his glasses and for an older guy he had a surprisingly full head of gray hair. His face was lined, but they were the softer lines that had been acquired by age and not the deeper lines that were etched by a lifetime of hardship. "That pharmacy will have medical supplies that we'll need too. We can check it out after the convenience store."

John eyed the brick fronted building. Rochelle stood close to his side as she shifted uncomfortably and studied the street. "I don't like this one little bit," Riley said.

"Well from the look of things at least Franklin won't be able to beat you in the softball tournament again this year," Lee teased as he elbowed her lightly in the side.

Riley scowled at him. "I'm going to aim for your leg," she told Lee as she stepped off the broken sidewalk and onto the street.

John bit his inner cheek to keep from laughing. Spunky and cute, he thought as he watched her creep across the street with Al and Carl close to her side. He wondered if Lee was her boyfriend as he questioningly surveyed the surfer looking guy with sun bleached hair and deep blue eyes.

"Are you going to stay here?" he asked Rochelle.

"Hell no!" she retorted. "I've seen enough scary movies to know the rules. There is no way I'm staying here by myself."

Lee shrugged as he glanced at John over top of Rochelle's head. John's head spun around as the tinkle of shattering glass pierced the hideous silence of the oppressive day. John winced as the glass continued to fall onto the street and Carl knocked the rest of the glass aside with the brick he was clutching.

Riley glanced nervously around before nodding to Carl. He helped lift her up so that she could climb through the broken window. John and the others hurried over to them as she disappeared inside. "Maybe you should stay out here." Carl pulled the cigarette from his mouth as he focused on Rochelle. "At least until we're sure it's safe."

Rochelle's face scrunched up as she readied herself for a fight. "I'll stay with you," Al volunteered a little too quickly.

They'd planned this, John realized at the same time that Rochelle seemed to come to the same conclusion. Her hands fisted but before she could launch into a full on tirade, the locks on the door began to click and Riley pulled it open.

She seemed a little green around the gills as she absently wiped the sweat beading on her forehead away with the back of her arm. Her cornflower blue eyes were shadowed by dark circles that made them appear even more vivid in the sun. Strands of nearly black hair curled around her cheeks and chin, and the pallor of her skin caused the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks to stand out.

"Someone blockaded the door with a shelf," she informed them.

"That doesn't sound good." Carl stepped forward as Riley disappeared into the shadowed interior. "Are you going to be ok out here?"

Al nodded as he adjusted his hold on his rifle. "We'll be fine."

John followed cautiously behind as he stepped over the threshold of the small store. The smell of it was something that he couldn't pinpoint, but it caused bile to surge up his throat as he fought against the urge to gag. Images of rotting and decaying flesh sprang to mind as they crept further into the dark interior of the small convenience store.

"Should we even take anything from here?" Riley's voice was choked and raw. She held the gun out before her, but her face was scrunched as she seemed to be fighting the urge to vomit as strongly as he was. "I mean that smell."

"Just grab canned goods," Carl instructed. "I don't think it's a good idea to eat anything that was just wrapped in packaging from here. I know I'm not going to."

John wasn't going to argue with that statement. He didn't care if he was starving; he knew he wouldn't be able to force a piece of bread down his throat from this place. "What happened in this town?" John asked.

Riley's lips were clamped as she shook her head and swallowed heavily. "We're not that far from Foxboro, fifteen miles at most," Lee said. "How much of a difference could it have been between the towns?"

"Judging by the events of this day, and this place, a lot." Carl reached behind the counter and brusquely pulled a bunch of plastic bags off the hook and tossed them on the counter. He kept one in his hand as he turned toward the cigarettes, he didn't seem to care what brand they were as he stuffed the bag to near bursting. John hadn't seen Carl rattled since the first quakes hit, but there was a tremor in his hands that belied the calm exterior he was trying to portray.

"You ok?"

Carl glanced at him before nodding briskly and lighting a pilfered cigarette. "This place gives me the creeps."

John couldn't argue with that. "Yeah."

Carl tossed him some bags before sliding out from behind the counter. Riley and Lee stood close together as they made their way to the back of the store in sweeping gestures that reminded him of a detective show. Then, he realized that's exactly what they were mimicking, as it was the only thing they knew.

"I think some firearm training is necessary before we accidentally shoot each other," John said.

Carl was watching them with an eyebrow cocked in part amusement and part disbelief. "What do they think this is, Charlie's Angels?"

"She's no angel!" Lee called from the back of the store.

"Seriously, are you trying to piss me off when I have a gun in my hand?" Riley demanded.

"No, actually. Please just keep that thing away from me."

"Not making any promises."

"Why don't you both keep those guns pointed at the floor and your fingers off the triggers for now?" Carl suggested. He thrust his bag full of butts at John as he hurried toward the back of the store. John fumbled with the bag before clasping it against his chest. "I really don't feel like being shot in the ass today on top of everything else."

Riley nodded and lowered her gun. Lee studied his weapon before shrugging and dropping it to his side. "I don't think anyone is in here anyway," Lee said.

"Someone blocked that door," Riley reminded him.

"Yeah and I don't want to know why," Carl told her.

John tossed the bag of butts toward the door as Rochelle poked her head inside. Her nose wrinkled and she swiftly ducked back out. Al appeared, his eyes watered as he rapidly blinked at them. "Everything ok in here?" he inquired.

"We'll be out in a few minutes," John told him.

"I don't know how you're able to stay in here to begin with," he murmured before disappearing.

John almost told him that he'd get used to it, but there was no getting used to this stench. In fact, he was fairly certain that a hundred showers wouldn't remove the hideous, cloying smell from his skin. His clothes were absolute garbage.

He tossed some bags to the others before making his way down the shelves. He grabbed cans of beans, corn, peas, and spaghetti sauce before tying the bag off and heading back to the door. Carl took the bags from him and handed them out to Al and Rochelle. "Put them in the back of the truck with the other stuff."

John was tempted to grab some peanut butter crackers but he thought better of it. He wasn't so sure the plastic wrapping would block out whatever it was that encompassed this room. He glanced over the shelves but there really wasn't anything else he was willing to shove into his bag. Riley and Lee were by the coolers on the back wall, debating the merits of the products inside. As John drew closer, he spotted the puddle of water they were standing in. Some of it was a muddled color, and it took a disconcerting minute for him to realize that the ice cream and popsicles had melted into this ooze.

"Are you really going to take your chances with that?" John inquired.

"That's what I was saying," Riley retorted. "But Lee here thinks that the chicken tenders will be fine if we find a way to heat them up and eat them tonight."

"I still wouldn't eat them."

"I'm willing to take my chances." Lee snagged hold of a bag of tenders.

"That's brave," Riley told him.

Lee shrugged. "I've made it this far, I think I can handle a little poultry."

"Last meal?"

"Let's hope not, that's going to be a steak." Lee turned away and made his way carefully out of the puddle and toward the front door.

"He's crazy," Riley muttered.

"He's definitely something," John agreed. "Have the two of you been dating for long?"

It wasn't his smoothest line, but he didn't think there was time for smoothness in these circumstances. Her eyebrows shot into her hairline as a burst of laughter escaped her. "Lee and I? Absolutely not! Hey Lee, John thought we were dating!"

Lee glanced over his shoulder at them as he handed the bag out the door. "Sure, if I liked dating cactuses," he quipped as he made his way back toward them. "Cause Riley's about as prickly as one."

"You're a riot," she muttered as her finger twitched on the trigger of her gun.

John tried not to laugh as she continued to glare at Lee while he sweetly smiled back at her. "Besides, Xander's my best friend and I really don't feel like having my face punched in by him."

"Hardy har har." Though she was trying to sound sarcastic, a dull blush stained her cheeks and she looked inordinately pleased by Lee's words. "Xander wouldn't hit you."

"Wanna make a bet?"

Riley shrugged but a half smile tugged at her lips as she turned and made her way towards Carl. Lee propped his arm on the shelf as he rested his gun on a bag of flour and studied John. "She's off limits."

"I didn't mean anything by it," John assured him.

"Didn't you? I see the way you've been watching her. I don't blame you, she is hot and you don't know Xander, but she is off limits and if you try anything inappropriate…" He twisted the gun in his hand as his eyes narrowed.

John bristled at the implied threat but he held his hands up as he bit back his words. If this day had taught him anything it was that there were some battles worth fighting, and others that weren't. They were going to be together for awhile and Lee was just defending two of his friends. If someone had been inquiring about Rochelle, or any of the other girl friends he'd had, he would have had the same reaction.

"I really didn't mean anything by it, I was just curious."

Lee studied him before nodding. "I believe you. Beside's she really is as prickly as a cactus sometimes, I wouldn't wish her on my worst enemy."

"Just your best friend?"

Lee grinned at him and dropped his arm off the shelf. "He deserves it."

John laughed as he carefully made his way around the puddle and back to the shelves. Lee stayed close behind him as they reached Riley and Carl. "I'm going outside to make sure Rochelle and Al are ok," John informed them.

Carl barely glanced up from shoving motor oil into his bag. Riley was focused on grabbing washer fluid and anti-freeze. "Take this with you," Carl said as he twisted the top of his bag and handed it to him.

John caught the bag awkwardly. "A please would be nice."

Carl scowled at him as he fumbled with his cigarettes and lit another one. "Please."

John smiled at him and headed out of the store, eager to be free of the stench that permeated the air. He blinked against the sudden influx of light and lifted his hand to try and block it out. His gaze returned to the coffee shop as a clawing sensation began to seize his chest.

He really was an addict, and he didn't care. He glanced up and down the street, but it remained deserted as he made his way to where Rochelle and Al were packing the truck with their newfound supplies. "I'm going to get some coffee before we hit the pharmacy."

Rochelle rested her hand on her hip as she studied him. "How do you plan on making it?"

"The old fashioned way, boiling some water over a fire, but at this point I don't care I might just eat the beans."

Al chortled as Rochelle grimaced. "Gross."

John shrugged and shifted the gun in his hand. "Any requests?"

"You shouldn't go alone, and I wouldn't mind seeing if it was time to make the donuts before all of this happened," Al told him.

"A coffee roll," Rochelle groaned.

"Let's go then."

Al closed and locked the truck doors. They took another glance around the deserted street before making their way to the darkened donut store. John expected the door to be locked and was surprised when it opened beneath his hand. He glanced warily at Al and Rochelle before cautiously sticking his head inside.

"Hello," he called, hating the choked sound of his voice. The scent of baked dough and coffee hung heavily in the air, and though he knew he should be careful he was drawn forward by the promise of donuts and coffee. He still smelled rot, but it didn't seem as potent here and he assumed it was the lingering remnants of it on himself and his ruined clothing. "Hello!"

"I'll stay by the door and watch the vehicles," Al offered.

John nodded as he crept toward the counter. He placed his hands on the countertop and leaned over to try and peer into the back. He couldn't see much of the shadowed kitchen but it appeared to be empty. "It's like a freaking ghost town," he muttered as he slid around the counter. Goosebumps covered his skin, he didn't see anyone, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something or someone watching him.

He shuddered as he eyed the donuts and bagels placed neatly into the racks. Surprisingly, none of them had fallen to the floor, but a few of the coffeepots had shattered spilling their contents onto the tile floor. John scowled at the glass and coffee remains, what a waste.

"What is that smell?" Rochelle asked.

"Probably me," he told her. "I don't think I'm ever going to be rid of it."

"Oh, sorry. Can you grab me a coffee roll?" John nodded and grabbed a piece of wax paper from the box on the wall by the donut racks. He pulled the donut off the shelf and handed it over the counter to Rochelle. He found some bags and boxes behind the counter and began to stuff donuts and bagels inside of them. He plopped them on the counter and grabbed handfuls of coffee bags from the display next to the register. He shoved them into a few more bags and turned away in search of some surviving, brewed coffee.

"They're coming out now." John glanced back as Al stepped away from the door and waved his arms toward the rest of the group.

He spotted a full carafe of delicious brown liquid still sitting on one of the burners. "Please don't be decaf," he pleaded as he grabbed the largest cup he could find and honed in on his tempting target. He didn't even care if it was cold.

He was grabbing for the handle when something tugged at his work boot. John frowned as he glanced down. The cup tumbled from his numbed fingers; a strange noise filled the room. It took him a moment to realize that the grunting, almost squealing sounds were coming from him. He couldn't move, and for one heart stopping minute he almost pissed himself.

"John?" Rochelle asked tremulously.

John fumbled for his gun, but his fingers wouldn't work properly as the thing clinging to his work boot somehow managed to lift its bald head on its wobbly, mottled neck. John hadn't been entirely certain that it was human until its rolling, opaque brown eyes, seemed to briefly focus on him.

An anguished moan escaped it as Rochelle began to scream loudly and shrilly. "Help me," the thing croaked. John started shouting as the pitiful thing seized hold of his hand with surprising strength.

CHAPTER 2

Mary Ellen

Plainville, Mass.

Mary Ellen couldn't bring herself to look at the destruction surrounding them anymore. She kept her gaze focused on the seat in front of her and her hands folded tightly in her lap. She stared at the back of Xander's head as he swerved in and out of the cars, and around the gaping holes with stalwart precision. She was amazed she wasn't more frightened of him after his breakdown earlier; instead she found she had no fear of him.

He wasn't violent, at least not to other people; of that much she was certain. She knew violent, cruel, people, she'd had far too much experience with them for her liking and Xander wasn't one of them. He was a young man, trying to survive like the rest of them, and he'd witnessed something that she wasn't sure many others would come back from. She certainly wasn't sure that she would have.

She couldn't get the image of those bodies out of her mind. She shuddered at the mere thought of having to see those young bodies too, those lives snuffed before they even got started. A lump formed in her throat but she refused to shed tears. She hadn't been brave enough to face what was in those rooms; she wouldn't allow herself to cry now.

Bobby leaned forward and turned the radio on. That awful silence filtered across the waves, interrupted by a burst of static, followed by some squelching before silence again. He ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair as he continued to fiddle with the dials. "It doesn't work," she murmured.

His hair was standing on end as his brown eyes briefly met her gaze, but he moved off the presets and onto other stations. Mary Ellen's head bowed as she listened to the hideous noises coming across the waves. "Turn it off," Xander said.

"Hello."

Mary Ellen jumped, her head shot up as the single road broke through the static a second before Bobby turned the radio off. They sat in stunned silence for a second before Bobby lurched forward and turned the radio back on. Static greeted them, then silence and then some strange other sound that Mary Ellen couldn't quite pinpoint.

"I know I heard that," Bobby muttered.

"Hello." Mary Ellen didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until it exploded out of her. Static buzzed over the airwaves before the voice broke through again. "Hello. Is there anyone out there?"

"Is it real?" She didn't mean to ask the question, hadn't even realized she was thinking such a thing until the words burst out of her. She didn't feel crazy for saying them, though she felt like she should. Instead, they felt right. The disembodied voice coming over the airwaves reminded her of a Siren trying to beckon them somewhere that they weren't supposed to go and she was worried they wouldn't come back from it.

Bobby glanced at her over his shoulder; she hadn't realized that Xander had stopped driving until he turned to look at her too. He gave a subtle shake of his head before turning the volume up a little. The static crackling beside her ear caused her skin to crawl, but she hated the silence even more.

"Hello."

"Where is this station?" Bobby inquired.

Xander glanced at the radio display. "I don't know, it's AM. I know nothing about the AM frequencies. For all I know it could be coming from a high school gymnasium or someone's garage."

"Maybe if they said something other than hello."

"Is it real?" Mary Ellen demanded, hating the knot of panic that was growing in her chest and threatening to choke her. She was losing her mind, she was certain of it. She was going off her rocker, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was trapped in some awful episode of the Twilight Zone, and that the voice was just a figment of their imaginations. She couldn't shake the certainty that the voice would be their ultimate demise.

They both looked at her, she'd expected them to laugh or to tell her she was crazy, instead she saw the same doubt and misgivings radiating in their eyes. "Hello."

She started, a lump formed in her throat as her hands began to twitch in her lap. She wanted Bobby to turn the radio off, but that was also the last thing in the world she wanted. She sat immobile, unable to breathe as the static and silence intermittently crackled out of the speakers. "Hello. Hello."

Xander turned away from the radio and shifted into drive. The static lessened as he continued down the battered roadway. A chill crept up Mary Ellen's spine, the hair on her arms stood up. She stared wordlessly at the radio as the words continued on. That awful rush of saliva that preceded vomit flooded her mouth.

Was it a Siren calling to them? Were they being led toward something far worse than anything else they had encountered today?

She couldn't breathe, she was half afraid she was going to have a widow maker in the backseat of the Caddy, and she wasn't entirely certain she cared anymore. The world had become a nightmare, a hideous nightmare that only death would set them free from. Rochelle, she reminded herself fiercely. If there was even half a chance her daughter was still alive, she was going to do everything she could to find her, no matter how improbable that idea was.

Mary Ellen's hands flew to her ears as the speakers squelched and a new voice came over the airwaves. "Give me that! Hello." Mary Ellen lowered her hands as an older, gruffer voice sounded through the speakers. "Hello, if anyone can hear this, we are looking for any kind of assistance. We're trapped and we need help."

"Xander," Bobby said.

"We don't know where they are."

"They have to be close."

"We don't even know if they're safe to be around Bobby!" Xander snapped. He bowed his head as his hands clenched the steering wheel. He took a deep breath before turning his attention back to his friend. "You saw what happened at that stadium, you saw what some people are like now. Are we going to put our trust in them even if we can find them?"

"If we stop putting our trust in people Xander, we stop being human," Bobby said. "This may very well be what the rest of our lives are like. Are you going to spend it scared and distrustful of everyone? Are you going to let people die because you don't know if we can trust them?"

"We may have to Bobby, in order to survive."

"I'd rather die than give up my humanity."

Xander cursed loudly, he pulled the car to the side of the road as he sat back in his seat. He turned to the window and leaned his forehead against it. She watched his reflection in the glass as he closed his jade green and gold flecked hazel eyes and took a deep breath. The muscles in his shoulders and arms flexed as he twisted his hands on the wheel. His dark, sandy blonde hair clung to the sweat beading along his brow.

She wanted to tell him he was right and to keep going. To find his girlfriend and retreat to whatever semblance of normalcy the two of them could find in this disaster surrounding them, but the words froze in her throat.

Xander was right, he was so unbelievably right. If they were going to survive, they had to put themselves first; they had to be the priority. Survival of the fittest, only the strong survive, natural selection and all that stuff, yet she knew that if they somehow found out where those people were, Xander wouldn't drive past them if they were able to help. It wasn't in him, just as walking out of that house hadn't been in him.

She was amazed to discover that it wasn't in her either. She'd spent a good portion of her life frightened of people and hiding in the shadows. She didn't want to hide anymore, and though the world around them was falling apart, she didn't want to be afraid anymore either.

"You're killing me Bobby," Xander muttered.

"I know you mean well Xander, and I know you're just looking out for us. That's what you do, but what's the point of living if you can't live with yourself anymore?"

"Easy there Jiminy Cricket, you've made your point. I got it, ok? If we somehow figure out where they are, we'll try to help them. But we cut ties and run if anything goes wrong, agreed?"

Bobby gave a small nod. "Agreed."

Xander pushed himself away from the window and sat back in his seat. He met her gaze in the rearview mirror. Mary Ellen stared silently back at him, terrified that they would never be able to find these people, that they would listen to their silent pleas, but never know where they actually were.

She focused on her folded hands as static flickered over the airwaves and Xander resumed driving. "I'm not Jiminy Cricket you know," Bobby muttered.

"A little cane and a top hat and you could be."

"I know where I'd like to shove that cane."

Xander grinned at him. "That's not very Jiminy Cricket like."

Mary Ellen couldn't help but laugh as Bobby shoved Xander's shoulder and started to chuckle. The tension within her eased and she felt almost human again. "Hello." The radio taunted near her ear. "Hello. If there are any emergency personal in the area we need assistance." The radio squawked as someone in the background said something. It seemed as if the microphone was being passed around as it was jostled about. "We are in the media room in the high school."

"In Plainville. We are in Plainville high school," another voice, a girl's, chimed in.

Xander's breath hissed out of him as Bobby's head bowed. Mary Ellen blinked back the tears that filled her eyes. "Please help us."

"The high school's not far from here." Bobby turned toward Xander again.

"We may not even be able to help them," Xander pointed out.

"We'll never know until we try."

"I know where I'd like to shove that cane too."

He continued onward for another mile or so before making a right at a set of lights that were sagging across the road. The street he turned onto was pitted and broken, there were a few lost souls rambling around in search of answers that Mary Ellen was beginning to think didn't even exist. Some of them watched the car as it drove by, but most of them ignored it.

She didn't like being back in populated areas, but at the same time her heart soared at the reminder that they weren't alone, that they weren't the only ones left. In the distance she could see the dim glow of a blaze, but there was little else out there to illuminate the day that was beginning to darken earlier than it should have.

"What if it's a trap?" Mary Ellen asked.

"It's not," Bobby said forcefully.

They passed by groups of toppled buildings, a police station that had burnt to the ground, and a massive chasm that seemed to have swallowed a good portion of what had once been a car dealership. There were more people in the streets near a library, they didn't seem as shell shocked as some of the others, but there was a desolate air around them that brought tears to her eyes.

She didn't ask what good they were going to be if the people were trapped in the school, she knew they were already wondering the same thing. However, there would be no sleep without at least attempting to make an effort. She longed for a gun as she settled back against the seat and stared unseeingly at the remaining businesses and homes that dotted the landscape.

"I'm not promising anything Bobby." Xander turned the car onto a drive that was partially blocked by trees and broken road.

"I know."

The high school came into view as they rounded the top of a hill. Mary Ellen leaned forward, her hand curled around the back of Xander's seat as her mouth dropped. Most of the building was gone. All that remained was a leveled mess of bricks and rubble. She was finding it difficult to breathe as she spotted desks, books, chalkboards, computers, and other school supplies scattered amongst the mess.

"Thank God it was summer time," she whispered.

Xander drove cautiously around the building; parts of it had collapsed into a large crater that he had to maneuver around. "How could anyone possibly be in there?"

Even as Xander asked the question another "hello!" burst over the airwaves again. Xander was forced to turn the car around and go back the way they had come in order to circle around to the back of the school. She couldn't help but think of Rochelle as Xander was finally able to drive the car around the building where, miraculously, a small corner of the school remained standing.

"Hello. Can someone help us? Hello."

Xander shifted into park as he stared at the one remaining area. Mary Ellen leaned forward to peer at the mess before them. "What do we do?" she whispered.

She couldn't bring herself to move as a sinking sensation began to form in her belly. "Hello." The voice croaked again. Mary Ellen wasn't aware she was crying until a tear landed on her hand. "Is anyone out there that can help us?"

Mary Ellen wiped the tears from her cheeks as Xander turned the car off and climbed out. Bobby glanced briefly back at her, the bleak look in his eyes wrenched a small sob from her. "We shouldn't have come here."

"We couldn't not come," she told him.

His head bowed, he glanced out the window as Xander began to climb over the rubble. Bobby shook his head as he thrust the door open. "He won't leave here now. Not if he thinks he can do something. I shouldn't have made him come."

"There was no choice, not if we were going to be able to live with ourselves," Mary Ellen told him. Bobby opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again. "He'll be ok. We all will."

"Will we?"

She had no answer for him, but he didn't wait for one as he stepped back and closed the door. Mary Ellen's gaze focused on her hands as she thought over his last words. Would they be ok? Even if they survived this, even if they went on to live for another ten, twenty, fifty years, would they be ok? They most certainly wouldn't ever be the same again, but would they even still be human?

The lump in her throat made it difficult to breathe as she flung the door open and stepped out of the car. Xander had only used the air conditioner sparingly, but even still the heat was like a slap in the face as she inhaled sharply. "Hello!" Xander called as he slid down a pile of bricks toward the remaining structure of the school. "Hello!"

Holding out her arms to help steady her balance, Mary Ellen picked her way carefully over the debris. She slid down a slight slope and came to an abrupt halt before the remaining structure. Xander grabbed hold of a broken piece of rebar and hefted it in his hands. "Hello!" he shouted as he began to hit the wall with the piece of metal. "Hello!"

Mary Ellen strained to hear anything as Xander began to walk along the wall, tapping it with the bar and calling out to the people inside. They were almost all the way around the remaining structure when something hit the wall from the other side. Mary Ellen jumped and took a stumbling step back from the wall as another crash reverberated against it.

"Hello!" Xander called as he tapped the bar against the wall.

"Hello! We're in here!" A distant voice echoed back at them. "Can you get us out?"

Mary Ellen glanced over the pile of rubble before turning her attention back to the solid wall before her. Xander rested the rebar on his shoulder as he rocked back on his heels and tilted his head to the side. "Hello!" they shouted from inside again.

"We're going to take a look around!" Xander called back to them.

He nodded to Bobby as he resumed climbing his way through the toppled school building. Mary Ellen followed as they worked their way around the remaining structure. "Here!" Bobby called to them.

Mary Ellen turned back around as Bobby excitedly began to toss bricks and debris out of his way. A broken out hole began to appear in the side of the building as the remaining wooden slats of a window took form. Using the rebar, Xander began to pull and pry some of the debris out of his way. Mary Ellen grabbed clumps of it and tossed it aside to give them more room to work.

"We can fit through there," Bobby said.

Xander bent down and peered into the darkened interior. "Is it safe?" Mary Ellen asked.

"Probably not," Xander muttered as he sat back on his heels and stared at the rubble surrounding them. "I'll go in, you two stay out here in case something happens."

"I'm not letting you do this on your own," Bobby protested.

"You have to stay here with Marry Ellen, just in case someone else heard them and decides to come here. We have to keep that car Bobby, and unless they have weapons, you are going to have to defend it."

"I can do that."

Xander grabbed hold of Bobby's arm and squeezed. "I mean it Bobby, we can't lose that car. It's all we have right now, and we may not be able to find another one. Just don't do anything stupid."

"I'll take care of it Xander. We'll be fine."

"Do you have a light of some kind?" Mary Ellen asked.

Xander shook his head as he turned back to the darkened recesses of the building. "No, do you?"

"No. Maybe you shouldn't go in there."

"I'm just going to take a look around, see if there is anything we can do, or if we'll have to find another way into the building. We might not even be able to do anything for them." Mary Ellen shuddered at the thought. "I won't be gone long."

He squeezed Bobby's arm again and wiggled his way into the building. His feet hit the ground and he rose up before them, his waist even with the windowsill. She'd been expecting a drop down, a basement or something like that, and it took her a minute to realize he was in a classroom as he stepped away from the window.

Mary Ellen nervously glanced around; she wondered how many people had heard their call over the radio. It may be only a matter of time before someone else arrived here. A low curse drew her attention back to Xander as he shuffled further into the darkened room. She watched until the shadows swallowed him whole.

CHAPTER 3

Riley

Franklin, Mass.

Even though Riley closed the door on the small convenience store, the smell continued to adhere to her like a leech. Wrinkling her nose, she went to block her nostrils with her arm, but it was pointless. The odor had seeped into her clothes, skin and hair. "Another shower would be amazing," she muttered.

"There they are." She followed Carl's nod to where Al was waving at them from the doorway of Dunkin' Donuts. "Of course John would go after some freaking coffee. The kid's an addict."

"That's the pot calling the kettle black." Carl grinned as Riley pointed at the cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"Point taken." He pulled the butt from his mouth and stomped on it. "Maybe we can find a hotel or something to hole up in for a bit."

She wanted to keep going to Sturbridge and Xander, but she had to admit that the prospect of a bed and shower was one of the most tempting things she'd ever heard. "Just as long as it's on the first floor," Lee said.

"First floor?" Carl inquired.

Riley shook her head. "Bad situation at the stadium."

"Enough said. We'll make sure it's a motel then. Ready to raid the pharmacy?"

Riley was just starting to nod her agreement when the screaming started. She nearly gave herself whiplash as her jaw dropped and the bag in her hand slid from her limp grasp. Rochelle's high pitched shrieks echoed down the street and reverberated off the buildings in endless waves.

"What the…"

Lee's voice trailed off as John began to yell loudly and at a pitch that Riley hadn't thought a guy could attain unless they'd been kicked in the nuts. Carl cursed loudly, dropped his bag and bolted across the street with Riley and Lee right behind him.

A tinkling bell sounded as Carl threw the door open and plunged into the store with his gun at the ready. Riley staggered into the building behind him. She jerked her gun around the store as she searched for the threat that still had Rochelle shrieking like an irate squirrel, and John sounding like a teenage girl. She'd expected people, expected a threat, but she saw nothing as Al grabbed hold of Rochelle and they both stumbled back from the counter.

Rochelle stopped screaming only long enough to look at the half eaten coffee roll in her hand, before throwing it away as if it were a poisonous snake. More towards the back of the store, John was sitting on a metal counter with his feet pulled up and a puddle of coffee around him. His loud shouts were beginning to sound more like a squawking baby bird.

"What the hell is wrong!?" Carl bellowed.

Lee slid his hand over Rochelle's mouth and pulled her against him. Her eyes rolled in her head as she continued to scream against his palm, but the sound was blessedly muffled now. With Rochelle's screams stifled, and John's yells quieting, another sound began to sink in. Riley frowned, her hand constricted on the gun as she tried to make out what the new noise was, and what could possibly be making it.

It wasn't a snake, though it somewhat reminded her of one as it almost slithered, but no, not slithered. It slopped or slushed maybe? Was there a leak somewhere? But a leak wouldn't have caused this kind of reaction from Rochelle and John.

Though her shoulders and chest still heaved, and her nostrils flared wildly, Rochelle was beginning to calm down. John kicked out, and tried to push himself further back on the counter as his mouth opened and closed but no sound emerged. He was so pale that his high cheekbones and narrow chin appeared to stand out starkly against his skin and brown hair.

Goose bumps broke out on Riley's flesh as John's brown eyes remained riveted upon the ground before him. Her hand clenched around the gun as she met Lee's appalled eyes over top of Rochelle's head.

"No more screaming." Rochelle nodded as Lee cautiously removed his hand from her mouth.

Al exchanged a troubled look with Carl but neither of them moved as another new sound arose. It took Riley a few seconds to realize that it was a low, guttural moan. She couldn't breathe as everything in the store went deathly silent. She could almost feel the cold hand of death brushing against the back of her neck as the hair on it rose and the sweat cooled on her body.

Even John was immobile now with his knees pulled up against his chest. Carl kept his gun ready as he cautiously approached the counter and stood on his tip toes to lean over. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost; his body went rigid for a minute before he lowered himself back to the ground. His throat worked furiously as he struggled to find words.

"Is that what I think it is?" he finally croaked out. John managed a nod. "Can you get off that counter?"

"Are you… out of your freaking mind!?" John's voice was raw and he had to pause to swallow in between you and out.

Riley's curiosity urged her to see what had caused two guys, that had stood up to three men with guns, look like they were about to toss their cookies all over the floor. She didn't want to look but like rubbernecking on a highway, she felt compelled to see as she cautiously approached the register.

Carl noticed her as she was leaning over the counter. He went to grab for her but it was too late, she'd already spotted the pinkish worm/caterpillar/blob on the ground. Riley frowned in confusion. Was it a piece of the insulation? Had it fallen from the ceiling?

Even as her gaze shot upward she knew that she was wrong. Insulation didn't wear sneakers and belts. But who wore a belt and no pants? That would be insane. Unless they were wearing some kind of new fashion that made pants pink and fleshy looking.

She found she preferred the insanity to the light bulb that was going off in her head. Carl seized hold of her arm and pulled her back.

Riley's head spun as she turned to meet Carl's unwavering stare. She could feel him willing her to understand, almost sense him begging her not to freak out and start screaming like a lunatic. She was on the verge of throwing up and bolting down the street with absolutely no intention of looking back.

Then she thought of Al and the silent challenge that he'd offered her before. Help with the tree or help them protect the others? She'd chosen to be a protector then, and though this wasn't the same situation, it was one she couldn't back away from either. This wasn't a world where running and hiding from the ugliness was even an option. This was a world where every second was a fight to survive and she was going to survive.

She didn't realize Lee had approached until she felt him against her shoulder as he leaned over the counter. His body went rigid against hers, his hand on the counter trembled as he lowered himself back beside her. "Help."

Riley nearly jumped out of her skin as the guttural word was groaned from the floor. Fight, fight, fight. The word became a mantra in her head that she had to grasp hold of in order to keep her cool.

"Help me."

She didn't even know how to begin to help, didn't even know how to attempt to fix the damage that had been done. "John get off the counter," Carl said calmly.

John's face was as white as a sheet as he gaped at Carl. "What if it's a zombie or something?"

"It's not a zombie."

Riley thought she might actually prefer a zombie, she would know what to do with that, but this… Well how did anyone deal with this? What was this exactly?

"What if it's some kind of creature from the pinkish red lagoon?"

"Get off the counter!" Carl ordered in exasperation.

John glanced at the person on the floor before sliding through the spilled coffee toward the end of the counter. He jumped off and scurried as quickly as he could away from the person on the floor. Carl shook his head as he heaved a sigh. "I don't think it's much of a threat."

"It has a surprisingly strong grip," John retorted.

"It is a human being," Riley reminded them. "I think."

John swallowed heavily. "It's human," he confirmed. "But I don't know if it's male or female, and I don't think there's much we can do to help it."

She wanted to tell him to stop referring to it as an it, but she didn't know what else to call it either. "We don't know that," she managed to choke out.

John took a step closer and pitched his hoarse voice even lower. "I was this close to it." He held his thumb and index finger just centimeters apart. "Even if there was a fully functional hospital next door, there is nothing they could do to help."

Riley swallowed heavily and glanced behind the counter as a small moan issued again. She couldn't see the person, not anymore, but she'd never get the image from her mind. "We should still try."

They exchanged looks with each other, but no one moved. "There may be something in the pharmacy across the street," Rochelle suggested.

John shook his head forcefully. "It won't help."

"We can't just do nothing and leave here!" Riley gathered whatever courage she had left and hurried around the counter before she couldn't. She came to an abrupt halt as the person on the floor lifted its head, opened what remained of its mouth and stretched toward her.

"Help."

It took everything she had not to scream and run away. She saw immediately what John had meant. There was no way to tell what sex this pitiful person was, no way to know what color their hair had once been; no way to identify it. Whatever features it had once possessed were completely gone, now it was just a hideous skull with lumpy flesh sticking to it.

Flashes of Kelly filled her mind as she recalled how her friend had appeared to be boiled on the street when all of this had first started. Kelly had at least mercifully perished quickly from her injuries, but this poor person was still clinging to its last dregs of life, no matter how miserable.

John was right, no pharmacy or hospital was going to help with this. "What do we do?" she whispered.

The person groaned and its fingers clicked on the tile as it pulled itself slightly forward. Its fingers were nothing but bone from the knuckles to the tips, and raw muscle and flesh back to where the hands met the wrist. Bits of its shirt still clung to it, but not much remained, and the tatters only revealed more bloody flesh.

Riley's hand tightened around the gun, her jaw clenched as she had the overwhelming urge to walk up, press the muzzle against its forehead, and end its torment. Even as the thought hit her, she knew she couldn't do it. She couldn't be the cause of two deaths today, even if this one was a compassionate one. She became acutely aware of the fact that its opaque eyes were focused on the gun in her hand as it made a sound that tore at her heart, and caused a single tear to fall.

"I can't," she breathed and took a step back.

Frustration seemed to fill the person as its head dropped to the floor and what was left of its shoulders began to heave. Al came around the corner, grabbed hold of her arms and turned her away. "Take Rochelle outside."

She stared blankly at him until realization sank in. "It's not fair to you," she whispered.

"I'm a lot older than you Riley; I'll have a lot less time to live with this."

"It's the right thing to do," she tried to assure him.

"I know, go on now."

Riley wanted to protest further but she couldn't. She wasn't capable of being the one to do this, and she couldn't be here when it was done. Being determined to survive was one thing, but witnessing atrocities that she didn't have to witness was an entirely different matter. Besides, she was fairly certain there would be plenty more awful things to see soon enough.

She grabbed hold of Rochelle's shoulders, and pulling the young girl against her side, hurried her toward the door of the coffee shop. Rochelle's thin shoulders were still heaving, but she remained calm as the bell rang above them. Riley's lip curled, she'd never heard a sound she hated more. It was far too cheerful under these hideous circumstances. Without thinking she grabbed hold of the thing and yanked down on it with all of her might. Plaster rained down around her as she tore it from the wall, and tossed it aside.

The sound of it clattering across the floor didn't give her the sense of satisfaction she'd thought it would. She pulled the door shut behind her and hurried Rochelle toward the truck. Her shoulders were hunched as Riley braced herself for the shot she knew was coming. Even so, she still flinched and Rochelle let out a small moan as the shot echoed down the still street.

It was a horror movie, I'm actually living in a horror movie right now, she realized. Except in this movie there was no slasher to fight, no monster to shoot, and no demon to exorcise. The only thing that would haunt them would be their conscience; she just hoped that their conscience didn't end up killing them in the end.

Rochelle's eyes were shadowed and red as they came back to Riley. "Why don't you sit in the truck?" she suggested.

Rochelle nodded and limply slid into the truck as the door to the coffee shop opened. Riley hated the broken air that seemed to envelop the four of them as they made their way to the truck. Al was the only that didn't have slumped shoulders. He wasn't walking proudly, but he didn't appear as if he wanted to crawl into the ground and never come out again either.

John's jeans were covered in coffee, but he didn't seem to notice as he stepped off the curb and walked past her toward the truck. "Where are you going?" Riley asked him.

"Anywhere but this freaking shit hole," he retorted.

"We still have to go in the pharmacy."

She was pretty sure she'd sprouted another head from the look he gave her. "Are you out of your mind!?"

Riley gulped as she met Al's gaze over top of John's head. Fight or run, fight or run? She'd made her choice, now it was time for them to start making theirs. "No. There are things in there that we're going to need, things that may one day save our lives, and we can't simply leave this town without going in there to see."

"There may be more of those people in there!"

"John," Carl said as he lit a cigarette with a shaking hand. "We can all hear you."

John took a deep breath and seemed to regain control of his unraveling composure. "We don't even know what caused that to happen, and I sure don't want it happening to any of us."

"I think I know what happened," Riley told them. Now it was everyone else's turn to look at her like she was a walking talking teddy bear. "Or at least I've seen something like it before."

They listened with hollow eyes and pale faces as she told them about what had happened with Kelly. "It must be some sort of gas," Al said as he rubbed his chin. "Something that the earth is releasing with the lava and the earthquakes."

"Oh awesome, just wonderful. More fun." John threw up his arms and paced toward the car before spinning and coming back.

"Yeah, and just like everything else we can't be sure when it's going to happen," Lee muttered.

"Well it definitely happened in this town so I say we cut and run," John said.

"We went into the coffee shop," Riley reminded him. "And we're fine. Beside's there were other customers that survived whatever happened in there this morning."

"Did your crystal ball tell you that?" John demanded.

"No, common sense did!" she retorted. "The quakes started after seven. What is Dunkin' Donuts normally like at that time of the morning?"

"A mad house." Carl tapped his finger against his chin as he eyed the coffee shop. "There should have been bodies all over the floor."

"And judging by the remains of the clothes, I'd say it was an employee in there. Maybe they were in the back room, or bathroom, or somewhere else when it occurred, but the others managed to escape before the gas destroyed them," Riley continued.

"Or something else may have happened to them. Maybe they were affected by the gas, but not as hindered by it as that poor soul was," Al contemplated. Riley frowned questioningly at Al, John stopped pacing, but Al began to relentlessly cover ground between the truck and back.

"What makes you say that?" Carl prodded.

Al continued to pace as his head came up and his attention became riveted upon the store they had already pilfered. "They blocked that door for a reason."

She didn't think she could take anymore. Just when she thought she'd seen it all, just when she thought there simply could not be one more shock, there was. She turned toward the door that she'd removed the barricade from. "So what are you saying? The survivors from the gas go crazy and try to kill people or something?" Lee demanded.

"No, not necessarily. Think about what you'd be like if you just received a lungful, or a face full of gas that apparently does some serious damage to the human body. They were probably frantic to escape, or just plain incoherent. The people in the store may have panicked and blocked the door after seeing what happened at the coffee shop."

"So they could still be around here somewhere?" Rochelle squeaked.

Riley glanced nervously up and down the street, but it remained still. "I don't think they're much of a threat if they are," Al assured her.

"I have seen way too many movies to think it's even remotely a good idea that we stay here," Lee said.

"And I've seen just as many that would make leaving that pharmacy untouched just as bad of an idea," Riley told him.

"There may be more of them in there. Do you want to see more of that?" John demanded.

"No, but I'm not talking just band aids and ace wraps, there are painkillers and antibiotics that no matter how we look at it will become a necessity. We can't leave this town without medical supplies."

Carl tossed his cigarette aside, reached into the truck and pulled a rifle from behind the bench seat. "No, we can't, but we're going to be better prepared before we step in there and we'll air it out first."

Riley eyed the gun as he stepped off the sidewalk. The last thing she would choose to do was come across more of those people, but even so she followed Carl and Al as they made their way across the street. She glanced at the truck and managed a wan smile as Lee, Rochelle, and John watched them from the other side of the road.

John cursed loudly and said something to Lee before jogging over to join them. "You guys are going to be the death of me," he grumbled.

"You don't have to come," Carl told him as he grabbed a trash can from the sidewalk and hefted it in his hands. Riley winced as its contents fell onto the sidewalk and scattered around their feet. Now wasn't exactly the time to worry about littering though.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, let's just get this over with."

Riley braced herself as Carl swung back with the trashcan and smashed it into the window. Carl cursed, and shook his hands, as the can spun out of his grasp but the glass remained solidly intact. "It's a pharmacy!" Rochelle called from across the street. "It has extra security measures due to the fact that it has money and drugs! Besides, the door is probably open!"

They glanced sheepishly at each other before Al pushed the front door open.

CHAPTER 4

Carl

Franklin, Mass.

Carl opened the door and adjusted the metal rod at the top to keep it propped open. John, Riley, and Al were already at the inner glass door peering into the store when he finished. They turned to look at him when he stepped in between them. "How do we know it's safe?" John asked.

"We don't," Carl said. "But unless there's gas being constantly pumped in there we should be able to go in. The building's not exactly airtight."

John swallowed heavily. "What if there is gas being pumped in there?"

"I think we would have felt the effect already." Riley's nose nearly touched the glass, her breath left a small cloud on it.

"There's only one way to find out." Carl took a deep breath, braced himself, and pulled the door open. Their hands flew to their noses and mouths as they all jumped back. Carl waited breathlessly for his skin to start burning, or boiling, or whatever happened when that gas came into contact with human flesh.

He was acutely aware of the beat of his heart in his eardrums as the seconds seemed to stretch into hours. His lungs began to burn so badly that he was finally forced to inhale. The air rushed into his lungs and nose, and though it smelled like rotten eggs, rancid meat, methane, and decomposition all rolled into one, his flesh didn't melt off and his lungs didn't burst into flames.

His eyes stung but he nodded to the others as he made his way into the store. "Vicks first," Riley muttered as she nodded toward the cold medicine aisle.

"You have a cold?" John inquired.

"It's for the smell, you put it under your nose," Carl told him.

"Oh," John said dully. "Yeah, definitely Vick's first."

Carl crept around the checkout counter, and swallowing heavily, poked his head behind it. His shoulders sagged at the sight of the blessedly empty space there. Hurrying to the end, he grabbed the plastic bags and found some eco-friendly bags under the counter that he seized hold of.

He was coming around the counter when John tossed him a container of Vick's. "That's about as close to heaven as you're going to get."

"Ain't that the truth," Carl muttered as he unscrewed the top and rubbed some of the paste under his nose. His eyes watered, his nostrils burned, but he relished in the pungent menthol smell as he eagerly inhaled. It didn't completely block the odor of the store, but at least it dulled it enough that he didn't think he was going to vomit with every step.

Al and Riley were at the end of the store, checking every aisle as they made their way toward the prescription pickup counter. Carl thrust the Vicks into a bag and held it open for John to dump an armload of supplies into. He checked every aisle for people, but the store remained quiet, and there was no sign that anything like what had happened at the coffee shop had happened here.

Riley climbed onto the counter of the prescription area and walked down it as she strained to see up and down the convoluted aisles filled with bottle after bottle of pills. She glanced back at them, shrugged, and leapt off the counter to the other side. Carl handed her some of the cotton bags and pulled himself onto the counter to follow her.

"I don't even know what half this stuff is," she muttered.

"Well those are happy pills," John told her as he peered over her shoulder at the bottles.

Riley's head tilted as she stared at the bottles. "How do you know that?"

John grinned at her as he stepped to the shelf next to hers and started searching it. "I just do."

Carl turned away from them to search another shelf. He didn't know what a good chunk of the stuff was, but he knew what penicillin and amoxicillin were as he dumped handfuls of them into the bag. Al came over and grabbed one of the cotton bags from him. "I found the painkillers."

"Good."

Riley and John busied themselves with shoving the extra strength ointment creams into their bags. "I guess this was a good idea," John said.

"Rule number one for a happy life is don't ever argue with a woman, you'll always lose," Riley joked.

John snorted. "Yeah ok."

"It's true," Al agreed. "Happy wife, happy life."

"Why I stay single," Carl told him. "I can't lose a fight against myself."

John puffed out his chest. "Well I guess it's a good thing that the population just decreased, women won't be as picky and difficult now that I may be one of the few men left."

Riley chuckled as she shoved her bag into his chest. John grabbed hold of it before it fell to the floor. "Keep dreaming."

"Don't count on it slick," Carl said.

"You're just jealous because I'm a stud," John said.

"You're something alright." Carl hefted the bags full of supplies and put them on the counter as the others scrambled back over.

"There were shopping carts up front, I'll grab one," John volunteered.

"Where did everyone from in here go?" Riley's gaze moved over the dim store. "Where did everyone from this town go?"

"I'm not entirely sure I want to know," Carl told her as John returned with two shopping carts.

"It's like they all just disappeared, just vanished into thin air or something."

"Not all of them," John muttered.

Riley shuddered. "Yeah."

"John and I will start on that end of the store and we'll meet you guys in the middle," Carl said.

Al and Riley nodded agreement and headed to the other end of the store with a cart. Moving up and down the aisles with John, Carl filled the cart and bags full of supplies. He thought he should feel worse about stealing the things, but he didn't feel anything as he stuffed as much as he could into the cart. Perhaps he should be concerned about the numbness slipping through him, and maybe later, when he had a chance to sit and think, he would be. Right now though, all he cared about was making sure they had enough to survive.

"I feel like a criminal," John said. "Like we're going to turn on the TV tonight and see ourselves on the six o'clock news."

"I feel like there would be a much bigger story than us if the TV still worked."

"You know what I mean."

"I do," Carl muttered.

"This doesn't bother you?"

Carl stopped in the middle of the aisle. "Not as much as it should, not as much as it did three stores ago."

"It hasn't been a day yet Carl." John folded his hands behind his back as he glanced at the wall over Carl's shoulder. Carl turned and spotted the clock that John had focused on. It wasn't even five o'clock yet. This whole day had been nothing but one endless nightmare, and twelve hours hadn't even passed yet. His shoulders slumped, he felt like a kicked puppy as he turned back to John.

"It's been one shitty day though."

"Yeah. I never thought I'd see a person die, but I've seen more people die today than I can even remember," John shuddered. "That person, over there in the coffee…"

"It had to be done."

John wouldn't meet his gaze again as he focused on his work boots. "How much more is going to have to be done though?"

Carl knew how the kid felt, knew what he meant and what he was getting at, but he couldn't find it in himself to empathize, not right now. That was probably another thing he should worry about, later. "As much as needs to be done. Now come on, we have to find somewhere to stay before it gets dark out."

John studied him before nodding. "Yeah, you're right."

Carl pushed the cart forward, and muttered a curse as one of the wheels became twisted. Lifting it up, he crashed the cart back down to try and straighten it out. "One thing that hasn't changed is the crappy shopping carts."

John huffed and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess there will always be some things that stay the same."

An unexpected jolt of relief and hope coursed through him. John was right, he had to be right. Nearly everything they knew had vanished, been crushed, boiled or burnt, but there were some things that would never change. He wanted to become one of those things that evolved to its surroundings and became better because of it, instead of being one of the things that was destroyed by its hostile environment. He would like to be an improved version of himself, not this deadened husk that was mindlessly shoving stolen supplies into a cart.

He grabbed hold of John's arm as he went to toss the last of the band-aids into a bag. "Leave some."

"What?" John asked in astonishment.

"Leave some, we won't need them all. At least not right now, and someone else may need them." He knew it was ridiculous to leave band-aids when they'd just raided most of the antibiotics, but it was something at least a little human again.

John looked about ready to protest but he closed his mouth and nodded as he released the last of the boxes. "Yeah, you're right."

They turned away from the shelf and met Riley and Al at the end of the aisle. "Got everything?" Al inquired.

"Yeah."

Carl wiped the menthol cream off of his lip as he stepped outside and pushed the cart toward where Lee and Rochelle waited by the truck. The air didn't smell much fresher out here, and by the way Rochelle's nose wrinkled and Lee took a step back, Carl guessed it was the four of them that were the source of the odor now.

"I grabbed some stuff for an oatmeal bath and tomato soup, maybe that will get the smell off of us," Riley told him as John threw open the backdoors of the truck. "We just have to find some clothes."

"We will," Carl assured her as he grabbed the gas cans from the truck and handed them to Al. "Fill the car up with these and we'll siphon some more from the cars on the road. We might as well top off while there's no one here to stop us."

Carl waited till the cans were empty again before taking them to siphon gas. It took five cars before he was able to fill one of the cans back up again. "Doesn't anyone put gas in their cars anymore?" he muttered as he handed the full can to Lee. "Does the car still need more?"

"Yeah."

Carl's mind churned as he looked at the dilapidated vehicle. "It doesn't look like much, but it got us here and seems to run well enough," Al said as he caught the direction of Carl's stare. "And we can always siphon it back out if it becomes necessary."

Carl nodded. "Ok, put it in then."

He refilled both the cans and placed them in the back of the truck. Looking at the mound of supplies he almost felt a growing flutter of security and optimism in his chest. If they could find somewhere to bunk down for a bit, someplace to fortify and make their own, then maybe just maybe they would be able to pull through this.

Riley hurried up to them with a smile that seemed strangely out of place for this town. "There's a thrift shop around the corner."

"Finally things are starting to look up," John said.

Riley and Lee groaned. "What's wrong with you?" Lee demanded. "Don't you know you're never supposed to say something like that!? You just jinxed us."

John just shrugged. "Like I could jinx us even more?"

Riley groaned again as she shook her head and Lee glared at John. "We're doomed," Riley moaned.

"We'll drive to the thrift shop," Carl interjected, hoping to ward off John's lynching. He wasn't a superstitious man, but he half felt like choking the kid himself.

Al and Riley nodded their agreement before heading toward the car. Lee trailed behind them, not looking at all pleased by the prospect of having to climb into the car with them, and neither did Rochelle. John handed her a tub of Vick's. "It helps."

"Let's hope so."

She rubbed it under her nose and hopped into the truck. Carl was relieved to be moving again as he followed Al down the deathly still streets of the desolate town. Scraps of garbage skittered across the street as Al turned onto the next road and crept along the sidewalk. He parked underneath a sign that read, Thrifty Lisa's. Beyond the store, Carl spotted a dilapidated motel at the end of the street. It would be convenient, but he had no intention of staying in this town for one minute longer than they had to.

"Let's hope there's more than just women's clothes in there," John grumbled.

"I don't care if you have to wear a dress, you're getting out of those clothes," Rochelle told him.

John glowered at her as he opened the door and hopped out of the truck. Carl felt his stomach sink as he studied the dresses the mannequins were sporting in the window. "Apparently not only will we be wearing dresses, but our asses are going to be hanging out of them," Carl muttered.

Rochelle placed her hands on her hips as she stared at the window. "They're not that bad."

"I've seen more clothing on a prostitute."

Rochelle rolled her eyes as she made her way toward the store. "That's good to know," John told him as he clapped him on the back.

Rochelle pressed her hands to the window and peered inside. "It might smell just as bad in there," Lee told her as he pulled her back.

"Let's hope not." Riley grabbed for the handle, but the knob didn't budge beneath her hand. "Where's your trash can?"

Carl scowled at her, lit a cigarette and stalked down the street to the closest can. Thankfully this one was empty as he hefted it into his hands and eyed the glass door of the shop. His wrists and hands still smarted from the impact of the last time he'd tried this, but the prospect of breaking something was too tempting to turn down.

He walked back to the store and gestured for the others to step back. Winding up, he spun and heaved the can at the door with the full force of his might. Glass shattered inward, the can bounced and rattled into the dark recesses of the store before coming up against a wall. Carl danced back from the possible poisonous vapors escaping and threw his hand over his mouth.

The last bits of tinkling glass fell to the ground as they all leaned to the side to stare through the broken door. Though it was dark, Carl could make out the racks and tables of clothing within. Lee crept closer and braced his hands on either side of the doorframe as he hesitatingly sniffed the air.

"I can't tell, not over me, and especially not over you four," Lee told them.

Rochelle pushed past him and stuck her head inside. "Smells like mothballs."

"Much better," Riley said eagerly. "Let me in there!"

She disappeared into the dark interior before anyone could stop her. "I know the prospect of a new outfit is tempting Ri, but maybe you should make sure it's safe before you go shopping."

"Bite me Lee," she tossed over her shoulder. "It's obvious that no one was here if the door's still locked, and it doesn't reek like month old road kill so no gases."

"That you know of," Lee muttered but he followed her into the store.

The girls broke off and began pawing through the clothes on the table as Carl hung back by the door with Al. "I'll stay here and keep watch," Al volunteered.

Carl nodded and split off from the others as he headed toward the back of the shop in search of something suitable to wear. He was beginning to resign himself to a black sundress when John called from the back, "Here!"

Maneuvering around a wall of shoes, Carl found John and Lee pawing through a table in the back. "It's slim pickings," John told him. "But at least it's pickings."

Slim was the understatement of the year, but Carl searched through the meager contents for clothes in his size. Al appeared as Carl managed to find two Bermuda shirts and a pair of Capri's. John's lip curled as he studied the plaid shirt and jeans in his hands. He hastily shoved them under his arm and hugged them against his side though when he saw the ensemble that Carl had managed to salvage. Carl looked at the flowered shirts, then at his filthy green work shirt, before turning his attention back to the Bermuda shirts as he tried to decide what was the lesser of two evils.

In the end it was the possibility of Rochelle sticking him in a dress that decided it for him, and he still wasn't completely convinced that the shirt was the better option. Riley and Rochelle were standing by the door with an armful of clothes when he arrived back at the front of the store. "It's getting dark fast out there Big Kahuna," Riley told him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a freaking riot?" he asked her.

"They've told me I'm a few things."

"I believe it."

She smiled at him, but the smile didn't reach her clear blue eyes as she glanced nervously at Rochelle. Carl stepped forward and peered out the door at the darkening sky. He couldn't figure out if night was descending, or if thunder clouds were looming on the horizon. Inky darkness was eating the reddish sky as it seeped forward to block out the sun.

"What is that?" He hadn't realized that John and the others had returned until John's voice sounded just over his shoulder.

Carl glanced back at him but his attention immediately returned to the sky. What else could possibly be coming at them now?

"You had to jinx us," Carl told him.

"I think we should get to that motel." Al grabbed hold of Rochelle's arm and nudged her toward the door. "Come on."

Carl didn't like the idea of staying in this town, but he also didn't want to be exposed when that blackness arrived. He hurried out the door behind the others and tossed his pilfered clothes behind the bench seat of the truck. Firing the truck up, he bounced down the sidewalk behind Al toward the motel at the far end of the road.

Al parked the car in front of the office and the three of them climbed out. Al hurried to the office but Riley and Lee hung back to study the dark sky. Carl couldn't bring himself to look at it again as images of the apocalypse danced through his mind. He shut down thoughts of all the disaster shows he'd watched. They had no place here and he had no time for them.

"Is this place going to be safe?" Rochelle asked as she surveyed the building.

The last half of the motel had collapsed into a pile of wood, shingles, and motel furniture that poked out from the ruble like a demented game of peekaboo. "Is any place?" John inquired.

"No," Carl answered.

Hope, he'd felt it earlier, but as he thrust his door open and hurried to join the others by the office door, he felt it dwindling beneath the crushing wave of the approaching cloud. Shadows played over the three faces that turned toward him, an ominous chill crept down Carl's spine as a breeze began to tickle the back of his neck.

Thunderclouds, he told himself. They had to be thunderclouds, but they were the strangest thunderclouds he'd ever seen. He wouldn't have been surprised if they opened up and released a torrent of blood or frogs down on them. Lee thrust the door open, and recoiled as a putrid wave of odor washed out of the office.

Carl knew he should be more cautious but as the clouds spread over top of them, all he became concerned with was escaping from whatever was stalking them from above as he hurried into the room. "It's probably just rain," Al muttered.

Even as he said the words, the sky opened up and water washed down upon the parking lot. They huddled near the picture window in the office as a torrent of black rain beat against the vehicles. With a sinking feeling of dismay, Carl realized they were now stuck in this motel, now trapped within this town.

CHAPTER 5

Xander

Plainville, Mass.

Xander shuffled forward, his hands stretched out before him as he moved them from side to side. He would have killed for a light, and he was half afraid he might be killed because he didn't have one. He could barely hear over his breathing as his heart beat on his ribs like they were a redheaded stepchild. If he looked back, he could make out the shadows of Mary Ellen and Bobby poking their heads around the corner of the window. He didn't look back often though, as he was certain he was about to plummet into a hole at any second and he planned to be braced for it.

He cursed and jerked his hand back as it collided with something that was far too mushy within this world of solid rubble and debris. For a disconcerting moment he flashbacked to when he was a child and his parents had created a haunted house in their basement. They'd invited all of his, and Carol's, friends over for a pre-Halloween party.

Carol had been eight, and wearing a pumpkin costume that had worked well with her chubby cheeks and missing teeth. He'd managed to talk Bobby and Lee into going as superheroes; he'd been Superman while Lee and Bobby had gone as Spiderman and Batman. Riley had insisted upon being a hockey player and had shown up wearing pads, a Bruins Jersey, and carrying a stick. That stick had left his shins bruised by the end of the night, but then he'd thrown more than a few fake spiders and snakes at her over the course of the night too.

He still recalled it as being one of the best haunted houses he'd ever gone through, but then he'd also managed to maneuver himself closer to Riley in the darkness. In her fear, she'd grasped hold of his hand. It was the first time he'd ever held her hand; it was also the first time he realized that he never wanted to let go of it again as they jumped from the skeletons and monsters that leapt out at them.

He'd kept Carol close by his other side as they navigated the twists and turns through foamy rubber hallways that had been recently assembled. There'd been a bowl of peeled grapes, "eyeballs" near the end of the tour. They'd all placed their hands in and squealed as the "eyeballs" squished and squirmed in their hands.

Whatever was in the corner of this room now reminded him of those grapes.

Inhaling shakily, Xander bent over as he tried to control the wave of grief that slithered through him. His shoulders shook as his fingers dug into his knees and he struggled to breathe through the constriction in his chest.

"Xander?"

He remained motionless, unable to respond to Bobby as he sought to regain his composure. Carol had been so delighted in her pigtails, rotund suit, and orange face. Her favorite part of Halloween had always been carving the pumpkins. His parents had put so much work and love into that haunted house. They'd been so pleased with themselves, and so had the other parents that had participated, including Riley's. They'd shared drinks and laughs after, and debated who had managed to scare the children the most.

Xander managed to bite back a sob as he inhaled shakily again and blinked back the tears that burned his eyes. He focused on the present, on the room around him, before the past could bury him.

"Xander?"

"I'm ok Bobby," he managed to croak out.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He just wasn't going anywhere near what was to the right of him again. He'd been in that house, he'd seen what had happened to those people, and though he knew he shouldn't be, he was convinced that one of those bodies was next to him. "Everything ok out there?"

"There's no one around. Do you want me to come in?"

"No, if I need help I'll let you know."

"Be careful!" Mary Ellen called to him.

He was trying, but he didn't even know where he was in the room. He'd been hoping to find a door but stumbling around blindly was getting him nowhere right now. Taking another deep breath, he straightened back up. He was determined not to be weighed down by the apprehension threatening to consume him. He could do this, somehow.

He shuffled forward again, but was brought up by another desk. Moving gingerly around it, he tried to keep his shins from looking like Riley had taken a hockey stick to them again. His right hand connected with something solid. Relief filled him as he fumbled over the wall. "I found a wall!" he called back.

"Ah, that's good I guess," Bobby replied.

"Better than the desks."

He began to move sideways along the wall as he felt over the surface. There were breaks in the plaster but none that felt like a doorframe. His hand came in contact with molding seconds before it fell into an abyss. Xander groped forward for a few seconds before he realized that he'd made it to the hallway. He glanced back at the window before taking a shambling step forward. He grasped hold of the doorframe and stood half in and half out of the hall.

"Hello!" he shouted. He strained to hear anything but the silence remained absolute and profound. He took a few more hesitant steps forward. "Hello!"

He thought he heard something in the distance, a dull thud, or perhaps even a muffled shout. His breath hissed out of him as he let out a low curse and glanced back at the dim light filtering through the broken window. It wasn't much, but at least it had been something to guide him back.

Bracing himself, he squared his shoulders and crept a few feet further toward where he thought he'd heard the noise. "Hello!"

There it was again, a muted tap that barely resonated within his ears. "Did you find something?" Bobby called.

"There's a hallway. I think I hear something."

Their heads disappeared from the window and he could hear them talking before they reappeared again. "Maybe you shouldn't go any further!" Bobby called.

He didn't like the idea of going down there, not even a little bit, but he couldn't leave here if there was still a chance he could help those people. "There are probably some more windows around you guys, why don't you see if you can dig them out?"

"Xander…"

"I won't go far, just see if you can get some more light in here."

Bobby shook his head and sat back. "We'll see what we can do."

Xander closed his eyes, took a deep breath and made his way down the hall. He kept his left hand braced on the wall, his right hand before him, and counted each step he took. There was more than a few times his left hand fell into another open doorway but he continued straight. "Hello!" he called again.

The dull thud seemed a little louder now as it drew him onward. "Hello!" he was shouting now just to hear a voice, just so he didn't feel so completely alone. "Hello!"

A loud thump almost caused him to jump out of his skin. He just barely suppressed a shriek that would have made a scream queen proud. He froze, his heart pounded in his ears as another thud sounded from his right. Keeping his left hand on the wall he leaned toward the right as he felt through the space. "Hello!"

Another forceful knock sounded as his hand came up against another wall. He dropped his left hand and used both hands to maneuver as he searched for some obstacle, or another doorway. Another bang shot his head toward the ceiling as the noise seemed to echo and vibrate around him. He knew that the noise couldn't be coming from above him, but the convoluted hallway made it difficult to discern the right direction.

Images of those burnt, oozing bodies making their way toward him flooded his mind. He could almost see them creeping up on him, their arms outstretched, and their faces melting off as they grasped for him.

Xander shook his head to clear it of the crazy images. That would be impossible, there is no way that anyone could have withstood whatever it was that had happened to the people in that house. He had to get his runaway imagination under control.

A faint sliver of light still showed when he looked back toward the doorway. It bounced a little, and shifted as it illuminated a patch of the floor. Xander swallowed heavily and turned back around as he started down the hall. He opened his mouth to call out again, but the word froze in his throat.

Somewhere, he wasn't sure where, but he thought he heard the dull drip of water. Was he near a bathroom? The cafeteria? A broken water fountain? The faint plop of water on tile increased the further down the hall he moved. He heard the splash seconds before he felt the water soak into his sneaker.

"Wonderful," he muttered. "Hello!"

The thump came from his left again now. Fisting his hands, Xander fought the urge to smash them into a wall, but losing his temper and hitting something again wasn't going to do him any good. His feet sloshed in the puddle as he made his way back toward the other wall. The thud sounded again, closer and still on his left. His foot slid into nothing, he almost fell on his ass as he yanked it back from the hole it had slipped into.

A cold sweat broke out across his brow as he pressed his forehead against the wall. He wasn't sure how much more his heart could take. He may be only nineteen but he was fairly certain he could have a heart attack, and probably would have one, before he got of this mess. Taking a deep breath he pushed off the wall and tried to stay calm when he saw that the sliver of light had vanished.

"Hello!"

Another thud echoed, and then he heard what he assumed was a muffled shout. He edged to the other wall and cautiously crept his foot forward. The ground beneath him remained blessedly solid as he crisscrossed back to the other side. The puddle sloshed over top of his ankles and slid uncomfortably into his sneakers. "Hello!"

"He… Here!" The word, subdued and broken, was one of the best things he'd ever heard.

Something brushed across his face and he instinctively threw his arm up to knock it aside. It swung away before brushing against him again. Xander seized hold of it; his fingers ran over the rubber and wire tubing in his grasp before he pushed it away and continued on.

His hand fell into nothing again, but instead of a doorway, it took him a few steps to realize that he was at a crossroads. "Hello!"

The banging continued to come from his left as another, "Here," called out to him. He glanced back, but there was nothing to see that way, not anymore. Xander branched to the left and continued to count his steps as he moved down the hall, though he doubted the counting would do him any good, not anymore. He couldn't shake the notion of him roaming these halls like a trapped rat until he died.

He was seventy five shuffles down the hall when the shouts came from his right again. He fumbled forward and his hand fell into the doorway of another classroom. "Hello!"

"Here!" The shout, though still muffled was far clearer and louder than before. His shoulders slumped as he took a deep breath and moved cautiously into the room. He brushed aside more wiring and kept his hand braced against a smooth, cool counter as he used it to guide him forward.

He tried to recall the multimedia classrooms from high school, and if this one was anything like Foxboro, there would be another side room where the TV and radio equipment were kept. There may also be another room that acted as a studio, or that could even be the room he was in. An explosive curse escaped him as he came up across something that hit him in the shin and knee.

His hands fisted on the counter as he inhaled harshly through his clenched teeth. He thought he might have preferred a hockey stick. Taking a deep breath, he went to kick aside whatever it was he'd walked into, but it didn't budge. He bent down and felt over top of it. It appeared to be a cabinet of some kind as his hands scrambled over the rectangle shape. He grabbed hold of the back of it and pulled it forward. It groaned and squeaked as it scraped across the tile floor.

He managed to shove it out of the way enough to take a couple of steps forward before coming across another obstacle. "What the…" his voice trailed off as he realized that this may be what was keeping the people trapped.

"Hello!"

"We're in here!" The voices were clear and strong as they shouted over top of one another. "Get us out please!"

Xander fumbled across another cabinet. He grabbed hold of the back to pull it forward but it didn't budge, not even a centimeter. He managed to find the handles and jerked on them, but the doors remained locked. Wiping his arm across his brow, he leaned back on his heels as his mind churned. There had to be something…

Staying on his hands and knees, he moved straight across the floor as he searched for something to break the lock with. "Are you still out there?"

"I'm here!" Xander yelled back. "Just hold on."

Reaching the wall, he turned and moved over a few feet before crawling back toward the cabinet. It took three more passes before his hand connected with something solid upon the floor. His fingers scrabbled awkwardly over the object until he realized that it was a video camera. It wasn't the best thing, but he should be able to make do with it.

He scurried back to the cabinet with the camera tucked under his arm and located the handles once again. Raising the butt end of the camera above his head, he smashed it down on what he hoped were the handles. It thudded off the cabinet and his hands screamed in protest as it hit floor.

Shaking off the lingering tingles in his hands, he grasped at the handles to find them still intact. He grabbed the camera and swung it down four more times before it broke apart in his hands and crumbled on the floor. He shook his hands out again as he stretched a tentative hand toward the handles, in the hope that at least one of the blows had managed to break it free.

Relief filled him as one of the handles twisted in his hand and broke off. He slipped his finger into the hole, located the lock, and pulled it back. The bottom door sprang open; a wave of whatever had been stored inside spilled around him and buried him up to his knees. Xander shoved the cameras, what felt like DVD players, and maybe some lenses off of his lap. He rose to his feet and began to kick and shove everything aside to make room to move the cabinet.

When he was done, he grabbed hold of the cabinet and managed to maneuver it out of the way. He was panting by the time he was done, but at least it was finally clear. "Can you get out?"

He heard the click of a knob and then what sounded like someone shoving their shoulder into a door. Something scraped and then it became silent again. "No. There's still something blocking the door."

At least the voice wasn't muffled anymore. Xander fumbled forward, his hand came in contact with the door and then slid down toward the handle. He ran over the frame and brushed up against a mouth and mustache in his exploration. "Sorry," he muttered.

"I'm not hitting on you, but that's the best thing I've felt in awhile," mustache informed him.

Xander chuckled as his hand slid further down the door. He didn't understand what was blocking the door, couldn't figure out why they couldn't get it open. He knelt down, and his knee connected with something metal. It appeared to be some kind of camera stand as his hands slid up and down it. He followed the stand to where it had become wedged against the cabinet he'd just pushed aside.

"Close the door." The door scraped and the stand clattered to the ground. Xander lifted it up and threw it across the room; he was temporarily pleased by the noise it made as it crashed into the opposite wall. "Try it now."

The door creaked open; he heard the loud sigh of breaths as someone began to cry softly. "It's ok Molly, we're out now."

Sniffles filled the air, but the crying didn't completely stop. "Thank you, thank you so much. I thought we were going to die in there."

Xander recognized it as the voice that belonged to the mustache. "Yeah, ah… you're welcome," he replied awkwardly. "It's going to be difficult getting out of here. I'm pretty sure I remember the way, but we have to go slow and hold onto each other. Grab my shirt."

He found mustache's groping hand and wrapped it around the bottom half of the back of his shirt. "How many of you are there?" he asked.

"Four," mustache answered.

"There's water and wires to watch out for, but I only came across one hole in the floor."

"What's happening out there?" a small voice squeaked.

"Nothing good," Xander answered honestly. "But I don't know what exactly happened, or what is happening."

"How did you manage to find us?" mustache inquired.

"Luck," Xander muttered as he made his way cautiously toward the doorway. He called out obstacles and directions to them as the man's clasp remained firm on his shirt. He made it into the hallway and counted the steps back toward the split. The heavy breathing and scuffling sounds seemed extremely loud, though he didn't think he'd have been able to hear them under normal circumstances.

"Stopping." They slopped to a halt in the puddle as he searched carefully forward with his foot. The hole had been around here somewhere, he was certain of it. He hesitatingly took a couple of steps forward and found the edge of the hole. "This way."

He led the way across and started back down the hall. A small squeak sounded from the back. "Something just touched me," a girl gasped.

"Wires," Xander told her impatiently.

"It felt like a hand," she insisted.

Xander shuddered as he thought of the mushy thing from the first room, but he continued on, refusing to even think about the possibility. The turn should be somewhere up here…

His hand hit a wall; he jerked back as his wrist protested the abrupt contact. There shouldn't have been a wall there. He thought back over his counting, tried to recall the number of steps, and knew that they had been right. But as his hands pressed flat against the wall again, he finally accepted the awful truth that his mind had been trying to deny.

He'd somehow gotten turned around within the hallways. He had no idea where he was right now, or where to go.

CHAPTER 6

Al

Franklin, Mass.

"What is that?" John demanded.

Al could only stand and stare at the black rain that poured over the vehicles, asphalt, and washed down the road in a sweeping torrent that was already forming puddles and rivers. "The supplies!" Carl blurted.

He turned away from the door, took the gun out from his waistband and placed it on the counter. Lee grabbed hold of Carl's arm as he stepped toward the door. "You can't go out there!"

"The medicine is in the back of that truck, we can't let it get ruined," Carl reminded him.

"We don't know what that is!" Lee retorted.

"We don't know what anything is anymore. Al, give me your keys."

Al fumbled in his pocket for the keys and pulled them free. "Maybe you should reconsider this," he told Carl as he handed them over.

Carl fleetingly met his gaze before taking the keys. "I have thought about it. I'm not robbing anymore stores any time soon, and I'm not letting everything we have go to waste. John?"

John hesitated before giving a brief bow of his head and placing his gun on the counter. "Yeah, whatever."

Lee grabbed hold of Riley's arm when she placed her rifle down and unstrapped the belt at her waist. "Riley come on."

"They're going to need help Lee," she told him as she removed her arm from his grasp and handed him the belt. Her large blue eyes drifted toward the door before coming back to him. "Carl's right, we can't let it all be for nothing."

Lee shook his head as he released her. "I'll go with you."

"No, stay, if something… if that rain is wrong somehow, in more than the obvious way, someone has to find Xander and Bobby. You're the only other one that has any idea where to look."

"He'll kick my ass if something happens to you, let me go."

"No. I'm faster and you know it. We're wasting time arguing, I'm going."

Lee opened his mouth to protest, but he closed it again and gave her a brisk nod. Carl and John already had the door open and were waiting for her under the overhang. Riley swallowed nervously as she stepped through the door to join them. The scent of the rain hung heavily in the air as Al followed behind. Carl glanced at him but Al shook his head. "I have no intention of going with you, you'll move much faster without me. I'm simply curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat," John muttered.

"Or us," Riley said.

Al stepped around them and hesitated before stretching his hand out and sticking it into the rain. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. For it to coat his fingers like tar, or sear through his flesh and rot his skin away like the person in the donut shop. However, it simply ran over his fingers in rivulets that left a black trail down his hand and arm as he lifted it in the air and rubbed it between his fingers. It felt like sand as he turned his hand over and brought it back from the rain.

"At least we know it won't kill us right away," Carl said.

"Oh so it's possibly a slow kind of death, like nuclear fallout. We'll be the ones who rot away for the next ten years instead of the ones who die instantly," John retorted.

"Happy thoughts John, happy thoughts." Riley slapped him on the shoulder as she moved closer to the edge of the overhang. "Let's go."

Before Al could say anything more, she plunged into the rain and raced toward the truck. Carl was close on her heels; John cursed loudly, ducked his head, and dashed into the rain behind them. They were soaked before they made it three feet, but they didn't hesitate as they heedlessly crashed through the puddles.

Lee stepped beside him as Carl threw the doors open and Riley scrambled into the back of the truck. They remained silent as bags were tossed forward and Carl and John scurried back and forth to the car. "I hope it's not nuclear fallout," Rochelle muttered.

"It's too late for all of us if it is," Lee told her.

"That's reassuring."

"Sorry," he apologized as he tugged at his hair.

Riley appeared again at the back of the truck and nearly fell out of it as one of her feet skidded on the wet wooden bed. Carl seized hold of her arm before she could topple to the ground. Whatever words he said to her were buried beneath the ceaseless crescendo of the rain on the vehicles and roof of the motel. Black ran down them in rivulets, their clothes were stained gray and darkening by the second as they were pelted by the relentless water.

He'd used black mulch in his yard once, and as he watched them Al was reminded of the mess it had made. His hands and clothes had been dyed black by the time he was done spreading it, and it had stained the old pair of boots he'd been wearing. After the first rain storm, even the weathered gray shingles on his house had been stained by the stuff. It had looked sharp in his beds, but he'd vowed never to use it again as his hands were black for a good week. He swore they'd dyed the mulch with charcoal, and as he tilted his head back to look at the sky, he thought that perhaps it was charcoal falling over them now.

They splashed back toward them, carrying two bags and a case of water as black puddles and rivers splashed over and around them. Riley stumbled in first and doubled over as she rested her hands on her knees. John dropped the case of water as Carl stumbled and fell against the doorframe.

"Are you ok?" Lee demanded. He reached out for Riley but seemed to think better of it as his hand fell back to his side. "Riley?"

She held up a hand as she panted for a few more seconds. "Fine, I'm fine," she assured him.

"You look like someone rolled you around in coal or ash, or a bucket of squids."

"Squids?" she retorted.

"You know what I mean."

She straightened up and held her arms out before her; she twisted them over as she studied her darkened skin. "Who knew having a ton of water dumped on me would make me feel dirtier," John muttered.

Carl took off his baseball cap and scowled at the now black material. "This is my lucky hat."

"And now it's crap," John told him.

"I'm not getting rid of it."

Black water ran down from his head as he squished the hat back into place. "It's almost like ash or soot or something," Lee said as he studied Riley with a curled upper lip.

"Gives credence to that whole super volcano theory," Riley muttered.

"Yeah, or maybe it is nuclear fallout," Lee told her.

"It's good to know you're a glass half full kind of guy Lee," John said.

"Let's get you guys cleaned up." Al gestured toward the office door. "Maybe there's an apartment or something back there that the manager or owner stays in."

"Let's hope," Rochelle said as she quickly stepped away from John. She squealed as he thrust his hands in her face and waved them around.

"Oh scary!" he taunted.

"You're gross."

"Not arguing with that," Carl agreed.

Al led the way toward the back of the office, the smell was starting to clear out, but it was still potent enough to make his gag reflex kick into overdrive. "Did anything get ruined?" Rochelle asked nervously.

"I'm sure a few bandages and maybe some food, but I think we managed to save most of the stuff in boxes," Carl told her.

"Unless it was just nuked," Lee reminded them.

"Well if a third eye sprouts in my forehead just put me out my misery ok?" John asked.

"No problem," Rochelle assured him.

Al walked around the desk and headed for the door behind it. He barely registered the fact that the knob was hot before he heard the sizzle of his skin. A startled cry escaped him, he jerked his hand back but it was already too late, a layer of his skin remained on the knob. His eyes were already watering, and it was taking everything he had not to vomit as he held up the blistered mess of his hand.

Rochelle staggered back and crashed into a rack containing brochures of local attractions, and places to eat. The rack tumbled to the floor and the brochures scattered across the ground in a glossy array of pictures. Riley leapt over the counter and grabbed hold of his arm, he heard her speaking but he couldn't quite register the words as she peered up at him from a face streaked with black. John had been right behind him, but he took an abrupt step back now.

Al had been through a lot in his seventy two years, more than most, less than some, but for the first time he was left completely dumbfounded as he continued to stare at his blistered hand. Riley's face was beginning to blur, and even beneath the black coloring of his face John was the color of a ghost.

Carl shoved past John and seized Al's forearm from Riley. He turned it over before him and then barked out a command to John. John stumbled back and bolted for the door of the office. Al watched him scramble and fall in the rain as Riley and Carl spoke with each other. "Radiation," Lee was saying and Rochelle was starting to take on the look of someone that had seen Frankenstein's monster coming at her.

"No," Al managed to choke out before complete chaos took over and they scattered like dandelions in the wind. He swallowed as Carl focused on him and clutched his forearm a little tighter. "Steam. I think one of those steam holes are behind that door, it would explain the smell if there were people back there also."

"Are you sure?" Lee demanded.

Al nodded. "Yes." He managed to hold up his other arm, the one that had been burnt earlier in the day. The damage hadn't been as bad as his hand, but the blisters were still present. He just hadn't thought of them in awhile.

"But…"

"It's steam," Riley interrupted briskly. "Get your mind off the nukes Lee, it is steam. It's what happened to Karen, it's what happened in the coffee shop, and it's what happened here. I hope," she added in a mutter that only Carl and Al could hear.

She turned away to dig underneath the counter. She came back with a pair of scissors; he nodded his agreement to her unspoken question as she bent forward and cut back the sleeve of his shirt. She rolled it away from the blisters at the base of his hand.

"I don't understand, wouldn't it have been in the whole office," Rochelle said as she came toward them. "Or wouldn't it be on fire or something."

Carl moved to the side, blocking Rochelle before she could get a good view of Al's disfigured hand. Riley moved closer to the door, she knelt down and tried to peer underneath the crack, but she shook her head in frustration and sat back. "Weather stripping," she muttered.

"Think of it like a sauna," Al said. "It's been trapped within that room but it won't set fire to anything."

Riley rose back to her feet and briefly pressed her fingers to the wood before jerking them back. "It must just be the knob," she told them as she held her untouched fingers up for them to inspect.

Al winced as Carl turned his arm a little to the side. He was pretty sure there were blisters on top of blisters, and they were red. He'd never seen blisters like them before, and though he didn't think it was a third degree burn, it was the worst second degree he'd ever seen or experienced. It was a good thing he hadn't had much to eat as his stomach heaved and rolled.

John stumbled back into the office and nearly fell as he tripped over his own two feet. "Graceful," Carl mumbled.

"Possible future generations may rest on that man's shoulders," Al managed to get out.

"That's a frightening thought," Riley told him as John panted up to them and thrust a bag out.

"There's burn ointment, bandages, and some painkillers!" John blurted.

Carl took the bag from him and began to dig through it as John left a puddle on the floor around him. "Shouldn't we wash it first?" Riley inquired.

"Where?" Carl asked.

Riley nodded behind them. Al turned to the pegboard with keys on it nailed to the wall beneath the counter. "Do you really want to open more doors?" Lee demanded.

"We can't stay in here, and this has to be taken care of before it gets infected," she retorted. "We'll just ah…" her forehead furrowed as her nose scrunched. Then she smiled. "We'll just throw rain water at the knobs to check them first."

"Oh dear god," Lee said as he threw up his hands and turned away. Al thought Lee was going to just walk out, but he stormed over to the water cooler in the corner and pulled some cups down. "Let's at least use clear water for this."

"Are you going to be ok to move?" Riley asked him.

"I'll be fine," Al assured her.

She squeezed past him and grabbed all the keys off the pegboard. John gathered the guns. "Grab the supplies Rochelle," John told her and nodded to the bags still sitting by the front door.

Rochelle remained mute and ashen as she hurried over to them. Carl continued to help hold his arm out as they shuffled out of the office and down the row of rooms. Lee tossed water on the first doorknob and it made a spitting noise before it began to steam. "Skip," Lee muttered.

He didn't bother with the second door but hurried halfway down the aisle before trying another one. He tentatively tapped on the knob four times before nodding to Riley. She fumbled through the keys for number six and handed it over to him. Lee unlocked the door and jumped back as he threw it open. He then dropped his arms and leaned forward to stare into the room.

Lee nodded to them before slipping inside. Carl hurried Al toward the sink and mirror across the way and turned the cold water on. It spit for a little bit before some murky water shot out and then finally ran clear. "I'm not so sure you should stick your hand under that," Carl said.

"I think it was just the pipes clearing out," Al told him. Even still, he stared at the water and kept his hand clear of it.

Carl took a deep breath and thrust his fingers under the spray. Black ran off of them, but he didn't pull his hand back. "It's cold and we have ointment. It's your decision though."

Al took a deep breath and slid his hand under the water. His teeth clenched, a hiss escaped him at the same time a shiver of pleasure shimmered down his back. He didn't know if he hated it or enjoyed it more, as he thought he heard the water sizzle against his burnt skin. Carl released his arm and pat his shoulder before turning away.

Riley took his place. "I'm fine," he assured her as her eyes ran over him. He felt like an idiot though. "I should have been more careful."

"None of us are prepared for this; all of us would have grabbed that knob. You were just the first one to get there. We have to start being more alert, more prepared, but it's so easy…"

Her voice trailed off as her eyes slid away. "It's so easy to fall into the way we've always known and done things. It will get us all killed if we don't start to change."

"It will," she agreed.

Carl appeared on his other side and dropped a bag on the counter. He began to pull supplies out and laid them on the counter. "Are you supposed to bandage a burn?" Riley asked.

"Loosely, it will be fine," Carl assured her.

"Are you sure?"

"I worked with things that had very hot mufflers, and one accident prone kid, I know a few things about burns."

"I only burned my hand twice," John protested from his position by the door.

Carl didn't respond to him as Al pulled his hand from beneath the water. Carl and Riley took turns washing their hands, the sink was filthy and dark when they were done, but their hands were still stained. Riley's nose wrinkled but she didn't say anything as she dried her hands on the worn, once white towels.

Riley held his arm as Carl carefully applied the ointment and loosely bandaged it. The thing hurt like hell but even still he refused the pain medication Riley offered him. "It will make me hazy and lethargic, two things none of us can afford to be right now."

"You can't stay in pain, and we'll keep you covered," she protested.

"I can't take the chance of something happening and not being prepared." He used his good hand to enfold hers over the pills she held. "I'll be fine."

She looked about to protest further but John suddenly stepped away from the door, held his finger to his lips, and gradually closed it. Al and Riley exchanged a look as Carl dropped his brutalized hat on the old bureau, grabbed his gun from the top of it and hurried to the door. "What is it?" Carl demanded in a low voice.

"People," John whispered.

Al forgot all about his throbbing hand as he exchanged a look with Riley and walked over to the window. Carl grabbed hold of Rochelle's hand and pulled it away from the curtains as John pressed his eye against the peep hole. "I think they're going by," he muttered.

"How is anyone driving in that rain?" Carl asked.

"They're not driving."

Carl did a double take. "They're walking?"

"Well they're not flying," John retorted.

Carl glowered at him before walking to the edge of the picture window and pulling the curtain back a hairsbreadth. Al grabbed hold of the curtain and kneeling down peered out a small sliver at the bottom. Riley bent beside him and pressed her head to his. Thanks to the overhang most of the water had been kept from the glass, but even so some had splashed onto it, and if the smudges and dirt were any indication it hadn't been cleaned in months, possibly years. It was hard to see anything through it, but eventually he focused on what had caught John's attention.

Riley's hand curled around his shoulder as through the dirt and rain she spotted the group of twenty or so people plodding down the road. Though the people in the group had their heads bent, they gave no indication that they were even aware of the rain as they trudged stalwartly on through the black puddles and streams that flowed down the asphalt.

They didn't look at the hotel, didn't even glance at the vehicles, but simply continued down the road. "What are they doing?" Rochelle inquired.

"Shh," John admonished.

A cold chill began to work its way down Al's spine as the people moved out of sight. "That can't be all the people from the town," Carl said.

"No, definitely not," Riley confirmed as she released his shoulder and sat on the bed.

"Why didn't they even look over here?" John demanded.

"We didn't plan to come here before the rain started. I can almost feel the bedbugs in this place," Carl reminded him as he released the curtain and Riley rose off the bed. "Just so it's on record, and I am making myself clear, I hate this town. Hate it."

"I second that," Lee said as he walked over and sat on the other full bed.

"Creepy ass people." Rochelle sat next to Al and squeezed his good hand.

Carl placed his gun down on the worn looking, rickety nightstand and nodded toward the door. "Open that back up, we'll have a better angle with it open."

Al rubbed absently at his bandaged hand as John cracked the door open. The scent of rain filled the room, but it was laced with more than the odor he was familiar with. He didn't believe it was nuclear fallout, or at least he didn't want to believe it, but there was something almost dirty about it.

John slid back into the room and closed the door again. "There's more coming." Al looked up as Carl grabbed his gun from the nightstand. "A lot more."

CHAPTER 7

John

Franklin, Mass.

His hold on the gun was getting slippery, and it had nothing to do with the water still dripping off of him and onto the worn commercial carpet. There was a puddle forming beneath him, a dark stain that he didn't notice over the hush that had descended on the room. If it hadn't been for the powerful beat of the rain, he knew he would have heard a pin drop, even on the carpet.

He didn't know people could be so still, he hadn't known that he could be so still as he kept his eye pressed to the hole in the door. His hands, resting against the door, were helping him to keep his balance on his tiptoes, but he didn't feel any strain in his calves, and his feet didn't ache from the pressure he was putting on them.

No, he didn't notice anything over the crowd moving steadily forward, seemingly oblivious to the rain as they trudged onward in an endless wave. Zombies, zombies, zombies, the word was an endless chant in his head that caused his stomach to twist and a lump to form in his throat.

He'd watched countless zombie movies and TV shows, wondered about the zombie apocalypse, played the video games, and had even jokingly made plans with his friends about how they would kick undead ass and pound zombies back into the grave. Secretly, he'd always thought he'd be one of the first ones to be eaten, and what a hideously awful way to go. He couldn't imagine anything worse than having other humans literally eat him to an agonizing death.

He couldn't imagine it, but he was convinced he may end up witnessing it by the time all was said and done.

The word zombies continued to scream through his head, but there was something about these people. Something so different and strange that though he would like to believe they were dead, and would actually accept that fact after the events of this day, he knew that he was wrong. They were not zombies. They seemed oblivious to their surroundings, but he was fairly certain they were still alive.

They didn't mindlessly shuffle about and they didn't appear to be rotting. Though some of them were burned, bloody, bruised and looked more than worse for the wear as they trudged onward. They didn't acknowledge the fact that they were getting soaked, but a few of them would lift their heads to the sky and stare at it as they blinked against the black washing over them. Though they would stand there, seeming to take in the rain like he used to on a hot summer day, they didn't seem bothered by the fact that it was black.

Curse's surged up his throat, he fought the urge to kick the door and slam his hands against it as he screamed. He remained immobile as sweat and water trickled down the back of his neck and his hold on the gun became increasingly harder to maintain.

The others moved around the one's that stopped in the middle of the road. They didn't bump into them, didn't urge them to move on, but simply flowed around them like a school of mackerel around a rock. John was tempted to pinch himself in order to see if he was awake, but he knew he was, and he couldn't bring himself to move, not even one centimeter.

He was terrified they would somehow see his movement and come charging up here to eat his brains, or his flesh, or whatever it was that these people craved. For though he felt that they were still alive, he knew that something wasn't right with them, something not entirely human, not anymore.

No normal human would stand out there with their heads tilted back to that rain, soaking it in like they were flowers in need of hydration.

A shudder tore through him. He bit his lip as he waited for the flowers to somehow have seen his movement and come charging up the drive screaming, 'feed me' at the top of their plantlike lungs. They didn't come though and John relaxed a little, but it was impossible to relax completely as he was growing increasingly convinced that whatever was wrong with these people was because of the rain. The rain that he had spent far too much time in as far as he was concerned. More than anyone else in the room, which meant he was now the guinea pig in this macabre dance of insanity.

He'd rather die in a steaming pit of lava fueled misery than become one of the mindless herd outside.

"They're going to eat us." The words, spoken by Rochelle, echoed his thoughts. Although he was growing increasingly concerned that he may be the one that ate them if it was the rain that was causing those people to act like this. He'd never craved a shower so badly in his life, but he was convinced that somehow the rain had already polluted the water system and that these drones would hear the shower running.

The plants with their heads tilted back began to move forward again, and he found himself extremely grateful that they hadn't opened their mouths and started drinking the water as the last ones ambled out of view. The street became silent again, but John couldn't bring himself to pull his eye away from the door. He was half convinced that those people already knew they were here and were going to appear right in front of the door.

He could already feel the scream building in his throat for when that first eyeball appeared before him. He was going to lose his mind; he was going to go absolutely crazy before this was all over. For the first time he faced the fact that he may be one of the first ones to be taken down by a group of rabies/zombie infected humans that walked mindlessly through charcoal encrusted rain, and he didn't like it one damn bit.

It was the shaking in his legs that finally made him drop back down. He pressed his forehead against the door as he inhaled a shaky breath and tried not to think about the possible toxins seeping into his system.

"What's wrong with them?" Rochelle asked.

John kept his forehead against the door as he turned his head to look at them, but no one spoke. Carl's hands fumbled for his cigarettes, he cast a look at Rochelle and shoved them back into his pocket. There was a look in his eyes that frightened John almost as much as the syphilis/mad cow shuffling humans that had been on the street. Before this day they had been friendly, today John had come to consider Carl more than just a friend but almost a brother, a rock to rely on when he'd been on the verge of losing it. Now he couldn't tell if Carl was going to start screaming or sit down on the bed and go catatonic on him.

Instead Carl turned away from the window, climbed over the bed, and snagged hold of the keys Riley had stolen from the office. "What are you doing?" Riley hissed.

"I need a freaking cigarette," Carl muttered as he filled a cup of water and hurried to the door in between the two rooms. "There has to be a master key in this mess."

He tossed some of the water on the handle and then tapped it with his hand. John remained mute as Carl went through the keys, and tossed the ones that didn't fit onto the bed. The pile in Carl's hand was growing smaller. John was beginning to think he'd have to open the front door again before Carl threw a nic fit and lost his mind, when a key finally slid in and turned the lock. Carl's shoulders slumped; he pulled the door open and tossed the rest of the water on the other door. John held his breath as Carl unlocked the door and poked his head inside the other room.

He disappeared and a few seconds later John heard the flick of a lighter and Carl's deep inhale. John turned around and leaned against the door before sliding to the floor. "What was wrong with them?" Rochelle asked again.

"I don't know," Riley answered as she dug into one of the bags and pulled out two flashlights and some batteries. "Maybe nothing, they may have just been going home."

It was a lie; they all knew it, but none of them argued with her. "Was that the whole town?" Carl asked from the other room.

"No," Lee answered. "Franklin's about twice the size of Foxboro and that wasn't even close to the population of Foxboro."

"How many of them do you think there were?" Rochelle asked.

"Couple hundred," John muttered.

"At least," Al agreed.

"How's your hand feeling?" Riley asked as she began to put batteries into the flashlights.

"Fine," Al responded. Though, if the pinch of his mouth, and the lines around his eyes were any indication, John knew that he wasn't telling the truth.

"What are you doing?" Lee asked Riley from his position by the window.

"It's going to get dark soon, we have to be prepared. I don't think it's safe for us to drive, not in that, and not with groups of people just randomly traveling down the road doing god knows what, for whatever reason."

"I don't think they're zombies," John told her.

"I didn't say zombies did I?" she retorted. Then she lifted her head and took a deep breath. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be… just sorry."

"It's ok."

"Not zombies, they looked alive, but they're not right. They're not…" She shuddered as she broke off. "They're not normal and I don't trust them. I'm not going to be surrounded by any of them anytime soon, even inside a moving vehicle."

"What if they find us in here?" Rochelle asked.

"They didn't find us just now," Riley answered but her hand shook on the flashlight as she placed it on the bureau.

Carl stepped back into the room; he looked a little less pale as he surveyed them. "We can block the window with one of the mattresses so they won't see the light. Riley's right though, we won't get far in this rain, not safely, and not with the condition the roads and towns are in now. We have no choice but to hunker down here for the night."

"Should we move the vehicles closer?" Lee inquired.

John was tempted to drive the truck right into the room with them in order to protect it, but at the same time he wanted to get it as far away from them as possible. It felt like a beacon, a bright shining, here we are announcement to the freaks in the street. Carl opened his mouth, but threw up his hands and shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted.

"I say we leave them there. They're close enough that we can defend them, but they don't seem to be drawing any attention," Al finally said. "If we move them someone might notice."

"I don't think those people are noticing anything right now," Rochelle whispered.

"Do you think it's in the rain?" John finally blurted his tumultuous thoughts. "Do you think whatever is wrong with them is in the rain? Like some kind of poison that's seeping through their skin."

Riley looked like she was going to vomit. He'd never seen a person turn green, but she came about as close as a person could as she stared at him. Al looked down at his bandaged hand and then around at them. Lee took a step back. He pressed closer to the wall as he stared at them with an expression that made John think that he might just shoot them all before they could eat him like a pack of rabid hyena's. John wasn't entirely sure he would blame Lee if he did.

"No," Carl said as he shot John a scathing look. "It is not in the rain. Those people weren't in the rain for that long, not much longer than us even if they were in it the whole time. For all we know they could have been inside somewhere and wandered into the rain right before we saw them."

"You can't know that," John told him.

Carl looked like he was contemplating throttling him. "No, but I still believe we would be reacting by now. And even if it is in the rain, there is nothing that we can do about it, so just let it go."

John was tempted to argue with him but he didn't have it in him, not anymore, and he thought Lee might actually start firing on them. "We're not going to eat you Lee!" Riley snapped at him. "I feel perfectly fine. John?"

He thought about it, because he honestly did half expect to start saying brains and craving red meat, but he did feel fine. He didn't feel feverish, he wasn't particularly hungry, and he felt saner than he thought he should given the events of this day. "I feel fine too," he finally agreed.

"Carl?" Riley asked.

"Healthy as a horse."

"Al?"

"I feel fine too. I think Carl is right, it's not the rain, and it may not be anything at all. People do crazy things all the time, especially when they're panicked and everyone is panicked after today. Perhaps those people really are just trying to get home. For all we know there's a shelter nearby and they decided to leave it before the rain started."

John would like to believe that, but those people were as creepy as a clown with piranha teeth and a butcher knife. He shuddered at the image and silently cursed himself for allowing it to enter his mind in the first place, now he'd never get rid of it. "You might want to keep an eye on the outside," Riley said.

John didn't feel like rising back to his feet, he was grateful when Lee pulled the curtain partially back and peered out. "It's quiet," he murmured.

"I suggest we start getting things settled now, it's going to get dark early tonight," Carl said. Riley nodded, though she still looked a little green as she placed the second flashlight on the bureau. "John, keep a lookout with Lee."

"I'm not opening the door again."

Carl shook his head. "No, I wouldn't."

John forced himself back to his feet as Carl and Riley disappeared into the other room. He took a deep breath as he braced himself to look out the eyehole again. Lee would warn him if he was about to come eye to eye with a flesh eating freak show, but even still he was convinced there would be someone on the other side of that hole. There was only endless rain and broken asphalt.

Though… John squinted as he stared at the outside world and tried to process what it was that he was seeing. It couldn't be, but it appeared that it was. "Is the rain not as black?" he croaked.

"I think so." The relief was so intense in Lee's voice that John thought he may very well be on the verge of tears. "I really think so."

Al and Rochelle rose from the bed, Al's shoulder brushed against John's as he pulled the curtain back a little for them to look out. "It does look like it."

John turned around as Rochelle began to sob softly. "What's wrong? Are they back?" Carl demanded from the doorway. Rochelle shook her head, and though tears ran down her face she managed a reassuring smile as she wiped them away.

"No, it's the rain," she elaborated when Riley and Carl continued to stare at her.

They dropped the mattress that they had brought in from the other room and hurried over to the window. Rochelle and Al stepped aside to let them have a chance to look out. John thought Riley was going to start crying too as her shoulders sagged, and a small sound escaped her. "That may be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she whispered.

"I agree," Carl said.

John couldn't take his eyes off of the water that no longer resembled a chunk of coal but more a beam of steal. He still had no desire to be out there in it, and it still wasn't normal, but he also didn't feel like cowering in the corner from it anymore either. "The world is washing itself clean," Al murmured.

"What?" John inquired.

Al shook his head as he settled on the bed and held the wrist of his wounded hand on his lap. "A cleaning after the extermination so to speak," he elaborated.

"Yes, perhaps," Riley agreed. She let go of the curtain and followed Carl back over to the mattress. They hauled it over and Lee helped them to place it in front of the window and fit it into place.

"The other window is already blocked," Carl told them. "We can keep watch out of both rooms."

"We're not going to be able to see anything out there after dark," Lee said.

John swallowed heavily. He didn't want to be blinded, he didn't want to be susceptible to the psycho clowns parading around outside and preparing for them. They wouldn't be preparing balloon animals for them, he knew that much for sure. "I'll go out there," Carl stated.

John's mouth dropped. "Have you lost your effing mind!?"

"Someone should be out there to watch over the vehicles and supplies. I can sit in the truck, keep watch, and if something goes wrong I'll blow the horn and alert you or I'll drive up here. We can't all be trapped in here, cornered, and at the mercy of others. It has to be done John."

"Not alone," Al said. "You'll have to sleep."

"I'll be ok."

Al shook his head. "No, not alone. You're right, someone does need to be out there, but if you sit out there all night you'll never be able to stay awake, and we'll all be in danger."

"I'll be cranking butts like a champion."

"Oh that's brilliant, little flickering red orbs to alert everyone to your location," John told him.

"I can smoke beneath the dash John, not my first time at having to hide the habit," Carl retorted.

"Al's right, I'll go with you." Riley stepped away from the mattress. "I don't relish the idea of staying in here anyway, and I'd feel much better if I was out there."

John wondered if she had images of killer clowns running through her head too. "That's fine," Carl agreed.

"What about the car?" Rochelle asked.

"No one wants to sleep in that thing," Al muttered.

"I'll go out too," Lee volunteered.

"No, there's still a chance you might be able to see something from in here. We need as many eyes as possible, from as many different angles as possible, and you guys will also have to take turns sleeping. Plus the car is open, and easier to see into. We'll be less noticeable in the truck because of the bed, and it's easier to hide within it. If we can get notice to any threat, Riley can get into the car, if not we'll have to call it a lost cause. I'm hoping we'll be able to get some of the supplies back into the truck, maybe behind the seat."

"Sounds like a plan," Riley said. "I'd like to take a shower first though."

Carl nodded as she grabbed another bag and slipped past them into the bathroom. John winced as the water turned on, but though it seemed loud to him, he knew that it was muffled and didn't drift beyond this room. Even so, he turned and put his eye back to the hole as sweat began to trickle down his back again. It had been bad enough with the hideous sunlight illuminating the earth; he was dreading the rapidly descending shadows of the encroaching night.

CHAPTER 8

Mary Ellen

Franklin, Mass.

"Where is he?" Bobby inquired anxiously.

Mary Ellen didn't know; she couldn't see anything inside the shadows of the school. Her hand shook and for the first time in over twenty years she began to chew on her nails. She hadn't bitten her nails since she was ten, and her mother decided to paint them with a foul tasting nail polish that had quickly broken her of the bad habit. Now, she chomped at them like a rabbit chewed on clover.

A shiver ran down her spine as a small gust of wind blew her hair around her. Frowning, she turned away from the shadowy interior. Her eyes widened, she fell back against the brick building as she spotted the rolling black clouds sweeping across the horizon. She'd never seen anything like them as they slid insidiously across the sky. Though the clouds didn't seem to be coming their way, they had already covered the town of Foxboro and were seeping out toward the surrounding towns.

"Maybe I should go in there," Bobby muttered. "He could be injured; he could have gotten turned around." Mary Ellen couldn't turn away from the dark clouds as she fumbled out to the side for him. Her hand came in contact with air a few times before she found his sweaty shoulder. "What?" he asked though he didn't move away from his position at the window.

Mary Ellen had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could find words. "Bobby."

"What?"

"Bobby, look."

She could see him looking at her out of the corner of his eye before his shoulder slipped away from her grasp. A quick exhalation escaped him as he sat back on his heels. "What is that?" he managed to croak out.

Mary Ellen shook her head; she didn't even have a guess as to what it was. As she watched lightning shot out of the clouds and slammed into the ground with enough force that she felt a small vibration beneath her feet. The hair on her arms rose, she wondered if the hair on her head was beginning to stand on end as was Bobby's.

More lightning slashed across the sky in a cloud to cloud pattern that lit up the massive black clouds as a deluge of rain pounded against the earth. Mary Ellen pressed closer to the building as more lightning zipped into the ground and sparks flew into the air. Smoke billowed up as something went up in flames.

"I uh…" Bobby broke off. "I'm going to find Xander."

"I think you should," she agreed.

He scrambled away from the wall and she listened as he slid into the classroom. She heard him calling Xander's name, but she couldn't bring herself to look away from the mammoth storm as she chewed on her nails. Her mother would be absolutely irate with her right now.

A loud clap of thunder caused her to jump and a startled cry escaped as she spun toward the window. Peering inside, she searched for Bobby amongst the shadows but couldn't see him. The sound of something skidding across the floor sounded before Bobby began to curse. The dull thud of rubber, or something like it sounded and she realized that he was jumping around, probably hopping.

"You ok?"

Bobby let loose a string of curses that would have made a trucker blush before he finally answered her. "Yes."

Mary Ellen had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as she listened to him shuffle forward while calling Xander's name. She glanced nervously over her shoulder. The clouds continued to spread sideways over the towns, but they didn't appear to be coming toward them. She didn't know what she would do if that storm started coming their way.

"Hurry," she whispered, though there was no one to hear her.

"Xander!" Mary Ellen flinched at Bobby's loud shout, but she supposed it didn't matter. "Xander!"

She lowered her head to the window again as the ground once more vibrated with the force of the lightning. Her forehead furrowed, her hand clenched on the wall as she waited for the loud clap of thunder, but it didn't follow. Sitting up, Mary Ellen chewed on her nail as she turned back to the ominous clouds on the horizon. Lightning continued to streak across the sky, it wasn't hitting the ground but the earth continued to rumble beneath her.

Her heart plummeted into her stomach. The hair on her neck now standing on end had nothing to do with the electrical charge in the air as the rumbling increased. "Aftershock," she whispered seconds before the earth heaved and lurched. She threw her arms up as dirt and rocks shot up around her. Her cheek smacked off of a brick as she fell to the ground, but she managed to bite back a cry as she covered her head with her arms.

She struggled for breath as the ground settled around her again. She didn't want to lift her head as tears began to burn her eyes and a small sob escaped her. Gradually, she regained enough control of herself to take in her surroundings again. Though there was a new fracture a hundred feet away from the car, this quake didn't seem to have created the same kind of destruction that its predecessors had.

"Bobby?" The word came out as no more than a strangled croak. She tried to get her shaking under control as a single tear slid down her cheek. "Bobby!" Her voice was louder as it carried further into the shadowed interior. "Bobby!"

"Here." The word was small and barely discernible.

"Are you ok?"

There was a brief hesitation before he finally answered her. "I'm fine. Was that the storm?"

"Aftershock."

"Freaking wonderful."

"Do you hear him?"

"No." She listened as he made his way through the room again. "I think I found the doorway."

"Maybe you shouldn't go through there." She was fairly convinced that whoever went through that door wouldn't come back. She pressed her forehead against the cool brick as she waited for his response.

"I won't go far."

"If there's another tremor…" her voice trailed off. They both knew what could happen if there was another tremor.

"I won't go far."

A single tear slid down her cheek, her hand fisted on the wall as she took another quick glance around. She listened to Bobby's voice drifting away as he repeatedly called out to Xander. She found her gaze irresistibly drawn back to the clouds as a low clap of thunder rolled across the land.

Her thoughts were drawn back to her daughter as she recalled what it had been like to hold Rochelle in her arms for the first time. She'd been so small, squiggly, purple and beautiful as she shook her fists in Mary Ellen's face. She'd still thought that she was in love with Larry at the time, and she'd been so proud of her family. She'd been certain that though she was frightened about being such a young mother, they would be the perfect family that everyone envied.

That dream had never come to fruition, but Mary Ellen had managed to keep Rochelle sheltered from the darker side of her marriage, had managed to keep her protected from the worst aspects of life. And now she was out there, alone…

Mary Ellen broke the thought off before she started to sob like a baby. She had to keep it together. Taking a deep breath she lowered her head back to the window and strained to hear Bobby. Silence met her. "Bobby?" she called.

She didn't know what she was going to do if someone didn't come back soon. She couldn't leave here without knowing what had happened to them, but she wasn't sure if she should climb in there. She glanced at the Caddy and then back at the menacing sky. "Bobby!" she called into the classroom again. "Xander!"

Her voice didn't seem to carry far into the gloom. Xander had said that someone should watch over the car, but the car wouldn't do them any good if they weren't able to break free of the school. With a deep sigh, she grabbed hold of the windowsill and lowered herself into the classroom before she lost her courage to do so. She shuffled forward with her hands outstretched as she called out to Bobby again.

She tried not to think about the possibility of another aftershock as she brushed up against a desk. She pushed it back with her leg and swung her arms from side to side. She cursed as her hand smacked into something metal, and jerking it back, she began to shake it out. She cradled it against her stomach as she bit into her lip and fought the urge to jump up and down and scream. This was what she got for almost laughing at Bobby, she realized as she stuck her foot out and prodded at the area surrounding her.

Gathering her strength, she stuck her hand out again and came up against something cool and metal. It took her a second to realize that she'd found the doorframe that seemed to lead into another world, or a giant crater that had swallowed Bobby and Xander.

She stuck her foot out the door as she grasped the frame and leaned her head into the hall. "Bobby! Xander!" She only heard the beat of her heart as she strained to hear any noise from them. "Bobby!"

It took everything she had not to release the door and run back to the window. She became certain there was a monster just inches from her face, watching her, breathing her in as it waited to pounce. She could almost hear it now, almost feel it as it leaned closer, clearly able to see her while she stared blindly into the hall. The clatter of something caused her to jump as a small squeak escaped her.

"Mary Ellen?"

She almost cried in relief at the same time she almost screamed at the top of her lungs. "Bobby?"

"Yes. I found them. Keep speaking."

She took a deep breath and began to recite his name over and over again. A scream erupted from her and she jumped back as a hand came down on her arm. "Sorry," Xander muttered. "You ok?"

It took her a couple of seconds to catch her breath. "Yes. You?"

"I'll be better when we're out of this place."

She couldn't argue with that. She turned away from the doorframe and shuffled her way back toward the window. Please don't have another earthquake now, she silently pleaded as she continued carefully onward. Xander helped to ease her through the window. She blinked against the sun as she scurried through the pile of bricks.

She turned back as a young girl emerged from the building. The girl held her hand up to the sun as she flinched away from it. Mary Ellen eased her away from the window and took the hand of a young Asian man that was emerging from the shadows. He recoiled as he threw his arm up to block the sun from his midnight eyes. His black hair stood up in styled spikes around his angular face.

"It will just take a little time," Mary Ellen assured him. She helped to ease two more people from the school before Bobby and then Xander emerged. "Are you ok?"

"Fine," Xander told her as he opened one eye a little, and then the other. "Bright light."

"I bet it is."

"What is that?" he demanded as he spotted the dark sky in the distance.

"I don't want to know," Bobby muttered.

"Riley," Xander breathed. Mary Ellen froze in her attempt to rise to her feet.

"Are they over there?" she demanded. "Are Riley and Al over there?"

Xander rubbed at his eyes before opening them again. His one hand was bloody and bruised, but he seemed otherwise unharmed by his time within the school. "It's a good possibility," Bobby answered.

She turned back to the sky that was now firing rapidly with lightning in vibrant, violent waves. Smoke was smoldering on the horizon as another clap of thunder shook the ground. "Oh," she breathed.

"It's just a thunderstorm," Bobby murmured.

"On steroids," Xander retorted. He shook his head as he leaned back on his heels. Though his face was streaked with dirt, his skin was ashen.

A loud gasp jerked Mary Ellen's head around as one of the young girls began to cry. The handsome middle aged man with brown eyes and a mustache moved forward to comfort her. "What caused all of this?" the young Asian man inquired.

"We don't know," Mary Ellen told him.

The other young girl began to cry as she wrapped her arms around her stomach and rocked forward. "We have to go," Xander said briskly. He placed his hand against the wall and used it to help him rise to his feet.

"Where?" the older man demanded. "Where do we go?"

Xander shook his head. "We're heading to Sturbridge, we can give you a ride into town if you'd like. I have to tell you though, it doesn't get better."

The man closed his eyes as the young girl in his arms began to sob even harder. "My parents," she moaned.

Mary Ellen looked away as she fought against the tears that burned her eyes. She could only hope that her daughter wasn't this frightened. That she was with someone who was helping to keep her safe, perhaps a camp counselor or maybe she had found police or military aid. Rochelle was strong and far more resilient than Mary Ellen had been at her age. She would be doing better than this young girl was.

"We have to go, now though," Xander urged. "We can't stay here; we don't know who else may have heard your call for help. We've already been here for far longer than I'd planned to be. If you're going to ride with us it has to be now."

Yesterday the words would have seemed callous, now they made a chill run down Mary Ellen's spine as she realized that he was right. She bent down and grasped hold of the other young woman's arm and helped her to her feet. "He's right, we have to move."

The girl blinked at her and nodded numbly. "Will you take me home?"

"We'll try," Mary Ellen promised her.

She helped the young girl over the rubble to the car. It was a larger Cadillac Sedan but she had no idea how they were going to fit everyone inside of it. Xander answered this question by opening the trunk. "It's not the best, and I'm sorry for it, but I'll drive slow," he told the guy with the mustache.

"It's better than being trapped in an audio room with no idea how we're going to get out." He thrust out his hand and Xander took hold of it. "I'm Peter, or as my students know me, Mr. Dade."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Peter, I'm Xander and this is Bobby and Mary Ellen."

"Thank you, all of you." Mary Ellen managed a small smile as she nodded to the teacher that appeared a few years older than her. "That's Josh and Allie," he nodded to the two students hovering beside Mary Ellen and Bobby. "And this is Molly." The young girl was clinging to him as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Josh and I will ride in the trunk."

"No!" Molly protested.

"It will be fine Molly, and you'll be safer if you ride in the car," Peter told her.

"I'll ride in the trunk with you, Josh can sit in the car," Bobby volunteered. He settled into the trunk and wrapped one hand on the frame of the car as he used the other to keep the lid propped up. His long legs dangled out of the back of it. Every motherly instinct Mary Ellen had screamed against the position, but it was better than riding on top of the trunk, and they certainly couldn't ride on the roof.

Xander nodded and shifted the keys in his hand as Peter extricated himself from Molly's clasp. Mary Ellen took hold of Molly and guided her to the back door of the car. She tried to get the girl into the car but she was like a barnacle as she clung to Mary Ellen's side. Giving up on breaking free, she slid into the car with the girl and Xander closed the door for them. Allie climbed in on the other side of Molly as Josh eased into the front seat.

"Is our town still even standing?" Josh asked.

"Not really," Xander told him as he started the car. "There's not a whole lot still standing right now."

"What will we do if we can't go home? If we can't find our family?"

Xander maneuvered the car onto the road and drove cautiously around the many holes. "I don't know. I'm sorry, but I just don't know. We have no answers for you."

"Is it really that bad?" Allie squeaked.

"It's just very confusing," Mary Ellen told her in the hopes of warding off panic amongst the three young students. She winced as the car jolted over a hole and the open trunk lid bounced a little. She was trying to shut down images of that lid crashing down on them as Xander eased the car back onto the main road.

The girls were silent as they stared at the town that had once been their home. "My house is down there," Josh said as he pointed down a road that was marked with potholes and collapsed buildings.

"Is there another way to get to it?" Xander inquired.

The boy was pale as he stared out the window and shook his head. "That's it, the red one, or at least that used to be it."

Mary Ellen stared at the rubble of the red house that lay half in the broken street. "I'm sorry, but your parents might not have been there, they might…"

"They would have been at work. They own a small printing company in town. They weren't at home." Though Josh said the words, it sounded as if he was trying to convince himself of this fact. "They weren't there."

"I'm sure they weren't, and we'll get there somehow. Do either of you live closer than the printing store?"

"I live about a half a mile from here," Allie told him.

"Guide the way," Xander said.

They turned down another side road and made their way around the obstacles in their way, Xander was about to make a left when he came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the road. Mary Ellen lurched forward as something crashed against the back of the car. She heard loud cursing and then someone, probably Bobby, thumped on the trunk to show his displeasure over being bounced around.

"Xander…" Mary Ellen's words trailed off as her mouth dropped. The oddest sensation, one of being hot and cold filled her as she gazed out the window at the crowd gathered within the street. They stood, unmoving, and vacant…? She didn't know how to describe them, but vacant seemed to be the best way as they moved together down the road.

Mary Ellen was still trying to figure out what they were exactly, and what was going on, when Allie blurted, "That's my mom!"

Before Mary Ellen could stop her, the young girl thrust her door open and leapt out of the car. "Mom! Mom!" she cried as she plunged into the peculiar crowd.

Mary Ellen's heart hammered, her throat went dry, and that strange feeling wouldn't go away. She had the urge to close her eyes and block her ears, but there was no reason to. Most of the crowd barely noticed Allie as she shoved through them in search of her mother. "Mom!" she cried again.

Xander grabbed for his door as Allie was swallowed within the crowd and her cries became frightfully silent. Josh seized hold of Xander's arm and pulled him back. "Wait!" he cried.

Xander's hand froze on the handle, and Mary Ellen's breath caught in her chest as about a quarter of the crowd finally noticed their presence. A small squeak escaped her as they turned toward the car.

CHAPTER 9

Riley

Franklin, Mass.

She hadn't meant to step into the shower and lose complete control, but that was exactly what she did. The minute the lukewarm water hit her she began to cry like a baby. Gulping sobs racked through her, shook her muscles and caused her to slide limply to the floor of the shower that she'd been a little hesitant to step into in the first place.

Now she didn't think about the stains, didn't wonder about the last time it had been cleaned as she drew her legs to her chest. She cried for her parents, and Carol, she cried for all the people out there that had been lost today, for all the babies and children, and people that would never get to breathe or eat or shower again. She threw the pity party she had longed to throw in the woods, the only difference was that she hadn't intended to throw this party and she felt selfish for doing so.

So many people had been lost today, and she was huddled in a twenty year old shower stall sobbing instead of facing the world like the adult she'd been insisting she was ever since she'd hit fifteen. She didn't feel much like an adult now, and she would have given anything to have her parents show up and take over control of her again. That wasn't going to happen though, and if she didn't get her ass off the ground, she'd soon be joining Carol.

Taking a shuddering breath, she managed to get her feet underneath her again and push herself up the wall. She wiped the tears from her eyes but though she was standing, and somewhat in control again, she couldn't stop the water works. There were five people outside the door and yet she'd never felt more alone in her life.

"Get over it," she muttered to herself. "Suck it up, put on your big girl pants and get over it. You're alive, you still have loved ones."

She swallowed heavily and stuck her head under the pitiful stream of water. Black flowed from her and streaked toward the drain in a murky current. You have more than most people now, she reminded herself though she couldn't stop the annoying flow leaking from her eyes. Jesus she was a wreck, and she didn't even know why. Before she'd stepped into this bathroom, she'd had a goal, she'd had a mission; she'd been determined and strong. Now she felt weak and broken and all she'd done was close the door and turn on the shower.

She wondered what Xander was doing now, if he was closer to Sturbridge than they were, if he'd run into any of the strange people. If he was even still alive. She shuddered at the thought and fresh tears slid down her face. Propping her hands against the shower wall, she ducked her head under the spray and simply stood and cried as she grieved for her parents, her best friend, and for a world that had ceased to exist.

Then, she wiped her eyes, straightened her shoulders and vowed it would be the last time she lost control. There were things to do, she could cry again when they were somewhere safe, if they ever found somewhere safe. She was grabbing for the shampoo when a loud banging caused her to jump and nearly fall over in the shower.

"Get out!" Carl shouted at her. "Riley shut the water off and get out now!"

She didn't have to be told twice, not after the events of today, and not with the urgency she heard in Carl's voice. She turned the water off and attempted to leap out of the tub, but her foot got caught up on the edge. She crashed haphazardly into the chipped toilet, and almost smashed her head into the mirror on the back of the door. The flashlight clattered to the floor and spun around the room in a dizzying circle that caused her stomach to lurch. She cursed loudly as she snatched the towel off the back of the door.

"You ok?" Carl demanded.

"Fine," she muttered. "What's going on?"

"There's a storm out there."

"There was a storm out there before," she retorted, hoping she hadn't just almost broken her neck and run out of here with only a towel on because it was raining.

"Not like this one."

She grabbed the clothes off of where she'd left them on the floor. They were a little damp thanks to her extremely inelegant exit from the tub, but so was she, as she didn't take the time to towel off completely. She threw the black t-shirt on and jerked on the jeans. They were a little too long on her but she didn't bother to roll them up as she turned off the flashlight and threw open the door.

Carl turned from his position by the sink; she was opening her mouth to speak with him when a brilliant flash lit up the room. She jumped and spun toward the window. Was there someone here? Were those headlights? Another strobe lit the room and she realized that everyone had moved away from the window. They were standing either against the wall or leaning against the bureau.

Light flashed around the room again, illuminating it for what seemed like a good ten minutes, but was perhaps only thirty seconds. Visions of UFO's danced through her head, she had a flashback to the alien theory she'd laughed at while at the restaurant in the stadium. A clap of thunder so loud shook the room that she threw her hands over her ears as she recoiled from the noise. Rochelle let out a small shriek that was barely audible over the rumbling and rattling of the window.

Riley's hands fell limply back to her sides as the rumbling died away and the room lit up with rapid flashes again. "See why I told you to get out of the shower," Carl said as he stepped beside her.

"Thanks for that. Being electrocuted while taking a shower is not the way I want to go," she informed him.

"It's not the way any of us want to go."

"Is it just lightning?"

"What else would it be?" John inquired.

Little green men looking to invade. Riley bit those words back as the ground began to rumble and lightning slammed into what she was almost certain was the parking lot. She was certain that if one of those lightning bolts hit the motel it would demolish the whole thing. She took a step back but there was nowhere to go, not anymore.

Carl remained motionless beside her as the eerie lightning lit the room in stroboscopic flashes that reminded her briefly of Halloween and her childhood. She had the ridiculous urge to shout trick-or-treat and thrust out a pillowcase, and she could almost convince herself this was just some kind of prank. For a brief moment she could almost feel the press of Xander's hand taking hold of hers as it had once when they were younger, and she'd been frightened.

"I keep expecting aliens to rise from the ground," she muttered.

"Please don't say that." Carl stepped further in front of her as the sky was rocked with an endless clap of thunder that shook the ground beneath her feet.

She reached up, but due to the fact that her hair was wet, it wasn't beginning to stand on end like everyone else's in the room. Riley couldn't take the tension growing within her anymore; she simply couldn't stand here and do nothing. She had to know. She had to see if there were gigantic monsters roaming the earth, or perhaps even ships zipping through the air.

She brushed past Carl and climbed onto one of the double beds. Rising up, she had to remain slightly crouched as she walked across the top of one bed to the other. She hesitated before stepping down before the window. She expected to have a bolt of lightning go zapping through her, but she didn't think being by the window increased that risk. There was no hiding from those bolts if one of them was going to hit her.

Taking a deep breath, Riley pulled the mattress away from the window a bit. It had grown dark while she was in the shower; she wasn't sure if it was a natural nightfall though, or if the clouds had obliterated any sense of daylight. Though she didn't see any colossal creatures climbing out of the earth, her mouth still dropped as she stared at the lightning illuminating the thick clouds of oozing black that seeped endlessly onward. As she watched, bolts slammed into the ground with enough force to kick up the earth around them and obliterate the asphalt.

She'd never seen anything like it, had never imagined such a storm could ravish the earth. Her hand clenched around the curtain, would anything be left when it was done?

One thing was for sure, they weren't going to make it out to the truck. Another loud clap of thunder shook the ground and vibrated the glass of the window so forcefully she was certain it would shatter. She felt the presence at her side before Lee rested his hand on her shoulder.

She stepped back to allow him access as another vibrant strobe pulsed through the room. "Good thing we're not epileptic," John muttered.

Lee shook his head and mumbled a curse. "There are people out there."

"Where?" Riley demanded as she pushed him aside. She hadn't seen anyone out there, but she hadn't expected anyone to be crazy enough to be out in this storm either. Lee backed away so she could resume her spot. Though she strained to see through the night, she didn't see any one. "Where?"

"Behind the truck."

She strained to see through the flashes to the truck. Her eyes finally focused upon the people moving about it. Like a swarm of locusts they were moving about the vehicle, unfazed by the lightning and rain that pounded down around them. She didn't realize that she was panting until Lee placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Easy," he murmured.

Riley swallowed heavily and nodded. The people started to spread out from behind the truck as Carl and John arrived at the window. Lightning pulsated through the sky, something in the distance exploded as sparks shot into the air. The people in the parking lot didn't pay it any attention as they moved toward the motel.

"Get the guns, John," Carl muttered. "John…"

Carl broke off as John remained immobile with his mouth agape. Carl spun away from the window and scrambled over the bed. There was a coldness creeping into her lower body that made Riley fear she might just collapse. Empty, those people were so unbelievably empty. It seemed as if they saw nothing, felt nothing, and had no idea what was going on around them. The rain, the lightning, nothing bothered them.

"How many?" Al inquired.

"Too many," Carl told him as he thrust a rifle at the older man. He glanced at Al's bandaged hand and pulled the rifle back to give him a handgun. "Are you going to be able to do this?"

"I'll do whatever's necessary," Al assured him.

"Lee give me a hand with the bureau." Lee scampered over the beds to grab the other end of the large piece of furniture. "Close the door Rochelle."

The girl was as white as a sheet but she still hurried to close the door to the other room. Carl nodded his head to Lee as the people in the parking lot made it to the manager's office. Some of them slipped inside the office while others continued down the walkway.

"Don't place it against the door," Carl said as Lee maneuvered the bureau to block the middle door.

"Why not?" Lee whispered.

"If they get in here, we're going to have to go through there. I just want to make sure that this is ready in case we do have to block the door."

"They're getting closer," Riley breathed.

Al pushed Rochelle behind him as she began to cry silent tears that slid down her cheeks to drip off of her chin. Riley's heart hammered, a tingling in her chest was making it difficult for her to breathe as her fingers curled into the worn mattress pressing against the window. The people weren't trying the doors at they moved, weren't attempting to get into the rooms and away from the treacherous weather conditions. She was beginning to think the only reason they'd roamed into the manager's office was because the door had been left open.

She didn't know Carl had approached her until she felt something pressing against her arm. She looked down at the gun and stretched her numbed fingers out to take it. She barely felt it within her grasp as her hand wrapped around the grip. "Are you going to be ok to shoot them?"

No, she absolutely would not be ok with shooting them. At least that's what she believed she should say; that's what the Riley of yesterday would have said. But right now she knew she wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger on whatever it was that was rambling down the walkway out there. "Only if they're dangerous."

"We'll make sure they are before we put a bullet in them, but if they are…"

"I have no problem with firing," she assured him.

He nodded as he handed Lee a gun and walked over to join John on the other side of the window. Riley kept the gun pressed against her leg. Her hand was sweating as the people crept closer. She frowned as one young man stopped to try the knob on a room four doors down. It was the first person that had shown any sign of reasonable thought outside of the flock.

She wasn't fond of the whole, the lights are on but nobody's home, look that most of them seemed to have going on. She was even less fond of the fact that at least one of them seemed to be showing some logic still. Riley swallowed nervously as they steadily drew closer to the room. They were only five feet away when Riley stepped back from the window and headed over to the door. Taking a deep breath she rose on her toes to press her eye to the peephole.

Behind her, Rochelle made a small whimper. Riley briefly looked away as Al quickly shushed Rochelle and moved her toward the bathroom. He gestured for her to go inside and close the door. Riley turned her attention back to the hole. She couldn't see much through the crappy thing, but she saw enough to know that there were even more of them filtering through the parking lot.

Riley jumped back and nearly screamed as a bolt of lightning slammed into the parking lot no more than twenty feet away from them. People were thrown back by the blow and though two of them remained down, one of them rose back to their feet and continued on as if nothing had happened. She'd be amazed if they weren't eaten, didn't catch on fire, or still had two vehicles by morning.

John had leapt away from the window at the impact and was staring at it like it might just bite him. Carl gestured for them to move away from the glass. Lee reluctantly stepped back from the window as Carl stepped beside Riley and nodded toward the peephole. She took a deep breath and pressed her eye to it again as the first member of the group stepped in front of their room.

Riley held her breath as she silently counted away the seconds in her mind as the woman briefly looked around before continuing onward. A man and woman walked by next and continued on. She stared at the mindless horde as she tried to puzzle together what was wrong with them. Some of them had burns on them, others were filthy, broken, beaten and bloody like many of the people she'd seen over the course of this day.

They could simply be in shock, she thought, but she knew there was nothing simple about this. Though most of them bore the normal abuse that many people had sustained today, there were others… Well there were others that were sporting some kind of strange rash that spread across their face, slid down their necks, and disappeared beneath whatever clothing they had left.

She'd had her fair share of poison ivy as a kid. She knew what the plant looked like, but that hadn't stopped her from plunging into it more than a few times in order to retrieve a lost ball, or to escape being the 'it' person in tag. A week or two of itching was well worth winning in her opinion. Looking at these people now she was reminded of the poison ivy rash in its beginning phase, and in that hideous blister phase she sometimes got when she contracted a worse case of it.

Most of the people just had the rash, but there were a few that had blisters forming at the ends of their noses, across their cheeks, and on their hands. She supposed it could have been caused by being burned, or perhaps even the steam, but she didn't think so. She just didn't understand it though, how did they all get poison ivy now?

Even as she thought that, she already knew the answer. This wasn't poison ivy. This was something else, something more. Whatever that rash was it was also what was wrong with these people. It was what was mindlessly driving them onward.

She was so busy trying to puzzle out the implications of that rash that she didn't notice that the same young man that had tried the other door was now standing before her. Riley's hand tightened around the gun, she held her breath as the man stopped and turned to face her.

He saw her, she was certain of it. She was convinced this man was somehow able to see through the door. He knew that she was there; he knew that she was watching him, and he was waiting to break in and tear her throat out with his bare hands. Something she became unreasonably certain that he could do.

There were sores on his face also; the tip of his nose was nothing but a nasty looking, vivid red abscess. Nausea twisted through her stomach as all of her attention became focused on that raw sore. She swallowed heavily as she stared into the brown eyes staring back at her.

But these eyes weren't mindless, not like the other ones walking past her. These eyes most certainly weren't all there, but there was something almost sinister slithering behind the surface of them. Something that she knew would destroy her if it was given the chance.

He didn't look like the type of guy that would have killed her yesterday. In fact, he seemed like any other young man that was either a college student, or had skipped college to hop into the workforce. She was certain that yesterday he'd been an average Joe that had enjoyed his life, as there was something almost kind about his features. Or at least what she could make out of his features beneath the rash and blisters.

Whatever had happened to him though, whatever had caused this strange reaction in him seemed to have obliterated Joe Shmoe, and left behind a mindless killing machine. Joe Shmoe's eyes burned into hers as he grasped hold of the knob. Riley's breath hissed out of her as the knob began to rattle and the man leaned closer to the door.

CHAPTER 10

Carl

Franklin, Mass.

Riley was shaking as she pressed closer to the door. It wasn't a trembling that was induced by the strain being placed on her legs from standing on her tiptoe's, but a deep rooted, bone shaking fear that he thought he might actually be able to hear.

He couldn't tear his eyes from the knob as it shook back and forth. Stepping forward, he rested his hand on Riley's shoulder to draw her attention. Her eyes were hauntingly vibrant against her bloodless complexion; in the dazzling flashes her face appeared almost spectral. Carl was briefly arrested by the strange illusion, one in which Riley was still here, but no longer was.

He had to release her shoulder, close his eyes, and shake his head in order to clear his mind of the haunting image. They had to get out of here before he lost his mind, but he was beginning to believe there wasn't anywhere saner to be. Though she was still unnaturally pale, she didn't look like a ghost anymore when he focused on her again.

He pulled her back from the door as the knob began to rattle more forcefully. He nodded to John and gestured him toward the middle set of doors. John stared silently back at him before glancing at the door and then back at him. He gave a brief nod and hurried to the middle door. Carl pulled Riley further back as the door began to jerk against the frame.

The cheap locks weren't going to hold out for long. He released Riley and grabbed the rickety looking chair in the corner. He propped it under the knob and turned away from the door as John hesitatingly opened the second middle door and stuck his head into the other room. "Does he know we're here?" he hissed to Riley.

She shook her head and for the first time he noticed how red her eyes were. He realized she'd been crying in the shower, although now she seemed to be in control. "He can't possibly, but… but I think he did," she stammered.

Carl glanced nervously back as the noise at the door increased. "There's something wrong with his face." The palm of Riley's hand circled around her face as she spoke. "It's wrong Carl, and not burn, crazy steam wrong, but just wrong."

She was talking so quietly that he was half lip reading her words, but he was still able to get the gist. They were up a creek and they didn't have a paddle. But they did have guns and they were better than a damn paddle as far as Carl was concerned right now. He nodded to her as he pulled her further away from the door. Loud crashes began to reverberate against the door as the guy started kicking it.

John gave them two thumbs up as he nodded to the other room. Al opened the bathroom door and pulled Rochelle out. John rapidly gestured for her to move, trying to hurry her as she glanced nervously at the shaking front door. Carl's hand twitched around his gun, he was half tempted to just start shooting through the door at the guy. But there was still a possibility, no matter how remote, that the crazy out there wasn't certain they were in here and the same with the other strange people roaming around the walkway. Firing bullets out the door would officially end all doubt.

The bottom of the door gave way with a resounding bang. Carl looked back as the flimsy door bent inward. John wrapped his hand around Rochelle's mouth and pulled her against his chest as she released a small squeak. Her eyes were as big as an owl's as she blinked rapidly over top of John's hand.

Riley looked as if she were about to scream, and then her nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed as fury darkened her features. "Hurry Riley," he urged as he nudged her toward the middle doors.

He thought she might argue with him, but though she still looked about ready to start firing the gun through the door, she allowed him to push her toward the other room. He grabbed the supplies off the bureau and thrust them at Lee before grabbing the bag of medical supplies and flashlight still sitting by the sink.

The front door gave way with a clattering bang as Carl was stepping into the other room. He threw the medical supplies across the room and scrambled to get at the first of the middle doors. He froze halfway back into the room they had just vacated as the man burst into the room. Except it wasn't a man, this was something else entirely, something more and yet something so much less.

Carl's eyes widened, he almost released his gun as he took a startled step back. Riley had said there was something wrong with his face, but he thought that may very well have been the understatement of the year. Had she said that his face was rotting off, Carl may not have been as staggered as he was. Even then he didn't think he would have been truly prepared for the spectacle of the young man across from him. Especially not when the man focused on him and let out a scream that would have made a banshee proud. Carl forgot all about the first door as he jumped back and slammed the second door shut on the man running across the room at him.

"Holy…"

"Bureau, bureau, bureau!" Carl shouted over John as he fumbled for the locks on the door. It nearly knocked him over as the man slammed into it with the full force of his might. Carl somehow managed to stop himself from falling over from the blow as John flung himself at the door.

Carl's fingers fumbled with the locks as Lee and Riley rushed across the room with the bureau between them. Carl managed to get the flimsy lock into place as the man threw himself at the door again. He met John's wild, disbelieving eyes as the bureau was slammed against the door and Riley and Lee flipped it up so that it was on its end and pressed flat against the door. The two of them collapsed against it and inhaled heaping gulps of air as the man continued to pound against it.

"What the fuck was that? Rabies!?" John shouted.

"Yeah because that's what happens when you get rabies," Carl retorted. "Your face falls off."

"Well how am I supposed to know? How do you even know?"

Carl didn't get a chance to answer as the man on the other side began to howl. There would be no way to stay hidden from the others now. "Keep your weight against the bureau!" Carl commanded.

He fled across the room, pulled back the curtain, and moved a corner of the mattress aside. Disbelief filtered through him as he peered outside. The mindless horde continued to move obliviously past the window while the man continued to beat at the door like a howler monkey on crack. "What the…" there were too many curses slamming into his head for him to grasp a hold of any of them. Yet none of them seemed appropriate enough for this situation. They had a crazed loon in the next room, yelling loud enough to wake the dead, and yet these strange oddities continued on as if they didn't even hear him.

This afternoon if someone had told him that he would have preferred to deal with lava, earthquakes, and tsunamis than anything else in the entire world, he would have laughed in their face. Now he'd take a burnt corpse grabbing for him any day over this insanity. "How bad is it?" Al demanded.

He turned back to Al and shook his head; he didn't know how to form the words right now. He wasn't even entirely sure there were words to describe what was going on around them. "Carl! How bad!?" John yelled over the increasing noise from the guy on the other side of the door.

"They're not even paying attention," Carl finally managed to get out.

"What?" Riley croaked.

Carl just shook his head and threw his hands up. "They're still just walking by; they're not even looking this way."

They stared at him as if his face was starting to blister or rot off too. A loud cracking noise shot all of their heads around as the door between the rooms began to splinter. Lee, Riley, and John were knocked forward as the bureau began to shake and bounce beneath the incessant pummeling of the man. The three of them tried to shove back against the bureau as Rochelle let out a small squeak and hopped back.

"What is this guy on!?" John demanded as the bureau was knocked a few inches into them again.

"Let him in," Carl told him.

"Have you lost your mind!?"

"You're not going to be able to keep him out all night and I don't think he's going away any time soon. Let him in and get as far out of the way as possible."

The three of them exchanged a look as the bureau pushed them forward a couple of inches again. "Count of three," Lee muttered.

Carl's body recalled the training he'd received in the academy as he shifted into a shooter's stance and grasped the gun with both hands. He didn't think they were zombie's, was fairly convinced they were still alive, but he'd heard the horror stories about people on PCP and he wasn't taking any chances with this crazy ass.

"Three," Riley said.

She was the only one that made a clean get away as she leapt clear of the door. The bureau was pushed in a good five feet as the door burst open. John's foot got caught up on the leg of the bureau; he did a face plant that made even Carl wince as Lee toppled over top of him. They were a tangled mess of arms and legs as the man burst into the room and raced right at Carl.

Aim for the chest, the chest is the biggest target, Carl reminded himself. The man was almost to him when Carl pulled the trigger. The others threw their hands over their ears to block the deafening noise in the small room, but Carl relentlessly pulled the trigger. The man jerked back, his arms flailed, and though the bullets slammed into his upper chest he continued to come at Carl until one of the bullets pierced his heart and sent him reeling backward.

John and Lee frantically tried to disentangle themselves as the man fell to the ground only feet away from them. John shoved at Lee as Lee finally managed to get his legs out from underneath him. He quickly rolled away from the man that was still gurgling and trying to rise up. John froze as the man turned toward him and his hand flopped down mere centimeters from the tip of his nose. John's eyes crossed, he went completely still as he stared at the hand until the man finally went still.

Carl jumped forward and grabbed hold of John's arm. He pulled John out from under the battered furniture and dragged him away from the lifeless corpse of the rotted looking young man. Carl had fired five shots into him, all of them in the chest, and yet he still expected the guy to rise up and come back at him.

"Are you ok?" Carl demanded though he didn't know if he was shouting as he could barely hear anymore.

"Huh?" John asked. Carl shook his head, but it did little to ease the ringing in his ears. John pointed at the man's head and leaned closer to him. "Shoot him in the head."

"What?" Carl demanded.

"They always come back to life, shoot him in the head."

It really couldn't hurt anything, and Carl was thinking right along those same lines anyway. "No wait," Lee interjected when Carl pointed the gun at the guy's head.

"Wait for what?" John demanded.

"I want to know if it's going to rise back up. We have to know what we're dealing with here," Lee said.

"John," Riley hissed and nodded past him.

Carl was loathe to tear his eyes away from the corpse on the ground, but more than Riley had caught his attention. His gaze was drawn to the other room; his breath froze in his chest as lightning lit the people moving within it. One of them, a young girl perhaps Rochelle's age, had walked into the wall, but instead of turning away from it she simply just remained there. All she needed was a dunce cap and Carl would have believed someone had just placed her in a time out.

He stepped carefully around the body and cautiously approached the other room. He held his hand out to Lee, and took the gun with more bullets in it in exchange for his. He crept carefully to the other room and leaned cautiously out to grab the door that he hadn't had a chance to close on the dead man. A few of the people looked at him, but they didn't seem to see him, didn't seem to recognize him as a human as they continued mindlessly around the room.

Carl shook his head and closed the door against the herd. He slid the flimsy bolt lock into place. "What the… I don't…" He had to take a deep breath and calm himself in order to get words out. "What is wrong with these people?"

"Rabies," John asserted.

Carl dropped his head into his hand and shook it. He didn't have words for that one either. "He may not be completely off," Al stated.

Carl didn't bother to take his head out of his hand as he turned it to look at Al. "Are you serious?"

Al removed his arm from around Rochelle's shoulders and warily approached the lifeless body on the floor. "How are your ears?"

"Ringing like church bells, but I'll survive," Carl told him.

Al nodded as he stepped beside the body and carefully moved around it. "I'm not a doctor or anything, and I'm not going to pretend to have a firm grasp on what's going on, but this could be something like rabies. It could be some kind of virus or bacteria that attacks the brain and alters the behavior of the people that it affects. It would explain the unreasonable anger, and the strange disassociation some of them seem to be going through."

"Are you saying we're all going to end up like them?" Rochelle squeaked.

Al shook his head; his eyes were haunted as they briefly met Carl's. "No," Al answered, though Carl read the apprehension in the man's gaze. "No, that's not what I'm saying. We don't know how they contracted this, or even if they contracted this."

"But if it is airborne?" Lee pressed.

"You're jumping the gun," Al told him. "Rabies is most commonly transmitted through a bite."

"But this isn't rabies, I think we can all agree on that," Lee insisted. "I've never heard of a case of rabies causing that kind of rash or making someone's nose look like it's going to fall off. If this is some disease…"

"Over the years there have been many types of diseases and plagues," Al interrupted sternly. "And there have been many people that have survived them; otherwise there would be no human race. The people that survived were either because they had a natural immunity, or because they were able to fight it off. I would suggest that until one of us starts breaking out in a rash, or wandering aimlessly around, we remain calm and try to get out of here."

"He's right," Carl said. He lifted the bag of supplies and began to dig through it for some more bullets. "We don't know what caused this."

"But it's definitely something that affects the brain," John said. "Like rabies."

"Or syphilis, or mad cow disease," Al pointed out.

"Oh so this is a rabies/syphilis/mad cow craptastic bag of fun," John muttered as he shook his head and walked away from the motionless body still lying on the floor.

"Syphilis is sexually transmitted though, and mad cow is thought to be caused by a prion, which is a misfolded protein, not a virus or bacteria." They all turned to look at Rochelle as she was illuminated by the endless flashes.

"How the hell do you know that?" John demanded.

Rochelle shrugged. "I told you, I'm advanced for my age. Plus I paid attention in biology."

John shook his head as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Who had the time for that?"

"Ok, wait a second. Rochelle's right and there's been evidence that prion's can live in the clay or soil after an animal has decayed by binding to the clay and other minerals. They can also be transmitted that way, and not just through the ingestion of contaminated meat, like mad cow," Riley said as she tugged at her hair.

"There are also some people that believe global warming may release a new host of viruses that have been trapped within the earth, and the ice, for thousands of years. There are even some that believe that one of those ancient viruses could be the reason for the increase in autism," Lee said.

"You're right," Riley agreed.

"So what you're saying is that when the earth split open and unleashed its torrent of fun and goodies today, it also released some new kind of virus or bacteria or prion that is just kicking around out there having a grand old time with people's brains," John said. "Awesome, freaking spectacular. Just when you think it can't get much worse we now have to worry about some super virus possibly infecting us."

John turned away and paced to the other side of the room before coming back toward them. "I suppose we're stuck with this guy's body now too."

"I'm not touching it," Lee told him.

Rochelle approached hesitantly from the shadows. "Syphilis does cause sores and irrational behavior if it goes untreated, but it takes awhile to manifest," she muttered as she moved around his body.

"It's a little disturbing how much you know about that," Carl told her.

She offered a tremulous smile. "Sex Ed."

"Well at least they're teaching you the important stuff," he muttered.

"Mutated syphilis," Riley suggested. "Or even mutated rabies or mad cow. There's no way of knowing what it is without a laboratory, and someone with a whole lot more experience than any of us have with this stuff."

Carl leaned back against the door and studied the unmoving chest of the man that he had just killed. He hated the idea of staying in here with the body, but it didn't seem as if they were going to have a choice. "Whatever it is it definitely reacts in different areas of the brain. Some it makes as useless as zombies, and others it seems to drive into madness and rage. It's also fast acting and fast moving. I think if any of us have contracted it we will know by morning," Al said.

Carl glanced around the room and the people he had come to rely on in such a short amount of time. People that had made sacrifices for him, killed for him, and had his back when he'd needed them most. People that were now looking around the room with the same realization he had already come to dawning in their eyes. By morning, one or more of them, may have to be put down. Much like a rabid dog.

CHAPTER 11

Xander

Plainville, Mass.

Xander's mouth dropped, his hand lingered on the door handle as all those vacant eyes swung toward the car. Josh's hand tightened around his arm as he made some sort of noise that Xander had never heard before. A lump formed in Xander's throat, what was wrong their faces? He couldn't tell if they had chicken pox or a severe case of leprosy. He was so busy trying to figure it out that he hadn't seen the figure ambling out of the crowd until he crashed into the side of the car.

Shrill screams and shouts filled the car and he wasn't ashamed by the fact that one of them was his. Josh was practically on his lap as they gawked at the hideous face of what had once been a man, but now appeared to be more monster than human. He hit his palm against the passenger side window as he sniffed at it like it was an apple pie sitting on the windowsill to cool.

Xander didn't plan on being that pie. Mary Ellen released Molly and shoved her back as she scrambled over the backseat to the space that Allie had vacated. The thing's eyes turned toward her as the motion caught his attention. She froze, her eyes were as round as golf balls as her hand hung in the act of reaching for the open door.

The sight of that door spurred Xander into motion. He wasn't going to sit here and be eaten by these things, or ruthlessly torn apart by them. "Hold on!" Xander shouted and hoped that Bobby and Peter heard him. He didn't feel like killing his best friend today, or breaking his legs. "Get the door."

Mary Ellen lunged forward and snagged hold of the handle as the man lurched at the doorway. Molly screamed again as the door slammed shut and Mary Ellen fumbled with the lock switch. Xander shifted into reverse and slammed on the gas. The tires spun on the pavement, smoke filled the air, and the scent of burning rubber permeated the luxury car. For a split second he didn't think the tires would catch and they would sit there and burn rubber as the thing continued to beat on the car.

Then the car heaved awkwardly backward with a loud squeal that at any other time he would have thoroughly enjoyed. Right now though all he cared about was keeping the car on the road. The trunk blocked his rearview mirror so he had to use the side mirrors the best he could as he navigated in a swerving motion down the street.

He jumped and almost slammed on the brakes as the trunk suddenly shut. His heart dropped, it took a disconcerting second for him to register the fact that Peter and Bobby had locked themselves in the trunk. He would have laughed out loud if it wasn't all so awful. With the trunk down he was able to get a better view of the road as he draped his arm over the seat and turned sideways to watch the road.

Mary Ellen was leaning against her door to get as far out of his way as possible, but Molly seemed to be frozen in shock. Xander navigated the car around a corner and hit the brakes. Something, or someone, crashed against the backseat, and then loud bangs echoed through the car as someone beat against the seats.

"Can you get those seats down?" Xander demanded.

"No time," Josh said frantically.

"What?" Xander asked. The kid grabbed hold of his arm and jerked it off the backseat. Xander almost yelled at him but the kid pointed ahead of the car. The entire world seemed to blur before him as his mind strained to register what his eyes were seeing.

There were thousands of them, or perhaps only hundreds, but it seemed like thousands as he stared at the people filtering through the streets. A woman pushed and shoved her way to the forefront, she looked more disgruntled than frightened as she elbowed her way past the last of the horde. She stared at the people like they were crazy, and Xander gave her credit for braving them in the first place. As he watched one of the ones that he was pretty certain had some kind of bizarre leprosy also emerged from the group. The woman didn't see him until he grabbed hold of her and brought her to the ground.

Xander started to make a move to help her, but even as the thought crossed his mind he knew it was already too late. Though she screamed and gave a feeble fight, she was quickly silenced beneath the ferocious blows she was dealt. Josh's mouth was gaping as he leaned forward to stare out the windshield. Xander's hand clenched on the wheel, he couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away from the atrocity before him. The freakoid, as Xander now thought of him, didn't eat or tear into the flesh like Xander had been expecting, but pummeled and beat at the woman as if she were a punching bag that he was determined to tear open.

Then, he did tear her open.

Xander's stomach somersaulted. Like a fire whistle going off, Molly began to release a series of shrieks that not only nearly pierced Xander's eardrums, but drew the attention of the mob across from them.

Mary Ellen slammed her hand over the young girl's mouth, and although her palm muffled the sounds, they didn't silence her completely. "Shh, hush, shh Molly you have to stop. Shh!" she urged.

"Shut up!" Josh shouted. "Shut up! Shut up!"

"Not helping," Xander told him. "Not helping at all!"

His eyes were drawn back toward the mayhem and blood before him, his heart pounded as the man that had so brutally ripped the woman apart now focused upon them. "We have to go," Josh said. "We have to go now."

Josh hadn't had to repeat himself; Xander had every intention of getting out of there. Turning back around in his seat, Xander met Mary Ellen's dark brown eyes. She was an attractive woman with her perfect complexion broken only by the freckles on her broad boned face. Her mahogany colored hair was a mess as it straggled around her face and shoulders.

Molly was still screaming against her hand but the two in the trunk had gone silent as Xander hit the gas again. He heard them bounce against something, but this time there was no disapproving pounding on the backseat. There was only a strange silence that somehow managed to bother him even more than the fact that he was doing thirty in reverse, in an attempt to avoid the craziest people he'd ever had the misfortune of encountering.

He turned the car onto another side road and threw it into drive. Squealing back out of the road, the car fishtailed as he was finally able to drive forward again. He knew he should be cautious, knew he should take it easy on the demolished roads, but it was getting darker out, and the last thing he wanted was to be trapped in this town, after dark, with those things.

"Xander," Mary Ellen breathed when they hit a hole with enough force to send the car airborne for a few feet. His jaw clenched, his heart hammered, but he somehow managed to force himself to ease off the gas pedal enough not to destroy the car and everyone else in his urgency.

"Where are we going?" Josh asked.

Xander opened his mouth to answer, but he didn't have one. There was nothing he could say because he didn't know where they were going right now. Sturbridge yes, but they had to be somewhere else when night completely fell. Otherwise he didn't know what would happen to them.

"I don't know."

"Our families?"

Xander shook his head. "I don't think many families exist anymore."

"Xander," Mary Ellen breathed from the backseat.

He glanced at her and Molly in the rearview mirror. Molly and Josh seemed so young, so vulnerable and lost, but Xander knew they were at most five years younger than he was, and they weren't as weak as they appeared to be. Or at least Josh wasn't. He was half convinced Molly had flipped her nut and entered the land of Oz, possibly for good. She'd gone completely silent now; her eyes had a glazed look to them that frightened him more than the freakoid had.

"They have to know, it's not like we're going to be able to keep it secret from them. It's not like we can hide the fact that the world has gone to crap," Xander told her.

He pulled the car to the side of the road and took a steadying breath as he searched the empty road. "What are you doing?" Josh demanded.

"I'm pretty sure your teacher, and I know Bobby, would like to be let out sometime today," Xander told him.

"Those people could still be out there."

Xander hesitated. "They are still out there Josh, and they're not going away, at least not anytime soon."

"Xander," Mary Ellen hissed.

"Well it's true and he's old enough to understand. What are you fifteen?"

"Seventeen," Josh answered.

Older than Xander had thought and the same age as Riley. A pang stabbed his heart but he shoved it aside as he pushed the door open. It would be more than his heart hurting if he didn't let Bobby out of the trunk sometime soon. "They're old enough," he said to Mary Ellen.

He took the keys with him. He was sure there was some way to open the trunk from inside the car but he didn't feel like taking the time to find it, and truth be told he wanted out of the car for a little bit. He suspiciously surveyed the streets as he moved, they remained calm for now but he knew that wouldn't last. Those people, or things, or whatever, were out there and they were getting closer. He unlocked the trunk quickly and flung it open.

Bobby and Peter were sweating profusely as they blinked against the influx of the fading daylight. "Thought you might enjoy some fresh air," Xander said.

"More than you know," Bobby muttered. "What was that?"

"I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you."

"We saw the people," Peter said. "What was wrong with them?"

"I don't know, but unless you plan to stay in the trunk I'd suggest you get moving."

It took them a little bit to disentangle themselves from the trunk. Though it was roomier than most, Xander wrinkled his nose as he stared into the confines. "Who broke the taillight?" he inquired.

"I think that was me," Bobby told him. "But I doubt you'll get a ticket for it now."

"Yeah me too. It's going to be cramped in the car, but…"

"Where's Allie?" Peter demanded as he peered into the backseat.

Xander didn't have a chance to respond, Josh had also stepped out of the car and was studying the street as he answered, "She ran into the crowd."

"Why would she do that?"

"She saw her mother in it."

"Is she ok?"

"We don't know," Xander said. "Let's hope so."

"Mr. Dade." Peter paused in the act of opening the backdoor to look at Josh. "Do you want to ride up front?"

Peter offered a small smile as he shook his head. "I think Molly needs me right now, but thank you Josh."

Bobby took a step toward the passenger side door but Josh snorted at him and shook his head. "You don't grade my papers man," Josh informed Bobby before he bolted back into the passenger seat.

Xander bit back a laugh as Bobby's mouth dropped. "That's bull." Bobby frowned as he stared into the cramped backseat. "Ugh."

"I'd offer to let you drive, but you don't grade my papers either," Xander told him.

"You're a freaking riot, just hilarious. Bet if Riley was back there you wouldn't be driving."

Xander smiled at him. "So when we find her, you can have the keys."

Bobby climbed into the backseat and wedged himself up against Peter. He pressed his middle finger against the window as Xander closed the door on him. Xander smiled sweetly back at him before hurrying around the car. He glanced nervously at the streets again before slipping inside the car and starting it up again.

"Do you know anywhere we could go that might be safe? Anywhere we could hole up for the night, maybe even find another vehicle?" Xander asked.

Peter's shoulders were scrunched up and his face was flushed as he met Xander's gaze in the mirror. This car was going to get very ripe, very soon, Xander realized. There was sweat slipping down his back, never mind the four of them being squished in like sardines. He almost opened the window, but after seeing those people he was scared to breathe the air. But then he supposed it didn't matter.

Mary Ellen inhaled sharply as he cracked the window. Her shoulders stiffened but then she relaxed and opened her own. Though a cross current of air flowed through the car, the stale, muggy air blowing through did little to cool him off. "Well considering my house was past those people, I'd say that's out of the question," Peter told him.

Xander looked to Molly but she remained immobile. "What about your house Molly?" he prodded anyway, hoping to get some reaction out of the girl.

She remained silent though, staring ahead as if there was some movie playing that only she could see. Peter and Josh stared at her, Bobby tried to crane his neck to see the young girl but he was unable to do so. He gave Xander a confused look as Xander turned briefly to look over his shoulder. Xander gave him a subtle shake of his head and turned back around.

"Her house was on the other side of town too," Josh answered. "Is she ok?" he asked in a low whisper.

"I don't think so." Xander refused to lie to the kid.

Peter rested his hand on Molly's arm, but the girl didn't show any response to the touch. "I know a garage."

"A garage?" Xander inquired to Josh's statement.

"Yeah, like a mechanic's shop kind of garage. It's in a remote area of town, and if we can get to it, it could be a good place to hide the car, and ourselves, for the night. There won't be any vehicles we can use, but there might be a little gas."

"What kind of mechanic shop is it if there aren't any vehicles?" Bobby asked.

Josh shrugged. "It's a friend of mine's place. We hang out there once in awhile while he fiddles with an old Camaro he's trying to restore."

Xander quirked an eyebrow while Bobby chuckled. Xander knew well that kind of garage; it had once been Bobby's. None of them had done much work on the car though as they'd spent more time sneaking beers and talking girls. In fact, Bobby's old car was still on blocks as far as Xander knew.

"Is it behind your friend's house?" Xander asked, hoping there was a chance they could find some food or drinks at some point. He was beyond parched and his stomach felt like it was going to start eating itself. Then he recalled that strange human pummeling the poor woman to death and his appetite vanished.

"Nah, it's actually an abandoned mechanic's shop that we've been using."

"Legally?" Peter asked.

Josh snorted as he shrugged. "I don't think that matters much now Mr. Dade, but no not legally. Luke's parents would have killed him if they knew he'd bought a Camaro."

Peter tried to look disapproving, but Xander saw the amusement in his eyes. "I see."

"It's a good spot though. It's in the woods, set back from the road, and there are two ways to get in and out. I don't think we'll find much better, at least not in this town. Maybe in the next one."

"I think it's better if we stop for the night." Mary Ellen nodded nervously toward Molly. "If we can get to this garage maybe we should do that."

"I'd feel better if we had a gun," Xander muttered.

"Can't help you there," Josh said. "There's a gun store in Taunton. My uncle likes to hunt and that's where he goes."

"Taunton's backtracking and I'm not doing that," Xander said.

Josh frowned as he sat back in his seat. "Well we're not that far from Woonsocket, I know there's a store there he would get bullets from once in awhile. That's still going toward Sturbridge at least."

"I'm not sure it's the best idea to rob a gun store," Bobby muttered.

"It would probably be quicker to cross into Rhode Island to get to Sturbridge anyway," Peter said. "Even if we don't end up with guns, which I kind of have to agree with Bobby on that one. We need weapons, but I think that robbing a gun store could be a bad idea. Real bad."

"Let's just get somewhere for the night," Mary Ellen urged.

"There's metal to hit people with at the garage, or are they zombies?" Josh tilted his head as he pondered his question.

Xander supposed metal was better than nothing, but he definitely would have preferred to have a shotgun in his hand. "I can't even begin to think about that," Xander told him.

"You're going to turn up here," Josh instructed.

Xander followed his directions to a small dirt road that was pitted with holes and littered with branches. "I'll get out. We're going to have to move a lot of those," Peter volunteered.

Bobby leapt out of the car before Xander could come to a complete stop; Peter was hot on his heels. Josh also climbed out of the car to help remove the limbs that blocked the way. Xander crept down the road as the three of them worked together to lift branches and toss them into the woods.

A small, worn down garage appeared at the end of the road. It was much like he had pictured with boarded up windows, a sagging roof, and two garage doors that had been spray painted with pictures, and a few words that he wouldn't have said out loud if his mother was present. Vines climbed up the walls and encased the ceiling. It was rundown and looked as if a stiff wind would blow it over, but it had withstood the quakes, it was remote, and it was one of the best things he'd ever seen.

Josh and Bobby disappeared around the side while Peter stood watch at the corner of the building. The daylight was fading fast as one of the doors slid up and Josh waved him eagerly forward. The automatic headlights sprang to life as the front of the car entered the building. He moved faster, eager to hide the illumination, even if there wasn't anyone around to see it.

He turned the car off and the garage door clattered down behind him. Darkness briefly suffused the building and then a light flickered to life on the other side of the room. The hollowed out shell of a car was revealed, but unlike Bobby's car, they seemed to be making actual progress with this one. Even so, Xander wasn't surprised by the bag of empty beer cans sitting in the corner as he climbed out of the car.

"There are three lights, I don't know how long they'll last for," Josh said as he held the mechanic's light above his head. "I don't remember the last time we changed the batteries in them. There's usually some water in the cooler over there, and there's always some munchies lying around. We'll have to find them though as Dan has a habit of hiding them from the rest of us."

Xander would search every square inch of this garage if it meant discovering where Dan liked to hide his munchies. "This may be a little bit of heaven," Mary Ellen said as she glanced back at a still immobile Molly.

Peter hefted a tire iron into his hands and slapped it against his palm. "Better than nothing. Now let's see if we can find that food."

Josh was already pulling warm water out of the cooler and handing it out. Xander took one but hesitated before drinking it. What if whatever was wrong with those people had something to do with water? Saliva filled his mouth as he stared at the bottle. It didn't matter if it had something to do with the water or not, either way he would end up dead, and he didn't feel like being dehydrated when it happened.

Tipping his head back he took a long swallow from the bottle.

CHAPTER 12

Al

Franklin, Mass.

He drifted off but it was impossible to sleep for any length of time between the persistent throbbing in his hand and the feeling of impending doom. Every time his head would fall forward it would shoot right back up. He blinked around the room and shifted himself further up on the headboard.

The lightning and thunder had faded away a few hours ago, and he found he disliked the ensuing silence even more than the chaos of the storm. He could hear them now, clearly. They bumped and jostled and moved about in the next room, but they didn't speak, and aside from the occasional shout from outside he heard no other human sounds from them.

Rochelle was curled up beside him; her chest rose and fell evenly as small breaths escaped her. Lee was on the floor on the other side of her; he was the only other one that had managed to fall asleep for any length of time. Riley and Carl were sitting by the front door. Carl had one leg drawn up, his arm draped over it and his gun in hand. Carl hadn't placed the gun down since they'd realized that one, if not all of them, may become one of the mindless group surrounding them.

Riley's head bent toward Carl's as they talked in hushed murmurs that Al could barely pick up. A few feet away from them, leaning against the bureau, John stared at the ceiling. Al wondered what he saw there, or if perhaps he had become catatonic like the rest of the world seemed to have become. Al slipped his hand under the pillow and wrapped it around the gun there. The last thing he wanted was to harm anyone in this room but he wasn't willing to be caught unawares.

Absently he reached down and rubbed his knee before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He wasn't going to fall asleep and it was lonely lying there in the dark. He slid off the bed and plodded over to the wall. He bit back a groan as he slid down the wall between Carl and John.

"You ok?" Carl asked.

"I'm not going to get any sleep."

"I can't believe they're sleeping," Riley murmured.

Al watched the two figures sleeping across the room. He knew what they were all thinking, were the two of them sick? Or were they really just some of the lucky few that could sleep through anything, including an apocalypse? Al hadn't checked Rochelle's temperature, he'd been too afraid to know. He wasn't even sure that a fever would be one of the symptoms. He'd do what was necessary to survive, but he didn't think he could put her down if it became required of him. He couldn't do that to Rochelle or to Mary Ellen, and he was pretty sure that no one else in this room would be able to do it either.

"We were thinking," Riley murmured. "What if it's already in us, or perhaps was already in them?"

Al frowned as he reluctantly turned his attention from the slumbering forms. His eyes felt like sandpaper as he tried to blink away the blur that briefly surrounded her. "What do you mean?"

"You know how chicken pox can become shingles, what if it's something like that? What if it's some virus or DNA strand that's inside of us already and something new in the environment caused it to mutate?"

Al pondered her words and then shook his head. "I suppose it's a possibility. There are millions of viruses on the earth, and there's no way to know how many may have been beneath it, or trapped within its crust. These might even be two separate things we're dealing with here. A virus that makes people mindless drones and maybe bacteria that turns them into raving lunatics. There may even be other forms out there that we haven't even seen yet, other manifestations in other people."

There was a moment of cessation of breath as they all stared at him. "Crap," John muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. "Crap, crap, crap."

"Until it happens to one of us I don't think we should worry." Al knew that was easier said than done, but they would drive themselves crazy if they continued to harp on this. "All of these people were in a town that we didn't enter until hours later. They could have been exposed to something we weren't."

"Maybe," Riley said and dropped her head into her hands to massage her temples.

"When I was ten years old I played spin the bottle with a girl who refused to kiss me. Her name was Rosie Dugan and I thought she was the end all and be all of my entire existence. When she wouldn't kiss me I was certain that I was going to die, that the ground was just going to open up and swallow me whole," said Carl.

"Ooook," Riley said after a prolonged silence.

"Before today that was the only other time in my life that I was absolutely certain I was going to die, but I managed to survive it." Riley began to laugh, a low chuckle that she muffled by covering her mouth with both her hands. Al couldn't stop the small bout of laughter that started to escape him and John's head bent as his shoulders shook. "Yeah that's how my friends reacted when it happened," Carl continued.

That only caused Al to laugh harder and Riley was squirming down the door now as she tried to stifle her giggles. "What happened to Rosie?" John inquired in a choked voice.

"Ah well, Rosie just got prettier with age and ignored me until the end of high school. She married an investment banker, had three babies, and last I heard she was living large in California."

"That bitch," Riley said and covered her mouth as she started to laugh again.

"My thoughts exactly," Carl told her. "But I suppose there's a good possibility she might be dead now."

"That's looking at the bright side," John snorted.

"I can't imagine why she wouldn't want to kiss you," Riley said.

Carl shrugged as he ran a hand through his hair. "I wasn't this irresistibly good looking back then."

John grabbed his stomach as he bent over and shook with laughter. It was taking everything Al had not to burst into the loud, belly deep laughter that had been his signature until his wife died. "That explains it," Riley chuckled.

The laughter came to an abrupt halt as a loud bump sounded against the door behind Riley and Carl. They all froze, Al's hand tightened around his gun as he waited to see if some other loon was going to try and break in. Silence followed the bump but it was still a few minutes before he took his first easy breath.

"When I was thirteen I was showing off for a girl on my bike by doing a jump. I ended up face planting into the curb instead. I broke my nose and knocked out my front tooth. I didn't get a kiss that day either," John shared.

"I wouldn't doubt it," Carl said.

"She kissed me a few weeks later though so I guess it was kind of worth it."

"I'm sure that's what your parents thought when they got the dentist bill," Al replied.

"Probably not," John agreed. "My dad thought it was kind of funny though, my mom wasn't anywhere near as amused."

John shifted and became silent as he rested his head against the bureau again. His fingers tapped on his knee as he went back to staring at the ceiling. "Xander stuck me with the nickname Dumbo. Everyone called me that, or D, for a good chunk of my life. I could never quite decide which name I found more annoying," Riley admitted. "People gave me feathers until I was thirteen. I actually got lice from them once; I've never told anyone that before."

"Oh," John choked on a laugh. "That's bad"

"Your ears aren't that big," Carl assured her.

"Thankfully I grew into them, but they were pretty bad when I was younger." Rochelle released a muted snore and rolled over on the bed. "I don't know if I envy them or if I'm scared of them," Riley said in a low voice.

"Both, definitely both," Carl said.

"When I was seventeen I planned an elaborate, beautiful dinner for this girl I was dating, Helen. I was going to ask her to marry me. I was really nervous but I still managed to pop the question. She said no," Al told them. "I'd never been more embarrassed and humiliated in my life."

"Why did she say no?" Riley's voice was a bare whisper.

Al shrugged as he absently rubbed his knee. "She knew what I didn't at the time."

"And what was that?" John prodded.

"She wasn't in love with me, and when I met my wife I realized that I hadn't really been in love with her either. Helen was a good woman, we actually remained friendly for years afterward, but we weren't going to be good together. At the time it was a big step for her, she went against the grain, and her parents, by saying no. I respected her for that but my pride was stung for awhile after that one. When I finally worked up the nerve to ask Nellie to marry me I was so nervous that I couldn't get the words out. Thankfully she was a smart woman and figured out what I was ineptly trying to get at and said yes. That was one of the best days of my life.

"After meeting Nellie I came to realize that Helen's rejection wasn't the worst day of my life, but it was one of the days that made me understand that not everything is as it seems. It made me realize that even the darkest days may bring something unexpected and wonderful."

"Do you think that might happen here?" Riley breathed.

"One can only hope," Al told her, but he didn't hold out much hope. Helen saying no had been one thing, this was something entirely different.

Al rubbed at his knee again as something bumped in the room next door. "I hope the truck's ok," John said.

"You and me both." Carl's bones popped as he pushed himself away from the door and rose up. He stretched his back as he surveyed the room. Though no one, after Riley, had been willing to take a shower, they had all cleaned up the best they could with washcloths and tub water. Carl had tossed aside his ruined work shirt in favor of the hideous Hawaiian shirt that was loud even in the shadowed room. Al was pretty sure Carl shouldn't go out in public, it seemed like he'd be waving a red flag in front of the mindless bulls.

"That is one ugly shirt," John muttered as Carl started to pace the small room.

"Better an ugly shirt than an ugly face," Carl retorted.

"My mom said this was a handsome face."

"It is a face that only a mom could love."

John smiled weakly at him and went back to staring at the ceiling as his fingers resumed their tapping. Al shifted and pushed himself into a kneeling position, John moved to help him but he waved the young kid away. He felt every one of his years as he straightened up, but he didn't need any help, not right now anyway.

He walked over to the spot that Carl had vacated and pressed his glasses to the peephole. He could barely see anything out there, just shifting shadows amongst the inky backdrop. He stepped over Riley's legs to get to the window and pulled back a corner of the mattress. He could see shifting shadows sliding through the dark, but he couldn't tell how many people were out there.

He placed the mattress carefully back against the window and leaned against it. "I once ate a worm on a dare," Riley said.

"That's disgusting," John told her.

Riley shrugged but her teeth flashed in the darkness. "It wasn't as bad as you would think."

"You're not helping your case," John muttered.

"I once jumped off my porch roof because I was convinced I could fly," Carl admitted.

"What were you on?" John inquired dryly.

"A lot, I didn't even know I'd dislocated my shoulder till the next day."

"I tipped all my neighbors cows over when I was fifteen," Al said. "It was about as much fun as it sounds."

John stopped staring at the ceiling to smile at him. "My friends and I once stole someone's boat and went fishing all night. We left them a few beers, a thank you note, and some leftover bait. That was a good night."

"Sounds like it," Riley agreed. Carl walked back over to the door and tried to see out. "Maybe we should try and leave now."

There was a large part of him, ninety nine percent actually that desired out of this room so badly that he almost agreed with her. The one percent that was rational, and knew that it would mean almost certain death, wisely kept his mouth shut. "We can't," Carl reluctantly said.

Riley took a deep breath and pulled both of her legs up against her chest. "We robbed a cop's house today."

John's mouth quirked as he stared at her. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," she said with a small grin. "It's how we got our guns. I felt like a bad ass."

"Oh yeah, you're a rebel you worm eater you." John pointed his index fingers at her as he beamed at her.

Riley laughed and grinned at Al as he settled back onto the ground beside her. "Well I never would have done it on any other day, that's for sure."

"I skipped almost every day of my senior year. My parents were so disappointed, but school wasn't my thing. I enjoyed landscaping," John stated.

"I enjoyed many things in my life." A small, reminiscent smile curved Carl's mouth. His watery gray eyes took on a distant look as he drifted into some memory Al was sure none of them wanted to hear.

"I once dropped my son on his head when he was just a year old. He squiggled out of my grasp and plopped right on the floor. I was terrified for years that I'd given him some kind of brain damage," Al admitted.

Riley chuckled as she leaned against his side. "Your wife must have flipped out."

"I value my life too much to have told her about that one. We'd have been divorced, or she would have been a widow."

"Did you do any damage to him?" John inquired.

"Nah they're surprisingly sturdier than you would think."

He settled back against the door and tuned out the noises next door as they continued to share stories and secrets that they'd harbored for years. Though none of them harbored any soul shattering secrets, he realized after an hour or so that they were unburdening themselves. He shared their desire to listen and tell them everything, even if they were strangers.

But they weren't really strangers, not anymore. He hadn't even known them for a whole day, but as the sky began to lighten he realized he knew more about them than some people he'd been friends with for thirty plus years. He also found that he liked them more than he had liked certain members of his own family even. Carl crept back to the window and pulled the mattress down. The growing light of the new day did nothing to help the hideousness of his shirt.

Al tiredly wiped at his eyes and forced himself back to his feet. For barely having slept in the past twenty four hours he was amazed that he was still able to move. "I would kill someone for coffee right now," John muttered.

"Do you really think that was the best choice of words?" Carl asked him.

"Perhaps not, but it's the truth."

Al stepped next to Carl as he pulled the mattress back from the window again. There were still people outside but their numbers seemed to have dwindled. The truck and car appeared untouched but he couldn't see the back of the truck from here. "We might as well wake the two sleeping beauty's and go now. I don't think it's going to get any clearer out there," Carl said.

Riley nodded and hurried over to Lee's side; she grabbed hold of his shoulder and shook him. "Go away," he muttered as he threw his arm back at her.

"Lee come on, get up," she insisted.

Lee opened one eye and looked up at her as Al shook Rochelle's shoulder gently. "Riley? What are you doing in my room?"

"You're not in your room dumb ass, now get up. We have to go."

Rochelle's eyes fluttered open. Her eyes widened in alarm and then her face fell as realization dawned on her. Tears blurred her eyes; she quickly wiped them away and sat up. "Are we leaving?" she asked.

"Yes," Al answered.

"I have to go to the bathroom first."

"Remember not to flush," Carl reminded her.

She nodded as she disappeared into the small bathroom. Lee sat up and rolled his shoulders as he stared at the covered window. "Are you ok?" Riley asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered.

She reached for his shoulder but her hand fell back to her side as the bathroom door opened and Lee climbed to his feet. Al watched the young man shuffle to the bathroom with hunched shoulders. "Do you think he's ok?" Carl whispered.

"I think so," Riley said slowly.

Lee looked a little more revitalized when he reappeared from the bathroom. "We'll move as quickly as possible, I'm hoping we'll still be able to drive both vehicles. Who knows what that lightning might have done to them though. Stay close together, it's the only way we'll all get there," Carl instructed.

Al took a deep breath and adjusted his hold on his gun. He wasn't looking forward to this, but he wanted out of this room so badly right now that it didn't matter how much he dreaded stepping foot outside again. Carl nodded toward them as he slid the chain lock free and flipped the door handle lock. He hesitated before finally flinging the door open on the dawning day beyond.

Al hadn't known what he'd been expecting but the cloud filled gray sky, and barely visible hazy sun threw him off. He blinked against the seemingly normal, peaceful day as he stepped through the doorway. He had only a minute to take in the serenity that had followed the preceding events before a loud bellow broke the solitude of the early morning.

CHAPTER 13

John

Franklin, Mass.

It's all over but the crying. John couldn't shake that thought from his head as he spun toward the source of the bellowing. A woman, or at least what had once been a woman, waved her hands in the air much like an irate primate as she raced at them. John lifted the gun and aimed at her, but his hand was shaking and he wasn't entirely certain he could hit the broad side of a barn right now.

What had happened to her face? Even as the thought crossed his mind he was pulling the trigger. He didn't care what had happened to her face, there was no way he was going to let her touch him or get anywhere near the inside of his bubble of space. The bullets slammed into her chest and legs, but he wasn't entirely certain if the woman was being hit by a combination of everyone's bullets or just his own. Ultimately he didn't really care just as long as she was dead when the bullets stopped flying.

Carl grabbed hold of his arm and pushed it down. It was only then that he realized he was pulling the trigger on an empty gun, and the woman was down in a tangled heap in the parking lot. Though the gun was empty and now pointed at the sidewalk he couldn't stop himself from continuing to pull the trigger.

He felt like an idiot, yet he didn't stop until the woman's legs stopped twitching and her fingers stilled on the pavement. "Move," Carl's voice was harsh; his hand trembled as he lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "Get to the truck."

At first John couldn't make his legs move. He could only stand there and stare at the bloody mess of what had once been a human being. Carl nudged him and John was finally able to pry his feet from the sidewalk as he scurried toward the vehicle. "Please start," John prayed.

He didn't see the man beside the truck eating God only knew what- because he sure didn't want to know- until he was nearly on top of him. The man's mouth was smeared with blood, his face full of those hideous sores as he continued to chomp on whatever prize it was that he had claimed.

John lifted the gun and remembered only too late that he had already shot all the bullets in it. It was pure instinct that caused him to wind his arm back and heave the gun at the guy. It twirled through the air and knocked the man's head back as it bounced off the center of his forehead. John didn't know what he'd expected, but it sure wasn't for the guy to blink at him as if he was waking up from some hideous nightmare. The stranger's eyes actually seemed to clear as he focused on John.

John's shoulders relaxed as the man looked down at the pile before him; a pile John now realized were the remains of a small dog. John thought he might have preferred for it to be one of the crazed humans as the poor dog probably hadn't stood a chance. The man looked at him again but just as swiftly as the awakening had come into his gaze, a cloud descended back over his green eyes. John would have preferred for the dog to have been a human, but he most certainly did not want it to be him.

Carl shouldered past him as the man rose to his feet and eyed John like he was a steak with all the fixings. Carl lifted his arm and fired a shot dead center into the man's forehead. "You would be better off holding onto the gun, at least you can use it to beat them with it," Carl told him.

"Funny," John muttered.

"Not trying to be funny, I'm telling you the truth. Don't throw it again, we need it."

John fought against the heat creeping up his neck and face as he retrieved the gun before the growing pool of blood could get to it. He didn't care if it was the last gun on earth, he wouldn't have retrieved it from the blood of one of those people. Carl sidestepped the puddle and hurried to the back of the truck with his gun raised. Al already had the door of the dilapidated car open and the keys in the ignition. The reassuring beep of a working battery sounded.

The car wasn't the most important thing though. John eyed the work truck, the vehicle he'd spent more hours in than his own car. It hadn't let him down yet and that was what he counted on as he joined Carl in the back. The doors were still securely locked but John imagined there was a fair amount of water in the bed.

Carl wasn't checking out the backdoors but the crowd of people still gathered within the street and unhurriedly moving about. Their clothes were even more ragged, torn and dirty than before but they seemed oblivious to their sorry state. Some of them had simply taken to sitting in the middle of the road. From the way they looked John didn't think they had any intention of getting up again. One woman's head was jerking repeatedly to the side as her mouth snapped open and closed.

"What is she doing?" John jumped a little at the voice on his left. He hadn't realized Riley was there until she spoke.

"I think, and don't quote me on this because I can't be sure, but I think she is trying to eat her own face," Carl answered.

"Maybe she's simply trying to chase her nose," John suggested though he thought that Carl had hit the nail on the head.

"Oh dear Lord," Riley muttered as she took a step back.

"Let's get out of this doomed town," John said. He elbowed Riley gently back as he hurried to the passenger side of the truck. The other three were standing in between the two vehicles, anxiously surveying the parking lot.

Carl already had the driver's side door open, he met John's gaze as he threw open the passenger side door. "Please start," Carl muttered before sliding the key in.

There was a small beep that caused John's heart to skyrocket in his chest, and then the engine fired up. "Yes!" John said as he dropped his head on the bench seat and took a deep breath.

"Get in," Carl said.

John stepped back and waited for Rochelle to slide into the middle. "Here." Riley thrust a handful of granola bars at them along with a couple bags of trail mix. "I know it's not much but until we can stop…"

"It's good enough. You got any coffee over there?" he asked.

"Just the beans," she said with a smile.

"I'll take them."

"You're not really going to eat the coffee beans?" Carl demanded.

"No, but I'm going to inhale the shi…i…" He glanced at Rochelle who smiled sweetly back at him. "Hell out of them. If you've got a problem with that I don't care," John retorted.

Riley shook her head and thrust a bag of coffee beans at him before turning away and climbing into the driver's seat of the car. "Lead the way," John told her before she closed the door.

His attention was diverted from her by Carl's gruff words, "Give me one of those granola bars."

John handed him a peanut butter one as Rochelle seized a chocolate. He opened a raisin and cinnamon bar and bit happily into it as his stomach rumbled in response. When he finished the granola bar off he opened the bag of coffee and inhaled eagerly. It didn't ease the craving as much as he'd desired and for a moment he seriously contemplated chomping on the beans. At least he would get a little caffeine out of them.

"We have to find some soda," he muttered as he closed and resealed the bag. "Do they have battery operated coffeepots?"

"I'm sure they do. I think they've created damn near every other type of gadget in the world," Carl replied.

"We're going to have to find one of those too."

"Anything else you need while society crumbles?"

"No, that should just about do it. I'm easily satisfied," John informed him.

"That's what she said," Carl retorted.

Rochelle chuckled as she finished off a bag of trail mix, wiped her hands on her shorts, and shoved the wrapper onto the dash. John glanced at Rochelle and bit back his retort to Carl as he turned his attention to the crowded and broken roadways. It seemed like people were everywhere, but there should have been a lot more of them crowding the streets.

"How many people died yesterday?"

He hadn't realized he'd spoken the question aloud until Carl answered, "Too many."

"I don't know if I'm more thankful there aren't more people, or upset by it," John said as they drove by a group of children sitting mutely upon the steps of an elementary school. John could almost believe that they were meeting to play some basketball on the playground behind the building. They remained immobile though, their mouths partially agape as they unseeingly stared at the vehicles passing them by.

"Oh that's awful," Rochelle said.

John turned away from the children at Rochelle's horrified murmur. He saw instantly what she was talking about. Bile swelled in his throat and he instinctively covered her eyes with his left hand. It was too late though, she'd already seen and there was no unseeing it. Rochelle grabbed hold of his hand and jerked it away to scowl at him.

He wasn't paying attention though as his gaze remained locked on the woman sitting on the curb at the side of the road. As he watched, she picked off a piece of skin on her mutilated and bloody arm and began to eat it. He wished he'd never consumed the granola bar as it threatened to make a second appearance right into his lap.

"What is wrong with these people?" he managed to choke out.

No one spoke; Carl forcefully turned his focus away from the people and slammed on the brakes. John swore as he crashed off the dashboard. He braced himself as he turned to look at what had caused Carl to stop so abruptly. One of the mindless ones was standing in front of the truck, rocking from side to side. Its eyes were glazed and bloodshot; they rolled in the woman's head as she tugged at the remaining strands of her hair. She pulled out a handful of brown tufts and stuffed them into her mouth.

"Get, me, out, of, this, town," John enunciated clearly.

Carl's hand was trembling as he shifted the truck into reverse. They backed up and drove around the swaying woman. John wondered if she would turn to her own skin too when she ran out of hair, but then he realized that he didn't really want to know the answer to that question.

Riley had slowed the car for them to catch up, but she was still creeping forward, apparently unwilling to stop in this town. "How much longer until we're out of here?" Rochelle inquired.

"Not much longer, but…" Carl's voice trailed off.

"But there's no way to know what else we might come across," Rochelle finished for him.

Riley eased on the brakes as she weaved her way through the broken streets, potholes, people, and burned out shells of businesses and homes. The lightning had caused a fair amount of damage to the roads, but it was difficult to tell which homes had caught on fire because of the storm and which ones had burned during the quakes. At least the crazy torrential downpour had put out the fires before they could burn everything down.

The brake lights came to life on the car as Riley halted abruptly. John didn't know what had caused them to stop until they all looked to their right. He leaned against the door as he peered out the window at a library. At first he saw nothing unusual about the building, the front doors were closed, and the blinds were drawn on all of the windows, except for one. In that one window were a handful of people pressed against the glass to peer out.

John's heart leapt into his throat, his hand pressed against the glass as he stared at the people staring back at them. He gave a small wave that a young girl with pigtails returned. "They're functioning human beings," he breathed. "They do still exist."

"Maybe not for long," Rochelle whispered.

Carl started driving again but John didn't tear his gaze away from the library until he was unable to look at it anymore. He turned back around in his seat and focused on the growing light of the dreary, cloudy day. Riley turned onto a side road to avoid a deep chasm in the middle of the street.

John didn't like being herded onto the side road, but the main road hadn't proven all that useful either. He watched the houses more closely as they drove past. He saw more than a few curtains pull back, but most remained empty and hollow shells of the homes they had once been.

The mindless people were everywhere, rambling about aimlessly as they moved from yard to yard and street to street. One of the angrier ones raced across the backyard and John realized it was keeping pace with the car and truck. He sat up a little straighter, his hand clenched around the empty gun in his hand. "Where are the extra bullets?" he inquired.

Carl glanced over at him. "There are some behind the seat."

"Lean forward a little."

Carl's eyebrows drew together. The fact that he was trying to look disapproving was ruined by the ridiculous Hawaiian shirt and ruined baseball cap he refused to relinquish. "What's wrong?"

"One of those crazy things is over there. I think it would be a good idea if I had some bullets."

"Yes it would," Carl agreed.

Carl and Rochelle leaned forward so that John could pull the seat forward a little. It was difficult maneuvering around but he was eventually able to fish some boxes of bullets out. He plopped them into his lap and stared at them helplessly. "The box all the way to your right," Carl informed him.

John set it on the dash and placed the other boxes in the glove box. "Steer the truck," Carl said to Rochelle. "I don't want John to shoot himself in the face, or one of us."

"Neither do I." She grabbed the wheel as Carl took the gun and bullets from him. Carl loaded the gun quickly and handed it back.

"Thanks," John muttered.

"We're going to have to find a place to hole up for awhile. We have to make a stand and teach all of you how to use these guns before someone accidentally gets shot."

John didn't have a chance to reply as a loud thwack resounded through the cab and the truck actually lifted a little on the driver's side. Carl ducked away from the impact as he slammed on the brakes. "What the…" John started.

Then he saw the thing, or the person that had run full force into the side of the truck. He didn't seem the least bit bothered by the impact as he moved over the window and sniffed at the air. "Well that's not normal," Carl remarked.

"Drive," John commanded.

"I think he dented my door," Carl muttered as he eased off the brake and started to drive again. The thing kept pace with the truck as it slapped and crashed against Carl's window. Rochelle pressed closer to John as it grabbed hold of the side mirror. "Hey! Get off!" Carl yelled.

"It's not a dog Carl," John hissed through clenched teeth.

"Hold on," Carl told him.

John pressed his arm against Rochelle's chest and braced himself on the dashboard as Carl slammed on the brakes again. The man clung like a burr as he refused to relinquish his new ride. The man opened his mouth and John could almost smell the putrefaction contained within that blistered mess of what could no longer be considered a human mouth.

Carl, who had been reaching over to roll the window down, jerked his hand back as the blackened tongue flickered out. The man's mouth closed and then opened again before unhinging in a way that John thought only a snake's jaw could. Carl hit the button for the window, stuck his hand out and fired the gun. Rochelle jumped and slammed her hands over her ears as the shot reverberated through the cab of the truck.

Carl hadn't been able to aim very well, but the shot caught the man in the upper chest and shoulder. It squealed as it released the mirror and fell beside the truck. Carl hit the window up button and slammed on the gas. The truck bounced and jounced over ruts and holes as he sped to catch up with the car again.

"What was wrong with its mouth?" Rochelle whispered.

"Whatever's wrong with the whole freaking package," Carl answered.

John tried to pry his shirt from his skin, but it was stuck to him by what felt like gallons of water pouring from his pores. He lifted his arm and wiped it across his brow as his vision began to blur. "I don't think my heart can take much more of this," he said.

For the first time Carl didn't have a witty retort. Rochelle remained mute and immobile as she pressed against his side. It was too hot to be sitting so close to someone but he couldn't bring himself to push her away.

The car drove onto the sidewalk to avoid another large rut and continued down a different side road. Lee had turned around to watch them; his nose was practically touching the back window as he gazed at them. "Maybe we should all ride together," Rochelle suggested.

John would like to have the others with them as much as Rochelle, but he knew it wasn't the best idea. "If something happens to one of the vehicles we'll need the other one. Besides those crazies would be able to concentrate their force on only one vehicle, and there's no point in all of us getting killed if they do manage to overtake one of them."

They turned onto another road and John forced himself to look at the ruined houses and broken yards. The damage was worse in this area, and so were the number of people stalking them. "There are more of them out there."

Rochelle shuddered beside him, Carl's jaw clenched and unclenched. "We can't go any faster."

"Well we better think of something because their numbers are increasing and they're moving just as fast as both of these vehicles right now."

Carl briefly met his gaze as he pressed down on the accelerator. John didn't think it would do them much good though as the numbers of their stalkers began to steadily increase.

CHAPTER 14

Mary Ellen

Plainville, Mass.

Her neck felt like tiny little trolls were stabbing her with their very pointy, very annoying spears as she tried to move it. She hadn't thought she could fall asleep but somewhere through the dark night she had succumbed to the pull of exhaustion. She would have preferred if she hadn't fallen asleep at such an awful angle. She rubbed her hand against the taut muscles that were protesting every one of her movements.

Her butt was cold from the cement floor but that was the least of her problems as she tried to move her sound asleep right leg. Tingles shot up and down her leg and she was half afraid if she put any weight on it she might face plant. She'd fallen asleep next to a workbench with her back against the wall and she had to roll over in order to push herself up. She leaned against the wall in order to steady herself.

Shuffling forward she followed the sound of voices around the skeleton of the car and toward the back of the garage. Xander, Bobby, and Peter were gathered around one of the windows with their heads bent close to each other. The feeling was beginning to come back into her foot as she stopped beside them.

Xander and Bobby glanced back at her but Peter remained focused upon the window. She could clearly see the marks from where one of their hands had wiped the grime off the glass. "Are they out there?" Mary Ellen whispered.

"Some of them appeared about an hour ago," Xander informed her.

Despite the heat a shiver ran down her spine. She took a step closer to the window as a woman emerged from the shadows of the woods. Mary Ellen took an instinctive step back. "They can't see us, it's too dark in here," Peter told her.

Though she knew he was right, she still couldn't bring herself to move closer to the window as another figure emerged. "When are we leaving?" she asked.

"Josh and Molly are still sleeping but it's probably best if we get out of here soon," Xander said.

"There doesn't happen to be a bathroom in this place does there?" she inquired as she tried not to cross her legs.

"No, but there's a corner and some paper towels you could use." Bobby's face flooded with color and he was unable to meet her gaze by the time he was done speaking.

Everything in her screamed out against that suggestion but in the end it was a better option than peeing her pants. She took the towels from Xander and plodded toward the dim corner Bobby had indicated. It wasn't the worst thing she'd ever done in her life, but she would have been willing to pay someone any amount of money for a toothbrush and a bathroom.

She wiped her hands on the paper towels and returned to the others. Peter still hadn't torn his gaze from the window but Xander and Bobby had retreated a few steps toward the workbench. "Anymore of them?" she asked. The haunted look in Peter's eyes was more than answer enough; she didn't stick around to hear his confirmation. "Where are Josh and Molly?"

Xander looked up at her. "Sleeping in the car."

He picked up a metal pipe leaning against the workbench and rested it on his shoulder. Both he and Bobby had red rimmed, shadowed eyes. Peter ran a hand through his disordered hair as he turned away from the window. "We'll wake them up and get out of here," Xander said.

Mary Ellen turned toward the car as Josh emerged from the shadows. His dark hair stood out in spikes around his face as he rubbed at his swollen eyes. "Where's Molly?" he asked around a yawn.

"She was in the car with you," Xander said.

"Not anymore."

Mary Ellen swallowed heavily as she exchanged a look with Xander and Bobby. "Maybe she went to the corner," Bobby suggested.

"She would have had to pass us," Mary Ellen told him.

Xander dropped the pipe down by his side and tapped it against his calf as he stood away from the workbench. "She has to be in here somewhere, we would have known if she'd left."

Mary Ellen's feet felt like concrete blocks as Bobby and Xander wandered down the side of the garage. Peter moved passed her into the shadows. She didn't want to go, but even so she managed to pry her feet from the floor and follow behind them. Josh was close on her heels as they made their way through the shadowed interior, past the skeletal car, toward the back of the building.

Barely any rays of sun pierced back here, but she could see a few dust mites dancing through the air. "Molly?" Xander called but there was no response. "Molly?"

He moved further into the darkness. Bobby seized hold of what appeared to be the metal pole of a carjack but she couldn't quite be sure. Someone kicked something that rattled as it rolled into obscurity. Josh jumped and seized hold of the back of her shirt. Her breath froze in her lungs, her heartbeat sounded in her ears as she waited for something or someone to explode out of the gloom at them.

"Sorry," Josh muttered and released her shirt when everything remained still.

Xander and Bobby moved forward again, Peter grabbed a wrench off the bench and continued after them. Mary Ellen looked around from something to defend herself with but it was Josh that handed her a screwdriver as he grabbed a hammer. "Molly?" Xander called again.

Mary Ellen's palm was sweating as she clutched the handle of the screwdriver. She felt like a ninja as she crept forward, though she was nowhere near as stealthy as a ninja. In fact, she felt about as stealthy as an elephant in a glass museum. She made it to the corner of the hulking car and poked her head cautiously around it.

Where was this girl?

She felt that if everything was ok with Molly she would have answered Xander, she would have found them. No one, not even the craziest hermit living in the mountains would really prefer to be alone right now. She was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe as she moved around the car and into the further recesses of the old building.

"Molly?" Xander's voice came out as barely more than a whisper. Mary Ellen lifted the screwdriver and held it next to her head. She didn't know what she'd do with it, she certainly wasn't prepared to actually stab someone with it, but it made her feel a little bit better to at least have it.

The three men fanned out before her. "Molly?" Peter inquired.

Mary Ellen stepped behind Xander and Peter and stood on tiptoe to peer over their shoulders as she tried to decipher the shadows. There was something in the corner; she wasn't sure what it was though. "Molly?" Peter asked again.

Mary Ellen frowned; it couldn't be the girl, could it? Then the shadows shifted as whatever was in the corner moved. She nudged Peter and Xander aside and stepped closer for a better view. Xander held her back as she tried to move even closer to the young girl. She shot him a dark look; if the girl needed help then she was going to help her. Xander shook his head as he continued to hold her back. She hadn't realized Josh wasn't behind her until he reappeared with the work light.

"Don't turn that on," Peter said briskly.

"We're far enough away from any windows. Is it her?" Josh wanted to know.

"Yes, it's her." Peter took the light from him.

"Molly?" Josh asked as he stepped closer.

"Get me a rag, Josh," Peter ordered.

Josh disappeared and reappeared with a rag that smelled like it had been dipped in grease and motor oil. Peter wrapped it around the light before flicking it on. Dim illumination spilled across the floor in a small circle that didn't go three feet beyond them. Peter lifted the light over his head as he took another step forward. "Molly?"

The beam spilled over the girl to reveal her shoes, legs, torso and bowed head that was turned away from them. The young girl still wouldn't look at them as they all took a step closer together. At first Mary Ellen thought the girl was crying, but she realized her shoulders were shaking because she was chewing on something.

A sick feeling began to churn through her stomach. They'd found little food last night and what they had managed to uncover hadn't survived more than ten minutes. The acid in her stomach began to move toward her throat and she couldn't figure out if she wanted to burp, vomit, or pop an antacid more.

"Molly?" Josh croaked.

The girl's shoulders finally stopped moving as she went still. Her head turned forward and then, toward them. Vomit, she definitely wanted to vomit more as Molly's glazed eyes met theirs. Her mouth was smeared with blood; it trickled down her chin to plop onto the cement floor. Her once youthful face looked like someone had thrown a cup of boiling water into it as pustules marred it.

Mary Ellen didn't realize what Molly was eating until she lifted the leggy remains of the mouse to her mouth. Unable to suppress it anymore, Mary Ellen spun away as she gagged and purged what little contents she had from her stomach. Tears burned her eyes and slid down her face as her chest and stomach cramped from the force of her retching.

Josh patted her back awkwardly but she couldn't bring herself to stop heaving as her legs began to shake. "I think we should go," Bobby croaked.

"We can't just leave her here," Josh protested.

"Do you feel like riding with that!?"

"She's not a that, she's Molly."

"I don't think so, not anymore," Xander stated.

"We're not just leaving her here," Josh insisted. "Molly I uh… I know you're hungry, we all are, but ah… We can find you something else."

Mary Ellen gagged again but she was regaining control of herself as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and straightened up. She didn't mean to look at the girl again but her gaze was irresistibly drawn back to her. Every motherly instinct she had argued with every one of her survival instincts, but in the end she was on Xander and Bobby's side.

The last thing she wanted was to climb into the car with that girl. There was something intrinsically wrong with her, and it was more than just the fact that she was eating a mouse. Mary Ellen thought she would even stoop to such levels if she was hungry enough, of course she would have preferred it spitted and cooked first, but she would choke it down if necessary.

No it was more than just the mouse and Molly's face, it was her eyes. They didn't look quite as human as they had before. There was a vacancy within them that led her to believe that although Molly still breathed and moved, there was no soul behind those eyes anymore.

"Molly." Xander grabbed hold of Josh's arm as he took a step closer to his friend. "I'm worried about you Moll, please just say something."

The girl dropped the remains of the mouse and rested her hand on the floor as she pushed herself to her feet. Mary Ellen's hand clenched around the screwdriver, she braced herself as she lifted it like a knife. She couldn't believe she was actually contemplating driving the thing through a young girl's head, chest, or whatever she could get that would stop the teen, because she was pretty sure that was what it would take. She was also pretty sure that Molly was eyeing them up like overgrown mice that would make far better treats than the smaller version she had discarded. She had the chilling feeling that she was stuck in a really bad cartoon, on a raft, with only one other person.

Xander shifted his stance as he adjusted his hold on the pipe. Peter stepped next to him and nudged Josh back. Molly rocked back and forth on her heels as her gaze slid over them. She opened her mouth to reveal a flickering black tongue. Even from this distance, the foul scent coming from Molly's mouth wafted over her. She imagined it was what road kill smelled like after a week in the Arizona sun.

Xander and Bobby took a step back and Peter lifted his arm to block his nose. Josh's eyes rolled in his head as he took a staggering step into her. Mary Ellen grabbed his arm to steady him, but she kept hold of his arm because she needed some kind of contact with another, normal human being.

Molly's tongue flickered over her teeth before she released a loud breath and rushed at them. Xander and Bobby jumped out of the way. Josh grabbed Mary Ellen and jerked her down. They scurried under the lift holding the car as Molly careened past them and into the shadows. Mary Ellen poked her head out from under the lift but she couldn't see the girl.

The hair on her arms stood on end. It had been bad enough to see the teen munching on a mouse, but not knowing where she was right now was a whole different bag of worms. She contemplated staying under the lift but all she could picture was Molly crawling through the darkness at her. That thought spurred her into action as she pushed Josh away from where Molly had disappeared.

"Go," she urged when Josh hesitated.

The kid scurried out from under the lift and leapt to his feet. Mary Ellen was almost out behind him when a small hand seized hold of her ankle. A startled squeak escaped her as she was jerked back with enough force to pull her knees out from under her. Her chin smacked off the floor, stars burst before her eyes, and blood filled her mouth from the tongue she bit down on.

Fingernails snapped as she attempted to stop her backwards slide under the lift. She tried to scream but the blood pooling in her mouth made the sound come out garbled. She kicked out behind her in an attempt to knock the surprisingly solid grip free as she was pulled back another three feet.

Light flared over her as Xander appeared beside Molly. His metal pipe clattered to the ground as he grabbed the girl around the waist and tried to jerk her free. Spitting and hissing sounds escaped the child but she didn't release Mary Ellen's leg as she kicked wildly at the girl. Bobby seized hold of Molly's arms and tried to pry her free.

The girl only clamped down more forcefully and Mary Ellen thought Molly might actually be able to break her bone if she kept squeezing. Mary Ellen managed to turn over on her back and kick out at the girl/creature within Xander's arms. "Let go!" Bobby commanded as he tugged harder.

Molly's teeth clacked together fiercely as the girl bit at him. Bobby's face scrunched up, he leaned back as he tried to avoid the insistent clicking of her teeth. Peter appeared on the other side of her. "I'm sorry," he apologized before he swung his wrench down on Molly's arms.

The girl squealed but she finally released her death grip on Mary Ellen's ankle. Xander staggered and fell backward with her as he was thrown off balance by Molly's sudden release. They tumbled over and rolled head over heels into the workbench. Xander released Molly and staggered back to his feet as Molly scurried like a spider into the shadows.

Mary Ellen stumbled as she stood up. Josh steadied her, but her head was throbbing so forcefully that she could barely see straight. Xander snagged his pole back up and braced himself like a batter at the plate. Bobby and Peter stood on either side of him as they studied the shadows.

Mary Ellen blinked as she turned to survey the garage. She could hear something moving through the gloom but it was difficult to pinpoint exactly where Molly was. She'd lost her screwdriver under the lift but she wasn't about to go looking for it as she stepped further away from the contraption.

Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She wiped it quickly away; she was concerned that it would somehow attract the creature scurrying through the garage like a vulture to carrion. "Where is she?" Josh whispered.

"Shh," Peter hissed.

Something clattered on their left and caused all of them to jump as they spun toward the source of the noise. Mary Ellen caught a brief flash of something within the shadows before Molly flew out of the darkness like a demon from Hell. The beam splashed over her blistered face, illuminating it starkly against the darkness. A hideous, mucus filled shriek rattled out of her throat as she barreled down on Xander with her arms raised and her blackened mouth gaping open.

Xander hesitated briefly before swinging forward with the full force of his might. The reverberating thump echoed throughout the garage as he connected with her head. Blood exploded over all of them as the left side of her skull caved beneath the impact. Molly staggered to the side and fell against the lift. The whole thing shifted and groaned beneath the impact of her weight before tilting to the right. There was no stopping the domino effect as the lift collapsed and the car crashed onto the floor with enough force to shake the garage doors.

Molly tried to climb to her feet but she fell back to the ground. Xander's shoulders slumped, the pole dropped down by his side as he stared at the body lying within a growing pool of blood.

"It's on us," Josh whispered. "Her blood, it's on us."

Mary Ellen wiped at the splatters on her face but it didn't matter, if whatever was wrong with Molly was in her blood than it was already crawling and creeping over them. Perhaps it was already inside of them. She shuddered at the thought but they had all been in this garage, they had all been within that school, and now they had all been covered with Molly's tainted blood. There was nothing they could do about it and she wasn't about to try now.

She glanced back at Molly's prone body; she thought she should feel worse about the girl, she had spent most of yesterday trying to comfort her. All she felt was relief.

"We have to go," Xander said.

"Her blood," Josh said again.

"Yes we get it, her blood is on us. She also breathed the same air as us all night and was locked in that room with the two of you for hours. You're still alright, but unless we get out of here right now there are going to be even more like her coming at us. We weren't exactly quiet."

Josh glanced toward the windows, the color drained from his face as his mouth dropped. Mary Ellen realized that it had become darker within the garage. She had to force herself to turn toward the windows on the other side. Her stomach plummeted at the sight of the blistered faces pressed against the filthy glass.

CHAPTER 15

Riley

Franklin, Mass.

"There are more of them out there," Al murmured.

Riley didn't dare take her eyes off the road to look at the figures she could see from the corner of her eye. She felt her teeth might just shatter as her jaw began to ache but she couldn't bring herself to unclench them. There was a part of her that just yearned to scream until she lost her voice and couldn't scream anymore. The other part of her was tempted to floor the beat up car as fast as it could go regardless of the holes and obstacles that littered the asphalt.

She somehow managed to keep herself restrained as she hunched over the wheel and unerringly swerved around the obstructions in their way. Al handed her a pair of sunglasses that had seen better days, but then again so had she. She slipped them on but the scratches on them made it even more difficult to see than the strange glare that illuminated the cloudy sky. She took them off and went back to squinting as she maneuvered around a broken cedar lying half in the road.

She glanced in the rearview at the truck close on her bumper and Lee. He was leaning forward with his head in his hands and his surfer hair falling forward to shield his features. "Are you ok Lee?"

"Just have a headache," he muttered.

"I've got some aspirin," Al offered and opened the glove box. The pills rattled in the bottle as he pulled them out and handed them back.

Riley's hands twisted on the steering wheel. Lee hadn't seemed right since he'd woken but she'd chalked it up to the events of the past day. Now she couldn't shake the thought that it was something more, even though she had a dull throb pulsating in her temples too. She was tempted to rub them but she didn't think she could remove her hands from the wheel right now.

Lee shook out a couple of aspirin and handed them back. He was starting to look like a statue in a wax museum that had no air conditioning. She turned down another side road and spotted a medical complex in the distance. "Al…"

"I see."

"Should we?" she glanced back at Lee who had returned to being bent over with his head in his hands.

Al leaned forward and rested his hand on the dash. "It looks like it's in fairly good condition but I don't see any people. Drive around it."

Riley had to drive over a front lawn in order to get toward the right side of the building. It was a doctor's office complex with a host of specialties marking the glass doors and windows. A few of the windows had shattered, but they were mostly on the second floor. The only broken door was on the backside of the building and hung haphazardly in the frame. Though she hadn't noticed much of a breeze, a broken metal pole clinked against the concrete walkway.

"They were either looted or…" Al's voice trailed off as one of those crazy looking ones with the oozing face and blistering sores appeared at a lower window. "Or something was looking for them."

Riley glanced nervously in the backseat again as Lee lifted his head and blinked at the windshield. His eyes were beginning to look like he'd been on a weeklong bender; actually all of him was beginning to look like he'd been on one. He tugged at his hair before he dropped his head into his hands again.

She'd known Lee since she was a child, they'd run in the same circles most of their lives. They'd never been what she would consider friends, but they'd been friendly and had exchanged plenty of conversations over the years. She'd lost her family today, she'd lost Carol, she had no idea where Bobby and Xander were, or if they were even still alive. She couldn't lose Lee too, she simply couldn't.

"We have to find a doctor," she blurted around the lump forming in her throat. Al rested a hand on her arm as he glanced nervously in the backseat. Lee's hand was wrapped around the back of his neck as he rubbed at it.

"We will," he assured her.

She was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe, and it had nothing to do with the stale and humid air. Al's touch was surprisingly comforting considering he had been a stranger less than twenty four hours ago. She was able to battle back the burning in her chest and eyes as they arrived at the backside of the building.

She was so focused on trying to get around a lamppost that she didn't see what it was that caught Al's attention until he leaned over her and thrust a finger at the window. "Look."

Riley didn't want to ease off the gas too much but she still chanced a glance out the window. A flash of white caught her attention and then disappeared. The towel reappeared as someone waved it out the window again. "They're alive," she breathed. "They might be doctors."

"Maybe."

She glanced in the mirror again as Lee rested his head against the window and pulled a t-shirt from the floor over his head. "We're getting him in there."

"Riley, we don't know who those people are and there are a bunch of loonies all around us."

"He's not right."

"I feel fine," Lee insisted. "I'm just tired."

"We all are," Riley assured him, but they weren't curling up under a t-shirt in hundred plus degree weather. She may also look like something the cat had drug in, but at least she didn't appear half chewed up and spit out on top of it. "But you're not looking so good Lee."

"You don't look so hot right now either, Ri."

"Yes, but a little bit of make-up and I'll perk right up again." She was trying to sound cheerful, but it sounded false even to her ears.

Lee didn't bother to answer her and he didn't look out from under the t-shirt either. "I don't think it's a good idea to stop right now," Al said. "Not until we can ditch our entourage."

Riley glanced at the truck again, she wished there was some way to communicate with them, to hear what they had to say on this issue. But as she began to circle the building again she noticed that their following was growing. It almost felt like bugs were crawling up and down her skin as they turned the back corner of the building again and she spotted figures moving within the shadowed hall. The towel appeared out the window, fluttered for a bit before disappearing once more.

"It's an S.O.S.," Al muttered.

"What?" Riley asked.

"That's what they're signaling with the towel," he explained.

"We can't just leave them here."

"You do remember what those guys on the street were going to do to Carl, John and Rochelle," Al said.

"Yes, but…"

"Do you think we'll make it out of this car and into that building alive with those strange people all around us?"

Riley glanced out the window at the people hovering at the edges of the building. Since Carl had shot the one they hadn't dared to come much closer, but it was only a matter of time before they gathered the courage, or the insanity, to do so. It wouldn't take much for them to overwhelm both vehicles.

"Keep going Ri," Lee muttered from the back. "I really am just tired, maybe a little headachy but that's from lack of sleep."

He'd gotten far more sleep than any of them but she wasn't going to remind him of that. "The antibiotics are in the trunk, maybe we can get to them somehow," she suggested.

"I'm fine," Lee insisted.

"Better safe than sorry and a dose of antibiotics might do us all some good."

"Don't you know you're not supposed to take them if you're not sick?" Lee retorted.

"Lee, please."

He pulled the t-shirt back a little to peep out at her. "When we have an opportunity to safely stop I'll pop some pills, mom."

Riley smiled at him but he didn't see it as he disappeared behind the shirt again. She glanced nervously at Al. "Just keep going Riley."

In all of her many nightmares, and she'd been plagued with them for as long as she could remember, she had never once dreamt herself in this situation. Never once thought she would be driving away from people seeking help as they waved a towel out the window. She'd killed a man and she would do it again if she had to, but this was different.

Karma is a bitch, she thought. But she didn't wasn't going to be karma's bitch when all of this was said and done.

"No," she said. Even Lee poked back out from under the t-shirt as Al dropped his forehead into his hands. "I'm not saying we have to get out of the car and go in after them, I'm not even saying that we'll be able to do anything, but we can't simply just drive away. Not yet."

"Riley…" Lee started to protest.

"We didn't walk away from Al and Mary Ellen; we didn't walk away from Carl, John, and Rochelle. We can't drive away from this Lee."

She'd been so focused on the road that she hadn't realized the truck had pulled up beside them until Al rolled his window down. "What's going on?" Carl yelled.

"There are people inside that building waving an S.O.S.," Al answered him.

"Aren't we all waving an S.O.S!?" John shouted as he leaned across Rochelle.

"There has to be something we can do!" Riley yelled back at them.

She chanced a glance at the truck before focusing her attention on their circular route once more. She rounded the back corner of the building again and came face to face with a line of about ten puss faced maniacs fifty feet in front of them. Carl slammed on the brakes at the same time that she did. Lee smashed into the back of Al's seat shoving him against the dash. They were both cursing loudly as Riley threw the car in reverse and hit the gas. Al pitched backward and the string of words that escaped Lee's mouth would have made the most hardened criminal blush as he struggled to right himself.

Carl kept pace in the truck as they skidded around the corner of the building. She'd been an idiot to keep driving the same pattern, an idiot to believe they could have done anything to help. She turned around in the seat, and draped her arm over Al's seat, as she steered. Carl was right alongside her, maneuvering surprisingly well for only being able to use the side mirrors. She would have crashed the truck into the building already had she been behind the wheel.

She screamed as someone lurched from the shadows of the building and into the path of the car. She tried to hit the brakes again but it was already too late as the bumper caught them in the waist and spun them around. They fell under the driver's side tires and caused the car to thump off the ground. She couldn't bring herself to look as the body spun out in front of the car.

The car squealed back around to the front of the building. She yanked the wheel like she had on many snowy nights in the high school parking lot last year. It spun around in a squeal of burning tires that kicked up smoke around the car. For a piece of crap, the car pulled donuts like a champion. If she ever had a chance for some undamaged road she thought it might be fun to see how the car cornered.

Until then, all she intended was for it to get them as far from this place as possible. She threw it into drive and stomped on the gas again. The transmission groaned briefly and hesitated in protest before finally lurching forward. Carl wasn't quite so rough on the truck as he turned it around and kept pace with the car. She didn't glance back at the building; she didn't want to see if there was still a towel waving out the window. She already knew the horde was still pursuing them as she could practically feel them breathing down the back of her neck.

"Where did you learn how to drive?" Lee muttered as he finally managed to extricate himself from where he'd been wedged in between the seats.

"You're still alive aren't you?" she retorted.

She bumped the car up over the sidewalk and drove down front yards at a much faster pace than the dilapidated asphalt would have allowed her. Grass and dirt kicked up beneath the wheels and pelted the bottom of the car with a rattling ting that set her teeth on edge. She chanced a glance in the rearview but all she could see was the looming grill of Carl's truck. It was strangely one of the most reassuring things she'd ever seen.

"I wish their brains would start to rot like their faces are," Lee murmured as he pulled the t-shirt over his face. "It's not fair that they still possess a fair amount of intelligence in their insanity."

Al glanced anxiously back at Lee before briefly meeting Riley's gaze. She refused to think about the fact that she may have just left Lee's only chance at survival behind with those people in the building. She drove across one more front yard before bouncing back onto the street. She hoped that they'd be able to get enough time and distance to shake off the nut balls for good, or at least a few minutes of reprieve.

They bounced and jounced over some ruts before she was able to navigate back onto some front lawns. "Maybe they'll all die off soon enough," she mused. "I mean how long can they last?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if they did drop and come back to life," Lee told her.

"Thanks for the optimism."

"Hey you're the one hoping that a portion of the human population dies soon."

Riley winced, he was right, it was an awful thing to hope for but even still she found herself unable to shake the thought. There were billions of people on the planet; she wondered how many were now ravenous, cannibalistic, eating machines.

She didn't think there would have been any saving those people even if all the hospitals were open and fully functional. They had to get Lee some antibiotics now, they might be able to stop whatever was happening to him, and no matter how much he denied it she knew there was something wrong with him.

On the next road they began to leave behind the more residential areas of town for the less settled outskirts. Trees pressed closer against the sides of the car. Small homes passed by before a few stores began to reappear. She pulled into the rather large parking lot of an ice cream parlor and parked the car.

"I think we have some time," she said as she grabbed the keys and hopped out of the car.

"What are you doing?" John demanded as Carl parked beside her.

"Getting some antibiotics, Lee isn't feeling too well."

"I'm fine!" Lee shouted from the backseat but he didn't sit up again.

Riley exchanged a look with John as she hurried to the trunk. She smelled Carl's cigarette before he strolled around the back of the truck toward her. "What's wrong with him?" he asked as Riley opened the truck.

"I don't know. He says he's fine, but he looks like he's been drinking for a week straight, he's hidden under a t-shirt, and he has a headache," she whispered.

Carl inhaled his cigarette as he stared at the lid of the raised trunk. "We all have headaches Riley."

Her hands were shaking as she grabbed one of the bags and began to paw through it for some antibiotics. "He's not right Carl; I can feel it in my bones. He wasn't right when he woke up this morning either. It can't hurt for him to take something just in case."

Carl seized hold of her hand as she wrapped it around a bottle of Amoxicillin. "But it could hurt for him to be in the car with you if that's the way you feel."

She blamed her rapid blinking on whatever particles were still floating in the air. "I'm not…" she swallowed and straightened her shoulders. "I'm not giving up on him. This could work and I may just be overreacting anyway, right?"

"Yeah, you're right." Carl pulled the butt from his mouth and stomped on it before pulling out another one and lighting it. "That was crazy back there."

"It was," she agreed.

John appeared on Carl's other side as she slammed the lid closed. He glanced nervously around as he held the gun before him in a two handed grip that caused the muscles in his arms to stand out starkly. Carl shook his head at him. "We should get out of here before those things catch up," John told them.

"I could use a few minutes to stretch my legs and rest my eyes," Carl informed him.

Riley walked over and tapped on Lee's window. He didn't pull his head out from under the shirt as he rolled down the window and held up his hand. "Take some of these," Riley told him and handed the bottle over.

He grunted as he took the bottle and turtled his way out of the shirt for long enough to open the bottle and dry swallow a couple of pills. Al climbed out of the car and stretched his back; he glanced into the backseat before joining Carl. "Any other day and this place would be packed," he said as he eyed the quaint little shop. The only damage that appeared to have been done to it was a crooked wooden sign with Carly's Cones painted in red.

"I wouldn't mind some ice cream," John said.

Rochelle grabbed hold of the passenger side window as she leaned out of the truck. "There's someone on the radio!" she shouted.

They exchanged brief looks before all of them hopped forward at once. "What are they saying?" Carl threw his smoke away before he reached Rochelle's side.

Riley froze as words began to tumble from the radio in a jumbled rush that she had a difficult time deciphering at first. "I don't know if anyone can hear me, I don't know if anyone is out there, but if you are I pray there is hope for you still. There is none for us." The radio crackled as the male voice briefly died out. "Betsy was sick when she woke up this morning and I can feel it coming over me. My head, well it feels like someone's tapping on it with a hammer, and I can barely move my neck anymore."

Riley glanced nervously back at Lee who was still hidden within the backseat of the car. "It's the same thing that happened to Greg before… before the seizures. Betsy's already progressed into the seizure stage and after that… Well after that it's a downward spiral through the rabbit hole and into a world of madness. Maybe if someone can hear me, you'll know, you'll know when it's coming and you can find some way to save yourselves. Maybe, just maybe there is no saving any of us, but I choose to believe there is. I choose to believe this is not the way we all go out."

Despite the heat, Riley's flesh was covered in goose bumps as the voice broke off again. "I don't know if anyone can hear me, I don't know if anyone is…"

"Turn it off," Carl commanded when the voice started over again. "Just turn it off."

Rochelle's hand was shaking as she leaned over and clicked the radio off. The ensuing quiet was even worse than the frantic words. Riley swallowed heavily as she wrapped her arms around her middle. She couldn't bring herself to look back at the car again, she simply couldn't. Carl held her gaze before he turned toward the car.

It's a downward spiral into a world of madness, the man had said. Riley already felt as if she was going a little mad and she knew it was only the beginning.

CHAPTER 16

Carl

Franklin, Mass.

Carl lit another cigarette as he stared at the car and shifted the gun in his hand. "It could just be the flu or perhaps he is overtired. I'm just overreacting," Riley muttered but she still wouldn't look at the car. "His neck is sore, big deal, it's not like we've all been comfortable these past couple of days. Right?"

"Sure Riley," John assured her, though he made a face at Carl behind her back and shook his head no.

Carl frowned at him but he couldn't deny the fact that he agreed with John. The nicotine wasn't having its desired effect as he tossed aside the butt and lit another one. He had no idea what they were going to do; killing strangers that attacked them was one thing, but this…

But then, Lee was a stranger. Carl didn't know his middle name, didn't know what his favorite color was, or if he preferred dill pickles to bread pickles. He didn't even know how old the kid was, but Lee had stood there yesterday and helped to defend him when he'd never asked for it. That made him more of a friend than many of the ones that Carl had known every detail about over the years. When the chips had been down, and Carl had needed their help, most of those friends hadn't been around.

There was a part of him that was tempted to leave Lee behind but that part was quickly squashed. Maybe tomorrow he wouldn't make the same decision, but today he wasn't willing to leave anyone behind. He glanced around the woods and back at the truck. "John why don't you drive the truck and Al can ride with you. I'll go with Riley."

"I'll go with you and Riley can ride in the truck," Al volunteered.

Carl would have preferred Riley out of the car, especially if something had to happen with Lee, but it wasn't an option. "Not with your hand. You won't be as quick with a gun, and if we get in another sticky situation you won't be able to shift the car fast enough."

Al opened his mouth to protest but closed it again. "Yeah, ok."

"I'm not entirely sure where we are anymore," Riley told him. "I'm pretty sure we're still in Franklin but I lost track of the areas I'm familiar with."

"Rochelle can you grab me the map?" Carl inquired.

Rochelle emerged from the truck and handed him the map. He opened it up and placed it on the hood of the truck. He glanced at the woods again before smoothing the pages out before him. "I think this is where we were last, so I'm going to assume we're in this area here." With his finger he circled a wooded area on the page.

"Or we could be over here," John pointed over his shoulder at another area of the map about ten miles in the opposite direction.

"Now you figure out how to read a map," Carl muttered.

John shrugged. "I'm right?"

"Yeah," Carl admitted as he stepped away from the map and cupped his hand around his lighter and cigarette. There wasn't much of a breeze, but years of trying to fire a lighter outside had engrained the habit of protecting the flame in him. He tapped his foot as he surveyed the woods and inhaled deeply. He hadn't looked yet to see how the cigarette cartons in the back had weathered the storm, but the way he was puffing them down he thought he'd better see soon.

"So which way do we go?" Rochelle asked as she stood on tiptoe and leaned over the hood to stare at the area John was examining.

"There's only one way to figure it out and that's to keep going," Al said before turning to Carl. "I'll navigate; you have enough on your hands. We can use hand signals to communicate if you want to keep the car in front."

"I think that would be best," Carl told him.

John folded the map back up and handed it over to Al. "Here's hoping we're not heading back toward Franklin or Foxboro."

"I hope we never see either of those towns again," Rochelle said.

Riley gave her a tremulous smile and walked a few steps closer to the small ice cream stand. Carl glanced back at the car, he knew they should leave but he found himself reluctant to get back in the vehicle. He didn't like the idea of heading anywhere near somewhere that might be populated, and he was really dreading getting in that car with Lee. He knew he would do what had to be done if it became necessary, he just didn't want to do it.

They'd found a small reprieve here and he couldn't bring himself to leave quite yet. Maybe whatever was happening to Lee would happen before they returned to the car. Riley continued to stare at the ice cream shop with her arms wrapped around her middle.

"Do we have a few minutes?" Riley inquired.

"Yeah, but just a few," he told her.

"I'm going to see if they have a bathroom. Don't know if we'll get another chance anytime soon and I don't feel like peeing my pants."

"Appreciate it," Carl told her.

She offered him a wan smile as she pulled her gun from the dashboard. She glanced in the backseat but Lee remained unmoving beneath the t-shirt. "Do you want to come with me Rochelle?"

"Sure," Rochelle told her.

"Do you need anything Lee? Are you hungry or thirsty or anything?" Riley asked anxiously.

"Only for brains," Lee mumbled in response.

Riley's nose scrunched as she stared at him. "Good to know you still have your sense of humor."

"I'll walk up with you," Carl offered and turned to John. "Hold down the fort."

"Yes sir," John retorted but his words didn't contain his normal sarcastic tone.

Carl hesitated and then stepped closer to him. "Are you going to be ok… if something goes wrong?"

John glanced at the car. He was a tough kid, but every person had their threshold and Carl wasn't going to push him over it today. They already had enough going on without John going catatonic on them again for an hour or two, perhaps even longer this time. "I'll be fine, really," he assured him when Carl hesitated.

Carl nodded and glanced down at the gun in John's hand. "Remember…"

"I won't throw it and I won't empty it."

Carl grinned as he nodded. "Good. I'll come running at the first shot I hear."

"I'll do the same," John promised.

"That's reassuring."

He didn't stay around to listen to the mumbled curse's John uttered at him. He followed the girls up the small hill to the white shell walkway that led to the blue clapboard building. A massive plywood board had been pulled down to block the inside of the shop for the night, but if push came to shove they could break it down in order to get inside.

Riley led the way around the back of the building that was hemmed in by trees drooping over the walkway and against the roof. Carly needed some tree work, he decided as he tried to avoid the gobs of sap on the pines close to his left side. Riley stopped at the door and tried the knob but it was locked.

She glanced quickly around and retrieved a rock from under one of the trees. She tapped out the glass in one of the lower panes of the window and stuck her arm through to flip the lock. Carl stepped partially into the doorway as the girls crept inside the shadowed building.

"I'll wait here," he told them.

Riley glanced back at him and nodded as she led the way through the inner workings of the ice cream shop. They disappeared from view around what looked like a small kitchen set up for burgers and fries. He didn't like having them out of his sight but he disliked the idea of not knowing that they still had a clear way to get out of here even more.

"Riley," he hissed after a couple of minutes.

"We're ok," she told him. "Be right there."

He glanced nervously around before settling back against the doorframe. Rochelle was the first to emerge with three bowls in her hand. "What do you have?" he inquired.

"Ice cream," she answered. "I hope you like coffee; it's all that was somewhat salvageable."

"Are you serious?"

"I am." She held her hands out to show him the triangle of bowls. There was a brown lump in the middle of the soupy mess.

"I'll be," he muttered.

"They must have had a generator," Riley said as she appeared from the shadows with three more bowls. "It crapped out awhile ago, but the coffee in the center of the freezer mostly survived. That will make John happy at least."

It made him happy as he took a bowl from Rochelle. Though it was soupy, the chill of it felt soothing against his hands and he couldn't help but feel like a puppy being scratched behind the ears. He had to fight the urge to dive into it as they went back down the hill toward the vehicles.

John and Al were standing by the truck, each facing in opposite directions as they studied the woods and the road. "What do you have there?" Al inquired.

"Some soupy remains of coffee ice cream," Rochelle informed him and handed out one of the bowls.

Al took the bowl from her and seized hold of the spoon. "Amazing."

"Coffee," John groaned.

"Thought you would enjoy it," Riley informed him as she turned toward the car. Carl saw the hesitation and dread that flashed over her features, but she thrust her shoulders back and opened the backdoor. She placed one of the bowls on the roof before perching on the edge of the seat. Lee was still lying down, his ass nearly against her hip and his feet on the floor behind the driver's seat. "Lee, I brought you some ice cream. I thought it might help with the headache or maybe even cool you off a little. I mean, ice cream makes everyone feel better, right?"

Carl froze with the spoon halfway to his mouth. The pleading and fear in her voice tugged at his heart as he began to understand the ice cream better. Yes, it was a nice treat. Probably one they wouldn't find again for awhile, if ever. But if it hadn't been for Lee, Riley probably would have bypassed the cooler. He knew she didn't think it would cure Lee, but the barely frozen treat was a small bit of hope in this world, and it was all she had right now.

Carl plopped the spoon back into the bowl as she stretched a trembling hand toward Lee. "I gave you the biggest scoop," she urged as she rested a hand on his shoulder. "Lee come on, you have to eat something."

Don't do it, Carl thought silently as her shaky fingertips reached for the shirt. Just leave him be. He couldn't get the words out past the lump in his throat though. He thrust the bowl of ice cream at John, who had already managed to devour his share. He didn't try to eat Carl's though as he exchanged a panicked look with him and plopped the bowl on the hood of the truck.

Riley pulled the shirt gradually back. The color drained from her face as her compressed lips paled visibly. She glanced back at Carl as he stepped closer to the car and leaned in to look over her. The blood left his brain, gave one brutal kick in his chest, and pooled down to the tips of his toes. He was briefly dizzy as he grabbed the roof of the car for support.

Lee's eyes were closed and his mouth parted. If it wasn't for the rash marking his cheeks and neck, Carl would have thought he was sleeping peacefully, but even as he watched more bumps began to spread down Lee's neck.

"Lee, please." She fought back the tears as a choked breath escaped her and she rocked slightly forward. "Please."

"Riley," Carl said gently.

That choking noise escaped her again as she inhaled a shuddery breath and tenderly tugged the shirt back over Lee's face. The bowl slipped from her hand as she climbed from the vehicle. Bloodshot blue eyes studied him as her lower lip trembled.

"If we get him to a doctor…"

Her voice trailed off as her eyes slid to the woods. He didn't know if he should hug her or walk away and give her some time to herself. In the end he settled for patting her shoulder. He hadn't felt this awkward since his first fumbled attempt at copping a feel when he was thirteen. It hadn't worked out well then, but at least now Riley gave him a tremulous smile.

"Yeah, sure," Carl assured her. "Sure, we'll try that."

Her lower lip quivered even more but she still managed to keep herself together as she gave a brisk nod. "We should get going. We've been here too long."

"Are you ok to drive?"

"I don't think I have any options."

That was true, but it was going to be stressful enough having Lee in the backseat without having her fall apart at the wheel. He glanced at the slumbering boy again, and the thought to leave him behind surged into the forefront of his mind once more. It would be the smart thing to do but Carl couldn't bring himself to utter the words that he suspected some of the others were silently thinking. He knew that Riley would never agree with it.

"We can wait a little bit, until you feel better," he told her.

"I'll feel better if I have something to do. I'll feel better if we make it to Sturbridge today." She glanced into the backseat and leaned closer to him. "I don't want to put you in danger; you don't have to ride with us. I don't think he'll try and hurt us, but…"

"You're not riding in that car by yourself with him, and I'll be fine as long as you can keep us on the road."

"I can do that," she promised.

"And I can get us to Sturbridge," Al told her.

"Would you like my ice cream?" John asked uneasily as he held the mostly melted contents of Carl's bowl out to her.

"No, thank you though," Riley murmured as she gently closed the door on Lee. Her fingers rested against the glass as she briefly pressed her forehead to it.

John pulled the bowl away and looked around before pouring out its contents and tossing it into the back of the truck. "Let's get going then."

Carl handed the keys over to him. "Be safe."

John glanced nervously at the backseat. "I should be saying that to you. Maybe, we should ah…"

"We can't, believe me I've thought about it, but we can't."

"But if he wakes up and tries to attack you?"

"I won't hesitate," Carl promised. John tilted his head to the side. "I won't."

John briefly clasped hold of his arm before hurrying around the truck. Carl nodded to Rochelle and Al before taking a deep breath and climbing into the car. It was a lot more cramped than the truck and he had to push the seat back in order to get his legs under the dash. He twisted to the side, placed his foot on the console, and braced his hand with the gun on his knee. His legs were already protesting the cramped position but it was the only way he could keep one eye on Lee.

Riley looked at him as she placed her gun back on the dash and started the car. Her hand shook faintly but she shifted into drive and crept onto the road ahead of John. "Thank you for not suggesting we leave him behind." Carl briefly tore his eyes away from Lee to her. "I know it crossed your mind, I know it crossed everyone's minds, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't cross mine, but…"

"None of us could have done it," he assured her. "Not yet. We don't know what we're dealing with. There is still some hope, no matter how small."

"But you would kill him?"

"If it becomes necessary, I'm sorry, but yes."

"Don't be sorry," she whispered.

"Are you good friends?"

"Friendly, but not good friends. He was closer to Xander and Bobby, but right now he's all I have from the life that I knew…"

He turned his attention back to the slumbering kid as she regained control of herself. "John and I met each other through work but now that I think about it he may be my best friend."

"I'm sorry," she said with a small smile.

He chuckled softly. "I didn't have any other friends, not anymore. We've all grown distant over the years, but that's just the way that life goes I guess. John and I didn't hang out outside of work, but I spent most of my time with him, and he is good for a few laughs."

"I can see that," she told him. Al began to wave hand signals out the window pointing toward the right. Riley went to click on the blinker but decided against it as she turned onto another side road that led through more woods. "I hate being around populated areas but these woods don't make me feel any better."

"I know how you feel."

Carl kept his eyes focused on Lee as he leaned against the door and tried not to think about the air they were all sharing. It was already too late, for all of them, he tried to reassure himself. None of the rest of them were showing any signs yet, and he thought that they would be by now if they too were sick. However, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was some bacteria or virus creeping around inside of him, mutating his cells, attacking his organs, and turning him into something animalistic and mindless.

CHAPTER 17

Xander

Plainville, Mass.

The bones and muscles of his arms still reverberated from the impact with Molly's skull. Like a baseball bat to a grapefruit. It was a hideous comparison but one that he couldn't shake. It had crumpled so easily beneath his blow. Far easier than he thought a human head should cave, but then he had bashed her with a metal pipe with the full force of his strength.

He'd been playing baseball for years, he was on the college team, he knew how to swing a bat and he'd filled out since high school. Of course her head would cave so easily, she'd never had a chance.

A shudder rippled through him, the pipe clattered against the concrete floor as it slipped from his numb fingertips. "It's what had to be done," Bobby said.

"Was it?" Xander was astonished that he could actually find words instead of screaming or smashing the pipe against something as he was itching to do. "Was it?"

"Xander…"

Xander turned away from the warm brown eyes of his friend. Bobby was right, he knew that. Something was extremely wrong with Molly; she would have attacked and perhaps killed one of them if she'd been given the chance. But he would never get the sound or feel of her skull collapsing out of his memory. The urge to scrub himself clean seized hold of him, but that wasn't an option and neither was standing here staring at the remains of the dead girl.

He glanced back at the window and the faces pressed against it. Their hands were flattened to the glass as they began to slap at it. A rattle against the door alerted him to their presence there too. Josh threw himself at the garage door as it lifted an inch. He stepped onto the handle, using all of his weight to keep the door down as he seized the lock in the center of the door. He attempted to twist it but it didn't move beneath his hand.

The door shook even harder as those things began to slap against it. Fingers dug under the dirt outside as they tried to get a better grasp on the door. Josh made an inarticulate sound as Xander lurched forward, but there was nothing for him to grab, nothing to help Josh keep the door down as it jerked up a couple of inches again.

"Get the car started!" he shouted as he grabbed Josh's shoulders and pushed him back to the ground. He wrapped his hand around Josh's on the lock, stepped on his foot and leaned his weight against it as the door jerked again.

Peter leapt into the driver's seat and started the car. Bobby ran over to him but Xander shook his head and nodded to the car. "Get in!"

The door jerked up again, lifting them a few inches off the ground. Blackened and filthy hands scrabbled beneath them on the floor. Most of their fingernails were gone and what remained of them resembled rotten fungus and didn't smell any better. Xander's heart raced as he lifted his leg away from them and leaned more forcefully against the lock. He had to be crushing Josh's foot but Josh didn't offer any complaint as he leaned against the door with Xander.

Xander kicked down forcefully as a head appeared beneath them. His foot connected with the back of the skull and bounced the woman's face off of the concrete floor. He heard something break but he didn't care as he lifted his foot and stomped down on one of the hands. Bobby appeared from the shadows of the garage with the pipe Xander had used to kill Molly with.

Bobby swung out; connecting with three of them he forced them back. Xander was knocked back slightly as the door crashed to the floor again. Except it didn't quite make it all the way to the floor as the woman he had kicked in the head was trapped beneath it. The door had caught her in her upper back, pinning her to the floor as she flailed about trying to free herself.

An inhuman howl erupted from her. Xander's foot danced like a man walking on hot coals as he tried to avoid the snapping teeth and flailing hands of the woman under him. She was trying to turn herself over as more hands appeared. Josh let out a low curse beside him as the door began to lift up again.

"Get in the car!" Peter shouted.

"Hurry!" Mary Ellen yelled.

Xander's hand clenched on Josh's as they were heaved up again. The woman scrambled forward a few more inches, but she wasn't moving as quickly as she had before the door fell on her. Xander maneuvered Josh's hand out from under his. "Go!" he urged.

"You can't hold them off on your own," Josh protested.

"We can't hold them off together." Josh frowned, his nearly black eyes focused on the growing space beneath them as the woman managed to wiggle in up to her waist. "Go!"

The door lifted up a few more inches as Josh leapt off the handle. Xander grabbed hold of the lock with both hands and pressed down as forcefully as he could. "Xander!"

"Get back Bobby!" he shouted as his friend tried to come at him again.

Bobby froze, trapped like a deer in the headlights as he stared at Xander and then the group trying to shove themselves under the door. Bobby go, he pleaded silently. There was no reason for both of them to be trapped here. Bobby had the look of someone who had just seen their dog run over as he took a step back.

Xander nearly lost his balance as the door lurched up again and a hand seized hold of his ankle. He kicked backwards with his other foot as he tried to knock free the surprisingly tenacious grasp. His heart lurched into his throat; he could feel the blood pulsing in his temples as he forcefully pushed down on the door again.

"Get in the car!" Peter shouted. Xander looked up as Peter grabbed Bobby's arms and pushed him toward the Caddy. "Drive!"

Peter grabbed the pole from Bobby and raced at him as Xander's leg was ripped off of its tenuous perch on the handle. He drove his foot downward in a hopeful attempt to catch hold of someone but all he caught was the concrete floor. His ankle screamed in protest at the impact and his teeth clamped down as pain shot through his abused foot. The hand jerked on his leg as it tried to pull him under the door.

"Hold on!" Peter panted.

Just what did Peter think he was doing? Peter swung the pipe down on the wrist of the hand holding him but instead of releasing him, the hand only clamped down harder and yanked forcefully. A fingernail was torn off as Xander lost his grasp on the handle. An oopmh of air rushed out of him as he fell backward and crashed onto the ground.

Someone screamed; he knew it wasn't him simply because he still couldn't get air into his lungs. He managed to regain enough control of himself to slam his right foot into the door in order to stop himself from being pulled from the garage. The door rattled, metal bent, but he pressed against it as he tried to push himself back into the building. A human body wasn't supposed to bend in this way, or at least his wasn't, but he ignored the pain that lanced through his legs and into his groin.

Peter lifted the pipe back up, but there was nothing for him to hit. The hand holding Xander was now safely on the other side of the door. Peter knocked two more back before dropping the pipe and grabbing Xander under his armpits. He gave a mighty heave backward but his feet slipped out from underneath him and they both crashed inelegantly to the floor.

Three more people were trying to squirm their way under the door when Josh and Bobby arrived. Josh grabbed hold of the pipe and began to batter people back as Bobby seized Xander's leg and tried to pull it back into the garage. Xander could feel other hands scrabbling over his leg, seeking purchase as he was pulled further out the door. A low groan escaped him; the leg planted against the door was bent at an even more unnatural angle.

The bones were going to break, or every muscle in his leg was going to give out. He was so focused on trying to stay inside that it stunned him even more when a stabbing pain tore up his left leg with enough force to rob him of his breath. He went limp in Peter's grasp, his other leg almost fell off the door as he bit back a scream and his vision blurred. He didn't know what they were doing out there but it felt as if the skin was being flayed from his leg.

Bobby must have seen something in his face as all the color drained from his and his mouth parted. "Xander…"

The rest of his words were drowned out as the headlights of the car blazed to life and Mary Ellen laid on the horn with enough force to wake the dead. Xander grit his teeth, it was the worst thing she ever could have done, it would only attract more attention, only bring more of them here. There would be no escaping now.

But even as he thought it, two of the ones trying to climb under the door threw their arms over their eyes and recoiled from the flashing brights. Another one threw their hands over their ears and began to scream. Peter and Bobby toppled back again as Xander was released. Xander grabbed the pipe and tried to get back, but the leg they'd had a hold on wouldn't cooperate and the other one had been strained to the point of near uselessness.

He still managed to drag himself back a few feet before Peter threw his arm around Peter's shoulders, helped him to his feet and hobbled him toward the car. Peter slid him into the passenger seat as Josh fell into the back. "Are you ok?" Josh demanded.

Xander wasn't entirely sure what he was right now, but at least he wasn't pinned against a freaking garage door anymore. Bobby scooted into the middle of the seat beside him, followed by Peter. "What about the door?" Josh asked.

"Lay off the horn and light," Peter instructed Mary Ellen.

She eased off the horn and turned off the lights as Peter and Josh slammed and locked their doors. It took a few seconds but eventually hands began to appear under the door again. Xander held his breath as it rattled up a few feet and then crashed back down. Finally, they managed to get a good hold on it and lift it up. "Turn on the lights," Xander said.

Mary Ellen threw on the high beams and slammed on the horn. Three of them stumbled back but two of them kept on coming as she shifted into drive. She tried to avoid running them over, but in the end, she didn't have a choice as one of them ran at the car with a gaping mouth and a face full of weeping sores. Mary Ellen didn't so much as hit the man as he threw himself onto the hood of the car and began to smash his hands into the glass.

She let out a startled cry and Josh fell against Bobby as the other one began to beat on his window. Leaning over Mary Ellen, Xander laid on the horn again as she turned on the windshield wipers. Xander actually would have found it amusing, might have even laughed if this had been a movie, or if it had been happening at any other point in his life.

Instead he could only watch as the wipers slapped against the man's face before he grabbed hold of one and tore it from the car. Xander blinked and threw his arm up as the car broke out of the garage and into the day. Xander had expected to be mobbed by hundreds of people, but there were only a handful more of them and most were stumbling back from the car with their arms over their eyes or their hands over their ears.

The one on the hood showed no sign of disembarking anytime soon as he began to slap his hand against the glass again. "I can't see!" Mary Ellen cried.

The minute she laid off the horn more of them started coming at the car again. "You have to keep pressing the horn," he told her. "Go in a circle."

"Circle what?" she demanded.

"The garage, just circle the garage!"

Mary Ellen crept around the garage as he hit the button and rolled the window down. The man looked up at him, his eyes rolled in his head as his mouth opened to reveal a gaping maw of black. There were red patches on the man's arms, and his flesh seemed to be in the later stages of necrosis.

Xander couldn't tell if he had gangrene or was simply decomposing, and he didn't care as he grasped hold of the window and pulled himself halfway out. His strained right leg was starting to feel better, but his left one throbbed and was difficult to maneuver as he leveled himself onto the window. He felt hands seize hold of his shirt and waist as he lifted the pipe above his head and brought it down.

It should have caught the man dead center in the back of his head, but he was quicker than Xander had anticipated given the state of his body. He dodged back as he managed to avoid what would have been a crushing blow. A low hiss escaped Xander; he nearly lost his grasp on the pipe as the jolt of the missed hit traveled from the pipe to his hands and up his arms.

Mary Ellen cried out as the glass fractured and the immense spider web in the middle spread across the windshield. Xander yanked the pipe back up. The man, not expecting him to react so quickly, lunged forward as Xander swung the pipe and caught him across his cheek.

The man was knocked back but still managed to keep his grasp on the car. Adjusting his hold on the pipe, Xander drove it straight into the man's back before swinging it up and smacking him under the jaw. A guttural sound escaped the man as he finally tumbled off the hood of the car. Xander slid quickly back inside and rolled up his window.

He bent forward, inhaling deeply as he tried to ease the roadrunner pace of his heart. Sitting back he leaned forcefully against the seat as he stared out the window. There were still people coming at them but nowhere near as many as Mary Ellen went back to leaning on the horn. Mary Ellen found the road they'd entered on and drove down it. She didn't ease off of the horn until they made it back to the main road.

Xander didn't have any words right now. He was content to just sit there and numbly stare out the window right now. He dropped the pipe down by his side and rested his head against the headrest.

Whatever pretenses he'd had that the new day would bring better things were completely gone. There were no better things out there anymore.

"I think we should try and find as many back roads as we can to Sturbridge," Peter said after awhile.

"They'll be more likely to be blocked," Bobby said.

"But they'll also be less likely to have a horde of hungry psycho's."

Xander didn't know which was worse, being trapped somewhere, or being swarmed by a mob of those things. He clasped his hands before him as he leaned forward and tried to think through the pounding in his head. At least his heart was finally slowing down.

"They don't seem to like noise or bright light though," Josh said.

"It didn't work on all of them. There could be thousands upon thousands more of them in the populated areas. Even if it worked on three quarters of them…"

"We'd still be overrun," Xander murmured.

All he wanted was to get to Sturbridge as quickly as possible and to hold Riley, to know that she was safe, and to touch her just one more time. He rubbed at his temples as he tried to sort through this mess.

"But if we get stuck somewhere we could still be overrun if we're cornered by them," Bobby said.

Xander sat up and blinked against the harsh sun. "There will also be obstacles in cities and more populated areas, perhaps even more of them," he said. "It will take longer but we'll stick to the back roads."

"Xander, you're bleeding," Mary Ellen said.

He frowned at her as she glanced at him and then down at his leg. A shiver slid down his spine, he took a deep breath as he braced himself to look down at the leg they had pulled out of the garage. His jeans had been torn to the knee and hung in frayed remains about his calf, some of the tatters clung to the blood seeping from the gash in his leg. A patch of skin about the length and width of a remote control had been stripped from his leg.

The gash was jagged and large but thankfully it wasn't deep and wasn't gushing blood like a fire hydrant. Even still he seized hold of the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off. Crumpling it up he leaned down to wipe the blood away from the wound.

His blood ran cold; the shirt nearly tumbled from his fingers as his eyes locked on the marks that bordered the outside of the injury. He took a shuddery breath as he pressed the shirt against his leg and straightened back up. Grabbing the pipe he turned toward the backseat and handed it out to Bobby. "Here. You might need this."

Bobby frowned at him. "What's wrong?"

He unwaveringly met his friend's gaze as Bobby seized hold of the pipe. "They bit me."

CHAPTER 18

Al

Somewhere in Mass.

Al was fighting the urge to crumple the map and tear it to shreds. It seemed that every road they took ended in obstructions or canyons. He felt like a rat in a maze trying to find the cheese, but the cheese was outside of the walls, close enough to be a temptation but impossible to get to.

The car idled before them, stopped before yet another gorge that had been torn into the earth. A deep red glow danced across the hood and roof of the car as it crept back toward them. Riley parked beside him and sat with her hands on the wheel. She didn't bother to roll down the window and ask what was next. They'd been playing this game for the past three hours; none of them knew what was next.

Riley glanced at him before turning the car around and driving back down the rutted road. They had managed to stay mostly on side roads but now there was no choice but to head back into one of the towns. He took a deep breath as he waved his hand out the window, directing them into a town that appeared to have once been the typical, sleepy New England town. There wasn't much left of it.

He remained focused on the map in an attempt not to see the people that walked through the streets. He found his gaze drawn repeatedly toward them though. "This is insane," Rochelle muttered. "I keep waiting to wake up."

"You and me both," John told her.

Al knew how they felt, but he'd already accepted the fact that he was wide awake in this nightmare. He watched as Carl turned around in his seat and leaned over to look at Lee. He did the same thing every few minutes, but Al kept waiting for the time when Lee sat up and took a bite out of him. Apparently so was Rochelle as her shoulders slumped and her breath hissed out of her when Carl turned back around.

A loud thump brought his head up, but it was just another mindless person walking into the back of the truck. Just another mindless person… Al shook his head as he bit back a bitter laugh. Yesterday such a thing would have disturbed him deeply, now he was becoming as accustomed to it as yawning. It was at least the tenth person to hit the truck since they'd left the ice cream shop behind. More than a few had stumbled into the car too and even now Riley had to swerve out of the way to avoid one honing in on them.

The people reminded him of a deer he'd once hit with his car. The car had sustained substantial front end damage but the deer had staggered back to its feet, shook its head, and disappeared into the woods it had sprung from. These people were like that deer as most of them got back to their feet, shook themselves off, and traveled in a different direction.

He let out a low sigh as he turned his attention back to the squiggly roads on the map that were beginning to all blur together. There was a dull ache forming behind his eyes and though he felt a nagging worry that perhaps he was also getting sick, he thought this headache had more to do with exhaustion, and strain on his old eyes.

He lifted his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose before settling them back into place. "Want me to do it for awhile?" Rochelle asked. "I'm pretty good at it."

Al hesitated, but he didn't think she could do any worse than he was right now. Handing the map over, he lifted his glasses and rubbed his nose again. "They may not be zombies but they sure act like it," John muttered.

"Well at least they're not all trying to eat us," Rochelle said.

Al was well aware of the fact that they had gathered another following of loonies but they seemed to be staying back, stalking them, trying to figure them out before attacking again. And they would attack, Al was certain of it. They had to be prepared for when they did, and they most certainly couldn't be trapped somewhere.

He saw figures in some of the homes, curtains pulled back as faces appeared in a few of the windows. He wondered how many people were left that he couldn't see. How many had gotten away before the human population was decimated with the rest of the world? How many people would still be here tomorrow?

"Look," Rochelle breathed.

He tore his attention away from the remaining houses and people hiding within. He focused on the car, expecting to find Lee sitting up and trying to attack Carl and Riley. The car remained the same though. Al frowned and then finally spotted what it was that had caught Rochelle's attention.

Another car was coming at them, followed by two more cars and a pickup truck. They'd seen more than a few vehicles along the way, but this was the closest they had come to anyone since yesterday. Al's exhaustion vanished as he straightened in his seat and grabbed the gun from the dashboard.

The car crept past Riley and Carl before approaching the truck. The boy behind the wheel didn't look old enough to shave let alone drive, but the kid sitting next to him looked even younger. Each of the following vehicles held two or three kids that he guessed to be anywhere from ten to seventeen.

"Jesus," John said as he eased on the gas and rolled down the window.

"John," Al cautioned.

John waved his hand as the pickup approached. He braced his arm and leaned out the window a little bit. "Are you ok?" he called out to the truck.

The young woman behind the wheel turned to look at him but didn't roll down the window and didn't slow. "Good talking to you," John muttered as he rolled the window back up and shook his head.

"We should have done the same thing," Al said.

"Did you see how old they were?" John demanded.

"Old enough to pull a trigger."

John's brown eyes widened as the color drained from his face. He shook his head and took a deep breath. Rochelle had turned to watch the vehicles in John's mirror; she turned back around and focused on John. "Can I drive?" she asked eagerly.

"We're still alive kid," John told her. "But when we're gone, feel free."

"Not funny," she muttered as she settled back in the seat. "Someone should probably teach me though."

John shot her a look but didn't argue with her. "Yeah, someone probably should. Maybe when we find somewhere to settle down for a little while."

A woman stepped into the back of the car and bounced off the rear passenger side. John had to swerve to keep from running her over. A flash of a puppet on its strings ran through Al's mind as the woman did a macabre dance toward the truck. "I hate this crap!" John spat as he drove onto someone's front yard.

They were at the far edges of the town when a large oak in the middle of the road blocked their progress again. Al thought John was going to lose it as he jerked on the wheel and released a low groan. Al knew exactly how he felt, but he was still glad when John managed to keep his temper restrained.

"We're never getting out of this freaking town!" John shouted.

Rochelle swallowed as she smoothed the map out on her lap. "There's another road we can try," she said. "If you turn around I'll get us there."

Al's hand clenched around the gun as he spotted the shadows moving through the woods toward them. "I would suggest doing it quickly," he said.

John's nostrils flared, his jaw was locked as he shifted into reverse and glanced in the mirrors. Al's stomach twisted sickly as Riley crept past in the car. Carl looked up at them and shook his head as they drove by. He was in the same position as the last time Al had seen him with his arm draped over his leg and the gun clenched in his hand.

"I don't want to go back through Franklin," Rochelle whispered.

"No one does," Al assured her.

He frowned as he realized that the day was steadily growing darker. It was far too early for dusk to be descending but the shadows were spreading over the land as they navigated into the more populated areas once again. Great, he thought. Just what they needed, to be unable to see as they tried to get out of this unending maze.

He leaned forward and craned his neck to look at the sky. Threatening clouds had rolled in to obstruct the sun again, but thankfully the clouds were behind them. He hoped they didn't get a storm like they'd experienced yesterday. He didn't know what they would do or where they would go if they did.

He tugged on the collar of his shirt as he pulled it off of his skin. In front of them brake lights flashed as Riley drove onto the sidewalk and around the remains of a toppled home. The shadows lengthened and grew as they stretched across the land. He couldn't bring himself to look into the mirrors; he had no desire to see what was behind them again.

Another hour passed before Al realized they had traveled beyond the town and hadn't come across any new barriers. There was a different town sign lying on the side of the road, but Al couldn't see what it said, and he didn't care enough to ask Rochelle where they were. His eyes drifted closed but his head snapped back up when his chin hit his chest. It was only a matter of time before they all crashed from exhaustion, and had to stop, but he was afraid to close his eyes right now.

He rubbed his eyes and popped his glasses back into place. He was so tired that at first he didn't realize that this town was different somehow. It took him a minute to comprehend what it was. "What the…"

They passed by houses and stores that had barbwire fencing around them. The wire had been hastily thrown up around some of the telephone poles and streetlights that had withstood the quakes. Cars and pieces of wood had been gathered as extra barriers for the small area of land a group of people had claimed for themselves. As he watched more boards and wire were being put into place by a group of men and women. The people stopped in their work to watch as they drove by. More people moved to the forefront of the barbwire, he spotted guns but no one aimed at them and Al didn't feel threatened.

He didn't feel welcome either though.

Fortunately, there didn't seem to be as many zombie-like humans in this area. He had a feeling these people had probably taken care of a good many of them.

After another couple of hours, and some more tortuous rerouting, Riley pulled into a small gas station and parked the car. "How are we looking for gas?" Al asked.

"We should still be able to get to Sturbridge on what we have. The one good thing about going slow is the better gas mileage," John answered.

Al threw his door open and nearly fell as he stepped onto his cramped legs and sleeping feet. He felt like he'd been riding a horse for too long as he moved uncomfortably around the small parking lot. There were stores and houses next to the gas station but he saw no movement amongst the buildings. Even so, he kept a firm hold on his gun.

"I don't know about you guys, but I could use a break," Riley told them as she emerged from the car and stretched her back.

He most certainly needed a break, as did his bladder, and his stomach would really appreciate some food. "It's probably time to check the supplies," Carl said as he strode past him toward the back of the truck.

"How's Lee?" Rochelle inquired.

Riley bit her lip as she shook her head. "He's the same, but I'm sure the antibiotics and some rest will have him feeling better soon." She didn't look as if she believed the words anymore than Al did.

"I have to find a bathroom, or a tree," John said.

Carl popped his head over the sideboard to look down at him. "Why don't you see if we can get into the store? I'm sure the girls would like a bathroom too and maybe we can replace some of the supplies we lost."

John frowned at him but nodded to Riley to follow him. "Bring your gun."

"I don't leave home without it," Riley informed him as she lifted her right hand to show him.

"Just remember a gun is more useful if you're holding it."

"I won't throw it again!" John shouted over his shoulder at Carl. John was muttering a string of curses as he stalked past Al toward the gas station.

Al bit back a laugh as he met Carl's amused gaze over top of the sideboards. "I do enjoy annoying him," Carl said before disappearing once more.

Rochelle went to follow them but he grasped hold of her shoulder. "Wait to see what they find first." She remained at his side, wringing her hands as she surveyed the town. Al placed his hand over top of hers when her skin began to turn red. "We're okay right now," he assured her.

"Those things were following us for awhile and they're smart. They're out there, I can feel it," she whispered.

The hair on the back of Al's neck stood on end. He was reminded of the times when he'd awoken in the middle of the night, certain that someone was standing at the end of his bed watching him, waiting for him to look at them. Even when he did look, and realized he was alone, he could never quite shake the certainty that they were there, breathing within the darkness, biding their time before attacking him. He could never get back to sleep on those nights, and though the frequency of it happening had lessened over the years, he still experienced the strange occurrence at least twice a year.

He was experiencing it now but he was wide awake, or at least he was pretty sure he was. He thought that at least one part of his brain had called it quits and secretly gone to sleep on the rest of his brain. It would explain why he felt like he was in a fog.

"We haven't seen anyone for miles," Carl said as he dropped two bags off the back of the truck and pulled the cigarette from his mouth. "It's why we stopped now."

"But they're so smart," Rochelle said again.

"We're smarter kid. Don't forget they're still rotting, or whatever it is that they're doing. No normal person would behave the way they are. They'll only get dumber as time goes on."

Al knew it was a line of bull but he prayed Carl was right. He'd much prefer to deal with dumb flesh eating humans than smart ones. Carl hopped out of the truck and closed the doors before grabbing the bags and carrying them toward one of the trashcans by the pumps. "Losing two bags of supplies isn't too bad after that storm," he said over his shoulder.

Al glanced back at the sky but though it was far darker than it should have been, the storm hadn't rolled in this far and it seemed they were going to avoid the torrential downpours this time. His attention returned to the store but he didn't see Riley or John anywhere. He should have paid more attention; he had no idea if they had gone inside or wandered to the back of the building.

Carl peered into the backseat of the car, shook his head and turned away. Al stepped away from Rochelle as he moved closer to the car. "How is he, really?" he asked in a low voice.

Carl shrugged as he lifted his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. There was a black ring around his forehead from where the stained brim rested against his skin. "I don't know, he's barely moved. He's still alive, but I don't know what's going on with him. Riley made him take some more antibiotics an hour ago, but he hasn't spoken."

Al nodded and glanced back at the gas station. "Did you see where they went? If they got inside?"

"No," Carl said as he lit another cigarette and studied the road. "But I hope they found a bathroom."

Lee rolled over in the backseat, the t-shirt fell back to reveal the rash that covered his face and neck. Al's breath froze in his chest as Lee's eyes briefly fluttered open. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, lifeless eyes, red eyes, rotting eyes, but as Lee's dark blue eyes met his he saw a moment of recognition in them before they fluttered shut once more. Al found himself able to breathe again as Lee pulled the shirt over his head and turned away.

"This isn't good," he whispered.

Carl heaved a heavy sigh. "I know."

"Should we go find them?" Rochelle asked from her spot by the passenger side of the truck.

"No, we can't leave the vehicles. They'll be back soon," Carl assured her.

Al saw no movement inside the store as he studied the darkened interior. "I'm just going to see if the door is open."

Carl looked like he was going to protest but he closed his mouth and nodded briskly. Though he hid it well, Al saw the fright in Carl's bloodshot gray eyes. "I'll keep watch for you."

It wasn't far to the store, but Al thought it might have been the longest fifteen feet he'd ever walked as he hurried toward the door. Dead man walking, he hated himself the minute the thought popped into his head but once it was there he couldn't shake it.

Grabbing hold of the door, he was amazed to find it unlocked as he pulled it open. He caught a brief glimpse of Riley and John with their hands in the air seconds before a gunshot exploded. Glass shattered around him as he was knocked back.

CHAPTER 19

John

Somewhere in Mass.

"Holy shit!" John flung his hands over his head as he threw himself to the ground.

Another shot rebounded through the store as he managed to squirm his way in between two racks of chips. A bag exploded next to his head and for a second he didn't think he would need a bathroom after all as orange chips rained down around him and he was covered with bits of cheese. He glanced back at the gun he'd placed on the ground when the guy had taken them by surprise. He didn't think he had any chance of retrieving it without taking a bullet and he much preferred his flesh without a hole in it.

He heard a startled squeak from Riley but he couldn't see her as she had darted in the opposite direction when the man holding the revolver started firing. The door banged shut as whoever had had the misfortune of opening the door was either shot away from it or was able to flee from the gunfire. He didn't have time to wonder who it was, didn't even have time to fear that one of his friends had just been murdered by a trigger happy moron that either worked here, owned it, or had taken up residence in the store.

John squiggled even further into the racks as he tried to make his way toward the large metal stand the coffee was set up on. If he could find something solid to hide behind perhaps he could at least put some barrier between him and the next bullet. He wished they'd never stepped foot in this place, but then he hadn't expected to find an idiot with a gun either. An idiot that was apparently going to do everything he could to make sure they didn't escape this store.

Bits of faded tile flooring flew up and splattered his face as a bullet struck the ground inches before him. Yeah, he definitely wasn't going to need that bathroom. He scurried backward toward the chips again as he wiped the tile from his face, along with droplets of blood from the nicks the flooring had caused.

"Wait!" Riley cried. "Stop! We're not here to harm you! We're not sick!"

John didn't think that mattered as another bullet rebounded through the store. Judging by Riley's startled cry it had been directed her way. John used the brief distraction to launch himself to his feet. He ran, half bent over, and his hands over his head -like that would help- before throwing himself behind the metal cabinet holding the coffee pots.

His head tilted back as he leaned it against the cabinet and struggled to catch his breath. His breathing sounded exceptionally loud to him but he couldn't calm himself down, and he couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs. He poked his head back out but he still couldn't see Riley through the toppled racks of food.

He could see the idiot firing at them though as the gun swung in his direction. He had a glimpse of rolling brown eyes before he scurried behind the cabinet again. The bullet slammed into the metal with a loud clang before it pierced out the other side.

John's eyes crossed. There was no breath in him as he stared at the bullet hole only a couple of inches to the left of him. He knew he should get away from the cabinet, it didn't offer him the protection he'd been seeking, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He didn't think his legs would support him and he had no idea where to go.

The silence that followed the last shot alerted him to the ringing in his ears and the turbulent beat of his heart against his ribs. He was trying not to breathe; he was certain the guy would hear it and shoot him if he did.

Why had he stopped firing?

Riley. Had he succeeded in killing Riley?

John was tempted to look out to see if she was ok but he knew he would only be met with a bullet between the eyes. He really wished he hadn't put his gun down when the man had ordered him to, but at the time he'd thought that cooperating would be the best option. Given the chance he would not make that mistake again. But then, the guy had been allowing them to back toward the door before it had opened and the lunatic had decided to go all Yosemite Sam on them.

John turned his head slightly. From this angle he could see the shattered glass from the front door lying scattered about the floor and the asphalt parking lot beyond. He thought he saw blood but he couldn't be sure, and he wasn't moving any closer to find out. Please let them be ok, he silently prayed.

A bag of chips skittered across the floor as the man appeared to be moving through the store. John glanced to his left and pushed himself away from the cabinet. He bit into his bottom lip as he cautiously put one hand in front of the other and began to crawl down the length of the cabinet.

It ran along the wall toward the coolers and a back room that he assumed was for storage and where the manager's office was located. He wondered if there was a backdoor but he had to get there first to find out.

Chips crunched as the man stepped into the area that John had just fled. It was him the man was coming for. His heart hammered at the implications of that, not only was he being hunted but what did that mean for Riley? Did the man already know that she was injured, dead?

John's head was spinning; he was halfway down the back of the counter when his stupid sneaker squeaked on the tile. He winced and launched himself forward as the coffeepots above him exploded. Glass rained down on him as he threw his hands over his head and plastered himself to the floor. Shards sliced into his skin, blood trickled down his arm and dripped onto the floor.

He wasn't so fond of coffee right now as it poured over him and soaked his clothes to his skin, but at least it was cold. Deciding that trying to stay quiet wasn't doing him much good, he got to his feet and walked quickly forward with his hands on the ground as he remained bent over. He had to get out of here before that guy rounded the corner of the cabinets.

He wasn't going to survive earthquakes, a tsunami, and some virus that turned people psycho all to have his head blown off by some terrified moron with a trigger happy finger. Another coffeepot shattered but it was behind him and he was almost to the end of the cabinet now. He stopped at the end and studied the shadowed interior of the backroom. There had to be a door back there somewhere. There had to be some way out of here, some way to get help for Riley. If she was still alive.

He didn't hesitate, didn't even stop to think about the fact that he would be briefly exposed before he dove forward. He rolled through the doorway and behind the first row of coolers. Scrambling forward, he scurried toward his right and the relative safety of the aisle behind the coolers. He glanced back toward the main room but he couldn't see the man, or Riley, through the rows of drinks and melting frozen food. The sticky sweet scent of ice cream and already rotting food caused his nose to wrinkle.

He had no idea here he was going. All he knew was that he had to put as much distance between himself and that guy as possible. Unfortunately, 'as much distance as possible', ended in a wall as the aisle didn't curve around at the end of the coolers. The door to whatever was behind the wall next to him must be on the other side.

He rapidly glanced around as his heart beat a rapid staccato against his ribs. There was nowhere else for him to go. He'd gone the wrong way upon entering the back room. One wrong turn may have just cost him his life. John's head pounded as he glanced back toward the doorway, but it remained empty. He had no idea where the man had gone but he seemed to have relented in his pursuit of him, for now.

John crouched by the last row of coolers and lowered his head to peer through the shelves at the store. He spotted Riley burrowed in behind an ATM machine with her shoulders hunched forward. He had no idea how she had managed to wedge herself into the tiny spot between the machine and the wall, but she was enfolded in there with both hands over her mouth as she stared above her.

Her gaze finally came down; she searched the store before her eyes landed on him. Her shoulders slumped; she pulled one hand away to wave her fingers briefly at him. He lifted his hand in return as she jumped and slammed her hand back over her mouth. She returned to searching the area above her. John didn't know what had drawn her attention away but something had frightened her again.

John searched the store for the man but he didn't see him until the man stepped out of an aisle. His legs appeared on the other side of the cooler ten feet further down on John's right. The gun was at his side as he hunted Riley amongst the rows of food, cleaners, and every day household items that were fairly useless now.

John turned back to Riley and waved to try and grab her attention again. She remained staring at something above her head; finally he caught her eye as she lowered her head and frowned at him. He pointed toward the man and held up both hands with his fingers extended to show her the number ten. She frowned at him as he took two of his fingers and made the walking motion with them before pointing at her again.

Her hands slipped from her mouth as she braced them on the ground. John's heart hammered as the legs crept closer to him and Riley began to back her way out of her cramped hiding place. He saw only her hand as she kept it against the back of the machine and maneuvered around to the side.

John didn't realize he'd stopped breathing until his lungs began to burn. The breath eased into him as he grabbed a can of soda from the shelf. He crawled back toward the door he had just rolled through. Glancing around the small backroom he searched for something better than a can of soda to use against the guy. He spotted a mop and broom in the corner, but they wouldn't do him much good against a bullet. His hand fell into a puddle of warm water. John searched for the source, but the culprit appeared to be the melting ice from the ice machine.

Leaning forward he grabbed a glass bottle of iced tea from the shelf and looked back to see where the man was now. He'd moved closer to Riley, but he was still in the aisle directly outside of the cooler doors.

John glanced into the shadows. He had some time, but not much. Placing the drinks down, he remained crouched over as he hurried past the ice machine and deeper into the shadows. He stopped about halfway down the aisle as he strained to see. He should be able to see the faint outline of light from a backdoor, but as he turned his head back and forth the darkness remained absolute.

No wonder the shooter had decided to go for Riley and leave him be for now. There was no way out of the backroom, no escape from the relentless pursuit of their hunter. He was trapped like a hamster in a cage.

He crouch walked a little further into the darkness and placed his hand back into the warm puddle of water. Frowning, John glanced back at the offending ice machine but it was ten feet from him and the puddle had stopped a good three feet back. He knew he shouldn't, but even as he was telling himself he didn't want to know, he was lifting his hand before him as he rubbed his fingers together. The substance was thick and sticky…

A shudder rocked through him as he realized that it wasn't water that coated his fingertips, it was blood. He dropped his hand down as his gaze slid to the right. The open eyes of a young man stared back at him unseeingly. John had to slap his hand over his mouth in order to suppress a startled cry. Unfortunately, it was the one he'd just stuck into the man's blood. Bile surged up his throat but he kept it suppressed as he took in the youthful features and the Kyle nametag attached to the yellow uniform shirt. In the very center of Kyle's head was a single gunshot wound.

Execution style, John thought crazily as his stomach continued to roll like a ship in a storm. It didn't seem to have happened that long ago as Kyle didn't stink yet. He didn't know much about the dead but he was fairly certain that in this heat a body would begin to reek shortly after death. Even the people that were still alive smelled like crap, himself included, but Kyle seemed to be in better condition than him. Other than the bullet hole in his head, of course.

John's stomach twisted even more as he realized that they'd never had a chance. The man out there had probably had every intention of killing them from the minute they'd entered this store.

John scuttled away from the body. He'd seen enough. There was nothing back there that could help him and if he didn't do something soon, he and Riley would find themselves joining Kyle. He grabbed hold of the drinks and crept closer to the door as he peered under the shelves. He spotted the man's legs at the far end of the cooler and at the very beginning of the aisle where Riley was hiding beside the ATM. Or at least that's where John thought she still was.

He crab-walked back to the door and was about to rise to his feet when he heard Carl. "Riley? John? You guys ok in there?"

From his angle John couldn't see Carl, but he could see a darker shadow hovering by the front door. John flattened himself against the metal doorframe as he kept one eye on the mad man and one eye on the door. He fought the urge to shout at Carl to get away but he didn't want the man to know where he was exactly. Not yet anyway.

Stay outside, he pleaded silently.

"John?" Carl called. "Riley?"

John started as the man lifted the revolver and shot at the door. The shadow in the doorway jumped back as the bullet hit the cash register with a loud bang and ching that caused the cash drawer to pop open. John slid from the doorway a little and adjusted his hold on the soda can. Carl's shadow fell across the door again, but it wasn't as prevalent as before.

"Look, I don't know what's going on in there but all we want is our friends. Just let them come out and I promise we'll leave. We don't mean you any harm. We didn't know anyone was here, we were just going to use the bathroom!" Carl called into the store.

John had told the guy the same thing but it hadn't mattered then and he doubted it mattered now. John shoved the glass bottle under his arm and began to shake the can of soda in his hand. "Can someone answer me?" Carl demanded.

The guy fired another shot at the front of the store, this one shattered plaster as it hit the wall beside the doorframe. "There's your answer!" the man shouted at him.

There was a moment of silence before Carl responded, "Fair enough." John had worked with Carl long enough to know when he was pissed. Right now he could hear the tone in his voice that usually signaled an impending meltdown and at least a week of silence. Thankfully Carl hadn't had a gun in his hands during those times, but John was glad he did now. "I'm not leaving here without them. Dead or alive."

John really hoped they got the alive option on that one. He stopped shaking the can and grabbed hold of the tab as the man took a step closer to Riley. It was now or never.

Popping the top, John heaved the can away from him as soda sprayed out in a brown mist that splattered the walls of the store. The can spun over top of the counter he had been hiding behind as it whipped through the air. The man turned toward it, firing as the shooting stream of soda started to run out of steam.

"Carl!" John shouted as the man turned toward him.

John heaved the glass bottle at him. He wasn't intending to hit the man, simply to distract him even more. The man instinctively jumped back as the glass shattered a foot before him. John threw himself backward, tumbling across the floor as gunshots rent the air. He hadn't realized that the man had spun toward the coolers until the glass fronts exploded around him. The jagged shards rained down in a tinkling wave that cut into the backs of his hands and caused a grunt to escape him. Liquid sprayed around the backroom and he wasn't sure if it was more blood or drinks that coated him now.

Silence followed the cacophony of noise, too much silence. John lifted his head and blinked back the sticky substance coating his lashes. He was certain he was going to come face to face with the muzzle of a gun pointed at his face as his vision cleared. He was met only with the empty front of the broken cases, and bits of ruined bottles, as he stared out at the unnaturally still store.

Gathering his shaky hands beneath him he managed to get his trembling arms to push himself to his knees. He winced as he knelt on a piece of glass and lifted his knee to pull the shard free. It was the least of his worries right now as he realized that he couldn't see the man, or either of his friends.

CHAPTER 20

Mary Ellen

Somewhere in Mass.

The car bottomed out with a loud grating noise that caused her to wince as her hands clenched on the wheel. She glanced around but the noise didn't seem to have attracted the attention of the people aimlessly roaming the streets nearby. The car continued to scrape up the small incline before entering the alleyway in between a mom and pop pharmacy called Carter's, and a Parker and Son's hardware store that she'd never heard of. She felt like she'd taken a step back in time as she stared at two small stores she'd thought long gone with the advent of the massive chain stores. She didn't know what town they were in anymore, but she found it quaint and oddly comforting given the circumstances.

"We should just keep going," Xander muttered.

She glanced over at him. His right hand was digging into the armrest of the door; the other was clenched on the seat. Sweat beaded across his brow and trickled down his face, and even with the summer tan he'd been sporting he could rival a ghost. The tank top he'd wrapped around his leg had soaked through with blood, but the blood was drying out and she didn't see any fresh blood staining it. Peter had removed his shirt and tied it around Xander's thigh as a tourniquet. Mary Ellen prayed that it would be enough to stop the flow of whatever germs might be seeping into Xander's system.

It had only been a half an hour since the attack had occurred, but it seemed more like days. She felt like she hadn't been able to find a pharmacy or medical center or anywhere that sold even an aspirin fast enough.

"We're going to find you something," she told him.

"You're putting us in an alleyway," he retorted. "And I'm fine."

"Yeah, you look it."

Bobby wrapped his hand around her seat as he leaned forward. "We won't be here long and we have to find more supplies anyway. We have to get you some kind of medicine, or at least get that mess cleaned up, maybe we can stop the infection."

"They're not zombies," Xander reminded him.

"Yeah, well, they're not exactly useful, functioning human beings in society right now either. Personally I'd prefer not to have you trying to eat me today. There are certain boundaries within a friendship, and we're close but not that close. I prefer my skin on my body thank you."

Xander glowered at him as Mary Ellen struggled to contain her smile. It was an awful thing to say -and unfortunately a possibility- but Bobby had a way of putting things that amused her. She parked the car in the middle of the alley and glanced back and forth as she turned it off.

"Maybe we should leave it running," Josh suggested.

"We need to save gas," Peter said.

Josh glanced around before shaking his head. "I guess. Someone should stay with the car though."

"You and Peter can stay," Xander said. "Keep look out."

"Xander…" Bobby started as Xander threw open his door.

"If you guys insist upon risking your lives then I'm going in there with you." Xander turned in the seat to face Josh. "Can you drive?"

"I'm seventeen, of course I can drive," Josh retorted.

Mary Ellen hadn't been driving at seventeen, she'd failed her test twice that year, but she refrained from telling Josh that. "Good, if you end up driving for some reason and someone tries to take the car, run them over with it." Josh had been eyeing the steering wheel like a lobster dinner but he blanched at Xander's words. "Can you do that?"

"I… uh… yeah, I can do that."

Xander nodded toward him and climbed out of the car. Mary Ellen heard his harsh inhale as his feet hit the ground but he forced himself to stand and closed the door. "Are you going to be ok out here?" Bobby asked Peter.

"We'll be fine, just hurry," Peter told him.

"Don't have to tell me twice, beep the horn if we have to get out of here."

"Will do."

Bobby handed the pipe to Peter. "You should probably keep this." Peter opened his mouth to protest but Bobby continued on. "We have to protect the car; if we end up on foot we're as good as dead. We'll be fine in there."

Mary Ellen exchanged a look with Bobby, took a deep breath, and climbed out of the car. Xander had one hand on the hood as he leaned against it and eyed the backdoor of the pharmacy with a furrowed brow. "Am I imagining it or is that thing open?"

Mary Ellen felt her eyebrows shoot up as she surveyed the door that did, in fact, appear to be open. "That can't be good," Bobby muttered.

"It doesn't look good for us," Mary Ellen agreed.

Xander quickly limped around the car as Bobby approached the door and used the toe of his shoe to pull it open. He pressed against the wall as he craned his head around to stare into the dark interior. Mary Ellen leaned to the side, half convinced that someone was going to come screaming out at her but the interior remained still and calm.

Xander grabbed and held the door as Bobby kicked it further open. They exchanged a look with each other before Bobby crept cautiously into the shadowed interior. Mary Ellen followed behind him. Xander slid the door mostly closed but the bag of candy that had kept it open before kept it from closing completely again.

Sunlight filtered through the front windows, but the back of the store was mostly hidden. Though it was gloomy, she could see debris littering the floor and more than a few shelves and racks had tipped over. She didn't know if the damage was from the quakes, or if the pharmacy had already been raided.

There was a strange smell in the store, one that she couldn't place at first as she hadn't encountered it in a few days and it was fainter beneath the putrid scent of decay. Then, her mind flashed back to the home where they had stolen the Caddy from, with those children, and she knew what awaited them within the gloomy interior.

She longingly glanced back at the door but she didn't take a step toward it. They weren't zombies, there was absolutely no reason to believe that Xander would be affected by the bite, but she was convinced that he would be. This may be their only opportunity to do something for him. They'd never left her and she wouldn't leave them. They were all she had left, her makeshift family, and without them she didn't know what she would do right now.

"Well, at least we won't be surprised this time," Bobby's voice was nasally due to the fact that he was pinching his nose closed.

"I don't think there's anything that can surprise me anymore," Xander muttered.

"Don't say that, every time I think that it can't get any worse some new thing pops up to try and kill us."

"I just had my leg chewed on like it was a damn rack of ribs, believe me there is nothing that can surprise me anymore." Xander's finger waved up and down as he pointed it toward his bloody leg.

Bobby's mouth pursed before he nodded. "You're right, even if something new pops up I think my ability to be shocked has been stretched to its limits."

Mary Ellen had to agree with that statement. "Let's just get the supplies and get out of here, maybe if we're lucky we won't have to see any goopy bodies." She hoped so anyway.

Bobby led the way down the back of the store toward the area they all associated with the location of the pharmacy. They came across a wishing fountain instead. Mary Ellen peered into the murky depths with the glimmering coins shimmering just beneath the surface. She was half tempted to throw some change in herself but she didn't have any in her pocket. She had lots of wishes right now though.

"Great start," Bobby muttered.

"They have to have drugs somewhere, or at least some bandages," Xander said.

Mary Ellen frowned at the littered floor as she stepped over toppled coloring books, crayons, and other assorted toys. Xander bent and grabbed a whiffle ball bat off the ground. He used it as a makeshift cane as they made their way further down the last aisle. At the end was a soda fountain the likes of which she'd never seen in her lifetime, but she'd seen pictures of them.

"What is this nineteen fifty three?" Bobby said as he shook his head and walked away.

"It's cute," Mary Ellen said, but she would have much preferred to find the drugs. So far there had been no sign of the bodies she knew were within the store, but the further they went, the more likely they were to encounter them.

The smell increased as they made their way across the front of the store. Xander grabbed a basket sitting by the cash register as they passed by the counter. It clanged against the racks of gum and breath mints lining the counter. A swarm of flies burst up from behind the counter in a buzzing cloud that made her cringe. She didn't have to look behind the counter to know what was back there.

Bobby nodded down an aisle marked bandages, antiseptics, and first aid. Her first confirmation that the store had already been raided came as they stood amongst the bare remains lining the shelves.

"Awesome," Bobby muttered.

He was shaking his head as he stepped over the useless packages of knuckle and fingertip band aids, scattered in with the smaller ones used for shaving nicks. Bobby bent over and pulled a jug of rubbing alcohol from the bottom shelf. All the smaller bottles were gone, as was the peroxide and antibiotic ointments.

"That's going to sting like a son of a bitch," Xander said.

"Good thing you're a manly man," Bobby responded as he dropped the jug in the basket.

Xander looked half tempted to hit him over the head with the bat as Bobby grinned at him. Beneath the smile, Mary Ellen saw the unease in his brown eyes though as his gaze slid to Xander's wounded leg. Drops of fresh blood were seeping out beneath the ruined t-shirt wrapped around his calf. Blood plopped onto the tiled floor in a scattered trail as they left the useless bandage aisle behind.

She grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen from a rack at the end of the aisle and tossed it to Xander. He shook out a couple and dry swallowed them before slipping it into the basket.

Though the aisle containing snack food and water had been mostly picked over, some scraps of candy and soda had been left behind. Though, she was acutely aware that it was the crappy candy and soft drinks that remained.

The next aisle held an assortment of summer water supplies. Bobby grabbed a couple of beach towels from a shelf and stuffed them into the basket too. Mary Ellen claimed a pair of scissors and some scotch tape from the office supplies aisle. It was a ragtag assortment but at least it was something.

In the makeup aisle they discovered the next decomposing body. Mary Ellen was tempted to pull her shirt over her nose but she knew it would be useless. She quickly looked away from the remains. Due to the flies hovering over it she knew this one would be even worse than the remains they'd found in the house.

Bobby went the other way down the aisle, just past the door they had entered through. The pharmacy was set up on the far back right wall, just a small square surrounded by two counters. Her heart sank as she stared at the five rows of shelves within the small room. Apparently this place had survived off of its soda fountain more than its sale of prescription medicine. It had worked for them though; where many small drug stores had folded, this place had still been holding its own.

She couldn't see the drugs as the shelves were perpendicular to where they stood, but if they were anything like the first aid aisle she doubted there was much left that was useful. Xander limped toward the counter and leaned forward to peer over. "You might want to stay on this side," he told her.

"More dead?" she asked.

He didn't answer though, and he didn't have to, she saw the answer in his eyes. Bobby walked through the open plank door in the counter. He glanced to the right and then quickly looked away again. Mary Ellen was tempted by the idea of staying on this side, but Xander was leaning heavily against the counter and the beads of sweat along his brow had intensified.

"Stay," she said to him.

Before he could protest, and she could change her mind, she hurried behind the counter. She was brought up abruptly by the oozing mess on the floor before her. The last time she had vomited, but this time she managed to keep it suppressed as she pressed her fingers to her mouth. She turned away from the mess, before she couldn't, and forced herself down the first aisle as Bobby took a cautious step over the remains.

She frowned as she studied the picked over shelves, Bobby turned around and bent down to look at her through the shelves. "Do you know what any of this stuff is?"

"Some of it, but most of it is a blur. Though, I think this one is for impotence."

"We don't need that one!" Xander called from the front.

"I have to agree with him," Bobby told her.

He rose back up and disappeared from view as he turned the corner into a new aisle. Mary Ellen was fairly certain that she was mostly looking at useless drugs as she left her area behind. She moved past the aisle that Bobby was in and was brought up short before the fourth aisle.

There was another body lying in this one, and judging from the mass of hair surrounding the skull, it had been a female.

Mary Ellen took a small step back. She didn't want to think about what it meant that she was growing accustomed to the smell, and wasn't as astounded by the sight of death. Now that she thought about it though, she realized that the smell of the earth had changed. It didn't exactly smell wonderful outside anymore, and it sure didn't smell great in the car. Somehow, thankfully, her body and nose were already adjusting itself to this fact. Otherwise, she was pretty certain she would spend most of her day throwing up or with a pounding headache.

She'd fled the last time she'd encountered this, she'd been unable to face it, but she had to face it now. Xander's life may very well depend on it, and there was no way to avoid encountering human remains anymore.

Taking a deep breath, she fisted her hands and forced herself to step into the aisle. Fortunately the body seemed to have been a deterrent to the people that had already raided this store. The shelves above the body remained untouched. Unfortunately, the shelves held nothing that she recognized as an antibiotic, and she was pretty sure that one of them was for high blood pressure. Two shelves away from the body had been picked completely over, and she suspected that they had contained all the stronger painkillers.

She spotted a bottle on the floor next to the body but though she was getting better at dealing with the dead, she wasn't going to bend down and grab it. Bobby had already beat her to the next aisle but there appeared to be little that remained. He grabbed a couple bottles of a shelf and shoved them into the pockets of his jeans.

"What did you find?" she asked.

"Prednisone."

"What's that?"

"A steroid. Just about every year I end up getting a really bad case of poison ivy and I have to take it. It makes me sick but it dries the stuff up pretty fast."

"Why didn't you just stay away from poison ivy?"

Bobby shrugged. "I like to hike and sometimes it's unavoidable. The stuff sucks to take, but it's a great anti-inflammatory and it will help keep the swelling down if his leg gets infected."

"Sounds good to me."

In the last aisle she came across an assortment of scattered antibiotics. Most of them had been picked through and taken, but there was a batch of penicillin left behind. "They must have been allergic," Bobby muttered.

"Can you take penicillin?" she called out to Xander.

"I'm allergic."

"Of course he is," she said with a sigh. She still shoved some bottles into her pockets, even if she couldn't take it either the others might have a use for it.

"What about ampicillin?" Bobby called as he twisted a bottle before him.

There was a brief silence before Xander responded, "Only one way to find out."

"Wonderful," Mary Ellen said. Bobby tucked the ampicillin into his pocket and gestured for her to follow him.

Sunlight spilled in as the backdoor was pulled open again. "You guys ok in there?" Peter yelled from the doorway.

"Yeah," Xander called back.

Bobby handed him the bottle of steroids. "It's probably going to make you feel like crap, you're supposed to take it with milk to help, but…"

Xander's nose wrinkled as he shook his head. "I don't think that's an option right now."

"Not really," Bobby agreed.

Mary Ellen handed him the antibiotics. "I don't know what the rules are, don't even know if it will be any more effective if you do, but I'd suggest at least doubling up on whatever amount it says to take."

Xander rotated the bottle in his hand and popped the top. He shook three of them into his palm. "Or tripling," he said with a smile. He tossed them into his mouth along with three tablets of prednisone. He made a face as he swallowed and shuddered. "Awful."

"Let's hope you're not allergic," Mary Ellen told him.

"Not much we can do about it right now anyway. Let's get out of here."

Bobby led the way back outside and held the door open as Xander hobbled out. Mary Ellen glanced anxiously around the alleyway but it remained blessedly clear. "Let's get that leg cleaned up before we go," she suggested.

Xander took a deep breath and nodded as he sat on the hood. She pulled his ruined shirt away and tossed it aside. The disturbing spectacle of the human teeth imprints made her shudder as Bobby handed her the jug of alcohol. She braced herself and flinched as she poured some of the liquid on his leg. Xander hissed; an instinctive spasm ran through his leg as his hands clenched on the hood.

"Sorry!" she apologized.

"Not your fault," he grated through clenched teeth.

Even so, she dreaded doing it again, but she forced herself to do so. Bobby handed her scraps of the towel. She used them to clean away the fresh blood before wrapping a clean piece around the injury and taping it with the scotch tape. It wasn't the best bandage but it was better than nothing.

"You'll be fine," she assured him.

"Of course I will," Xander replied with a smile that didn't reach his striking hazel eyes. Peter accepted his shirt back as Xander removed it from his thigh.

"Time to get back on the road." Bobby clapped Xander on the shoulder before climbing into the car.

Mary Ellen slid behind the wheel and proceeded cautiously down the alley. It felt good to be moving again, felt good to have been able to find something that might help Xander. She was almost out of the alley when a large group of people began to shuffle past. Mary Ellen hit the brakes as a few heads turned toward them and lips skimmed back.

CHAPTER 21

Riley

Somewhere in Mass.

Riley understood the statement shaking like a leaf as she kept her head bowed behind the ATM. She couldn't bring herself to move, she had no idea what had just happened. No idea where Carl and John were and absolutely no idea where the ass with the gun was. She had to look out, but he hadn't known where she was and there was a chance he was still out there, still alive.

But she couldn't hide behind the machine forever.

If he was still alive he would eventually find her. Taking a deep breath, she released it as she steeled her courage and cautiously peeked around the machine. She half expected to get a bullet in her forehead before she could peer out completely but the store remained as hushed as the ocean on a foggy morning.

One eye peeped out around the machine; she realized she had stopped breathing as her lungs began to burn. She released it on a small exhale as she spotted the man on the floor. There was a growing pool of blood around the right leg of his prone figure. Even as the thought of him being dead crossed her mind his head tilted back and his brown eyes met hers.

There was a moment, when their eyes locked, that Riley felt as if the earth screeched to a halt. A moment when the stillness became complete and she saw in his eyes a madness that had nothing to do with the sickness raging outside and everything to do with a sickness inside of him. He'd meant to kill them when they'd entered this store, and she was certain they wouldn't have been his first victims.

Their eyes remained locked before she forced her gaze to the gun lying five feet away from the both of them.

The world lurched back to life as Riley burst out from behind the ATM at the same time the man lurched forward. Even maimed he was surprisingly quick as he scrambled for the gun. Years of softball had honed her ability for the headfirst slide and she used it now as she threw her arms out and launched for the gun.

Her fingers nearly grasped it but they knocked it aside in her fumbling attempt to grab it. It skittered just beyond her grasp as her forward momentum carried her beyond the weapon. She threw out her left hand to block the rack of magazines she was heading for. The rack toppled over with a loud clatter as she crashed into it.

She threw her hands over her head as magazines rained down on top of her. One of the magazines bounced off the bridge of her once broken nose. The break, which had occurred six years ago when she'd lost a baseball in the sun, still brought tears to her eyes every time something hit her nose. It didn't fail to do so now as she blinked back the tears that filled her eyes.

A hand wrapped around her ankle. A frustrated cry escaped her as she flipped herself over, drew her leg back and smashed her foot straight into the man's face. Blood exploded out of his nose, he didn't release her though as his fingers clawed at her leg and he jerked her forward a foot.

She drew her foot back and slammed it into him again with an infuriated cry. His face twisted, his hands slipped on her leg as she used her elbows to back-peddle away from him. He managed to snag hold of the tip of her shoe again as John skidded around the corner. John did a double take before he rushed forward and threw himself on the guy's back.

A strangled cry escaped the man as he reared back in an attempt to dislodge John. Riley scrambled to her feet and grabbed the toppled rack as the man clawed at John. John held on tight though, his arm wrapped around the man's neck in a chokehold that would have made many a wrestling fan proud. Riley swung the rack over her shoulder and brought it down with the full force of her might as John jerked the man's head back.

The impact jarred all the way up her arms and into her shoulder as the rack crashed off the side of the man's face. Blood exploded from his mouth, she was sure even a few teeth shot free as his jaw cracked and the rack was knocked from her grasp. The man's eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp in John's hold.

He slumped to the floor as John released him. "Is he dead?" Riley panted.

She wasn't entirely sure how she would feel about that. She didn't want to kill someone again but she didn't think she would feel any remorse for bashing this asshole's brain in. If he had any brains to bash in.

John fumbled at the guy's neck before shaking his head. "He's still got a pulse."

"Oh."

"Remind me not to piss you off."

She turned to find Carl standing a few feet away with his gun raised and his head quirked to the side. His hat had been knocked off and his damp brown hair was plastered to his face. The term 'hat head' wasn't adequate enough to describe what he had going on right now.

No wonder he refused to take the hat off, she realized as she spotted the filthy cap sitting by the door.

"You guys ok?" Carl asked.

"Just peachy," Riley muttered.

"Yeah," John said as he nudged the guy with the tip of his toe. "What do we do with him?"

"Leave him, he can't hurt us anymore, and Al needs help," Carl stated.

"What's wrong with Al?" Riley demanded as she recalled the door opening seconds before all hell had broken loose.

"The door caught him in the head, he's out cold. Rochelle's with him."

"Is he going to be ok?"

"He should be fine," Carl assured her.

Carl's work boots crunched on the glass as he bent down and grabbed his hat. He shook and beat the glass off of it before squishing it back onto his head. "We can't just leave this guy," John said. "He killed the clerk and stashed him in the back, and he was going to kill us. He'll kill other people when he wakes up."

"He killed the clerk?" Riley eyed the guy on the floor as she recalled that look in his eyes. She'd seen something wrong within his gaze but she didn't like to have the confirmation of that in a dead body out back.

"Yeah and I don't think it was because the guy was a threat to him. We can't just leave him here," John said.

"What would you like to do, bring him with us?" Carl asked as he came toward them again.

"Fuck no," John retorted with a shake of his head.

"Kill him?" her voice squeaked a little on the word kill. She had just almost smashed his skull in but she wasn't about to kill someone in cold blood.

"No, we'll tie him up or something. There has to be something around here we could use," John said.

"If we tie him up and those people come in here, or he can't get free, he's as good as dead," Carl told him.

"Anyone he comes across is almost as good as dead anyway," John retorted.

"I have to agree." Riley bent and grabbed the gun she'd been trying to attain. She walked over and placed it on the counter before retrieving the gun she had stupidly placed down when ordered to do so earlier. "There was something completely wrong with this guy."

"Fine, give me a hand getting Al in here first. We can't leave him out there," Carl said.

"What about Lee?" Riley asked anxiously.

"He's fine right now," Carl assured her.

Riley followed them to the broken door. Rochelle was hunched down beside Al amidst the glass and blood from the gash on Al's forehead. Riley kept one eye on them as they lifted Al's unconscious figure carefully up between them, and the other on the unconscious form still lying face down on the floor. John and Carl carried Al inside and carefully laid him down on the floor.

Riley knelt at his side to investigate the nasty injury. "I'll find some bandages or something," Rochelle volunteered as she leapt to her feet and rushed down one of the aisles. "It looks like a bomb went off in here," she said from amidst the shelves.

"Or a gun," John muttered as he eyed the large man still out on the floor. "We need something to tie him up with."

Rochelle reappeared with some sopping boxes of band-aids still dripping coffee out of the bottom of them. "That's not going to help," Riley said.

"I'll go out to the truck," Rochelle offered.

"No, I'll go. I want to check on Lee anyway," Riley told her.

Rochelle took Riley's spot at Al's side as she nodded to Carl and John. John was busy searching the shelves for something to use to keep the guy restrained. Carl kept his gun trained on the slumbering man on the floor as he turned toward her. "There is some weedwacker string behind the driver's seat in the truck. It's not the best but it will keep him occupied for awhile if we can't find something else for this guy."

"I'll get it," she assured him.

Riley stepped over the ruined door and jogged across the parking lot to the vehicles. Lee had to be sweltering within the car but when she peeked inside he was still buried beneath the t-shirt. She counted the seconds as she waited to see the rise and fall of his chest. She was almost to seventy before he finally took a breath.

Her heart hammered more now than when the guy had been shooting at her. She didn't want to think about what that said about the circumstances of her life right now when having bullets flying at her was less troublesome than the possibility of losing her friend. Though, if she thought about it, she'd rather be shot than consumed by lava or eaten by some wacked out rabid nut job.

The windows had all been opened at least halfway but she opened the passenger side door and rolled it the rest of the way down. Lee didn't even flinch when she closed the door again. She glanced nervously at the woods as she opened the door of the truck and pushed the bench seat forward. She shoved aside numerous things that she couldn't identify before wrapping her hand around a roll of plastic looking string that she could only assume was what Carl had been talking about. She pushed the seat back into position and hurried to the back of the truck.

After opening the doors, she climbed in, and quickly located the medical supplies. She pulled out the peroxide and bandages they had used on Al's hand. The poor guy was having an even worse couple of days than the rest of them, she realized as she tucked the bandages into her pocket and climbed out of the truck.

She closed the doors and checked on Lee one more time before returning to the store. John handed her a bottle of water as she stepped though the doorway again. She nodded thankfully to him, twisted off the top and guzzled down half of the warm contents before dumping the rest over her head. It cooled her to some extent but dreams of air conditioning were dancing through her head as she knelt beside Al again.

Rochelle helped her to clean and bandage Al's cut. She checked his pulse, relieved to find it thumping steadily beneath her fingers. She was suddenly grateful for the crash CPR course they had received in health class. Though she knew it wasn't as intensive as the Red Cross class she at least had some rudimentary knowledge of what to do in a pinch.

Hopefully he would wake up soon though; she knew how tricky head injuries could be. Her friend, Martha, had received a concussion in a car accident last year and for three days straight she had asked everyone what their names were, repeatedly. At first she'd found it funny, then it had become annoying, but by the end of day one Riley had been scared that Martha would never remember any of them, never remember anyone again. Finally, on the third day, Martha had awoken perfectly fine but with no memory of the last three days, or the accident that had left her completely out of it. Martha had laughed about it when they told her, but Riley had stopped finding it amusing by then.

Riley sat back and groaned as she pushed herself to her feet. She imagined this was what it felt like to be thirty as she stretched her cramped and sore muscles. "I'm going to check out the back," she told them. "Maybe there's something we can use there."

"Wait," John said as he leapt to his feet. Carl and John had succeeded in tying the man's hands with the string. The string was wrapped around the ATM machine and Carl was securing it with a roll of duct tape. The man's hands had also been wrapped in the tape and tied before him on his large belly. Riley really would have liked an apple to shove into the guy's mouth in order to complete the scene unfolding before her. "I'll go with you."

John cut her off before she made it to the back room. "I told you, the clerk, Kyle, his body is back there."

Riley swallowed as she nodded. "I know, but there might be boxes back there we can use for supplies, and perhaps something else we can use too. I want out of here as badly as you do, but there is stuff here we will need."

John frowned as he glanced at the backroom and then at her again. "Ok, but let's make this quick."

Riley nodded and took a deep breath as she stepped into the gloomy backroom. John led the way through the shadows, past the ice machine and toward what she assumed was the manager's office. "You should look away," he told her as they approached another puddle on the floor.

She didn't look away though. It wasn't morbid curiosity that made her keep her head straight, but simply the fact that she had seen plenty of dead bodies recently and she felt that looking away from Kyle now was cowardly. John made it to the office door and pushed it open.

"Need this?" Riley jumped as a flashlight clicked on and light flooded over them. Carl's chuckle was low as he clicked it back off. John muttered a curse as he hurried back toward the doorway Carl stood in. "Hurry up," Carl told him as he handed the light over.

"We will."

John clicked it back on as he returned to her side. They stepped into the cluttered room full of boxes, filing cabinets, and papers. Riley pulled open one of the boxes and peered inside in the hope that it was full of some food or other shelf supplies. She was met with even more papers. She lifted the box up and dumped the contents on the floor to use to hold the things they would need.

John was shaking out the contents of another box. "Anything else useful?" he asked.

"No," she admitted.

"Let's get out of here then."

Carl was still standing in the doorway when they reemerged from the office. His head turned toward them as Rochelle stepped around the aisle and hurried forward. "Al is starting to wake up," she said eagerly.

"Finally some good news," John muttered.

"Finally," Riley agreed. Hopefully Al would know who they were and they wouldn't have to spend the next three days telling him their names over and over again.

Carl grabbed Rochelle before she could step into the backroom. "Why don't you go stay with him," he suggested. "I'm sure he would like some company."

Rochelle frowned at him sternly but didn't resist as Carl turned her around and nudged her toward the front of the store. "Anyone else back there?" Carl asked when Rochelle was at the end of the aisle.

Riley waited until she was out of sight before answering. "No, there's also nothing…"

Rochelle's high pitched screams drowned out her next words. The three of them remained unmoving, frozen as the screams continued to sound. Then, Rochelle came into view as she pin-wheeled backward and crashed into the wall. Riley dropped the box and leapt forward as Carl dashed down the aisle toward the girl.

Rochelle's screams abruptly broke off as she slammed both her hands over her mouth. Her dark eyes were rolling as she turned toward them. Carl stepped in front of her and searched the store with his gun raised. Riley couldn't catch her breath as she stepped around the line of shelves. She saw nothing but Al propped against the front shelf of gum and candies. Al's red rimmed eyes were focused upon where they had left the man tied up; his mouth was gaping as he tried to push himself further back against the counter.

She glanced questioningly at Rochelle as Carl hissed, "What is it?"

Rochelle lifted a shaking arm and pointed toward where they had left the idiot tied up on the floor. A cold sweat slid down Riley's back as chills raced up and down her arms.

Had he somehow gotten free?

But she didn't think that would have elicited the reaction from Rochelle that she was now showing. Carl crept forward, his gun at the ready as Riley followed behind him with hers down at her side. John was close on her heels, his breathing labored in the hushed store. Carl stood on his tiptoes to try and see over the shelves, but he shook his head and came back down.

He hesitated before stepping around the final row blocking their view of the man. His arms wavered, the gun dropped down before snapping back into place. There was a knot in her chest that was making it difficult to breathe. She knew, without having to look, she knew what she would see before she stepped behind Carl.

Even though she'd known, she still wasn't ready for the spectacle that greeted her as Lee lifted his blood stained mouth to look at them. She couldn't look at the man's body; she simply couldn't see what Lee had done to him, but the blood…

There was so much blood.

No human being should be able to do that to another. Not with their bare hands, not with their teeth. Something inside of them should stop them from doing such a thing, something inside of them should scream against this being wrong. Completely and hideously wrong.

But whatever part that was didn't seem to be working inside of Lee anymore. He chewed and swallowed a piece of what Riley knew wasn't simply just skin, but something that had come from within the man's midsection. She didn't know if the man was still alive, but if he was she hoped that he never woke again.

A groan rose up in her, tears threatened to fall, but she didn't release either as Lee's cloudy dark blue eyes focused upon them. Shark's eyes, she thought wildly. They weren't black like a shark's, but they were as cold and emotionless as a shark's eyes. His lips curled back, his blood stained teeth still had bits of flesh hanging from them as he rose to his feet.

Riley leapt in front of Carl, pushing his arm aside as he leveled the gun at Lee's chest. "No! Lee it's me! It's Riley!" she cried as she threw up her hands. "Please Lee, you know me. You don't want to do this. We're friends," her voice hitched, she was struggling not to fall apart as those unsettling eyes focused on her.

"You're sick right now, I know, but we'll help you. We'll get you somewhere safe, somewhere that will help you. Please Lee, please let us help you."

She thought she was beginning to connect with him as the sneer faded away and he blessedly closed his mouthful of human remains. Hope coursed through her, she didn't know what they would do with him, but if there was a chance that he could still be saved she was going to take it. Then his lips pulled back again and a snarl escaped him as he barreled toward them.

"Lee no!" Riley cried.

She tried to get out of the way but he was much faster than she had anticipated given his condition just ten minutes ago. He crashed into her, knocking her back into Carl and John as they toppled like dominoes onto the floor. Her breath rushed out of her from the impact against the floor. She didn't have time to regain her breath though as Lee loomed over top of her.

"Lee," she pleaded in a choked whisper.

His hands were clawing at her stomach as he sought the apparently desired meal that tender area offered. Riley beat against his hands as she fought to knock them free of their persistent pursuit of her organs. Carl and John scrambled and fought behind her as they struggled to get free of the weight of her and Lee's bodies. Feet kicked against her back but she couldn't get off of them as Lee kept her pinned down.

"Lee no! Stop!" she cried.

He showed no signs he heard her, no signs of stopping as he knocked one of her hands aside. Her fingers curled around the gun, she lifted it and smashed it off the side of his head. A small grunt was his only response as he continued to paw at her like a dog digging for a bone.

A gurgled scream tore from her as she felt his fingers curling into her flesh. Felt his fingers digging into her skin to rip her belly apart. A sob escaped her as she lifted her arm and pressed the barrel of the gun against his temple.

"Forgive me," she whispered before pulling the trigger.

CHAPTER 22

Carl

Somewhere in Mass.

Riley remained motionless and mute before him as he popped the top off the jug of water John handed him. He'd never seen John look so pale, and he was concerned that the kid might pass out. Then he lifted his brown eyes and met Carl's gaze head on. He didn't shy away, didn't look as if he was going to break down as he pulled the plastic stripping off another jug and held it before him.

Carl turned back to Riley. He didn't know what to say, what to do for her, other than to clean the blood and splattered brain matter from her dark hair and ashen face. She hadn't spoken, but he didn't know if that was due to the fact that what had just occurred had finally broken her -and he wouldn't have blamed her in the least- or if it was because she didn't want to get any blood and body matter into her mouth.

Her shadowed eyes lifted to meet his; the normally vivid blue color of them was deeper than usual, more turbulent like the sea before a storm. He could only imagine the storm raging within her. It was bad enough to shoot a human being, but a friend, and one that had been trying to kill them all was something that he couldn't quite contemplate.

He glanced at John and then at the others surrounding him. He shuddered at the thought, but if he'd been able to get his arm free he knew he would have shot Lee too. Silently, he began to pray that he wouldn't have to shoot any of them within the coming days.

"Hold your shirt closed," he instructed.

He thought she was going to remain unresponsive before him, but then her nimble fingers fumbled forward and she pulled the tattered and bloody remains of her shirt together. Her head bowed down, she closed her eyes as her shoulders hunched forward. Carl tilted the jug and began to pour it gradually over her head.

He knew they should probably save the contents and use the water sparingly. After everything they'd encountered over the past couple of days he was pretty sure that water might become scarce. Right now he didn't care though; he would use every last drop of water in this store if it meant cleaning her of the remains of her friend. No one should have to deal with that.

Her hair was plastered around her face but unfortunately bits and pieces still clung to her. Carl hesitated but in the end it was Riley's broken look, and the fact that he wanted it gone almost as badly as she probably did, that caused him to pull them from her hair. Riley flinched slightly but remained otherwise unmoving as he tossed away the last of something he didn't want to identify.

He took the new jug from John and washed his hands with it. Riley's body on top of theirs had protected them from most of the debris, but even so John had a blood smear on his right cheek, and his hideous Hawaiian shirt had some blood splatters on it. He was going to burn this shirt when he was done with it, he was certain of that.

He started to pour the water over Riley's head again. Despite the heat she shivered and pulled her shirt closer against her flesh as the last of the gallon poured over her. Other than the blood staining her shirt and he was certain still seeping from her gashes, she was clear of the remains of her friend.

Her head tilted up, her haunted eyes shimmered briefly as tears swam within them. "You did what you…"

"Don't," she whispered. "Just… don't."

He fought the urge to tell her something, anything that would ease that broken look, but what was there to say? She knew there had been no other choice, she wouldn't have pulled the trigger if there had been.

"Get me some of those bandages John."

John nodded and turned away from them. Al had managed to get back on his feet but he had one hand on the counter and was leaning heavily against it as he surveyed the bloody corpses littering the floor. Carl had never seen so much blood in his life, had never even thought so much blood was possible. Though he knew he was standing amongst the carnage he felt as if someone else was surveying the wreckage surrounding him.

He wasn't here, but he was. That wasn't Lee, but it was. Lee hadn't done that to that man, but he had.

One among their group had gone nuts, he'd been with them this entire time, breathing their air, sleeping in the car and hotel room with them, and yet Carl wasn't concerned that it was going to happen to them. Lee had gotten sick quickly, the people roaming the roads had also taken ill fast. There was still a possibility another one of them might have to be put down, soon, but for now he felt an odd sense of security.

He was probably a fool for feeling so, or perhaps he was just living in the happy la la land of denial.

However, he didn't fear anyone surrounding him but he had feared Lee in the end. He had disliked being in the car with Lee and had been certain he was the one who was going to have to put him down. He hated the fact that he felt relief from what had just happened, especially when Riley was staring at him as if no one had clapped for Tinker Bell.

He grasped hold of her hands, but they tightened on her shirt. "I have to clean the wounds."

Riley swallowed heavily, tilted her chin up and nodded briskly. Her fingers loosened but remained hooked as she released the shirt and dropped her arms to her sides. She didn't look away from him as he grabbed the tattered ends of her shirt and carefully pulled them away from her wounds. He tried not to show any reaction but he couldn't stop a small wince at the jagged claw marks that marred her skin. They were a good quarter inch into her stomach and some of the flesh had been pulled back to reveal the muscle and sinew that ran throughout her belly.

If she had waited any longer Lee would have gutted her like he had gutted the stranger in the aisle. Carl fought back a shudder at the reminder of that hideous scene. He'd never seen anything like it, but was oddly resigned to the fact that he would probably see it again. He would prefer if next time it wasn't someone he knew that caused such carnage.

He thought she might require stitches but there was nothing he could do about that now. Blood ran down her belly in a pink stream that was carried by the water still dripping down her body. Rochelle's hand trembled as she handed him some peroxide, ointment and bandages. The plop of water hitting the floor sounded exceptionally loud in the abnormally hushed atmosphere surrounding them. He kept waiting for the coolers to kick on, but they would probably never turn on again.

Riley remained unmoving as he dabbed some ointment on the wounds and taped the gauze over it. The shirt fell back into place but she didn't look at him as she tried to tug the remains back over her stomach. He had the urge to comfort her but he didn't have the foggiest idea how.

Outside the lonely cry of a Mourning Dove shot his head toward the door. His breath froze in his lungs as he strained to hear it again. Perhaps he'd been imaging it; he hadn't heard so much as a bird chirp since yesterday. A person would have to be completely insane not to be going a little bit crazy, and imaging things after everything they had endured.

Then the low, forlorn cry of the bird pierced the air again. "A bird," Rochelle whispered.

"A dove," Al murmured.

"Peace, ho… pe," Riley's voice hitched but the tears that pooled in her eyes didn't spill. "Hope," she whispered again.

Carl squeezed her shoulder and turned away as the call echoed across the land again. "They're not all dead," John said.

"Help me gather some supplies," Carl said to him.

John followed him as he made his way toward the boxes that Riley and John had tossed aside. "Is she going to be ok?"

John hovered at his side as Carl grabbed the first box. "Physically, yes."

John swallowed heavily and glanced over his shoulder. "Is she going to become like him, you know how a werewolf…"

"Did you really just say werewolf?"

John scowled at him. "Have you been looking around you lately?"

"All I've done is look around me lately, and I haven't seen anything even remotely resembling a wolf."

"Well, I'm not discounting the possibility of anything. A scratch or bite from a werewolf can turn a person, aren't there even some zombie legends where a scratch can turn a person too?"

Carl shoved the other box into John's chest. "Well if she suddenly bursts out of her clothes, sprouts a snout and starts howling at the moon you'll be the first one to know. Until then we're going to assume that she is perfectly fine, or at least as fine as she can be for having just shot her friend."

"Carl…"

Carl stepped closer to him. "I understand your concerns, I do, but keep them to yourself for now. She's in shock, Rochelle looks like she's going to pass out and Al can barely stand on his own. Throwing this into the mix is only going to add more confusion to an already awful situation."

John looked about to argue further before he took a deep breath and nodded. Carl pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. He dropped his arm on a shelf and savored in the rush of fresh nicotine as it hit his system. He didn't think there was enough of the drug to calm his racing heart, but he was pretty sure he was going to find out by the end of this day.

"That was pretty messed up." John rested his head in his hand and shook it back and forth. "I mean, did you see him? There was no reason left in him. The other people, yeah they were crazy, but that was Lee. He sat with us, he helped us; he was her friend. He didn't even know who any of us were."

Carl's gaze focused on the backroom as he tried to get the image of Lee's snarling face out of his mind. He shuddered at the memory and stomped on his butt. "Let's get some supplies and get out of this place."

John nodded and though he still looked like he'd just seen someone rise from the dead, some of the color was beginning to return to his face. "I hope she doesn't fall apart."

"I think if she's held it together so far, she will continue to do so."

"Carl." He stopped and turned back as John halted abruptly in the aisle. "If that happens to me, if I become like him…"

"John, come on."

"Don't hesitate like she did. I don't want to live like that; I don't want to become that. Just pull the trigger, don't give me a chance to injure someone."

Carl sighed heavily and nodded. "I won't, just as long as you do the same for me."

John smiled wanly. "I've already been tempted to shoot you a few times."

"Feeling's mutual," Carl told him before turning away and walking back to the front of the store.

Riley had moved to the doorway and stood staring out at the newly forsaken world. Lee's body was still sprawled face down on the floor, his right arm beneath him while his left was flat against the floor. Blood pooled around his head but Carl couldn't bring himself to look at the damage Riley's bullet had caused.

Rochelle and Al were standing just beyond the door, staring at the vehicles as the dove cooed once more. What had once sounded so hopeful now sent a shiver down his spine. "Quickly John, I want out of here."

The words hadn't been necessary as John was already tossing whatever food was salvageable into the box. Riley turned toward them. "That's not a bird," she stated.

Carl froze in the act of stepping around the man that had started this whole mess to begin with, but then if he hadn't opened fire on Riley and John they would have been in the car with Lee when he turned into a flesh eating monster. He shuddered at the thought.

"What do you mean?" John demanded. "It sounds like one to me."

"It's meant to," Riley said. "But that's not a bird."

"Then what…"

"Humans," Carl interrupted. "Humans with reason are calling to each other. We have to go."

Carl grabbed the remaining Duct Tape from the floor and tossed it into the box. "How could you possibly know that?" John demanded.

"I used to be a girl scout and one of the things they taught us was how to do bird calls," Riley told him.

She stepped out of the door and turned back. "Lee, we should, we have to…"

"There's no time Riley," Carl told her as he nudged her forward. "There's a reason they aren't coming out, a reason why they're calling to each other."

"We can't… I can't just leave him here. I did that to him."

"No, something else did that to him," Al inserted forcefully. "Not you."

"He deserves to be buried," she whispered.

"He does," Carl agreed. "Unfortunately we can't do it."

It was the closest she'd come to looking like she was going to fall apart but another mournful call sounded across the open expanse of the parking lot. Though Carl didn't know how she could tell it wasn't a real bird, he sensed that she was right, and that they were getting closer. Riley glanced around and thrust back her shoulders.

"Just act like we don't know the difference," Carl said.

"I don't know the difference," John muttered.

"Walk calmly." He shifted the box on his hip and held his hand out to Riley. "Give me the keys." She dug into her pocket and pulled the keys free. "John, I don't care who they are or what they're intentions are, but if they try to stop you, you run them over."

"No problem."

That was easier said than done but Carl didn't tell him that. "Do you have anything breakable in that box?"

"There are a few bottles of water that could break."

"Nothing then. We'll toss them over the side; I don't want to open the back doors."

"If it's people why aren't they coming out?" Rochelle asked tremulously.

"They must have heard the gunshots. They were drawn here by them, but they're also wary of them," Al answered.

A call from their right sounded. "They should probably figure out something other than a bird," Riley muttered. "I'm pretty sure most of them are dead."

"Is that how you knew?" Carl asked. The vehicles were only ten feet away but he kept expecting a bullet in his back at any second.

"No," she whispered. "If you listen carefully you can hear a faint whistle at the end of one of the calls. Mourning Doves don't make that sound, but a person would. I was never able to lose the whistle from my call."

"How long were you a girl scout for?" Five feet away… He was almost flinching now as his shoulders became taut and he kept waiting for the first shot to be fired.

"Not long. It wasn't exactly my thing, but I learned a few interesting things while I was in it."

Riley branched off and walked toward the car with seemingly no concern for an incoming bullet. He wondered if it was because she'd already had too much to deal with today, or if she had come to believe that she deserved to die.

He nodded to John and tossed his box over top of the sideboards. John's box was heavier and it took the two of them to push it over. Something broke on the other side; he didn't know if it was something within John's box or some other supply. Either way it didn't matter, he couldn't do anything about it.

"Stay close to the car," he briskly said to John.

"I know."

Carl took his first easy breath as he slid into the car and turned it on. Riley's right fingers were against her mouth; her left hand rested upon the open passenger window. Tears slid down her face but she blinked them back and turned to face forward as Carl pulled out of the parking lot.

"They may have just been alerting each other to the presence of the store," Riley said.

From the corner of his eye he saw movement amongst the trees. He could sense them there, hiding, waiting, but it wasn't the vehicles they were after. It was simply the store and the possibility of food and water. He suspected they had no weapons to defend themselves with, yet.

When he looked at Riley again her eyes were closed and her head bent forward so that her damp hair hid her features. He knew she didn't want his words, but he had to say something, she had to know that he understood; that they all did. "I would have killed him you know, if you hadn't. If I had been able to get free I would have shot him."

"I know."

"This world, it's not…"

She turned abruptly to him. "I know what this world is now. I just shot my friend; I just killed a person that I've known most of my life. I just killed the best friend of two men I care for deeply, and one of them I think…" Her voice trailed off as she shook her head. "I killed him because he was going to split me open and eat me. A boy that I once played tag with was going to eat me. I know what this world is now. I get it Carl, and so do you."

Carl became silent as he focused on the road again. "John thinks you might be like a werewolf or something now."

Her eyes widened, her mouth parted as she stared at him. "Seriously?"

"Well not a werewolf, but he thinks that perhaps Lee's scratches could do the same thing as a werewolf scratch would do to a person."

"And what do you believe?"

"I believe that whatever is making people sick is something we would have caught already, or would already be showing signs of. I also believe that if he's right…"

"Then I have about eight to twelve hours before I start trying to eat someone, or wandering around aimlessly too."

"Yes."

She nodded as she sat back in the seat. Her eyes were distant as she focused on the woods slipping passed. "I hope he's wrong."

"I've known John for two years now; it's rare that he's right."

"It would be my luck that this would be his first time."

"You should probably take some of those antibiotics."

"They didn't help Lee," she murmured.

"We didn't get them to Lee until he was already ill, and no matter what you should take something for those wounds. You don't want to survive only to die from gangrene or something because they got infected."

Riley nodded and dug out the antibiotics they had stashed for Lee. She took two pills and placed them back in the glove box. Carl turned his attention to the road as Al began to signal from the passenger side window of the truck. Carl's hands clenched on the wheel as they entered another town.

CHAPTER 23

Xander

Somewhere in Mass.

Mary Ellen threw the car into reverse and stomped on the gas. Xander's breath hitched as the back end of the car careened perilously toward the brick pharmacy. Mary Ellen eased on the pedal and quickly righted it as they plunged out of the alley with a squeal of tires that was sure to attract even more attention. A loud thud jolted him forward as the car collided with a metal dumpster. The dumpster rolled backward and crashed into the front window of the hardware store.

Xander bounced off the dashboard but he didn't grab for his seatbelt as he braced his hand. He wanted to be able to move quickly if it became necessary. The car made a grinding noise that caused him to flinch as Mary Ellen shifted into drive too soon. More heads turned in their direction as she plunged down the road, but they didn't seem overly concerned with the vehicle bulleting past them.

Mary Ellen squealed around another turn and onto a side road that was blessedly devoid of the people that had tried to turn his leg into their breakfast. He glanced down at the bandage now covering his leg, but he knew what was under it. He knew what may be creeping through his system right now. He really wished he hadn't watched so many zombie movies over the years.

Leaning back in the seat he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples in an attempt to soothe the dull throb pulsating there. Was the throb the beginning of the end or was it simply the heat and stress of the day?

Until he got a craving for flesh he was going to blame it on the heat and stress of the day. He wasn't ready for this to be the end.

When he opened his eyes again it wasn't the broken road, toppled trees, bird bodies, and other animal carcasses he saw. Instead he saw what his life had been just days ago with his parents and Carol. Saw what his life could have been if things had just stayed the same, or perhaps been a little different.

Though his parents and college advisors had been pressuring him to do so, he hadn't chosen a major yet. He honestly hadn't known what he would like to do with his life. He'd been leaning toward sports therapy but it was a lot of schooling and he wasn't sure he wanted to commit that much of his time to college. His father had wanted him to follow in his footsteps and go into law, but he'd already decided that being a lawyer just wasn't for him. His mother hadn't pressured him one way or another, she simply wanted him to choose something. The only problem was that he'd never found anything he loved to do. He kept waiting for something to click but there wasn't anything out there that he thought he could do for the rest of his life.

It had been easier for Carol. Ever since they were children she had loved to bake and had always known what she wanted to do. After culinary training she planned to own a bakery and be the talk of the town. Xander had been chowing down on her treats since he was ten years old. They were like crack, as there had been no stopping at just one cookie or cupcake. She could have hooked anyone on her sugary creations and her bakery would have had them lining up out the door.

He'd often heard Carol and Riley prattling on about their future plans together. They would both attend the same college, and after college they would move back to town where Carol would set up her business. Riley would help her with the marketing and bookkeeping while working as an elementary school teacher. They'd find husbands, have children and homes, and still see each other every day.

It had been such a simple, sweet dream filled with lemonade and lazy summers spent on their front porches. Listening to the two of them, he'd often pictured himself amongst their dreams, joining them on Sundays with his own wife. He had tried to picture what that wife would look like, who she would be, but even when he'd dated other girls in high school and college, she'd always been Riley. He kept telling himself that one day he would approach Riley, that one day he would tell her how he felt before someone else scooped her up. He realized now that he'd enjoyed that dream so much that he couldn't stand the thought of it possibly being ruined by her rejection of him.

Now it had been ruined by something else entirely.

Were her and Lee even still alive? He wondered. Lee would keep her safe, he knew that, but there was so much out there that he had to keep her safe from.

Xander's eyes drifted closed again. It was a bounce in the road that jolted him awake. He blinked as he tried to bring the world into focus but his eyes were bleary. He rubbed at them and blinked again. A shadowy haze shrouded the day as he finally got his eyes to focus once more. He hadn't planned to fall asleep but it seemed he'd missed most of the day.

"How long was I out for?" he asked.

"A couple of hours," Mary Ellen answered.

"That's it?" He glanced at the darkening sky.

"The clouds covered the sun a half an hour ago, I think."

"You think?"

She nodded her head toward the back window. "It almost looked like an eclipse again. Like it did when this all started, but I think it was just some clouds, or something. I don't know… I don't know much anymore," she added with a shake of her head.

Neither did he. He glanced in the backseat; Josh was curled up against the window, his mouth open as he drooled on the door. Peter and Bobby were squished together, their eyes were bloodshot but they both focused on him.

"I'm going to have to stop soon. I can barely see straight anymore," Mary Ellen said.

"I'll drive." She shot him a look and then glanced at the two in the backseat. "I'll be fine," he assured her. "I feel better now."

There was still a nagging headache behind his eyes and he would have killed for some cold water, but the sleep seemed to have rejuvenated him at least a little bit. He rubbed at his stiff neck and twisted it as he tried to loosen some of the knots in his muscles. "Besides you all look like death warmed over."

Bobby gave him the finger but he appeared too tired to protest as his arm dropped back to his side. "Where are we?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Mary Ellen told him. "We crossed into Rhode Island awhile back but we're in Mass again now."

They were making better time than he had expected. Though he knew it was pointless, knew he was getting ahead of himself, he felt his heartbeat pick up as they entered a small town.

The town appeared to have taken the brunt force of the earthquakes. There was little left to the buildings and homes that had once lined the street. In the distance smoke drifted into the air as Mary Ellen stopped the car and backed away from a canyon in the middle of the road.

He hadn't seen any lava since the stadium, but there was a reddish glow coming from within the pit that the devil would have appreciated. On the next road they passed a grocery store that had all the windows busted out of it. He thought perhaps the glass had shattered during the quakes, and then two heads popped up over the windowsill. The arms or the man and woman were loaded with supplies as they watched the car drive by like a hawk studied a field mouse.

"This is a friendly town." Xander hadn't realized that Josh had woken up until he spoke.

"There is now way I'm stopping in this town," Mary Ellen muttered.

Xander watched the heads until they were out of sight. He turned back around as the first fat raindrop hit the windshield. "Wonderful," Peter muttered as he ran a hand through his hair.

Steam began to rise up from what was left of the asphalt. The hazy wave the steam created would have reminded him of childhood summers spent walking the roads with Lee and Bobby, if it hadn't been so disconcerting. He was so focused on the steam that it took him a minute to realize that the rain wasn't black, nor was it even a dark gray, but it most certainly wasn't clear.

"What the hell?" Bobby muttered.

"The sky is washing itself clear," Peter breathed.

"Clear of what? And if you tell me aliens or some other crap I might just push you out of the car."

Peter released a low chuckle. "No I definitely don't think it was aliens. I do think there may have been a massive volcanic eruption somewhere, probably nowhere near here though. We'd probably all be dead if it was."

"That's reassuring," Xander said.

"When I say nowhere near here I mean that I don't think it was in Yellowstone or even Hawaii, but further away. I don't think we took the brunt force of it."

A chill ran up Xander's spine as he turned in his seat to face the man. "What you're really saying is that you believe a good portion of this world is gone."

Mary Ellen's head jerked up so that her eyes could focus on the rearview mirror. Peter swallowed and then nodded. "I believe so, but I can't know, I can only guess."

"And what of us?" Bobby asked. "Is it going to be like a nuclear disaster and those closest to it go quickly, while the ones that survive gradually wither and parish beneath some weird ass sun and funky rain?"

"It's a possibility," Peter admitted.

"You were never the life of the party, were you?"

"Bobby…" Xander started.

He held up his hand and shook his head. "We've heard the super volcano theory once already, I got it, it sucks."

"It doesn't have to be the end, it could simply trigger another ice age or perhaps some other forms of climate change…"

"Do I look like Wooly Mammoth to you?" Josh demanded.

Peter gave him one of the looks that Xander had often received from teachers in high school. He couldn't help but smile as Josh blushed, ducked his head, and sat back. "The eruption may not have been as immense as ones that have happened in the past. I could also be wrong about it being a volcano, but it's the one thing that seems to fit the most. Unless aliens really did invade the earth and bring a wave of death and misery with them."

"I think I might prefer it if they had. At least we would be able to take a stand and fight them, or perhaps our germs would kill them all off," Bobby said.

"If this is a super volcano, what is making everyone sick?" Xander asked, hoping the teacher had some kind of hypothesis that didn't involve the sickness being spread by a bite.

"I don't know," Peter admitted. "I know there are theories about super viruses, and viruses that have been trapped within the earth's mantle for thousands, if not millions of years, but I don't know much about that. The sickness almost seems to be some form of supercharged rabies."

Xander felt the blood drain from his head so fast that he swayed and had to brace his hand against the dash. "Rabies?" he croaked. The one disease he knew for a fact could be transmitted through a bite.

Peter seemed to realize what the implications of his words were as he shook his head quickly. "It's not entirely like rabies. For one thing it is far too fast moving…"

"But if it's supercharged," Josh inserted.

Xander could feel Mary Ellen's eyes boring into the side of his head. Peter shot Josh another one of those looks before shrugging and holding his hands up before him. "I'm a high school English teacher. I teach media in the summer to help supplement my income. I know just as much as you about all of this. I'm simply stating some theories. I think if it was airborne we would all be sick already, we were around Molly."

Xander couldn't meet Mary Ellen's gaze as he turned rigidly around in the seat. "That doesn't mean it's not airborne," Peter continued. "There could simply be something different with us that is keeping us from catching it. Everyone is different, and not just DNA different, but life experiences also. There are things I've been exposed to that none of you have, or perhaps all of you have. There is something about this though, something that I can't quite put my finger on…"

His voice trailed off as he began to rub at the stubble lining his jaw and cheeks. Xander reached a hand up to his own scruffy chin. Due to his fairer coloring it hadn't grown in as thick as Peter's, but it was far more scruff than he sported on a regular basis. It would be nice to find a razor.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it of his inane thoughts as he focused on the road again. They seemed to have entered a relatively quiet area of whatever town they were in.

"I'll drive now," he offered.

Mary Ellen hesitated before nodding. She pulled the car to the side of the road and put it into park before turning to him. "Molly wasn't bitten. She was sick but she wasn't bitten. We were also able to get a lot of antibiotics and steroids into you really fast."

"I know, and I'm still not feeling sick. I'll be fine, I'm certain of it," he assured her.

He wasn't certain of it, but he also wasn't going to dwell on what could be happening within his body. What could he possibly do about it anyway? It was already too late for him if the sickness was spread through a bite. If he started to feel sick he would have to get away from them as soon as possible. The last thing he wanted was to start treating his friends like they were an all he could eat buffet.

"I'll be fine," he said again when she continued to stare at him as if she were trying to drill her words into his head.

She nodded and finally turned to open the door. "I'll drive," Bobby volunteered.

Xander was tempted to take him up on the offer, he may not feel sick but his leg was throbbing like a son of a bitch. He was looking for something to take his mind off of things though, a challenge, and driving had most certainly become a challenge. "I want to," he said. "Plus I've gotten more sleep than you recently."

Xander pushed his door open and stepped into the strange rain. He tilted his head back to allow the ashes or alien cast off to cascade over his face as he took a minute to briefly savor in the fact that he was still alive. No matter what was going on, no matter what was to come, or who he was tempted to eat, for now he was simply going to enjoy the fact that he was alive.

The rain was thick and gritty like soot as it washed over his face, but it was also cooling. No matter how strange it felt against his skin, it also felt wonderful. "Alive," he whispered as he lowered his head to meet Mary Ellen's gaze across the roof of the car.

Even though rain streaked down her face, he saw the tears that also fell from her eyes. He didn't know if those tears were for him and he wasn't going to ask. He limped around the front of the car and smiled at her as she stepped aside.

"It's a strange world," she muttered.

"It's a small world."

She snorted a bubble of laughter. "And if Peter is right it just got a whole lot smaller." Xander wasn't going to think about the people that had never had a chance, not right now. Not when he still had one. "Do you think he is?"

"I've heard the volcano theory twice now, and both times it's the one that seemed the most plausible, but I know even less about it than Peter does," Xander answered.

"It's better than aliens."

"It is."

She released the door to him and stuck her head into the car. "Would one of you like to ride up front?"

"No, we're fine, I've grown used to the smell," Bobby told her.

"Bite me," Josh muttered but he didn't go for the door.

"You might want to be careful who you say that to now," Xander told him as he slid into the driver's seat.

Josh grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. "Please don't bite me."

Xander shifted into drive as Mary Ellen settled into the seat. "We should have paid more attention to Molly's symptoms before she lost it," Peter said.

"I didn't think she had any," Mary Ellen replied.

"When we were trying to sleep in the car last night she kept complaining of a headache," Josh said.

"Who doesn't have a headache?" Bobby retorted.

"Good point," Josh conceded. "She said her neck hurt but we were put in some pretty awful and cramped situations yesterday. I think she might have had a fever but who knows, it's so damn hot out we probably all feel like we have a fever."

Xander had been sporting all three of those symptoms since this whole mess had started. He maneuvered around a tree and turned the windshield wipers on as the rain began to fall more steadily. "It's been about four hours since you took some antibiotics, why don't you take some more?" Bobby suggested.

Xander nodded and stuck his hand out to accept the pills Mary Ellen shook out of the bottle when a sign caught his attention. Mary Ellen was jerked forward as he hit the brakes. The car hydroplaned a few feet before coming to a stop before the small sign that read, Sturbridge Town Line.

He could only sit and stare at it as the windshield wipers beat a rhythmic pulse against the glass. Hope and apprehension collided within him. Sturbridge, they had made it. Questions bounced rapidly through his brain as he stared at the sign. Was his grandmother still here? Was she alive? Were Riley and Lee here already? Would he see them again soon?

But the most important question, the one he couldn't shake and that caused the hair on his neck to stand up, would he be able to trust himself around them? Or would he eventually try to kill them?

Would he turn on Riley? He couldn't think of anything worse but as he stared at the sign he couldn't deny the fact that it was a possibility.

CHAPTER 24

Al

Somewhere in Mass.

Al climbed out of the truck and stretched his aching back and cramped legs. Tilting his head back he took in the substantial structure of the large garage that had been built to resemble a barn. The house that had shared the property had crumbled into the uneven fissure that now marred the earth.

He didn't know what had been housed inside the structure but he suspected that it had been built for a trucker or someone with a really large boat. Either way, he prayed it was empty now as the shadows lengthened and the sun crept closer to the horizon.

He didn't think they were far from Sturbridge but he wasn't in the mood to risk driving at night, especially not after the events of this day. His glance slid to Riley as she rested one arm on the roof of the car and surveyed the structure with a look that was neither indifferent nor overly impressed with the place.

Though he could imagine what was going through her mind there was nothing he could say to make it better. Carl said something to her over top of the roof; she continued to stare at the barn before turning to him and nodding. She bent back into the car, grabbed the gun from the dashboard and followed Carl to the barn.

Rochelle climbed out beside him and did some twisting motion with her arms that he was pretty sure only cartoon characters should be able to do. She offered him a small smile but the circles under her eyes gave her the appearance of someone far older than her twelve years.

"Why don't you stay with the truck," he suggested.

She shrugged but leaned against the hood as she dropped her chin into her hands. Al nodded to John and followed behind as Carl reached the large door and wrapped his fingers around it. "Get out of the way when I get this open, just in case," he said to Riley.

Her jaw locked and her fingers clenched around the gun as she gave a brief nod. Al wasn't sure if she was going to get out of the way or start firing at anything that moved within the barn. He was beginning to think it might be better if they took the gun away from her, at least for a little bit.

Carl's muscles flexed and he released a small grunt as he shoved the door to the side and jumped out of the way. Riley quickly followed suit. They stood against the side of the barn, protected by the siding and woodwork from any stray bullets or hungry people searching for dinner.

When nothing stirred, Carl held up his hand and poked his head cautiously around the corner. "I think we're good," he muttered.

"What is this?" Riley asked as she stepped inside.

The tone of her voice caused the hair on Al's arms to stand on end. "I don't know," Carl answered.

Al's step faltered as he took in the vast chains and hooks hanging from the ceiling. "Who was this guy, Jack The Ripper?" John asked as he eyed a particularly wicked looking two pronged hook.

"Was this a slaughter house?" Riley wondered.

"I don't know, but it looks like they at least hung meat up in here," Carl answered as he kicked at a bloodstain on the concrete floor.

"Let's just hope it was a cow," John said as he turned away.

Al had liked this place a whole lot better when he'd thought it was a garage for a truck or a boat. He stepped around the bloodstains as he made his way to the back half of the building. "Maybe we shouldn't stay here, if there's another quake…" Riley's voice trailed off as her attention turned back to the deadly looking instruments hanging from the ceiling.

It didn't look as if the rest of the building was about to cave in, but he was fearful that another aftershock might bring those things down on top of them. He inspected the structure as he continued along the back wall. The roof over his head appeared pretty solid and Carl was already climbing the wooden ladder into the loft with Riley on his heels.

His neck ached from craning it back as he stepped forward to watch the two of them move across the loft. It appeared to be empty up there but he could only see the first three feet of the open space. He'd expected some hay or something, but though it resembled a barn from the outside that was where all similarities ended.

"We could sleep up here!" Carl called down. "It seems pretty sturdy and the hooks and impaling things won't be over our heads."

"Impaling things?" John retorted.

Carl poked his head over the side. "What would you call them?"

"Leather Face's play toys?"

Al had no idea who Leather Face was, but if these were the type of things that he was fond of playing with, Al didn't want to know who he was either. "Nice," Carl muttered and disappeared again.

"If there's another quake and we're up there we're going to fall to the ground!" John's words echoed through the cavernous structure.

"The roof will crush us if we're down there anyway!"

"Oh happy thoughts," Rochelle said from the doorway. Al hadn't realized she'd entered the structure until she spoke. Her eyes were the size of an owl's as she stared around the building and then up at the gleaming metal chains and hooks. "Well at least there's nothing hanging from them."

"That's what I like about you kid, you're an optimist," John said as he grabbed hold of the rungs of the ladder and started climbing toward the loft.

Carl appeared above him and shook his head. "We're coming down."

"Did you make me a bed up there?"

"I don't think up here this is the best place to stay tonight," Carl informed him as Riley appeared at his side.

"What's up there?" John demanded.

"Birds, lots of them." Al craned his neck back to peer into the rafters. Now that he was looking for it he could see the telltale shadows of nests situated within the beams of the structure. "They all flew into the back wall."

Riley swung her leg over the ladder and swiftly made her way down, Carl followed behind her. "Are we going to stay down here then?" Rochelle inquired.

"It seems like the best option," Carl said. "The place isn't pretty, and it's bound to give us nightmares for months, but we can park both vehicles in here and we'll be hidden away. Let's just hope the aftershocks are done for awhile."

"The building seems to have withstood the worst of it," Al said. "It should withstand another night."

"I'll get the car," Riley offered. She exchanged a look with Carl that caught Al's attention as she took the keys from Carl and grabbed Rochelle's shoulder. "Walk with me."

"Can I drive?" Rochelle asked eagerly.

Riley hesitated and then shrugged. "I don't see why not. My dad used to let me drive around the parking lot at your age. You should probably learn how anyway."

"That's what I told these guys." Rochelle threw her thumb over her shoulder at them as she followed Riley like a puppy chasing a treat.

"I'll get the truck," John offered.

"Wait," Carl said quietly.

Al turned back to the man. Carl's eyebrows were drawn together as he fished out a cigarette and watched the girls disappear out the doorway. "What is it?" John demanded.

"It's not birds up there," Al guessed.

"Oh, it's birds," Carl informed him as he inhaled deeply and took his hat off to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. "And other things."

"What other things?"

Carl remained silent until the telltale sound of the car firing up reached them. "I'm not entirely sure. Raccoon's, I think, definitely some opossum and squirrel. They're all against the back wall."

"They were trying to escape?" John asked.

Carl shook his head, pulled the butt from his mouth and stomped on it. "No. I don't know if it was a bigger animal that got to them like a coyote or fox, but…"

"How would a coyote or fox climb up there?" John asked incredulously. His mouth dropped and his eyes widened as they drifted toward the loft. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh. There is nothing up there right now and the remains appear at least a day or two old. All the blood is dry at least. In this heat that could be only hours but I think it's been longer. We can go somewhere else if you would like…"

"Where?" John interrupted.

Carl looked helplessly at him as he shrugged. "Exactly. Where do we go? It's almost completely dark, we haven't seen anything else for miles, and to continue to drive at night with the headlights on…"

"Is suicide," Al said as his gaze drifted back to the loft over his head.

"Riley and I thought it best to stay, but you also have a say in the decision. I didn't think Rochelle should know about this though."

Al was silent as he pondered Carl's words. They could go back on the road and attempt to avoid all the obstacles while having their headlights alert everyone to their position, or stay here in what may possibly be the newfound home of a very hungry and insane human being. Or beings. He didn't like his options either way, but he'd prefer one or two people over dozens and possibly hundreds of them.

"Staying seems to be the best way to go," Al reluctantly said.

"I have to agree, I may not want to, but I do. I don't agree with keeping Rochelle in the dark though. She's tougher than she looks, she can take this, believe me. It's not fair if she's unprepared for something and it could get her killed," John told them.

Rochelle may be tough, but she was still a kid. Everything in him screamed to shelter her, to protect her as he'd protected his own children. His children had grown up in a much kinder and more sensible world, but still a world that had faults and troubles. A world that didn't exist anymore, but Rochelle's childhood still could, in some small way…

He was being a fool, he knew it. Rochelle's childhood had never been as simple and easy as his children's, nor even his for all of its hardships and heartbreak. He'd endured the loss of his siblings; he'd grown up poor and started doing odd jobs at ten to help supplement the family income. Jobs that would help him set the groundwork for his future furniture business. Furniture he had crafted himself until the demand outweighed his ability to produce.

However, there had always been something simple about his childhood. Something wonderful about playing in the streets with the neighborhood children and running home when his parents called.

His own children had grown up in a much better time of less sickness, more financial dependability, and better education. They'd thrived in their environment, one that was mostly sheltered from the harm and wrongs of the world.

Rochelle, however, was growing up in a time when she could know just about anything with the flick of her finger. She'd never really had a childhood, she had cell phones and designer clothing and bullying and pedophiles lurking on every corner. Though he thought Mary Ellen had kept Rochelle sheltered from most of the abuse she'd sustained, children were incredibly perceptive and he suspected Rochelle knew at least some of what her mother had endured.

Rochelle wasn't tough because she had to be, she was tough because that was the world she'd grown up in. If she could handle watching the news, before the world fell apart, than she could handle this. There may be other things to keep hidden from her in the future, but John was right, this wasn't one of them.

"She should know and she can handle it," Al said.

Carl nodded as the car crept into the garage with Rochelle at the wheel. Al almost changed his mind as he spotted her brown eyes barely peeping over top of the wheel with her hands at a perfect ten and two. Riley was coaxing her forward as she eased on and off the gas in lurching motions that had Riley bracing her hand on the dash.

John stepped hastily out of the way. "She looks like my grandmother."

The car came to a halt and Rochelle turned it off. She climbed out of the vehicle but Riley remained for a minute, staring out the window at the back wall. Al took a step toward the car but Carl shook his head at him. "She'll get through this."

"Will she?"

"Yes."

John was staring at the car as if he was half afraid it might eat him but he turned away from it as Rochelle strolled up to them with a big grin on her face. "I didn't even destroy anything," she announced proudly.

"Yet," John said as he took the keys from her. "Carl's got something to tell ya kid."

She frowned as she turned to Carl. He quickly informed her about what they had discovered above and what he suspected may have caused it. Though she became a little paler she remained calm as she glanced nervously at the wooden ladder.

"They're not here now?" she asked.

"No," Carl told her.

"But they would most likely come back at night if they decided to come back."

"Probably," Al agreed.

"We don't have any other choices do we?"

"Not really."

She took a step closer to him and instinctively took hold of his hand. He was barely able to breathe through the constriction in his chest as he was hit by a flash of his own children seeking him out when they had required comfort and support. Tears burned his throat and eyes as he was consumed with the sorrow he'd been trying to stave off.

He swallowed heavily and looked toward the rafters as he blinked away the burning in his eyes. Gone, they were all gone now. He knew that as surely as he knew that he was standing in this building. The best part of himself had been his love for Nellie and the children they had created. Now he was standing amongst strangers, and he found that he was discovering a part of himself that he'd never known existed. A part that, though it may not be the best, it was good and it was tougher than he'd thought.

He'd never thought he'd be able to survive the loss of his children, but survive he would. If not simply because he had to, but also because he wanted to. The loss of Lee had disturbed everyone, if not completely broken Riley. She was coping, for now, but he wasn't entirely certain what she was going to do next, or if she was even ready to keep fighting.

He couldn't let his grief and loss cripple him now, not when they needed him, not when fighting and killing was starting to become a necessity in all of their lives. He may not have known most of these people just three days ago, but he wasn't going to give up on them and he wasn't about to let them give up either. He'd lived a good life, he would like to live at least another ten or twenty years, but these people had far more time on their side than he did and he wasn't about to let them start tossing it away.

"It will be fine. We have weapons and we can stand guard. We will be perfectly safe in here and we'll finally get some rest," he assured Rochelle.

Rochelle nodded as Riley opened the door and stepped from the car. "I'll back the truck in," John offered.

"I'll get the car turned around," Carl said.

Riley moved away from the car and toward the back wall. She slumped onto the ground and leaned against it. Al squeezed Rochelle's hand before walking over to join her.

"I'm ok you know," she said to him before he stopped beside her. "You keep looking at me like I might slice my wrists or start ripping my hair out or even try to eat one of you, but I'm ok. I'm not going to curl into a ball and die, I'm not going to go crazy, and I feel as good as I felt this morning. I'm thinking John's werewolf theory is wrong."

Al snorted. John had shared that theory with them over the last hours of driving too. "He told you that one also?"

"Carl did."

Al's bones popped as he settled in beside her. "I thought it was a little crazy too," he admitted.

"But it makes you think, makes you wonder. We don't know how it's spread, it could be a scratch or even a bite, but I wasn't bitten and I do feel fine. It's only been six hours though so who knows…" she broke off with a shrug.

"You may be ok but you look like you could still use a friend."

Her blue eyes darkened as she blinked at him. "I killed my friend."

"He was already gone."

She turned away as her lower lip began to tremble. "Was he?"

"I was there Riley, that wasn't the same Lee. He wasn't right; there was no saving him, not anymore."

A single tear slid down her face and she hastily wiped it away. "Lee… he was a… he was a good man and he didn't even have a chance to be buried."

Al rested his hand on her arm, seeking to give her physical comfort where words would fail. Her hand wrapped around his as she squeezed it and managed a small smile. He watched as the others positioned the vehicles and climbed out. They broke out flashlights and supplies before sliding the door shut on the night beyond.

"Don't hesitate to kill me if I try to attack one of you," Riley whispered.

He couldn't answer her. He knew what he would have to do, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her that he would. His hand tightened around hers as the others came closer. Carl dropped a bag of food onto the floor and settled in across from them as he dug in and began to pull out supplies.

They would have to find more food and supplies soon, but that was a problem they could focus on after making it to Sturbridge. For now, all they could do was continue to take it one hour at a time. He felt it was all any of them could handle. The bigger picture was too overwhelming and Sturbridge was a problem they could solve, an accomplishment they could achieve.

They ate in silence as Al strained to hear any noises over the constant creek and sway of the garage as it shifted and groaned. The increasing wind outside made it difficult to discern what was the natural noise of the building, and what may be someone looking to get in.

He'd told Rochelle that they would be able to get some rest here, but he knew there would be little sleep as they all waited to see what might find them.

CHAPTER 25

John

Somewhere in Mass.

He tried to sleep, his body needed sleep but every time he closed his eyes he'd hear some strange noise that would cause his heavy lids to flutter back open. Rochelle had succumbed to exhaustion, and he was pretty sure Al had too as his chest rose and fell in an even rhythm and his chin rested upon it.

Carl had pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes but John was fairly certain he was still awake too. Riley had the gun propped in her lap and her head resting against the wall as she stared toward the loft. He tried to tear his eyes away from her but he found he couldn't look away. She lowered her head and her eyes latched onto his.

"I'm not going to turn on you."

John took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I know."

"I thought you believed that I was like a werewolf or something?"

John couldn't help but sheepishly smile as he ran a hand through his hair. He winced at the greasy feel of it and his hand slipped away. Landscaping hadn't been the cleanest job in the world but he'd never been this filthy in his life. He'd grown so accustomed to the odor coming from him, and the others, that he barely noticed it anymore. He noticed it now though as his nose wrinkled and he tried to think of something else.

"It was a possibility," he muttered.

"Not anymore?"

He shrugged as Carl lifted his head to peer at him from under the brim of his hat. His eyes were bloodshot but still astute as they narrowed upon him. "I don't know. I'd like to think you'd be sick already but what do I know? What do any of us know anymore?"

He broke off, his head tilted back as he held his breath. There was a scratching against the roof, a distinct nails on chalkboard sound that set his teeth on edge. "Tree branch," Carl muttered.

"I didn't see any trees out there."

"There were still a couple standing behind the building. The wind is picking up."

"Awesome we're going to wake up in a dust bowl tomorrow, or a raging hurricane the way these past couple of days have gone," John said.

A wistful smile played over Riley's mouth as she studied the loft. "I used to think it would be cool to live on a farm and play in a hayloft as a kid. It seemed like such a great place to escape to."

"Escape from what?" Carl inquired.

She shrugged and leaned her head against the wall. "I don't know, my parents pestering me to do my homework or go to school. You know, those awful things we have to go through as children."

John chuckled. "Rethinking the qualities of the loft now?"

"I am. Now it just seems creepy."

His attention turned to the hooks and other strange instruments over them. They had tried to take a few of them down, but without a ladder they were unable to reach most of them. They seemed to be firmly mounted and though he could hear the wind rattling over the boards, they weren't swaying… yet.

His gaze fell to Riley again. He didn't think she was going to sprout a snout and come charging after them anytime soon, but he was still wary of her, still concerned that she might become sick. That she would curl up into a ball and bury herself under a shirt as her body succumbed to whatever was raging out there in the world. However, she looked better than he felt considering everything that had gone down today.

They couldn't lose anyone else. They were all holding up, they were all surviving through this deadly new world and the constant threat of impending death. He didn't think they would continue to do so if they lost more people. He shuddered at the thought and bowed his head as he twisted his hands before him.

There was only so much they would be able to take. They had each other to rely on now, but he didn't think any of them would be able to forge on if they were to end up completely alone. There was only so much the human body and spirit could take. He never would have thought that he could have endured the loss of everything he'd ever known and carry on. Never would have thought the human body could withstand the terror of these past few days and still keep going.

Even now, with the sporadic scrape of the branch on the roof, his heart didn't leap and adrenaline didn't pulse through his veins anymore. His body had already adapted to the circumstances of this new situation, something he never would have thought possible Monday morning when he'd been standing in that field eager to get the day over with.

"It's funny how life works, how we work," he mused aloud.

Carl lifted his head again and squinted one eye at him. "Are you getting deep on me?"

John snorted as he shook his head. "Hardly. It's just strange, all of it."

"That's for sure," Riley said. "I didn't know I could ever survive something like this, ever be this scared, and…" she broke off as she shook her head. "I never thought I'd kill a person, let alone two."

She hastily wiped away a single tear and launched to her feet. Her shoulders were rigid as she stalked into the corner of the large structure. "I guess there are always parts of ourselves that we never knew existed until we're put to the test," Carl said.

Riley's face was half hidden in shadow as she turned toward them. "I suppose there are," she agreed.

Carl rose to his feet and stretched his back. He didn't approach Riley but moved toward the massive door to inspect the bar they had slid through the metal circles on the door and walls. They had dummy locked the end of the bar with the padlock that had been hooked onto it. Without the key they couldn't lock it, but it would keep the door closed. They had already inspected every inch of the barn earlier but even so John rose to help Carl as he moved around the building.

The hair on his arms began to stand up as he moved through the shadows. Apparently his body hadn't adapted as much as he'd deluded himself into believing as his heartbeat picked up. He was tempted to click on the flashlight but Rochelle and Al had managed to find a small sliver of peace and he wasn't about to take it away from them.

Stretching his hand out, he connected with the back wall. He crept forward till he reached the corner and made the turn. Wind tickled over his skin as it blew in through the small crevices between the boards.

Images of the dustbowl filled his mind at the same time he recalled the hurricane that had hit the Cape four years ago. They'd gone a few days without electricity and cable and he'd nearly lost his mind when he hadn't been able to play his games and watch his shows. His reaction to those days seemed absolutely ridiculous to him now.

He doubted that if a hurricane was coming at them it would be as small an inconvenience as that hurricane had been. Mother Nature was pissed. She wasn't going to throw a category one or two at them but a full forced category five that would make everything else look like peanuts compared to it.

He was getting ahead of himself though; this was Massachusetts the wind blew all the time. It blew everywhere all the time. That didn't mean the land was going to turn into a giant wasteland, or that an immense storm was bearing down upon them. The world had become one endless ride on the crazy train but he didn't think the fertile land outside could become a desert overnight, but then he'd never expected lava to creep down the streets either.

He shuddered at the thought as a particularly strong gust howled through the boards.

Turning away from the walls, he fell back as a strangled cry escaped him. A darker shadow amongst the gloom enshrouding the barn honed in on him with deadly, flesh eating purpose. It was bigger than him as it reared up to loom over him. His heart leapt into his throat as it pressed closer.

He fumbled for his gun and had to look down to find it. Pulling it free he jerked it up before him, but the shadow was gone. Pointing the gun in front of him, his arms shook as he searched the recesses for the hungry shadow.

"What's wrong?" Carl hissed.

John blinked again and swallowed heavily, his throat was uncomfortably dry as he continued to hunt for the elusive man. "There's someone here," he whispered.

"There's no one here," Carl told him.

"I know what I saw Carl. He was standing before me, he was here."

"What did he look like?"

"I wasn't checking him out!" John retorted. "He was just there, a darker shadow before me."

"Black dog," Carl muttered.

John spun toward his friend. "Are you not hearing what I said? It was a man not a dog."

Carl came toward him cautiously and wrapped his hand around John's gun. Carl gently pushed his hands down and eased the gun from his slackened grasp. "The black dog is an old British folklore but truckers also talk about it. When you're overtired you can start to hallucinate, I've had it happen to me after a few nights of partying. You have to get some rest."

"Thanks for telling me something I already knew," John retorted.

"Someone gets cranky when he's sleepy."

John briefly wished he still had the gun. "You've gotten just as much sleep as me."

"I'm not hallucinating, yet. The last thing we need is you trying to shoot at shadows though."

John knew he was right but the idea of closing his eyes and being vulnerable right now made his skin crawl. He rubbed at his eyes and turned away from Carl. The building seemed even larger as he made his way back toward the spot he had vacated.

There wasn't any way he was going to fall asleep with all the creaking and groaning going on around him, but maybe if he just sat for a bit his body would get some of the rest it so desperately craved.

He woke later with a start. He blinked against the gritty sand caked in the corners of his eyes. The distant memory of his mother wiping the "sleepy's" from his eyes and telling him that the sandman had visited drifted across his memory. An ache spread through him, he was horrified by the realization that he was about to start crying as tears swelled in his eyes.

Then he heard it, a dull thud that must have been what had woken him in the first place. The tears vanished; his breath was trapped in his chest as he strained to figure out where the thud was coming from. His badly abused heart lurched, but where panic had assailed him in the beginning of all the chaos, a cold sense of knowing descended over him now.

This wasn't the innocent tree branch scraping against the roof. This was something more, something deeper and more incessant as the thump resounded more forcefully through the building. "Carl?"

"Shh." He couldn't see Carl but the harsh whisper had come from near the door.

Al and Rochelle were still sleeping but Riley was blinking as she looked around dazedly. He saw the instant when realization crashed over her as her shoulders slumped. She had the dejected look of someone that had not only been kicked while down, but also rolled through some mud, tossed into garbage, and spit on. She hunched into herself and then the thud sounded again.

Her head shot up and spun toward the large doors as she located the source of the sound far quicker than he had. The broken look left her face as she grabbed the gun beside her and lurched to her feet. Her jaw clenched and her eyes burned as they met his.

He was hit with the realization that she was someone that he did not want to piss off. She may not like killing anyone, may in fact hate it, but for the first time he was struck with the realization that she was the one amongst them that wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. Not anymore.

He wasn't ashamed to admit he felt safer with her as they made their way between the vehicles toward the front of the building. Carl held out John's gun to him and nodded toward the door as it slid down a little before coming to a halt.

"Wind?" John inquired on a bare breath as he shifted the gun in his grasp.

Carl shook his head; he held up his fingers and waved them before pointing toward the door. John hadn't known what Carl's finger thing meant, but he quickly figured it out as the door slid open a little again.

This time a set of fingers slid in and fumbled around the door. Dirt caked the cuts that marred the flesh on the hand, flesh that was beginning to resemble a peach that had been left in a bowl for months. Large red sores marred the skin and though John had been uncomfortably aware of his stench earlier, it was nothing compared to the odor that came with that hand. He lifted his shirt over his nose and eagerly inhaled his own scent.

The fingers scrabbled upward; the broken and ragged areas where fingernails had once protected vulnerable skin were caked with dried blood and dirt. If he looked closer he would probably be able to discern what was making the flesh around those missing fingernails move, but there was no way he was looking any closer. He'd seen enough gross things over the past couple of days; he was perfectly fine with not seeing anymore.

The fingers slid up and hit the bar; they pushed at it until it caught on the top of the metal circle that was keeping the pole in place. It made a small clinking noise but that wasn't what had woken him up either. His brow furrowed as the fingers pushed harder at the pipe.

The hand retreated and then the door was shoved at more forcefully. That was what had caused the thumping noise that had awoken him. The door shut with more force than it had when the wind had been blowing it open.

He remained silent as he waited for it to start again but the door remained closed. The wind howled around the building and for the first time he noticed that it had become strong enough to cause the metal death traps above them to sway.

Great, he thought. A monster outside and weapons above, talk about a rock and a hard place.

Then, a new sound caught his attention. He frowned as he glanced back toward the door, but it remained completely still as something screeched across the roof. Had the wind increased the contact of the trees against the roof?

He was about to tilt his head back when Carl grabbed hold of his arm. He pointed toward the door and then the roof. "They've been up there once already."

John didn't know if he was more disturbed by the fact that Carl had said, they, or the fact that they had been on the roof once before and he had slept through it. He'd thought the fact that the building was windowless was strange before. Now he was grateful for the fact there was no glass that these humans/super monkeys could break in through.

"How many?" Riley whispered.

Carl shook his head in response. All of their heads tilted back as the roof rattled and screeched again. "I'm going to check on Al and Rochelle," John told them.

Carl nodded but didn't look at him as he turned away and made his way through the vehicles. The howling wind was a lonesome sound that caused his teeth to grate as the walls and instruments above him rattled with renewed vigor.

He was going to be really pissed if he survived everything else to be taken out by some psycho's idea of a man cave.

Al was already on his feet when John stepped around the back of the truck but Rochelle was still sleeping. Al's head lowered from the ceiling. The eyes behind his glasses were red rimmed and swollen but they were still shrewd and assessing as they met John's gaze.

"How many?"

"I don't know," John told him. "More than one."

Al nodded and glanced toward Rochelle. "Children, they can sleep through a bomb."

A loud thud sounded on the roof as Carl appeared. "Do you think they know we're in here?" John whispered.

Carl shook his head. "If they have any ability to reason left than yes they realize someone has locked the door…"

"That one at the hotel, I swear he smelled me through the door," Riley said.

John hadn't seen her standing in between the truck and car until she spoke. "Then they probably know we're here," John said.

Something banged loudly against the roof at the same time the dull thud he associated with the doors sounded. Rochelle shot up like a jack in the box as she blinked rapidly at them. Al pressed his finger against his mouth as he hurried toward her. "Wha's goin' on?" she inquired, her voice thicker and slightly slurred.

"There are some ah… people here," Al hesitatingly told her.

The color drained from her face but she took hold of Al's hand and he helped her to her feet. Another thud sounded from the front of the building but the roof remained silent. "Maybe we should get in the cars," Rochelle suggested.

"We'll be trapped in the vehicles," Carl told her. "Less able to defend ourselves."

"But if they get the front door open we can drive out," John said. "Run them right over."

"If they don't open the front door we can't drive through it. The car wouldn't take it and we can't take the risk of damaging the truck. I don't think there's any more than three or four of them out there. So far they've had no luck with the front door and the rest of this building is pretty solid. We'll be fine," Carl said.

"Maybe Rochelle should get in the truck, just to be on the safe side," Al said.

Carl nodded and stepped back as Riley opened the passenger door of the truck. "It will be ok kid," John assured her when she hesitated.

Rochelle glanced over them before nodding and climbing into the truck. "Lock the doors," Riley told her before closing the door.

The reassuring click of the lock reached him at the same time the thudding at the front door became more incessant. John hurried toward the vehicles. Al grabbed hold of his arm and held him in place. "Wait."

"Wait? For what?" he demanded.

Al glanced at the roof and then the shadows surrounding them. "They're planning something," he breathed.

"How do you know that?"

"Because they're trying to draw us toward the front door, trying to distract us," Carl whispered.

John's pulse began to race; there was an odd taste in his mouth, one that he couldn't identify. It wasn't the taste that he associated as the predecessor to vomit, but something more primitive and instinctive. A part of him already knew what Carl had meant by that, the other part refused to believe it. "So?"

"So, they're already inside," Riley said.

CHAPTER 26

Mary Ellen

Sturbridge, Mass.

Xander stopped the car in front of a house that had seen far better days, probably just three days ago Mary Ellen realized. However, it was still standing which was more than she could say for about half the houses on the street. "Is this your grandmother's?" she asked.

Xander was silent before he shook his head. "No." He leaned over her to point at the crumpled remains of what she thought had been a Cape house. "That was my grandmother's."

Mary Ellen winced and shook her head. "She could have gotten out."

"She could have," he agreed. "And if she did, she would be here, at the McDougal's. They've been friends for the forty years my grandparents have lived on this street."

Mary Ellen stared at the drooping building. It had fared better than Xander's grandmother's house and she supposed that was something. Bobby leaned forward and rested his hand on the shoulder of Mary Ellen's seat. "Mrs. McDougal made the best shortbread cookies," Xander murmured.

Bobby's stomach rumbled in response. "Are we all going in?" Bobby asked.

"I doubt there's any shortbread now," Xander told him.

"What about the car?" Mary Ellen asked.

They all became silent as they stared around the car and then at the house. There had been a garage, but it hadn't fared as well as the rest of the home. "We'll lock the door and take the keys but we can't keep driving it around. We're going to attract attention in the dark and we can't stay in it all night…"

Xander's voice trailed off as he looked questioningly at all of them. She would sleep in it, if it became necessary, but she wanted out of this car so badly that she could practically taste it. She felt like a dog begging for a scrap as she gazed back at the house longingly.

"All we can do is hope that someone isn't a professional car thief in the neighborhood and decides to steal it over night," Xander said.

"Or it isn't swarming with a horde of hungry humans," Bobby added.

"Are they humans?" Josh asked.

"More or less," Peter said. "Let's get out of here before we can't see anymore."

Mary Ellen gathered the medical supplies and climbed out as Xander pulled the keys from the ignition and threw his door open. She winced at the light that flooded the vehicle and quickly closed her door as silently as she could. It did little good though as the others still had their doors open.

The first star was just appearing as she made her way up the fractured walkway to the askew front door. She half expected a hobbit or elf to emerge from the crooked door. Shaking her head, she took a step back as she tried to gather her scattered and exhausted wits.

Xander glanced up and down the street before knocking on the door. The sound set her teeth on edge as it reverberated through the home and seemed as loud as a gunshot on the still street. A gust of wind tickled the hair on the back of her neck and caused her apprehension to notch up as she glanced up and down the street. She half expected tumbleweeds to roll across the road but nothing stirred within the night.

She wondered if the sick people slept, if they would also be trying to find a place to bed down, or if they went on and on and on like the Energizer Bunny. She really hoped they didn't decide to try and sleep here for the night if they did need some time to recharge their batteries.

She shuddered as she realized that was what she thought of them as now, machines. She'd once heard a Great White shark described as a mindless eating machine. She thought perhaps that's what these people were now, mindless eating machines with the soul of a shark.

She certainly couldn't think of them as having rational thoughts and emotions, as having souls. If she did, well then she would have to feel pity for them and she simply couldn't bring herself to pity something that looked at her like she was Thanksgiving dinner with all the fixings.

Xander knocked again and pushed at the door. It remained where it was and he shoved harder against it with his shoulder. He tottered for a second, hopping on his one good leg as he nearly lost his balance. "Easy," Bobby said as he rested his hand on Xander's shoulder.

They both grasped hold of the knob and threw their shoulders into it. The door finally gave way with the wrenching groan of bent hinges. Mary Ellen leaned to the side but she couldn't see past the two men before her as they peered into the lightless house. Xander and Bobby exchanged a look but it was Xander that limped into the house first.

"Mrs. McDougal, Mr. McDougal?" he called as he stepped further into the hallway. "Grandma?"

Mary Ellen followed Bobby into the home as Xander moved further down the hall toward what she could only hope was the kitchen, and she could only pray held some food. Right now she would even eat cauliflower if it was handed to her.

Xander branched off into another room and Mary Ellen felt a surge of hope as she spotted the old green fridge covered with pictures of smiling children. She didn't dare open it, that was a smell she wasn't willing to encounter, but she eyed the cabinets with keen interest.

She didn't go for them immediately though as Xander opened the backdoor and peered out. He closed the door again, pulled the curtain over the window and locked it. He pushed the curtain aside again briefly before turning away from the door. "Let's check upstairs before we see what's in the cabinets," he suggested.

"I don't think anyone is here," Josh said.

"Those things don't exactly give a warning, or speak, before they come after us," Xander reminded him. "I'd prefer to know there's no one up there."

Josh glanced at the cabinets and his shoulders slumped as he nodded. Peter pulled a block of knives closer to him and began to extract a wicked looking assortment of weapons from it. Mary Ellen placed the bag of supplies on the counter and grabbed hold of a knife. She felt a little safer with the butcher knife in hand as she held it against her side.

She wished for a flashlight as she felt her way along behind the others. Something skittered into the shadows with a dull thud as her foot sent what she assumed was a stand for keys or a hat rack back a few feet. She hopped up and down as she fought back a groan. She was tempted to kick whatever it was again out of sheer spite as her offended toes throbbed.

Bobby bit his lip as he glanced at her over his shoulder and tried not to laugh. She scowled back at him. Xander pulled the curtains in the living room closed before heading up the stairs. "Did they own a gun?" Bobby asked after their search for the McDougal's on the second floor came up with nothing.

"Not that I know of, but I doubt it. I don't think we'd find it tonight even if they did," Xander answered.

Mary Ellen agreed as she felt her way back downstairs. She found a bathroom tucked under the stairs and ducked into it. She closed the door and then realized she couldn't see a thing. Peter was standing on the other side with a candle and lighter when she poked her head back out. She took them and eagerly disappeared again. The shower was the most enticing looking thing she'd ever seen but she resisted temptation as she washed her hands and arms. If they stayed here for any length of time she would take a shower, but she didn't think it was a good idea to climb in there until they were better established.

When she reemerged the others were emptying the contents of the cabinets onto the counter. Xander pulled the lid off a cookie jar and smiled as he pulled a handful of shortbread cookies from the jar. Bobby snagged one from him and bit into it.

"Stale, but delicious," Bobby said around a mouthful of crumbs.

Xander shook his head and placed the lid back on. "I found some more candles," Peter said and placed them on the counter. "If we keep them in the bathroom it will brighten the place but shouldn't draw any extra attention."

Mary Ellen nodded as Josh broke out a can opener and dropped an armload of soup cans on the counter. They gathered around to eat the cold meal that was one of the most delicious things she'd ever tasted.

"We made it," she murmured as she sipped some chicken noodle soup and stared at the apples decorating the curtains over the kitchen sink. It was all so homey and inviting, so strangely familiar in this entirely unfamiliar world where the lines of reality seemed to blur. She had the unsettling feeling that none of this was real before the world snapped back into place.

The wind rattled the glass pane as it blew over the earth. Josh crept to the back door and pulled the curtain aside. "Where do you think these people went that they abandoned all their food?" he asked.

"Their daughter lives close by, they probably went to her house," Xander said.

"They could have been evacuated," Peter suggested. "We don't know how each town reacted to this, or how badly their emergency staff was affected. Everyone could be gathered at the local high school for all we know."

Mary Ellen didn't think that was the case but she really didn't want to give it too much thought either. Not when her belly was full and there was the possibility of being able to curl up on something soft for a few hours. Though, she wasn't overly thrilled with the idea of being on the second floor if someone managed to get inside. Leaping out a window wasn't exactly her idea of a good time and her ankles hurt just thinking about it.

"We should drag the mattresses down here," she muttered.

"We should probably see if there is something we can use as a weapon first and check the basement," Xander said.

He pushed away from the counter and winced as he made his way to another door off the kitchen. Mary Ellen followed Peter and Xander down the rickety cellar stairs as Josh and Bobby remained above to keep watch. She flinched at every clunking step that Xander took but he refused to remain above as he was the one that had been down here before.

Peter lit a candle when the door was closed and handed it to Xander. He lit another one and gave it to Mary Ellen before keeping the third for himself. Xander climbed the rest of the way down the stairs and turned to the right. Shadows flickered over the rock walls as the small flames of the candles danced on their wicks.

There was no threat lurking amongst the cobwebs and boxes but even still a chill crept down her spine, a chill that cooled her despite the humid air that caused the hair to stick to the nape of her neck. Xander lifted the candle to explore the further recesses of the cellar but it only revealed more boxes, most of which were marked Xmas or knick knacks.

Even with a full belly and the prospect of a mattress, Mary Ellen was annoyed by the lack of help the boxes offered them. She supposed they could block the door with fake Christmas trees and glass ornaments, but she didn't think they would do much good against a mob of hungry humans.

"Let's try the other side," Xander suggested and limped his way back passed the stairs.

There were more boxes on the other side, but these ones were heftier and labeled as artifacts and souvenirs. "What did these people do for a living?" Peter asked.

"The McDougal's traveled a lot. My grandparents went with them on a few trips and after my grandfather died my grandmother went to Ireland with them," Xander answered.

Peter knelt beside one of the bigger boxes and placed the candle down. He tugged the tape back and pulled one of the flaps open. Mary Ellen peered in at the assortment of glasses, mugs, picture frames, and snow globes. Peter dug through the box but only came up with some woodwork and postcards.

"There's nothing for us down here," he said as he rose.

Xander was already standing by the stairs, leaning against the banister as he watched them. The flame flickered over the contours of his face. His face appeared thinner and more hollow as his skull seemed to show through the skin drawn over it. Beads of sweat dotted his brow as his hazel eyes met hers. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his as she saw for the first time what he'd been so valiantly hiding, until now.

He was sick.

Xander looked away first as he grabbed the banister and used it to help pull himself up the stairs in a limping gate that was louder and more thudding than it had been before. Peter's shoulder brushed against hers as he stepped beside her. "Is he sick?"

"I think so," she whispered.

Peter brought his fist to his chin and stared at the spot that Xander had just vacated. Mary Ellen grabbed hold of the banister and used it to propel herself up the stairs. She was intent upon talking to Xander, but only Josh was still in the kitchen when she stepped back into it.

She kept her hand wrapped around the candle flame to keep it sheltered as she moved past the glow flickering from the bathroom. Even with the curtains drawn she worried that the candle's illumination would be seen from outside. She found Bobby and Xander by the front door staring out the window.

"Anything out there?" she inquired.

Her voice was choked as she tried to ignore the growing sweat beading across Xander's brow. Pain, he was in pain, that was all, she told herself. Anyone would be hurting after having their leg chomped on and torn at.

"Nothing yet," Bobby answered.

"Let me take a look at your leg," she said.

Xander gave her a wan smile as he leaned against the door. Bobby's eyes narrowed on him before he glanced at Mary Ellen. "It's not going to look any better now than it did before," Xander informed her.

"I bet it's not, but we should probably clean and rewrap it. We don't want it to get infected."

Xander looked like he was about to protest but Bobby was now staring at him with a crestfallen look that made Mary Ellen feel like crying. Xander hobbled over to the couch and slid onto the cushions. The old fashioned blue couch didn't look at all comfortable to sit on as Xander leaned back and propped his leg on the glass topped coffee table.

"Why don't you see if there are some medical supplies in the bathroom? There could be some better stuff than what we have," she suggested to Bobby, hoping to give him something that would ease the, 'I'm losing my best friend,' look from his face.

Mary Ellen placed her knife down and sat on the coffee table across from Xander. Peter brought forth another candle and placed it on the ground beside her as he put the bag of supplies they had brought in on the table. Mary Ellen gingerly touched the bandages before tugging the tape free and pulling the cloth from his leg. Xander's hands clenched on the cushion of the couch but he didn't protest as the last of the cloth fell away to reveal the pulverized meat look of his leg.

It took everything she had not to gag and she honestly didn't know how he was still walking on that leg. Bobby reappeared with some real bandages and more antibiotic cream. The color slid from his face and his eyes darted away from the damaged leg. "Ugly huh?" Xander asked.

The sweat over his upper lip and brow was more pronounced as it slid down his face and soaked the top of his shirt. "Not as ugly as you," Bobby retorted as he placed the peroxide on the table and forced a smile.

Mary Ellen took care as she cleaned the angry, throbbing wound. Heat, like a furnace, poured from Xander's skin. Puss and fresh blood oozed from the places where the tender scabs broke. The uninjured skin around it was becoming redder but she couldn't tell if it was from the infection and bandages, or if the rash was the beginning of something far worse. She ignored it though as she gingerly wrapped the wound back up and rested her hands on either side of his leg.

"It will be fine, but we're going to have to keep a closer eye on it," she assured him.

"I'm sure it will be," he told her with a gritted smile that just barely revealed his teeth.

"The others all got sick quickly. It's been twelve hours Xander, I'm sure you're passed the threshold," Bobby said.

Mary Ellen didn't have to touch Xander's forehead to know that he had a fever. What she didn't know was if it was from the sickness or if the infection was spreading through his system. "I'm sure you're right Bobby," Xander told him, though his gaze didn't leave Mary Ellen's. There was determination in his hazel eyes, but there was also something more, an understanding that passed between the two of them, a knowledge of the uncertainty to come.

Peter handed her the antibiotics and she passed them to Xander. "We should gather more supplies," Peter said. "And bring the mattresses down. You should probably stay off of that leg."

Xander finally looked away from her to Peter. "I will."

Peter nodded. "Let's go then."

Mary Ellen didn't move as she kept her hands on Xander's leg. "I'll stay here and keep watch," she said.

Peter frowned before shrugging and turning away. "You should probably go help them," Xander said when they disappeared upstairs.

She stared at the empty stairway before turning to him. "So you can leave?"

He didn't even pretend to deny it. "I could kill you."

"It's a possibility, but it's almost a guarantee you'll die if you go out there in this condition, alone. Besides your leg is infected and that is going to make you feverish and sick."

"It would be for the best if I left."

"Not for you and not for us. Bobby will never forgive you, Riley…"

"I could kill Riley, if they come here. I could kill her, or Bobby, or you."

"I won't let that happen."

"And what are you going to do to stop me?"

She took a deep breath as her heart knocked against her ribs. She tried to look away from him but she found his forthright gaze impossible to break. "If it's not an infection, if it is that ah… other sickness, I'll kill you myself."

Xander quirked an eyebrow. "You think you could do that?"

She wouldn't have been so certain yesterday, but she was now. She would kill him herself rather than see him walk out the door like she knew he intended. She would kill him rather than give him the opportunity to attack anyone else. "Yes."

His hands eased on the cushion as he sank back on the couch. "Ok, make sure you do."

She lifted her knife and placed it in her lap as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. Her fingers tightened on the knife as he exposed the tender skin of his throat.

CHAPTER 27

Riley

Somewhere in Mass.

Something scurried through the shadows as she stepped closer to Carl, Al and John to make the circle they'd formed even tighter. Al pressed against her side as a scraping sound on their right turned them in that direction, only Carl turned to the left. Riley realized too late that was probably where the attack was going to come from but even as she corrected herself and spun to the left, she knew she was wrong.

The hair on her neck stood on end, a breeze filtered over her chilled skin but this breeze wasn't drifting through the boards.

She'd experienced earthquakes, the loss of her friends, lava, collapsing buildings, and killing two men, but nothing had made her heart almost stop as much as the realization that coursed through her bloodstream. She was shaking, but she wasn't actually moving. This shaking was in her bones as she could swear she heard them rattling like a handful of dice.

She couldn't bring herself to look as another small breeze drifted over her. Carl turned toward her and over the top of John's head she saw the realization that dawned in his gray eyes as they latched onto hers. The shaking inside her increased, but instead of staying in her bones it moved out to her fingers and caused her arm to twitch as she tried to keep her hand steady.

Carl was the first one to look away as his head tilted back and his eyes slid up to the metal hooks above them. Her other arm was shaking now; her knees trembled as her heart beat a strange rhythm she never would have thought the organ could withstand without exploding. She was so cold, it had been one of the hottest and most humid days she'd ever endured and yet she was as cold as if she were standing in the middle of the arctic with nothing on but her underwear.

That breeze, there it was again, and this time she couldn't deny it, couldn't pretend that it wasn't coming from above her as she tilted her head back. Though she'd known what was there it was still a kick in the gut to see it, one that robbed her of her breath as she came eye to eye with the creature suspended above her.

Not a creature, a human, but there was little left that was human about it as it hung over her.

Its split and bloody lips skimmed back to reveal broken teeth and black gums. Its hands and feet were wrapped around one of the hooks as it eyed her from faded brown eyes that were surrounded by whites the color of faded paper. The tip of his nose was missing and an entire chunk of the right side of his face was gone. The curve of his cheekbone was clearly visible beneath the blood and muscle.

There were corpses left to rot in the desert for a week that looked better than this guy and yet he was still moving, still focused on turning her into his dinner.

A strange noise escaped him that broke her out of her frozen state. She took a startled step back, her hand jerked up at the same time a gunshot exploded through the cavernous structure. The man was already leaping off of the hook before Carl fired though.

His filthy fingers were curved into talons aimed at her face but he never had a chance to tear the skin from her as John swung the hand holding his gun up and caught the man in the face with the weapon. The thud of metal on bone resonated through the building as the man released an inarticulate noise that reminded her much more of an animal than a human.

Teeth sprayed out from his battered mouth as he was knocked backwards and sprawled onto the floor. Like a turtle, his arms and legs kicked until he was finally able to turn onto his front side. He was about to leap to his feet when another shot sounded and the back of his skull exploded.

Riley took a stumbling step back as Al met her gaze before swinging his gun toward the ceiling. Gathering her scattered wits, she lifted her gun and examined the gloomy recesses above her. There was no one else hanging upside down like a bat from the chains but she knew they were there, skulking through the shadows like rats.

Something skittered to her right but she didn't jerk in that direction as she suspected it was just another diversionary tactic. Her eyes went back to the rafters but they remained blessedly clear as the thumping at the front door began to increase in intensity. She had to fight the urge to scream as the tension in her body started to spike to epic levels. She didn't think she could take much more of this as she fought the urge to just start firing in an attempt to scare them off. However, it wouldn't scare them off. In fact, the only thing it would accomplish was emptying her gun of bullets and leaving them even more vulnerable to the impending attack.

John's breathing was harsh as he stepped closer to her and Al. Carl moved in a small circle around them as he searched the shadows. She and John both jumped as something else skittered through the dark toward the front door and the truck. Rochelle remained silent though and no breaking glass or twisting metal followed the shadow.

"I really hate these things," John hissed.

Riley agreed one thousand percent but she remained silent as she strained to hear any new threat. "Move toward the truck," Carl instructed.

They shuffled toward the back of the truck in order to get a better view of it and Rochelle. John was about to step next to it when Riley seized hold of his arm. She pulled him back a step and pointed toward the undercarriage of the truck. She didn't know why, but she was suddenly certain that at least one of them was under there.

Carl stuck out his hand to John. "Flashlight," he breathed.

John tugged his shirt up and pulled the flashlight tucked into his waistband free. Carl took it from him and clicked it on. Shadows danced and swayed over the taut lines in his face as he took a deep breath and then cautiously bent down. His head tilted to the side as he tried to peer under the truck but though the beam lit the undercarriage, none of them were able to see what it might reveal.

Carl hesitated before dropping his knees to the ground. Riley held her breath as she was convinced something was going to shoot out of there like a frog tongue and smack him in the face. It was impossible, she knew that, they were still human beings they were dealing with and there was no way they could have a tongue like a frog's.

However, she'd also been convinced that there was no possible way someone would try to eat her one day either, and that had been proven wrong. For all she knew this was some kind of virus or bacteria that caused severe mutations within human cells and DNA. Mutations that could make them have tongues like a frog's or perhaps even sprout wings and fly.

They may be dealing with some form of radiation, but she really doubted that one. They'd all be sick if it was radiation, she was certain of that. Not everyone caught the same cold or flu, but no one escaped radiation. If it had taken Lee down then it would have taken the rest of them down too. Still, she couldn't shake the frog tongue from her mind as Carl's cheek almost rested on the floor and he peered under the truck.

She caught a brief shadow before something burst out from under the truck and fled into the dark corners of the building with the speed of a cockroach. John shuddered and Riley stepped closer to him and Al. Carl's hand shook for a second before he pushed himself back into a crouched position and rose up.

The beam played over the walls but it did little to ease the anxiety pulsing through Riley as it took all she had to remain calm. The front doors banged again as something splintered somewhere. John hissed out a low curse and Carl moved closer to them. Al adjusted his gun into a better position for his damaged hand.

Riley tried to discern how many strange people were out there, or inside, but the wind was howling and the noise at the front door was becoming increasingly distracting. Breathe, she told herself, just breathe. It did her little good but at least her finger eased on the trigger and she didn't feel like running screaming into the darkness anymore.

"At least two inside," Al said.

Riley kept her ears focused on the front door even as one of the shadows seemed to lengthen. Her head tilted back but there was still nothing above her. Beneath the frantic beat of her heart she felt something new growing within her, something new slithering forth to fight against the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she shifted her hold on the gun and her jaw clenched.

She was tired of being hunted, but most of all she was tired of feeling weak. She refused to be beaten down anymore, refused to cower in the shadows. If these were her last few minutes on earth she was going to go down fighting and she was going to take a few more of these things with her.

Anger slithered through her as she took a step away from John and Al. "Riley," John hissed.

She ignored him though as she searched the shadows with her gun raised. She'd shoot, she knew it. Yesterday, she would have hesitated to pull the trigger. She had hesitated to pull it on Lee; she wouldn't hesitate now.

She'd never hesitate again.

Her teeth began to ache from clenching them so fiercely but even still she kept her attention focused on the shadows as she waited for something to leap out at her. The beam flashed across her and hit the back wall. A snakelike hiss filled the air seconds before Carl started firing. Riley spun as a howl erupted through the building.

She was pissed but even so her throat burned as the howl became a low moan. She found she couldn't look at the person as Carl strode forward and pulled the trigger one more time to silence the pathetic creature. Her ears were ringing, but even so she heard a muted tick, a tick that she couldn't place at first and then she heard the distinct sound of something on metal.

Her eyes shot up to the ceiling again but she instantly knew she was wrong as she turned her head to the right. The beam played over John's face, highlighting the dark scruff lining his cheeks and chin as he stepped closer to her. Carl returned to them and handed the flashlight to Al as he briefly checked the bullets in his gun.

He took the light back and bent to place it on the ground so that it was aimed under the truck again. "It's not under there," she whispered.

"No," he agreed. "It's not."

The front doors had gone eerily silent and she was finally able to pinpoint the tick sound as the front bar having been removed from the door. "How…?"

She broke the question off as she realized how. One of the ones inside had removed the bar to let its friends in. Al took a couple of steps toward the truck and moved at an angle so that he could see into the window. Relief filled her as his shoulders slumped and he gave a brief nod to assure them Rochelle was ok. There was little time to feel any happiness though as John let out a loud grunt and was knocked forward.

Riley lifted her gun as she took aim behind him. She'd expected to find something on top of him, attacking him, but there was nothing behind him except…

Her forehead furrowed as she stared at the thing lying on the ground and John rubbed at his back. "What is that?" she muttered.

"I don't know," John said. "But it hit me in the back."

Riley took a step closer and put her foot on the round object that had been heaved at John. The glassy eyes rolled in the head, first toward the right and then up beneath the stunted eyelids with feathery lashes. It took her a minute to realize it wasn't a real human head, but a doll's head. A doll head that was so realistic that she swore the blue eyes were looking at her as they relentlessly stared in her direction. Tufts of scraggly blond hair clung in patches to its plastic skull and stood out in odd directions from the dirt streaked face.

A feeling like eels twisting through her stomach filled her as she was hit by an image of Lee. Of blond hair and blue eyes that had been staring at her just as relentlessly. Blue eyes that had been unfocused and empty as he'd sat on top of her, and clawed at her with ruthless determination.

Tears burned her eyes; she shuddered as she pulled her foot away from the doll and glanced around her again. What corner of Hell have we wandered into?

John's mouth was agape as he met her eyes over top of the hideous doll head. Riley half expected more plastic bits to come at them from the shadows, or for a little girl to come forward to reclaim the doll part she'd just tossed away.

Just when she'd thought she couldn't be any more creeped out, couldn't see anything more macabre than everything else they'd encountered, someone threw a freaking doll head at them. There would never be a limit, she realized, there would never be a ceiling. There would never be an end to the horror and terror and fighting and death.

This was only the beginning, this wasn't the end and this wasn't the middle. It was the beginning.

She had killed a man, she had killed Lee and there was no taking that back. There was a part of her that had changed when she'd pulled the trigger that first time; there was a part of her that had died when she'd pulled it the second time. However she'd pull it again and again and again if it meant surviving for just one minute more in a world that didn't seem to want them in it anymore.

She'd killed Lee, her friend, Xander's friend and her last real connection to her old life. The enormity of it swelled up around her and she couldn't breathe as the grief threatened to swallow her. It was the worst possible time but she could feel an impending meltdown working through her system as her hand trembled on the gun.

There was no guarantee she would find Xander and Bobby, and even if she did find them, how could they possibly forgive her for what she'd done? There had been no other option, she knew that, the people around her knew that, but Xander and Bobby hadn't been there, they couldn't possibly know that she'd done everything she could to try and save Lee.

They'd never forgive her. Then she realized that it wasn't them that wouldn't forgive her, it was herself. She had to forgive herself and she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to do that. Her hand fluttered to her stomach as she tried for the thousandth time to think of something she could have done different and all she came up with was nothing. Simply nothing.

There had been no other option, no other choice, except for her own demise. It may be a crappy, crappy world right now but as much as she would like to take back the events of the past day, she couldn't say that she wished it had been her instead. Maybe tomorrow, or a week from now, she would be wishing it had been her, but not today and not tonight.

She took a deep breath as she straightened her shoulders. Not tonight, she told herself sternly. Not tonight.

She was just forcing herself to focus on the world again when John grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her forward. Something burst from the shadows with all the speed and screeching intensity of a banshee as it barreled down upon them. She stumbled and nearly fell to her knees as John spun and started firing at the woman.

Riley managed to right herself and turn as the woman's leg kicked back from the bullet John placed in her kneecap. She had the hysterical thought that they really needed some target practice as the woman continued to claw her way across the floor toward them. John stumbled forward and fired one final shot into the woman's heart that caused her to flop lifelessly onto the floor.

Riley breathed a sigh of relief as she pushed herself up from the floor and wiped the dirt from her hands and butt. She lifted her head to enjoy this small reprieve but it was abruptly cut short as her eyes returned to the chains and the small human rapidly scurrying down them.

A scream of warning tore up her throat but before she could let it out the child leapt from the ceiling and onto Carl's back. Carl slapped at the young girl and spun in a crazy circle before crashing into the back of the truck. The child adhered to him though, unwilling to be beat free as it began to tear at his back.

Riley saw red as the coppery scent of blood filled the air and the owner of the doll head continued to cling to Carl.

CHAPTER 28

Carl,

Somewhere in Mass.

"Argh!"

It was the only noise Carl could make as he stumbled back beneath the weight of the thing clinging to his back. It was small, whoever or whatever it was, was tiny as its spindly legs clamped against his side with a tenacity that seemed out of place considering the thinness of its limbs.

It looked as if whoever was on top of him had been playing in the mud for hours before running through a briar patch as its feet kicked against his stomach. Diminutive fists beat against his back before curling into his hair to jerk on it. It released his hair to dig its fingers into his skin. A startled shout escaped him as he felt his flesh being pulled back like it was a banana peel.

Child or not, he'd be damned if he was going to be skinned alive.

He tried not to be disturbed by the fact that his hands wrapped all the way around the monsters entire thigh as he seized hold of its legs and propelled himself backward towards the truck. A loud grunt escaped him and his teeth clamped down on his tongue as they crashed into the vehicle.

The monster child squealed as its fingers dug deeper into his flesh. More blood spilled down his back to ruin his hated Hawaiian shirt. Fists beat against him as the child adamantly expressed its displeasure over being pinned against the truck. Carl stepped forward and then thrust himself forcefully into the metal doors again.

His back screamed in protest, his knees nearly buckled as the impact staggered him forward. Most days he didn't think of himself as old. He didn't always recognize the face staring back at him in the mirror, but inside his own mind, he didn't feel old. That didn't mean his body didn't feel its age most mornings when he climbed out of bed, and it most certainly felt its age as he was battering it against the truck's metal doors.

A spasm in his back nearly drove him to his knees. His hand hit the ground as he struggled to remain on his feet, if he went down he knew there would be no getting back up. Tiny fingers dug deeper into his flesh, tearing it open from the base of his skull to the middle of his back.

He'd been trying not to cry out but a painful scream ripped from his lungs as fire slid down his back and fresh blood spilled forth.

His right knee hit the ground as John jumped forward and seized hold of the child. It continued to cling to him though as Carl was pulled back and forth with John's jerking motions. He tried to get an elbow up to jab it into the child but he couldn't quite reach it.

John cursed loudly and Carl heard a loud thwack but the child continued to hold onto the back of his torn shirt. Riley took a step forward but Al seized hold of her arm and pulled her back. Carl saw the glint of the gun as Al stepped next to John. The child released a strange hissing scream that reminded Carl of a teapot at full boil, and had images of forked tongues racing through his mind, as Al pulled the trigger.

He was pretty sure one of his eardrums ruptured but it was worth it not to hear that hideous scream anymore. He put his hand to his left ear as the child's body slid to the side and sprawled onto the garage floor beside him. Carl forgot all about his ringing ear, and the blood trailing down his back, as he stared into the sightless brown eyes of what was once an innocent little girl. A single trickle of blood trailed down her left temple to spill onto the ground beneath her. She couldn't have been any older than seven or eight and she'd either been very active, or underfed, before all of this had happened if the small size of her body was any indication.

Something other than his back began to hurt as he forced his gaze away from the fragile body with the surprising strength of a full grown man. The tears in his eyes, which he quickly blinked away, had nothing to do with his throbbing back as he tried to rise to his feet again.

"Stay down." Al rested a hand gently on his left shoulder. "Just stay down for now."

Carl's knees hit the ground as his body gave way to Al's suggestion. He'd love to stay down for awhile, to take a break and simply relax. Instead his body remained alert for any more danger lurking within the shadows of the building, anything else outside of the open doors.

"Are there more of them?" John asked.

"I think that was the last one," Al answered. Even so they all remained silent and watchful; Carl counted down the seconds as he waited to hear another person scurrying through the shadows. "I think we're good."

"I'll get the bandages," Riley said hesitatingly.

"The door," Al said. "Get the door first."

Carl turned his head to watch as Riley and John hurried toward the front of the barn. "How bad is it?" he asked as he heard the clink of the pole being slid back into place.

Al's hand clenched on his shoulder and then he patted it briefly. "It's not pretty and you won't enjoy riding in a vehicle for awhile, but you'll survive."

"That's reassuring," he muttered as he fumbled for his pack of butts and lit one.

"Is everyone ok?" Rochelle demanded as the truck door opened and light briefly flared into the building.

"Everyone will be fine," Riley assured her.

He recognized John's work boots as he stepped before him and knelt down. He held out a couple of aspirin and what looked like some antibiotics. "I have some stronger stuff if you want it."

Carl shook his head, he may regret the decision later but for now he wasn't willing to take anything stronger than an aspirin. He took the pills and bottle of water from John and quickly swallowed them.

"Carl…"

"Not one word about werewolves, do you hear me? Not one fucking word!"

John grinned at him but the smile didn't reach his eyes as he rocked back on his heels. "No werewolves," he promised. "I just want to make sure you're ok."

John's eyes gleamed with worry and Carl noted that there were lines under them that hadn't been present before all of this had started. As Carl looked around the room he understood why John wasn't going to start in on the werewolf talk again. Al had stepped away to stand by Rochelle and though they were both strong and could take care of themselves, Al was older and Rochelle was still just a child. John was a capable man, but though he'd always tried to act tough, he wasn't remorseless or ruthless.

John didn't possess Riley's stalwart determination to forge on no matter how awful things became or Al's ability to do what had to be done no matter how unpleasant or disturbing it was, nor did he possess the ability to compartmentalize the whole awful situation and continue onward no matter what the cost. John had grown over the past few days, he was more of a man than Carl had ever expected him to become, but Carl didn't know how long the three of them would make it on their own if he and Riley became sick, and neither did John. Talk of scratches and werewolves was the last thing John wanted to discuss right now.

Riley placed the medical supplies down as she knelt at his side. "At least it wasn't your favorite shirt," she muttered.

"Take that back, I loved this shirt," he retorted as a bead of sweat dropped from his forehead to the ground.

She released a low chuckle as she gingerly pulled back the tattered remains from where they were stuck to his skin. He flinched away from her a few times but for the most part remained unmoving as she worked to clean up the wounds on his back. "If it makes you feel any better," she said as she taped the last of the bandages to his back. "I still feel fine. I think if scratches spread whatever it is I'd be sick already. Lee became sick pretty quickly."

Carl turned his head to meet her eyes. They were clear and direct as she smiled at him and leaned back to rest her hands on her knees. "It does actually."

"But then Lee might not have been infected by a werewolf."

Carl laughed as he took hold of her hand and let her help him to his feet. "You two are freaking hilarious," John muttered as he walked away.

Carl glanced at the body of the young girl beside him and took a step away. Al may not have had any other option, but the sight of the dead child was still disturbing and not something that he wanted to see. He stepped back in front of Rochelle in order to break her intense focus upon the small child's remains. She blinked and quickly looked away from the body.

Riley draped her arm around Rochelle's shoulders and turned her toward the truck. "Why don't you get back inside for a little while?" she suggested.

For the first time Rochelle looked her age as tears filled her eyes and she glanced around the building. "I don't want to be alone," she whispered tremulously.

Carl had to look at anything except her in that moment and took a few steps away to retrieve the gun he'd dropped when the girl fell onto his back. He fought the urge to stomp the doll head into the ground as he kicked the hideous thing into the shadows.

A shudder slid down his spine as he turned back to the remains. A child, not much younger than Rochelle, but a child that had been trying to flay him like a fish. He took a deep breath and released it slowly as he fought to restrain the anger and frustration that wanted to erupt. He slipped the gun into his waistband and turned to John.

"Help me move her?"

John's mouth dropped as his eyes flew to the broken body. Carl wasn't exactly thrilled by the prospect of touching her either, but it was going to be awful enough staying in here without staring at her for the rest of the night. John closed his mouth and shook his head, "Yeah sure, sure."

It felt like someone was taking a torch to his back, but even so Carl bent to grab hold of the tiny arms and heft her up. John's eyes were locked on the small red shoes the girl was wearing as he stood over her feet. Riley opened her mouth but Al shook his head at her to silence her words. She frowned at him but he just turned away to retrieve the flashlight.

John took a deep breath and finally bent down to grab the legs. Carl hated doing this to him but as he looked over at Riley and Al again he knew that it had to be done. John had killed, he would kill again to stay alive, but there were even worse things that John may have to do in the coming days and weeks, things that he may not be around to help him do.

They moved the remains past that of the other woman and into the corner. Carl wasn't going to bother with the other bodies; he saw no need to as he didn't think anyone was going to wander far from the vehicles until morning. He intended to be out of here as soon as the first rays of the sun hit the horizon.

Carl laid her down on the ground and turned away. "Carl."

He turned back to John but he could barely see him in the shadows. "Yeah?"

"I'm not an idiot; I know why you asked me to carry her."

"John…"

"I didn't hesitate to kill that other woman."

"I know."

John was silent and then he stepped out of the shadows. "I hesitated to shoot the child though," he admitted. "I should have shot her instead of watching Al do it."

"She wasn't a sweet, innocent child anymore."

John's gaze slid to the girl's body. "How do we know that? How do we know there isn't some way to save them even if we don't know what it is? How do we know that some bigwig super brainiac isn't already brewing up a cure?"

Carl had to shake the image of people huddled around a cauldron from his mind. "Let's hope that somewhere someone is brewing up some miracle cure that will help to save each and every one of these poor bastards. They will still kill us first though, so until we know that there is someone out there that can save them we're going to have to do what has to be done."

"Do we live with ourselves after that?"

"That's the key John we have to live in order to find out if we can, but I think that I can. I understand if you feel that you can't…"

"I never said that. I can do what needs to be done. I will do what needs to be done. Maybe not with the same certainty as you or Al, but I'll do it." Though the shadows hid half of his face, Carl saw a new resolve in John. "When the time comes that I have to look at myself in a mirror I may not like what I see, but I'll do it. Just don't test me again."

Carl wouldn't like to look at himself in a mirror right now as shame slid through him. He'd underestimated John, but then he thought John had probably underestimated himself before all of this, and possibly during it, too. "I won't," he promised.

John's smile was grim as he stepped forward. "Riley really seems to be feeling fine."

"She does," Carl agreed.

"That's a good sign, for all of us."

Carl wanted to roll his shoulders but he was hesitant to move the wounds on his back. "I still don't want to be attacked again or bitten by one of those things. I feel like a mountain lion got a hold of me."

John glanced back at the shadows but the small body was no longer visible. Though Carl didn't think there was anyone still hidden within the barn he tilted his head back to explore the rafters. A small shiver slid down his spine at the reminder of everything that had just unfolded. He was lucky to be alive, but he felt like he was going to be saying that every day for the rest of his life, no matter how long or short that may be.

"Your back kind of looks like a mountain lion got a hold of it, or one crazy woman."

"Har har," Carl said.

"You should probably get that shirt off."

"Yeah," he muttered, not at all looking forward to the more orange and pink shirt.

He followed John out of the shadows and tugged the other shirt from behind the seat in the truck. John helped him to pull his ruined shirt off and put the new one on when Carl discovered he couldn't move his arms behind him enough to complete the simple action.

Carl tried to ignore the bright orange flowers as he began to button it. "Thanks."

"No problem," John assured him.

Al came around the front of the truck and stopped beside them. "The sun should be coming up soon."

"It's past time to abandon this place," Carl said.

"I have to agree. Riley's gathered some food for us."

Carl slid the last button in and lifted his head to meet Al's gaze. "Sounds good."

They followed Al to the front of the truck where Riley and Rochelle were sitting on the bumper munching on potato chips and gummy orange slices. "Nice breakfast," he commented dryly.

Riley shrugged as she popped a chip in her mouth. "Breakfast of survivors," she retorted. "Who hasn't always wanted to eat straight sugar and salt for breakfast?"

He had to admit she was right, and he really didn't see diabetes or high blood pressure as tops on his list of concerns right now. Besides, the orange slices were nearly impossible to resist as he dug his hand into the bag to grab some. He studied the people around him as they ate in companionable silence. He wouldn't have thought that each one of them, aside from Rochelle, had killed someone over the course of the past few days. He never would have thought that any of them would've been capable of doing and carrying out the things that they had done.

He'd always known that there was far more to any human than met the eye, but as he studied them he wondered how much more each of them would be capable of. How much more each of them would be willing to do to continue to survive and to make sure that the others survived as well.

How much would it change them, what would they eventually become? The changes were already occurring; each one of them was already different than they had been on Monday morning.

A beaten dog could eventually turn on its abuser or some other unsuspecting person. A desensitized, broken human with nothing left to lose and little connections to their old life, was far more dangerous than any dog.

They still had connections to each other, he reminded himself. If those connections were lost though, or threatened, he had a feeling the results would be the same as backing a wounded coyote into a corner. Eventually they were going to lash out; eventually they were going to snap. Even if they weren't backed into a corner there was still only so much a human being could take, only so much they could do before the lines between right and wrong became irrevocably blurred, or erased.

They were all good people, he was certain of it, but even a good person could become bad. He couldn't think of any better circumstances than the ones they were facing for such a thing to happen either. For the first time he feared that he wouldn't lose them to the forces of nature or ravenous humans, but to the darkness that resided within all of them.

Carl popped another orange slice into his mouth as his attention turned toward the door. The first rays of sunlight were beginning to show around the frame, but he knew there was nothing bright about this day. It was simply another battle to be waged.

"We'll make it to Sturbridge today." Riley tossed the last of her breakfast into her mouth, slapped her hands on her knees and rose from the bumper. "I know we will."

"I hope so," John told her.

"We will," she said again. "How are you feeling? Do you want something stronger than aspirin?"

Carl finished his doctor and dentist disapproved breakfast and shook his head. "I'll be fine."

It still felt like someone was trying to set his flesh on fire, but he agreed with Al and didn't want to fall asleep or become slowed down by painkillers. "I'll open the door," Al offered.

Carl stiffly slid into the passenger seat of the car and braced his hand against the dash as he worked to keep his back off of the seat. Al was right, he was going to despise being in a car for the next few days, but it was better than the alternative.

Riley drove the car forward as Al slid the door open. Carl hadn't known what to expect after the events of the night but the calm day beyond the barn seemed out of place after all of the chaos that took place inside. Some tree limbs had broken off due to the wind that continued to blow at a much calmer rate now. That was the only difference he could see though.

"We'll find some answers today," he said softly.

Riley glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. "Answers to what?"

"To what we'll find in Sturbridge."

"So you think we'll make it?"

He wasn't sure what they would be able to accomplish today, but he sensed they would make it into the town. He also sensed that what they would discover there would be the thing that either pushed some of them over the edge, or saved them all. "I think we have too."

"Yes," she whispered fervently. "Yes we do."

CHAPTER 29

Xander,

Sturbridge Mass.

He didn't think he'd ever been so hot in his life. He'd once stepped on a nest of fire ants while visiting Florida. The mass of them had run up his leg, into his shorts and was almost to his groin by them time he'd realized what was going on and bolted into a nearby pool. His leg had looked like he'd been stung by a mass of bees and had felt as if he'd stepped into a fire pit, but the water had offered relief and rid him of the annoying little creatures.

There was no relief now as his leg was continuously bitten by the ants and there was no pool to retreat to. Though he was desperate to make them stop they only bit harder when he moved, even if it was only an inch or two.

Maybe they weren't ants though maybe he'd stepped into a fire pit and had passed out from the pain. How could he step into a fire though, the only time he was ever around fires was when he was camping with his family, but they hadn't gone since he was in middle school. No, he'd also gone camping a few times with some of his friends from college. They'd gone to New Hampshire for a week over the summer and a couple of weekends during the fall and spring semesters.

Am I camping?

He tried to think of the answer to that question, tried to sort through the muddled mess that had become his mind but he was having a difficult time wading through the confusion that mired him.

Bobby and Lee, he remembered them being someplace nearby, but that didn't make any sense if he was at college. They'd all originally planned to go away to school together. However life had intervened to ruin those plans, but as he'd learned life always had a way of intervening. Bobby hadn't been able to get the financial aid he'd needed and had decided to stay at home and work to save money for college. Xander had opted to stay closer to home and his family, while Lee had been determined to see the west coast and live the California life.

Though Lee said it was because he wanted to be a surfer, Xander and Bobby had known it was because Lee actually believed the girls out there walked around in bikinis twenty four seven. Xander had thought Lee would fit into the lifestyle well out there, that it was where he belonged, while he and Bobby were east coast boys with family ties that were more entwined than Lee's had been.

So he couldn't be at a campfire with his college friends, not if Lee and Bobby were here, or had been here…?

His throat felt like there were fire ants in there too. He tried to reach a hand up to it, but something cool pushed his hand back down. Liquid was pressed against his lips. He heard voices, one of which he was certain was Bobby's, but the others…

He tried to shake his head but it wouldn't move. He tried to open his mouth but no words would come out. Hot, he was hot like the Painted Desert on an August day. He'd gone through the Painted Desert when he was sixteen with his family to visit the Grand Canyon. Though it had been beautiful it had been so unbelievably hot that he was pretty sure he'd panted like a dog through most of the days they'd spent out there.

Something cool and refreshing touched his forehead and knocked away the ants crawling over and through his skin.

Through? He thought as he tried to figure it out.

Yes, it really did feel like they were crawling under and through his skin as their legs brushed against him and their pinchers repeatedly sank into his leg. He shuddered and attempted to wipe them away but his arm didn't move. He sighed as he gave up on trying to beat the heat, and ants, away. It wouldn't do him any good anyway.

A woman's voice reached him seconds before the coolness touched against his forehead again. A smile flitted across his mouth. It had to be his mother; he must be sick or something. He must have come home from college, was he even in college? Perhaps he'd imagined that he was in college when in reality he was still in high school, or maybe he'd imagined that too and he would happily be joining his friends for recess once he was feeling well enough to open his eyes and face the world again.

Maybe that was why he could hear Bobby's voice; Bobby had stopped by after school to drop off the homework for Mrs. Carmichael's class. Everyone knew that they couldn't miss even a day of Mrs. Carmichael's assignments or they would never catch up. She was the toughest teacher at the elementary school, but she was also his favorite.

He'd go back to school tomorrow or maybe the next day when he wasn't so hot and tired. He'd go back when his mom said it would be ok for him to go back.

His head was tilted back, he felt something pressed against his lips and then more liquid was spilling into his mouth. The acrid taste caused his tongue to jerk reflexively and he didn't understand why water would taste so awful when it wasn't supposed to have any taste at all. The brief thought of poison flitted across his mind, but his mother would never do anything to hurt him. He tried to spit it out but his mouth was forced closed and his head was kept tilted back.

The awful stuff slid down his throat and he had little choice but to swallow it. He thought he gagged but he couldn't be sure as something was placed to his forehead and he sank back into the blissful world of obscurity.

Bobby's voice tickled at his mind again sometime later; perhaps it was only seconds after the last time he'd heard it, but for all he knew it had been days. The woman spoke again but it wasn't his mom, he realized that now. Maybe it was Carol, but no there was something with Carol… was she away? Had she gone somewhere with the high school?

He'd done a few fieldtrips with the school where they'd spent the night, one to New York City and another to Washington D.C. He knew his parents would send her on the same trips. It was important to his parents that he and Carol saw as much of the world, and experienced as much of history, as they could. No cruises to the Caribbean for them during the summer, but he and Carol had convinced them that Pearl Harbor was a must see five years ago or maybe it was last year?

He couldn't remember and it really didn't seem that important right now when he didn't know where Carol was. He'd have to figure it out soon. At least it didn't feel like fire ants were biting him all over anymore. The heat was still there but it wasn't as blistering and he wondered if perhaps he'd fallen asleep on a beach or something.

Was he in Hawaii now?

No, that made no sense either. Carol would be here with him and he was certain Carol wasn't here. There was a woman but he realized now it wasn't his mother and it wasn't his sister. Carol was somewhere else. The memory niggled at the edges of his mind but it was like trying to catch a firefly. It was there one second but the next it was gone.

He had to figure out where Carol was. He could save her if he could simply remember where she'd gone. He frowned as he mulled over his thoughts. Why would his sister need saving? It was an absurd notion. They lived in a safe suburban town, Carol wasn't a crazy party girl; she had her head screwed on straight and her priorities in order. She enjoyed having a good time, and they'd shared more than a couple of drinks together, but she'd never done drugs and she didn't drink and drive.

He didn't see how she could be in trouble or why he was irrationally convinced that she was.

Lifting his hand he slapped away something tickling at his skin, only to discover that it was sweat trickling down his temple. A hand grabbed hold of his and pulled it tenderly aside. Bobby was speaking again but the words made little sense.

Swallowing heavily, he forced a word out of his parched throat, or at least he thought he did. "Carol?"

No one answered him though and he began to think that perhaps he hadn't spoken aloud and was only imaging that he had. He struggled to stay afloat in the quagmire that had become his mind, but he felt something tugging at him as persistently as the concrete shoes that a mobster attached to a body before throwing it in a river.

Swimming with the fishies, he thought as the water swirled up to take him into its blessed depths once more.

The awful tasting liquid being forced back down his throat pulled him from the bottom of the river. A face swam before him as he tried to blink the blurriness from his eyes but he couldn't bring the wavy features into focus.

"Xander?"

It was Bobby again, but his name was coming from his left and not the person sitting across from him. The feeling of someone driving a nail through his skull forced him to reclose his eyes. The person across from him was a woman but it wasn't Carol and it wasn't his mother.

But who else could it possibly be? The only other woman that had ever meant anything, and been of any significance in his life was Riley, and she hated him. She wouldn't be sitting here with him, trying to make him feel better, unless she'd been the one that made him feel this way to begin with. He wouldn't have put it past her to slip something into his food to teach him a lesson for pulling her hair or teasing her incessantly.

He really wished she would realize that he only teased her because it made him smile every time she stepped off the bus with Carol, and he didn't know how to tell her that. Every time she smiled he did too, especially on those rare occasions when she smiled specifically at him. He was certain that smile could light the Empire State Building.

He didn't let any of the other boys tease her. She may not know about it but he'd actually gotten into a fight with Bill Hoyton for picking on her during lunch the other day. No, not the other day, he'd been eleven when that happened and he was…

He couldn't remember how old he was right now, but he was pretty sure that incident had been awhile ago. That hadn't happened yesterday and Riley had never learned about the altercation with Bill. She would have still been angry and resentful toward him even if he had told her. He desired nothing more than to sit next to her and hold her hand and she wanted nothing more than to kick him in the nuts.

Something else teased the corners of his mind and he saw himself holding her and kissing her by a set of railroad tracks. That most certainly had to have been a dream, like the so many other dreams he'd had about her, but even as he tried to tell himself that it was only a dream he knew that wasn't right. The memory was so solid that he couldn't shake the feel or taste of her. He couldn't shake the warmth that had helped to ease his wounded and ravaged soul as he'd held her. He frowned as he struggled to recall why he was wounded, why he had felt so ravished when she had kissed him.

The more he struggled to bring the memory to the forefront the more it eluded him as other memories fluttered across his mind. He could clearly see Riley and Carol standing in front of him, frowning as they watched his girlfriend streak across the football field while Bobby and Lee grinned and yelled "cheers!" with their bottles of beer.

He didn't think he'd ever seen his sister look more disapproving, but it wasn't Carol or even the naked girl he had focused upon, it was Riley as she shook her head and turned away. He could take Carol's disappointment, he didn't like it and it was definitely something he would try to fix, but the complete disgust and disillusionment in Riley's eyes had robbed him of his breath. He was in college now, he was supposed to be having fun and doing crazy things like dating wild girls, even if it didn't always make him happy.

Her judgment of him had infuriated him as she had stared at him unrelentingly. He'd tried so many times to talk to her only to be rebuffed time and again. His anger with her had worn off as she met his gaze with a look that clearly stated she'd expected better, and yet somehow also managed to convey that she wasn't at all surprised by his choices.

He'd wanted to shout at her, to tell her to stop being so obtuse and just talk to him, just open her eyes and see how he felt about her. How he had always felt about her. He'd opened his mouth to tell her, to make her see, and he'd been drunk enough at the time to finally blurt it out, but Lee had swung his arm around his shoulders and turned him away before he had the chance to speak.

He hadn't been able to tell her that night, but he hadn't continued to date that girl either. Riley had made him angry, but she'd also made him take stock of his life and what he wanted from it.

The answer had simply been what he'd wanted all along, and that was her. She may still be resentful of him, but he wasn't doing anything to improve the situation by bringing girls like that home. He'd hoped to make her jealous; he'd only succeeded in distancing her more.

But he must have made her jealous or succeeded somehow because she had kissed him. She had finally held him and touched him and she'd allowed him to do the same to her. He couldn't focus on anything too clearly right now, but he knew he hadn't imagined that, he knew it wasn't some fever addled delusion that his mind was creating just to make him happy.

It had to have been real. He could almost touch her again almost taste the memory of it on his lips even now.

A bone wracking shiver slid down his spine and though he was hot he was also so unbelievably cold that he thought he might fracture and fall apart if someone hit him. He felt something being draped over him; he heard more voices as whatever had been placed over him was pulled snug around his arms. The chill eased a little but he was still certain he was going to fall apart at any second.

He managed to crack an eyelid but though the room was gloomy the little bit of light that pierced his irises was too much. The pain followed him even after he closed his eyes again. He was certain his skull was going to explode and there was no way to escape that. He tried to sink back into the oblivion of the water but it eluded him as the woman knelt before him and pressed something cool to his forehead.

This woman wasn't Riley either, no matter how badly he wanted it to be, Riley wasn't here. He didn't know where she was, perhaps with Carol. They were always together, it was nearly impossible to separate the two of them. If anyone knew where Carol was it would be Riley. She would know what kind of trouble Carol had gotten into, where she had gone…

Gone!

Carol was gone. She hadn't wandered off somewhere, she hadn't gotten into trouble, and she wasn't on a fieldtrip. She was simply just gone.

The thought pierced through his heart and though he tried to deny it, tried to find those concrete shoes again, there was no shying away from it anymore. He remembered. Carol was gone, his parents were gone and Riley was somewhere else. Riley was out there with Lee, she was lost in a world that was turning against them on an hourly basis.

A world that was going to claim his life too, he was certain of that fact as he tried to fight his way through the fog to take in the room and people around him once more.

It was useless though as the water kept threatening to pull him back under. He imagined this was what it felt like to swim through mud as even his limbs felt weak and hindered. The pounding in his head was beginning to ease but his brain still felt like scrambled eggs as thoughts jumbled and tumbled within his mind. He struggled to recall the details of his life, details of who he was as memories flipped like a picture book through his mind.

That awful taste hit his lips again and his head was tilted back but as the voices spoke he could no longer differentiate one from the other. He wasn't sure if the confusion and insanity was ever going to stop, and he was almost certain that it wouldn't. It seemed that whatever it was that was wrong with him was determined to drive him mad.

He thought he understood the madness of those people now, or at least he thought he understood their need to escape the persistent misery that must plague them. So much so that it caused their mind to snap and kill, or caused them to only be able to perform the simple human functions of eating and drinking. No matter what it was they were eating or drinking.

He wasn't entirely certain he understood much of anything right now though, except for the fact that the fire was easing from his body and the pain in his skull didn't seem as intense. When the water was pressed against his lips this time he swallowed it on his own without being coaxed.

His eyes opened and he blinked against the light filtering into the room around him. He didn't know where he was or what was going on as his eyes shifted to the woman sitting across from him. Something glinted in her hand as she leaned back from him. The answer to who she was completely eluded him as she rose and stepped away from him.

She lifted the thing in her hands before her as she eyed him with the same expression he assumed a rabbit eyed a coyote with. He wasn't entirely certain she was wrong to do so as he struggled to bring his fractured thoughts together.

CHAPTER 30

Al,

Somewhere in Mass.

"What the…"

Rochelle's voice trailed off as she leaned further back in her seat in a seeming attempt to try and blend into the upholstery. Al didn't blame her, he had the same urge but since he was sitting in the passenger seat he was completely exposed to the people gathered before the church. Most were on their knees with their hands folded before them and their heads tilted back to the sky as they sought answers, or forgiveness.

A sick feeling, like he often got when he ate too much ice cream, settled in the pit of his stomach. His mother had been religious; they'd attended church, had said their prayers and their blessings and gone to confession regularly. When he was young, Al had found peace in the church and had enjoyed going, but after his siblings died he'd lost most of his faith in God. His mother had found even more faith in the Lord, and Al had still attended church until he moved out and began to establish his own life. Nellie had nudged him back into the fold, and he'd tried to make her happy by going every Sunday, but he'd never been able to find the same simple joy in it that he'd found before the loss of his siblings.

Now, however, looking at these people he didn't think they were finding joy in their prayers; didn't think they were doing this because they loved God. In fact, he'd be willing to wager that at least half of them only stepped into a church once or twice a year, or didn't go at all. They weren't praying to God for guidance, they were praying for salvation, a salvation he wasn't sure was there.

A man stepped forward as Riley angled the car onto the sidewalk ahead of them. He slapped the roof of the vehicle as he shouted something unintelligible at them. Carl lifted his gun and placed it against the window but the man seemed undeterred as he continued to slap his hand over the moving vehicle and shouted words that Al couldn't make out.

"What does this fruitcake want?" John muttered.

His hands tensed on the steering wheel as he gripped it tighter. Al knew John would run the man over if it became necessary but he was really hoping that it didn't become necessary. Though it was difficult to grasp, Al shifted his gun into his wounded hand and pressed it against the window as the man's hand came down on the hood of the truck.

"It's the end of days!" the man yelled. Rochelle cringed away from the window as the truck continued to creep forward and the man came closer to them. "The apocalypse is upon us!"

Al was looking right into the man's crazed eyes now. His mouth was nothing more than a gaping hole with no teeth and a tongue that looked like it had been sucking on too many lemons. Al didn't know if the man was sick but he didn't think so. He suspected the man's lack of teeth, sunken cheekbones, bulbous nose, and reddened face were due more to alcoholism than what was happening to the other people in this world.

"Earthquakes, pestilence and plague!" Though it hurt, his hand clenched more around his gun as they drove further past the man. Rochelle jumped as the man's hand slammed against the sideboard. "A sky without a sun!"

"This guy didn't have many marbles to begin with and I think he just lost his last one," John said.

"What is he talking about?" Rochelle whispered.

"The signs of the apocalypse," Al reluctantly told her.

"I can stand on the side of the road and rattle off everything that has been happening to us too, but I've chosen not to be a giant pain in the ASS today!" John shouted at the man.

"John…" Al started to warn as the man's hand slammed against the back of the sideboard.

"God has forsaken us!" the man screamed as the truck moved beyond his reach.

Rochelle shuddered as she wrapped her arms around herself and huddled deeper into the seat. "Is he right?" she inquired.

"I don't see any frogs falling from the sky," John responded with a forced smile that looked more like a grimace.

"That's the plagues," Al informed him.

"What?" John asked.

"Frogs are part of the ten plagues of Egypt not the signs of the apocalypse."

"Oh." John maneuvered the truck back onto the road as they left the church and the people behind. "Is he right then?"

Al was silent as he pondered the question. Everything in him screamed no, that the man was completely wrong, but he couldn't shake the chill that was creeping through him. They had no idea what was going on, no idea what had caused the destruction of the world as they knew it. Perhaps it was God or the Gods, perhaps whoever or whatever ruled up above had finally had enough. It wasn't as if the human race had been doing a bang up job of running the place with all the murder, greed, war, abuse and waste they had bestowed upon the planet.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose as his head began to throb. "I don't know," he finally admitted.

"All those things he said, are they the signs of the apocalypse?" John pressed.

Al shook his head as Riley pulled the car to the side of a quiet road. He didn't know why they were stopping but he could use some fresh air. He had the door open before John came to a complete stop and was out of the truck before he shifted it into park. Al stepped away from the truck and tilted his head back as he studied the blood colored sun on the horizon. The sky around it was clear but how long before the clouds rolled back in and black rain began to fall; how long before it disappeared like it had when he'd thought there might have been an eclipse?

"Why did you stop?" John asked as he came around the front of the truck.

"I just needed to stretch my legs and that guy…" Riley's voice trailed off as her gaze drifted toward the sky. "That guy." She shook her head and turned away from them.

Rochelle stepped out beside him. "Was that guy right?"

"I doubt that man has been right about anything in twenty years," Carl told her.

"What are the signs of the apocalypse?" John was like a dog and he wasn't about to let that bone go.

Al finally lowered his head away from the hostile sun that was beating down upon them. His mind tripped back to Sunday school and all those times he'd sat in church. Even when he'd stopped wanting to be there he'd still been listening, but the answer to John's question eluded him right now.

"The four horsemen, war, pestilence, famine and death are the start," Carl said as he stepped away to light a cigarette and study the sky. "Earthquakes will follow, there will be plagues, the sky will turn dark, and the oceans will become blood. There's something about angels and trumpets too but I don't remember all of it."

"How do you even know that?" Riley asked quietly.

Carl shrugged. "I liked to watch all those doomsday shows, though right now I can't exactly remember why."

"Why didn't you mention this earlier?" John demanded.

Carl's eyes were piercing as he focused on John. "Because I was a little too busy trying to survive. Not to mention the fact that just about everything we listed can be caused by a natural disaster. Just because one guy is spouting off about the apocalypse doesn't mean that's what this is. Have you seen a bloody ocean or river…?"

His voice trailed off as he shook his head. Al knew where his thoughts had gone as the annoyance left his face, his eyes became glazed and his mouth went slack. Carl paced away from them as he began to mutter under his breath. The new shirt he was wearing had blood spots on the back of it but the bandages appeared to be holding up well.

"The lava," Riley stated. "That could be considered a river of blood, a different kind of river but still a river."

"It could be," Al agreed as she hit on what Carl had realized.

"There's no war or famine," Rochelle said.

"Yet." John tugged at his hair as he paced away. "But this isn't exactly a friendly environment for humans or plants."

"Pestilence," Riley said as she stared at the homes and trees surrounding them. "Those people, I would definitely consider that some kind of pestilence."

"That's for sure," Carl agreed.

"But honestly, it's the end of the world. No matter if it's the apocalypse, a super volcano a terrorist attack or an alien invasion. It is the end of our world. Nothing will ever be the same for us again," Riley said.

"But if it's the apocalypse aren't we all supposed to die?" John asked.

"We're all going to die anyway, but I plan on fighting to the very last second. So unless some guy rides up on a horse right now there is no point to this conversation. I'm not going to run around trying to find someone that has any idea about geology, or aliens or terrorist attacks. I'm not jumping on the religion bandwagon, I'm not going to cower beneath the sky or hide in a church. I'm not going to sit in front of a church and pray. Praying for forgiveness wouldn't do me any good anymore anyway."

"Riley…"

"It's fine Al," she interrupted. "It is fine. This world is what it is now and until we hear trumpets, or some guy from NASA tells me it was a species from Jupiter, I don't care what caused all of this. All I know is that it's done and the only thing I care about anymore is you guys, making it to Sturbridge, and surviving. So can we just focus on that instead of some toothless idiot spouting off on the side of the road!?"

Al quirked an eyebrow at her tirade but he had to admit that she was right. His skin didn't crawl when he looked back to the sky, but the red sun did cause a hollow pit to open within his belly. "Can we just go?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, yes we can," Carl assured her.

Carl nodded to them before turning and heading back to the car. Al stood for a minute to gather his scattered and chaotic thoughts. "If it's the apocalypse we're all supposed to die, right?" John asked again.

Al turned to face them. Rochelle was sitting in the middle of the truck, her face half hidden in shadow as she stared at him with large, frightened eyes. John was focused upon him as he leaned forward to stare at Al. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I'm sure there are some of us worth saving."

Rochelle and John continued to stare at him before John finally sat back and turned the key over. The truck fired up and Al climbed inside and pulled the door closed. The roads passed by in a blur of burnt out homes, crumpled roadways and scattered people that all became exactly the same after awhile.

"I'll be," John said.

"We made it," Rochelle breathed.

Al turned his attention away from the study of the woods on his right to the windshield. Riley had parked the car next to a sign lying on the side of the road. The word Sturbridge was just barely visible under the leaves and dirt scattered over it. Al's shoulders slumped; he was struck with the overwhelming urge to cry as a single tear slid down Rochelle's face.

"My mom could be here," she whispered.

"If your mom is here kid we're going to find her," John said forcefully.

Rochelle grinned as she wiped the tear away and practically bounced on her seat. Al was having a hard time sitting still too as Riley drove the car past the toppled sign and made a right onto another road. John stayed close on the bumper of the car as they passed by a roving group of humans that didn't look like they would be hunting for food anytime soon, their bellies were badly distended and their faces smeared with blood.

"Awful," Rochelle whispered.

Al refused to think about what had caused them to look that way, he was certain he wouldn't like the answer. Riley pulled the car onto the sidewalk and parked in front of a crumpled house. Even from this angle he could see the slouch of her shoulders and the shake of her head as Carl rested his hand on her shoulder.

"Is this it?" Rochelle whispered. "This can't be it! This can't be where it all ends! We can't have gone through all of that…"

Her voice broke off; she inhaled a shuddery breath as she shook her head. Al took hold of her hand and squeezed it as he stared at the pile of wood that had once been someone's home. "Am I the only one expecting to see feet poking out from underneath that?" John inquired as he leaned against Rochelle and smiled encouragingly at her.

Rochelle smiled back at him tremulously but tears still shimmered in her eyes. "A toppled home doesn't mean the end," Al told her. "We've seen thousands of them recently and we're still going. There is no end here, there is only a beginning. We just have to find the start."

"Like a maze?" she asked.

"Like a maze."

"I'm really good at mazes."

"That is going to come in handy."

Riley and Carl had already climbed out of the car and were heading to the house as Al's hand fell on the door handle. He pushed the door open and stretched his legs. He didn't know how long they'd been driving but his legs and back protested the movement as he walked toward the back of the car and the rubble.

John was right; he did half expect to see a pair of red shoes poking out from under the remains of the asphalt shingles. His hand tightened around his gun as he glanced around the hushed neighborhood. It remained still, almost too still. Those people had found things to feast on but they were still out there, still lurking within the shadows hunting for their next meal.

He kept his eyes focused on the woods as the others inspected the debris for some sign or note that may have been left for them. "They may not have made it here yet," Riley said. "They could still be on their way. They could have run into even more complications than us."

"A very good possibility, but we can't stand out here. We might as well ring the dinner bell or wave the 'come try to rob us' sign," Carl said.

"We have to leave a note."

Carl nodded toward the truck. "There's a pen and some paper in there."

Riley turned toward the truck but the sound of a door opening caused all of them to spin toward the house next door. Riley, Carl and Al had their guns raised as a man stepped onto the porch. "Hey! Whoa!" he shouted and ducked back inside before Al could see him.

Carl shifted and began to move toward the front of the house the man had emerged from. Al hedged toward Rochelle and nudged her back a little. "Stay behind me," he instructed in a low voice.

"Riley!" All of their attention turned toward Riley as the man shouted her name from the shadows of the house. "Riley it's me, it's Bobby!"

Riley's rigid stance melted, her arms fell back to her side. "Bobby?"

"Yeah." He poked his head back outside with his arms raised above it. "It's me."

A small squeal, one that Al never would have associated with the girl he had come to know, escaped Riley as she dropped her gun and bolted forward with the easy grace of an athlete. She never even landed on one of the steps as she leapt over them and onto the porch. Bobby was laughing as he opened his arms and grabbed hold of her in a bear hug that lifted her off the ground.

"My mom…?"

Even as Rochelle started to ask the question Mary Ellen stepped onto the porch. Rochelle started to cry but Mary Ellen didn't seem aware of her yet as her gaze ran over John and Carl before settling on him. A grin lit her face as she lifted her hand and waved to him. Her hand froze; she looked as if she'd seen a ghost as Rochelle stepped out from behind his back.

The noise that escaped her caused Al's heart to lurch as Mary Ellen pushed past Riley and Bobby and staggered down the steps. John moved out of the way as Rochelle ran past him toward her mother. Al felt tears burning his eyes as they met in the middle of the yard. Mary Ellen pulled Rochelle down to the ground with her and held her close as they both sobbed openly and hugged each other tightly.

John wiped a tear away and tilted his head to look at the sky as he turned away. Carl lowered his gun as Al walked past him toward Mary Ellen and the porch. "Lee?" Bobby asked as he took a step back from Riley and looked over at them. His gaze lingered on John and Carl, his forehead furrowed as the bridge above his nose creased.

Riley shook her head as she released him and took a step back. Bobby's face fell and his head bowed as realization sank in. "Xander?" she croaked.

Bobby wiped the tears from his eyes as he focused on her again. Before he had a chance to speak though a hoarse voice sounded from the shadows of the doorway. "Here."

Riley froze for a moment before staggering forward. The other man he remembered from the stadium took an awkward step out of the door. His face was haggard and the color of an eggshell, but even so he enveloped her in a large hug and leaned against the doorframe as he lifted her off the ground. His hands pushed the straggling hair away from her face before he kissed her with a tenderness and desperation that caused Al to look away as he sought to give them some semblance of privacy. Bobby was blushing as he folded his hands behind his back and studied the three of them.

Carl raised an eyebrow and grinned as he elbowed John. "I think you're out of luck."

John scowled at him. "I gave up on that a long time ago."

Al's gaze drifted to the stained bandage wrapped around Xander's leg. He was keeping a fair amount of his weight off of it as he finally broke the kiss with Riley and pulled her against his chest.

For the first time since all of this had started Al felt real hope bloom in his chest. It was awful, this world now, but there was still hope in it and there was still a chance of surviving for all of them. They just had to keep going. They just had to take it one second, one hour, one day at a time, and eventually those days would turn into a lifetime like they always did.

It was still hideous out there, it was still deadly, but as Bobby stepped back to allow them entrance into the house he found that he didn't care. Tomorrow, they could figure out their next step, but for today he was going to take this brief reprieve into normalcy and happiness. He was going to enjoy the glow of Riley's smile and the happy tears that continued to streak down Rochelle and Mary Ellen's faces as they each talked at a million miles an hour.

This was the closest he'd come to happiness in a very long time and as a bottle of whiskey was brought forth he happily shared in a drink with the others as they exchanged stories and details of what they had all endured. Laughter filled the house as they briefly focused on something other than what was waiting for them just outside the front door.

He didn't even know if they would all stay together as Carl and John had never stated what their intentions were after they found Mary Ellen. He didn't think Peter and Josh were going anywhere else, and he hoped the same for Carl and John. The idea of splitting up, of people deciding to go their own way wasn't one that he wanted to contemplate or face, but again it could be decided tomorrow.

The rest of today was for them.

End of Book 2

Book 3: The Forsaken continues weekly at
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About the author

Though my name is not really Erica Stevens, it is a pen name that I chose in memory of two amazing friends lost too soon, I do however live in Mass with my wonderful husband and our fish Radar and puppy Loki. I have a large and crazy family that I fit in well with. I am thankful every day for the love and laughter they have brought to my life. I have always loved to write and am an avid reader.