Flirting With Death

Table of Contents

Prologue –               4

Chapter 1 –               15

Chapter 2 – Funeral              23

Chapter 3 – Go North              31

Chapter 4 – The Cabin              41

Chapter 5 – First Morning              52

Chapter 6 – Town and Dire Warnings              59

Chapter 7 – Friday              67

Chapter 8 – A Disturbing Phone Call               74

Chapter 9 – East Jordan               82

Chapter 10 – Reunion and Preps              94

Chapter 11 – Frank's Message              104

Chapter 12 – Waiting              114

Chapter 13 – Running Gun Fight              130

Chapter 14 – Boat               144

Chapter 15 – Healing & Laying in Supplies              162

Chapter 16 – Who's going zombie hunting?              176

Chapter 17 – Confrontation              189

Chapter 19 – Cipro               205

Chapter 20 – Present Day, Now Happening In Real Time.              218

Epilogue –               230

Copyright © 2014 Boyd Craven III

Flirting with Death

By Boyd Craven

Edited by Katy Light and Cover Design by Adrijus at Rocking Book Covers

All rights reserved.

Prologue –

December 24th, 2015 – Christmas Eve – Remember This Date!

“Jim! Get Sarah and Katherine out of here! We’re going to be overrun any moment now!” Frank screamed at me from the northern window, his rifle booming loud in the confines of the small cabin.

“Where the hell would we go?” I yelled back.

An infected stepped from behind a tree, the mist almost obscuring him.  It wouldn’t pay to let them get close, so I sent a lead greeting its way with the AK, blowing holes through it.

“The root cellar!” he hollered back.

I looked to the girls, not knowing what to think of that; I’d been up here for almost twelve weeks, almost a month longer than the Andersens and, although I’d heard about the root cellar, I’d never seen it or found it in my travels and explorations.  Katherine nodded to me, and Sarah ran over, pulling me by my arm away from the window.  Before she led me off, I closed and latched it, and the three of us met up by the dining table near the center of the cabin’s main room.

“And what will you do?” I asked Frank as he started reloading a banana clip, his eyes still focused outside.

“I’m going to slow them down. Hopefully, I can draw them away from the cabin and circle back around.  Make sure you let me in when I pound on the door.”

“I will…”

“Oh, shit,” Katherine muttered. Sarah let out a surprised scream as the front door shook as dead flesh and bone started pounding on it.

“How do we get out of here?” Sarah wailed.

“Shoot our way out?” Katherine asked her daughter Sarah.

“Here, trade guns a minute, Mom.” I took the shotgun and handed her the AK for a moment. “I’m going to the side window in the bedroom, and hope I can get an angle on them.  If I can thin them out…”

“You’ll have a clear shot to the root cellar,” Frank finished.  “Do it, and keep my girls safe.”

Three fast shots from Frank’s window were all I needed to hurry to the other room.  I peeked out of the shade and saw three of the infected beating on the door, their mouths moving and making some kind of sound I couldn’t hear.  I tried to raise the sash on the window quietly, but something about the movement attracted their attention, and an infected woman turned to investigate. Blood and saliva ran down her chin in rivulets, her skin going saggy, and her oozing eyes yellow.

Not having a ton of time to do anything else, I shoved the shotgun barrel out the window and prayed it had been loaded with buckshot.  I pulled the trigger twice, and the empty shells bounced off the wall and fell onto the bed.  For a moment, the glass had gone all red, and I couldn’t see the effect of the shots until I realized it was blood.  I was ready to throw the sash open more when the gun was almost ripped out of my hands as one of the other infected came to investigate.  The glass was too obscured to see much through the glass, but at least the gun was pointed in the right direction…

The boom of the shotgun surprised me after I pulled the trigger, and I could hear Frank yelling that he was ready.  I pulled the gun back in and hurriedly traded back with Katherine, who stuffed shells into the bottom.  She must have had a couple boxes worth of shells in her hunting vest, and I was thankful we weren’t going to die due to lack of ammunition.  The three of us ran to the doorway just as Frank opened the door, snowflakes swirling though the open air.  He stood stock-still and raised his rifle to shoot something just outside our sight range.

“Hurry, after me!” he urged us.

The girls went first, and I patted my pocket, making sure the keys were still there. Following, I turned the lock on the handle and pulled the door closed behind us.

“This way, Jim,” Katherine panted, taking off in an opposite direction from her husband.  I grabbed Sarah’s hand, and we ran to the back of the shed to the chorus of inhuman moans from the infected floating out of the mist from all around us.

I stumbled in the snow as I tried to corner too fast, and Katherine doubled back.  Sarah grabbed the back of my belt and almost hauled me into the back wall of the shed where a stack of pallets leaned.  The moans grew louder and, as I got my bearings, I heard the brush snap as something rushed through the brushwork towards us.

“Shit!” Sarah yelled as the infected showed its hideous upright corpse.  It must have been a young track star, newly turned.  Not only did he possess quick moving skills, he had a fiery determination to him that was only preceded by his murderous gaze and the smell of feces.

I tried to pull the AK up for a snap shot, but the track-star infected hit me in the chest. We both went down, his teeth snapping as I tried to use the rifle to leverage him up and away from me.  A rock dug painfully into my back, and I prayed that would be all I had to worry about as the infected slowly pushed my rifle down towards my chest, my neck and face getting closer to his gnashing teeth.  An inhuman wail escaped his throat in triumph as he lunged, ever closer.

Sarah stood frozen with indecision. Instead of shooting him, she reversed her rifle and used the butt as a club on the infected’s head, knocking him sideways off of me.  I closed my eyes and mouth when I saw the blow coming, avoiding accidentally getting hit by blood anywhere.  It would be the end of me, the infection spreading by body fluids once the virus mutated...

“Hurry, Mom! There’s more coming,” Sarah pleaded, pushing on the stack of pallets with all of her might.

“Jim, help!” Katherine pleaded urgently.  I got to my feet, put my shoulder down low and shoved with all of my weight.  The entire stack of pallets toppled with the combined strength of the three of us, and revealed a small square metal hatch set into a concrete frame straight down, with a large Krieg padlock holding the door shut.  It looked reminiscent of a bomb shelter door, and I hesitated for a minute when I remembered there was one key left I never found the lock for. I was hurrying to try to pull them out of my pocket when I heard the boom of the shotgun and Sarah’s AK chatter, followed by footsteps running in our direction.  The keys tinkled against each other in my shaking hands, and I missed putting the key in on the first try.  After the second try, I got it in, but turned it the wrong way.  I turned the key to the left and the padlock sprung open.  I pulled it off and opened the hatch as quick as I could.

“Hurry,” I screamed at the Andersen ladies. The promise I gave Frank weighed heavy on my heart, and when I stood to scoop them into the safety of the shelter, my heart almost stopped.  At least fifteen of the zombies moved in on us, a dull gleam of intelligence in their eyes.  Some of them shambled and stumbled like the slow zombies I’d seen in the movies, while others could almost outrun the track star who tackled me.

The girls blanched, and their rifles swung at me.  I raised my hands in surrender, thinking that in the situation, they were going to put me down first and then eat a bullet themselves.  If this was the end, then so be it…

My eyes started to close when I heard Sarah’s rifle go off.  Nothing hurt, so I opened them and saw the track star lying out on his back, his brains making an obscene Rorschach pattern on the leaves of the forest floor.

“Come on!” Sarah screamed as she dropped down the hole feet first, not bothering to use the ladder that was built into the wall.

“Hold this,” Katherine told me, handing me the shotgun before climbing down into the darkness as well.

A moan emitted closer than others and caught my attention. Looking to my left, three of the infected shuffled nearer than I had anticipated.  Swinging the shotgun up to my shoulder, I aimed for a head shot and pulled the trigger gently.  The gun went off, and two of them fell, the buckshot spreading out far and wide.  I aimed for the last of the closest deadheads when a pair of hands grabbed me by the ankles and pulled me off my feet.

I screamed bloody murder before I realized it was Sarah, trying to get me into the hatch.

“Oh, my God, you scared the fuck out of me…” I screamed at her.

“Shut up and get your ass inside!” Sarah yelled back.

I tossed her the shotgun, and she disappeared.  I crawled close to the opening, and three strong hands pulled me by the shirt and hauled me down.  Katherine and Sarah unceremoniously dragged me down into the cellar where I hit hard, the breath knocked out of me. An electric lantern on the floor lit the room, and I could just make out Sarah’s form as she pulled the door shut and shot a deadbolt on the inside of the door.

“The lock, tell me you still have the lock?” she shouted.

My chest heaved while I panted for breath, but my hands patted my vest pocket. Despite the shakes in my fingers, I pulled the lock out and handed it to Sarah. She locked the deadbolt from the inside and shot me a triumphant look.  Even if the zombies could figure out how to work the lever to open the door, we could keep them out.  Personally, I just hoped none of the infected were smart enough to block the door from topside, trapping us inside.  That thought panicked me, and I started looking for the keys.

“Oh, shit!” I cried.

“What?”

“I can’t find the keys.”

“What?”

“The keys to the lock,” I said, frantically checking my pockets.

My breath almost came back to me, my side hurting from my attempts, but I stood and started looking in frantic motions. A glint of shiny metal caught my eye.  The keys had fallen out of my pocket when I hit the dirt floor.  As I tried to reach them, a loud rattle of shots went off overhead, and Frank yelled at us to open the door.  In the excitement, Katherine stepped on my hand. When I screamed, she stepped backwards, kicking they keys to the side wall of the cellar.

“The keys!” I shouted, pointing.

“Hurry, you guys. There’s too many of them.” Frank’s voice, though firm, sounded distressed. More shots rang out quickly above us.

Sarah saved the day. For the first time, she moved with a grace and fluidity that I’d never witnessed before.  No more was she my late girlfriend’s awkward, bitchy, younger sister.  She reached for the keys, dodging her mom’s stumbling form, and got the lock open on the first try.  She undid it and raised the hatch.  Frank tossed two guns down and followed, coming in headfirst.  I stood to support him when he screamed.

In our infected world, we’d learned two kinds of screams: one is either from fear or anguish, and one is from mortal pain.  Frank’s wail was the second kind, and he was almost pulled upwards out of my hands.  I used my weight and tore him out of the grip of whatever had him, while thoughts of infected pieces falling in with him darkly flashed before my mind’s eye.  As soon as his boots cleared the opening, Sarah closed the door.  It pulled back up, but she hung from the handle.  Still, the hatch lifted, and Sarah’s feet came off the ground.  Katherine added her weight, and the hatch closed hard. I snapped the lock shut in place.

“Oh shit,” Frank said from the floor, slowly coming to his feet.

“Oh, Daddy, you’re safe,” Sarah gushed.

“No, none of us are,” Frank said, looking at his ankle.  Teeth marks in the denim and bloody mouth prints marked the material.

“Oh no,” Katherine said, sinking to the ground, her face turning as white as a sheet…

Chapter 1 -

September 9th, 2015

Katherine had been the one to break the bad news to me.  She was Janie’s mother.

Janie was crossing the street when she was struck and killed by a truck whose brakes had gone soft and the driver had lost control.  The autopsy showed she’d been 3 months pregnant.

I can’t even describe what I felt when I got the first set of news, but when I found out that she’d been pregnant, and was planning to come back to me after we’d taken a month apart, it felt like a jackhammer started beating the side of my chest and it became hard to breathe.  I remember falling down in a scream at the lunchroom at work, and had hit my head.

I spent that night in the hospital to make sure the concussion wasn’t serious and, not having any other family, my Team Leader was there to pick me up at discharge and brought me back to my car.

The night before at the factory, I’d dropped my phone, and it wasn’t with me, so I slowly trudged into the front office and knocked on the HR manager’s door.

“Jim, I’m so sorry.” Katy said, rising from behind her desk to give me a quick hug.  Hugging wasn’t a very HR thing to do, but my bleary eyes and tear streaked cheeks were enough to get her emotional reaction.  My shoulders rose and fell as I tried to keep the tears back, but I lost and soon quiet sobs escaped my lips as the smaller woman corralled me towards a soft chair across from her desk.

It was a good thing she did, as I felt dizzy and nauseous all over again, and I knew it had nothing to do with the concussion, just a big jagged hole in my heart where Janie used to be.  I still loved her, and it was something that I could freely admit to myself now.  I sat and sobbed as she rubbed the tops of my shoulders as I tried to get control of myself and, when I raised my eyes up, she had a box of tissues in her hand.  For a moment I thought she was extremely prophetic, but I noticed her own mascara was smeared.

“Thanks boss,” I said humbly. “I uh, I think I need some time…”

“That’s already taken care of, if you want it.  You’ve got 4 weeks’ vacation paid, and Reggie said he can back fill for as long as you need.  He did make me promise to talk you into coming back as early as you can though,” she said with a quick grin.

There’s one thing that’s a constant: the work must go on.  I’d made a career at the electronics factory, and could have been in management by now, but I was happy working the lines, troubleshooting the little intricacies of the machinery until it was finally running perfectly.  I’d get bored, and get re-assigned to a new line, new product, and new teams.  It wasn’t that I was hiding, or running away from any particular group of people, but I found I got bored easily and loved a challenge.  My quiet nature also had a little bit to do about it.

“I don’t know how long I’ll need, but four weeks is a long time, and the Honda contract…” I started to say, but trailed off as she put her hand out to stop my words, rolling her chair around the desk to sit in front of me.  We were knee to knee and she grabbed the side of my face and pulled my gaze into hers.

“Jim, you take as long as you need.  Four weeks is the start. If you need more, I can do some FMLA time as well.  I always hate to see something like this, and I hate that I’ve seen as much of it as I have.”

“This kind of thing happens a lot?” I asked her, slightly confused.

“A couple times a year.  You probably hear about it, somebody across the plant disappears for a while.  Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don’t.  We definitely want you back, but only you will know when you’re ready.”

I swallowed hard, my breath hitching.  Looking the HR boss in the eyes was probably the biggest fear I’d had in my life, usually in anxiety that I did something wrong, but this time all I saw was caring, compassion and understanding.

“I don’t even know what to do.” I said, silent tears running down my cheeks as I absently wiped them away.

“First things first,” she said, rolling back to her desk and pulling out a phone, my phone, to be exact, “you need to call your mother-in-law.  She’s blown this phone up, and I’ve talked to her a couple of times.  She’s worried about you, and wants you to call her as soon as you can.”

“You answered my phone?” I asked, not knowing what to say.

“The name on the phone was ‘Momma’, and your records didn’t have anybody on the emergency contact, so I plugged it in on my charger in here… when that came through…”

“Thank you, Katy.” I said standing and taking the phone.  I studied it for a few seconds, noting that Janie’s mom had called a dozen or more times since last night, and several of Janie’s friends.  I’d call her friends later.  “Can I start with six weeks?  I don’t know what I need to do from here, but Janie’s family is going to need me for this.” I hoped that didn’t sound arrogant.

“I actually already have the FMLA paperwork ready, you just need to sign this.  Do you have direct deposit?”

“I do.”

“Good. Your four weeks’ vacation will be paid out just the same as a normal work week.  Take care of things, and come back to us,” she said with a sad smile.

“You said you’ve dealt with this before, with others?” I asked her.

She chewed on her bottom lip, before nodding.  She started to say something several times then stopped.  She swallowed and took a deep breath before talking again.“I lost my husband four years ago.”

“I’m sorry.” I said lamely, not knowing what else to say.

“Don’t be.  Just know, some days are easier than others.  Go do something you like when you are feeling down, sometimes go do something that you and Janie enjoyed together, to remember her.  Someday, you’ll be ready to move on.”

“Move on?”

“To love someone again.”

“Have you moved on?” I ask her hopefully, knowing in my heart that Janie would be a woman that I would love forever.

“Not yet.  I have my daughter, and I’m young enough that I think…” and this time she was the one crying.

I quickly stood and signed the paperwork she had pulled out and stood before her, until she got the hint and stood herself.  I gave her a hug and buried my face in the side of her neck as we both cried for lost loves.  After a minute, as things were dying down, my phone started ringing.

“Go on, get it,” Katy said, pushing me backwards playfully, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s probably…”

“Momma,” she finished.

I looked down and it was.  I hit answer and begged for her to hold on a second.

“Are we good here?” I asked Katy?

“If you need more than six weeks, call me,” she said before making a shooing gesture. I made my way out of her office towards the front door, the parking lot, and my car.  I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath before talking to Janie’s mother.

Chapter 2 – Funeral

September 16th, 2015

Janie’s parents, Frank and Katherine handled most of the funeral arrangements.  The week leading up to the funeral, I stayed at their house, in Janie’s old bedroom.  I know that sounds counterproductive, but it was the only thing keeping me from falling into a bottle of tequila.  Everything in the room reminded me of Janie, and her family and I were close.  I lost my parents at a young age, and had no siblings.  Once my grandparents passed, I literally was adrift until I met Janie, the wiry firebrand who would consume my life, my heart and my every waking moment.

Frank was definitely the head of household, but Katherine held veto power over everything.  That became apparent rather quickly, but it was done in such a way that Frank had to smile and agree with his wife, even during difficult times like this.  The only pain in the ass I had was Janie’s little sister, Sarah.  I was 24 when I met Janie, and her sister was just about to graduate high school, and had pestered us to no end in our early dating relationship to help her get out of the house, to buy beer, and to make excuses for her to go see a boy her parents didn’t approve of.

I might have been able to muster some anger at Sarah if I hadn’t been in such a funk.  She complained about everything we were doing, and had quietly called me a freak when I had asked to stay in Janie’s room to be close to the family.  She was probably right, but I didn’t care.  Frank and Katherine were the closest thing I had left to family, and I needed them as much as they needed me.  Sarah was willful, strong and didn’t want me there.  I got that, but in my selfishness I didn’t care.

The day before the funeral, I was walking to the kitchen to get a quick sandwich when I heard Frank and Katherine talking softly in the living room.

“I almost wish I wouldn’t have told him,” Katherine said to Frank.

“He isn’t a bother.  They were in love.” Frank’s voice floated up out of the living room, almost unheard over the crackle of the gas log fireplace.

“It isn’t that… not at all.  He just looks so hollowed out, broken.  He doesn’t have anybody else you know.”

“I do Hun, I do.  I have no doubt that he would have made a great son…”

And for a moment they were both sobbing quietly, and I padded into the kitchen as quiet as I could, feeling guilty for overhearing things.  I fixed myself a salami on rye with a slice of mozzarella when Sarah snuck in quietly behind me.

“You,” she said quietly.

“Me?” I asked puzzled.

“You know, some days I want to punch you and others I want to hug you,” she stated flatly.

“Why is that?”

“Would she still be here if you guys hadn’t broken up?” she asked sharply, her eyes red.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.  I’d been wrestling with that question myself all week.

“Why did you guys break up?” she asked, her icy demeanor cracking.

“I don’t know really…” I stammered.

“You do.”

“It isn’t all that easy,” I was waffling, and knew it.

“No, it truly is easy.  Why did you break up?”

“Because I was immature and insecure?” I admitted.

“What?” She looked puzzled.

“Because… Her professor…”

“Doctor hot body?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I heard about him from Samantha.” Samantha was Janie’s best friend, one who’d I’d been avoiding talking to on the phone.

“Janie told me that he asked her out… And I got pissed.  Of course she said no, but after a while, I was paranoid that something was going on,” I admitted, and Sarah just nodded.

“For a while after you guys broke up, Janie considered going out on a date with him, just to shut him up.  She had planned on being the worst date ever so he would leave her alone.”

“Wait, so …?”

“Nothing ever happened.  She would have told me.  Even after she dumped you for being an obsessive ass, she still loved you.”

“I still love her.” I admitted.

“Then prove it.”

“How?”

“Go on living.”

++++++++++++

I almost made it through the funeral without losing control of my emotions but, at the very end, the professor showed up.  Frank caught my glare and recognized the murder in my eyes and both Katherine and Frank took an arm each as I had started to move.  With each arm safely entrapped, I calmed and stared daggers at him.  Would Janie still be alive if he hadn’t tried to date a student?  I imagined dark and murderous thoughts as I glared at him as the coffin was lowered into the ground.  It was finally time, and I walked to a flower arrangement, pulling some red roses and softly tossing them onto the casket.

I walked away before the emotions could overcome me, and I acted out my mental fantasies on the professor.  We rode back to the house in the limo the funeral home provided, and the driver must have been perceptive, because as the tears started streaming down my cheeks, he produced a pint of Cuervo from his inner suit pocked and slipped it to me before my in-laws could make it to the door.  I quickly downed it and nodded thanks.  He sadly gave me the man nod in acknowledgment and slid the privacy compartment up.  With nowhere to stash the bottle, I tucked it into my pocket, mirroring the driver, and slumped in the far seat.  The alcohol hit, and my mind blurred.

I’m not a big drinker, but drinking was in my blood.  My parents died when my dad drove into the side of a bridge while intoxicated.  I lived with my grandparents until I was 17, and then set off on my own.  Being the son of an alcoholic, you’d think I’d have more tolerance, but I didn’t.  I slept for most of the ride back to Janie’s family house.  I awoke as Sarah pulled at the front of my suit.  I looked around blearily, and noticed we were the only ones in the limo.

“Where are your parents?” I asked her slurring slightly.

“Inside.  They didn’t notice, but you need to go in.  How much did you have?”

“Bottle.” I admitted.

“How big a bottle?”

I held my hands six inches apart.

“Lightweight.  Let’s get you in.  Can you walk?” she asked as she pulled me to the door.

“Yeah, I’m just exhausted.”

“I know.”

I wondered about that.  How would she know?  The little brat had done everything she could to make me feel unwelcome, and the disgusted look she was giving me made me feel like shit.  Hell, I realized that this was probably how my dad felt every time he’d come home from the bar after missing a family night, drunk and reeking of cheap liquor.

She practically shoved me into Janie’s bedroom and shut the door.  I looked at the alarm clock next to the bed.  4:30pm. I kicked my shoes off and lay down, pulling a pillow close, trying to mimic the feeling of holding Janie close as I fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter 3 – Go North

September 17th, 2015

My head hurt as I awoke.  It wasn’t a horrible hangover like I expected, more of a sinus headache from crying.  I felt my pillow and confirmed the source.  I had dreamed of Janie all night and had left a wet spot on the pillow.  I was wiping my eyes and blowing my nose when a tentative knock sounded from the closed door.

“Come in,” I answered.

Katherine came in and sat at the foot of the bed.  She noted me wearing yesterday’s clothing and the bed that had been slept on top of.  I hadn’t even unmade it before becoming overcome by exhaustion and grief.

“Rough night?” she asked.

I just nodded.

“You know, this might not be healthy,” she told me, looking around the room.

“I know.  I just needed to survive the week.  I think I’m going to go home today.”

“What’s at home?”

“Nothing really.  I just have to find a way to…”

“You know the baby was yours?” Katherine asked softly.

“I was pretty sure of it.”

“No, it was.  Professor Sage never came near Janie.”

“We were broke up.”

“She was three months pregnant,” she reminded me.  That meant she was pregnant a month before the breakup, and I nodded.

“Ok, bad choice of words, Katherine.” I told her sitting up.

“You would have made a great father,” she said, rubbing my foot a moment before standing up.

“I hope so; at least I want to be better than my father was,” I admitted.

“You would have been the greatest.  That’s why I don’t want to see you moping around, drinking…”

“I actually didn’t have that much…”

“I know, Sarah ratted you out,” she said and I mentally started cursing the brat, “But it’s understandable.  Frank is still in bed nursing a hangover,” she said with a sad smile.

“It won’t be a habit,” I promised.

“Oh Jim, I’m not worried about that, I just want to make sure you aren’t wallowing in a vat of self pity.”

“I kind of am, aren’t I?”

“Yes, yes you are.”

“Sarah seems to be handling everything OK,”  I said, with some internal resentment for Janie’s sister.

“Sarah is just taking it out on you.  She handles things differently, that’s all.”

“Different is right…” I said softly.

It wasn’t meant as a joke, but we both startled ourselves with quiet laughter, before she pulled my hand and I got to my feet.  I could smell food, and for the first time in a week I felt hungry.  Before, eating had been done only to ensure the motor kept turning, but the smell of frying potatoes, eggs and some sort of cheese had my mouth watering.

“Sarah’s cooking.  I promise your food isn’t going to be poisoned.  Come on down, let’s get some food.”

For once, Sarah had nothing to say, her eyes were red, and underneath them was dark and puffy.  She’d had a night of crying as well and, for once, I felt sorry for her.  She stood there, chewing her bottom lip and finished cooking what she declared to be a poor man’s omelet.  Fried potatoes, a dozen eggs, three slices of ham diced, onion and a handful of mozzarella cheese, all scrambled together.  It tasted as good as it smelled.

We ate in silence, and I was surprised when Sarah grabbed us all coffee mugs and poured a big cup for me.

“You OK, Sarah?” I asked, touched by her thoughtfulness.

“I’m better than you look,” she said smartly.

A startled squeak erupted from Katherine and soon we were all laughing, until the tears were running down our cheeks.  Every time we almost got a hold of ourselves, somebody would snicker and we were off again.  A heavy thumping on the stairs had us all turn, and Frank descended the stairs slowly, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose, the other holding onto the railing, his eyes open to slits.

“Is that coffee I smell?” he asked.

Sarah poured him a cup and we sat in silence, just enjoying each other’s company.  I didn’t know how to broach the subject, but it had been on my mind all morning since talking to Katherine.  I needed to get away, from the house and from the memories.  I suddenly wanted to be alone.  After sitting with my thoughts for a while, everyone waiting for Frank to finish breakfast, I finally started to speak.  Before I could open my mouth all the way, Frank asked me a question.

“Do you still like to hunt?” he looked to me.

“Yes sir.” I answered.

“I have to tie some things up at work, but in two or three weeks is hunting season.  Want to join me for a bear hunt, or go after some whitetails?”

“Sure.  I’ve got some personal time off from work.”

“You don’t have to go back right away?” he asked me, incredulously.

“No.  I’ve got about a month’s worth of vacation saved up,” I admitted.

“Well, you can go up whenever you want,” Frank said, digging in his pants pocket.  He pulled out a key chain and disconnected a smaller ring of keys and tossed them to me.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“We have a cabin up near Charlevoix. I mainly use it as a hunting cabin, but it’s got enough room for six people.  It’s a little rustic, but it’s near the lake and the fishing is great…”

I was sold at that point, and took the keys, marveling at their shape, wishing Janie was coming with me.  I stared at the key and wondered if this was the sort of silence I needed.  It would be a nice get away, but I wasn’t sure.

“I appreciate it Frank, but…”

“Come with me a second, would you?” Frank asked me, motioning to the living room.

“Sure.”

We stopped next to the fireplace, and the girls at the table looked at us from across the house.  We should be out of earshot if we were quiet.

“Listen, Jim. I know this hurts, I can’t imagine what you are going through.  If you want to go up there and have some alone time, this would be the perfect place.  There is one neighbor, and he’s a mile away.  It’s a five minute walk to the lake, and I have a rowboat on the water.”

“That sounds great.”

“You have a hunting rifle?” he asked.

“No, just a .22 my grandpa left me.”

“Ahhh, well, I have enough up there in the gun case, pick something out and take it to the shale pit at the end of the road and see what’s comfortable.  I’ll be up there as soon as I can,” he said enthusiastically.  I knew it was forced, but I played along.

“That sounds…”

“Great, I know.  I have to get out of here too,” he admitted, his smile dropping.  “Truthfully, I’d go right now if Katherine and Sarah didn’t need me.”

“I’m sold.  When should I go?” I asked, old memories of camping with my parents surfacing.  I fought the grimace down, trying to keep a happy face on for Frank.  I honestly think he needed it more than me, but I was adrift, purposeless, and his suggestion gave me a small measure of hope.  Hope that I could not cry myself to sleep for a night.

“You have the keys. Just pick up some supplies; the closest town is 20 miles away.  Oh, and fill your gas tank when you get close to East Jordan.”

“How come?” I ask him, curiously.

“Because the cabin is in a very rural area, and most of the town it’s in is seasonal.  It’s either a summer or snowmobiling weather town.  In the fall….” he made a motion with his hand like things were iffy.  “You don’t want to run out of gas there.  Cell phone reception sucks.”

“Is there a land line?”

“Yeah, and a big propane tank.  I just paid the bill, so it should be filled.  Oh, and a pot bellied stove and…”

“It’s still 70 degrees outside, Frank.” I laughed; it was the first time I’d seen Frank gush, and it was a little disarming.

“Not up there, it probably goes down to the 40s at night time.  I have a binder on the bookshelf that outlines what it takes to get the cabin weatherproofed for a long absence, and how to open it up for the season.”

“A binder?” Isn’t that sort of … anal? I thought to myself.

“Yes, in case the girls need to open it without me.  It’s a unique cabin, one that’s been passed down from my great grandparents.  Janie learned to ride her bike there, learned to swim, and met her first boyfriend…” he stammered, before walking to the mantle of the fireplace and looking into the flames.

“Frank… I miss her too.”

Frank surprised me; he turned and roughly hugged me, and patted me on the back before walking back into the kitchen.  I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until I gasped, and I sat on the recliner facing the fireplace, crying once again.  An hour passed, and Katherine joined me in the other chair, handing me a glass of amber liquid with a couple of ice cubes.  I drank deeply, recognizing the flavor of tequila, and leaned back, letting the warmth of the fire and the soft crackling sounds lull my whirling brain into calmness once again.

I cried silently, the tears running down my cheeks unchecked as I remembered both the happy times, and the bitter arguments that led to mine and Janie’s breakup.  Soft hands kneaded my shoulders and soon I fell asleep sitting up, my drink forgotten.

Chapter 4 – The Cabin

September 17th, 2015

I waved them all goodbye the next morning, a hand drawn map and a large travel mug of coffee ready for my trip.  I stopped at my apartment and grabbed some winter boots, a coat, hat, gloves and, almost as an afterthought, my .22.  I knew I couldn’t hunt bear or elk with it, but with so much turmoil in my life, it was a piece of my history.  I also found the two boxes of shells in the bottom of my closet and packed it all up into my Jeep and set out.

The drive wasn’t horrible, but it took me close to five hours to make it.  The directions were pretty straight forward, but I had lifted an eyebrow when Katherine had written “go five driveways north of the intersection in town and turn up it, turn left on the railroad tracks and follow that for ½ mile, turn right on logging trail…”  I had asked her if the cabin was on any sort of road.  Frank and Katherine smiled and shook their heads; Sarah just had given me a disgusted look and left the room.

A moment’s hesitation almost stopped me from turning down the railroad tracks.  I remember asking Frank about it, and he assured me that the train up there always ran at 8am and 10pm.  As long as I wasn’t driving the tracks at that time of day, I would be perfectly safe, plus the shoulder turn off wasn’t very steep if I had to bail the center for whatever reason.  A lifetime’s worth of snowmobilers had learned this trick, but none of them ventured near the cabin.

I finally cursed myself mentally as a coward and turned down the tracks and watched my odometer.  It was ticking softly down, and the wheels on the Jeep were making the frame vibrate as I cradled the tracks, the wooden supports jostling me, the ride bumpy.  When I reached the half mile mark I found the logging trail, just as I had been expecting.  I followed that back and stopped at the ridge to check the compass I had brought along. The trail split off into a dozen abandoned routes.  I found the right trail and put the Jeep back into gear and slowly crawled my way towards the cabin.

I knew I was close before I could see it.  The slight fishy smell of lake water reached my nostrils through the open window and I could see a break in the trees.  I slowed down even further and almost missed the driveway turning to the cabin.  I had to back up and get the Jeep pointed perfectly to fit it between the trees, and drove in slowly.  What I found almost blew me away.

The cabin was an old log cabin.  It could be called majestic if you liked old cabins, but you could see the age of the logs, and the window glass rippled with age.  The logs had been painted a green color, probably to cover and protect the old wood as much as to help the cabin blend in.  The roof looked to be made of moss, and I worried that the inside would be a sodden mess.  I cursed darkly, knowing that I couldn’t make it home with the daylight I had left.  I decided to check it out and grabbed the keys, leaving the Jeep parked in the front.

The front door was solidly built and showed no signs of wear and, before unlocking it, I decided to look in a window.  The inside of the cabin was bare wood, the flooring appearing to be tongue and grooved oak.  I didn’t see any sign of the ceiling falling in, or a mess, just an open space.  I could see three other windows, and caught a glimpse of a shed on the other side of the building.  I took a deep breath and asked myself for the hundredth time that day if this is what I wanted to do, if this was a good idea.  I thought about dealing with the folks at work, shook off my doubts, put the key in the door and walked in.

I automatically reached with my right hand to hit the light switch, my hand scraping against the rough wood, before remembering that there wasn’t any electricity out here.  I pulled out a lighter, and it gave me just enough light to see the oil lantern on a kitchen table across the cabin, right where I was told it was.  Once I got that lit, I found a hook hanging in the middle of the room and hung the lantern so I could take in my surroundings.

Like I saw from the outside, the inside walls were bare wood, perhaps with a clear coat of varnish. A pot bellied stove was in one corner and the kitchen sink on a slab of counter top was in the other.  Instead of a faucet, it had a small metal hand pump.  Across from the kitchen was a built in bookshelf with hundreds of books, and the bookshelf seemed to stop at a door.  I cracked that open and realized I’d just found one of the small bedrooms.  It had two sets of bunks and a dresser under a small window.

To the left of this room was another, also set into the bookshelves and inside it was a queen sized bed and a small night stand.  This must be Katherine and Frank’s room.  I was surprised that I hadn’t seen a dresser, just a big wardrobe against a shadowed corner, and brushed it with my fingers.  It was cold. I realized that this was the gun safe I’d been told about.

The last door on the end was a small bathroom.  Actually, an ‘indoor outhouse’ would be more appropriate.  The only thing in the room was a toilet and a bucket set on the floor in front of it.  The bowl was low, and had an orangish tint to it, and the tank was bone dry.  I could see the rubber was smeared with something shiny and I touched the seal.  It felt greasy and I smelled my finger.  Funny I know, but I did.  It smelled like Vaseline and I quickly wiped it off on a piece of toilet paper I found on the roll hanging off the back door.

Before I explored anything further, I figured I should probably read the binder.  Before I did that, I wanted to get my stuff in the house. I brought in my gear and gun case on the first trip.  The second trip was groceries.  I knew that I was going to be gone a while, so I had emptied my fridge of things that would go bad, and grabbed all the canned and dried foods.  The pile of food that didn’t need refrigeration was pitiful, so I hit the grocery store as Frank and Katherine had recommended, stocking up on mostly dried goods, more because it would be lighter than carrying cans of food.  I could see lots of chili and rice meals in my future, and I was glad I remembered to stock up on spices.

I did buy a bunch of canned chicken and tuna, probably enough for me to stay up here for a while, but I figured I’d go into town sooner or later.  I needed to buy hunting and fishing licenses, and I honestly didn’t know how I’d handle the loneliness.

Once everything was in, and I had a decent pile of groceries on the table to be put away, I noticed the phone next to an old fridge.  I opened the fridge and it was bare except for a six pack of Corona, and the air inside was room temperature.  I laughed.  No electricity must be their idea of a joke.

I picked up the phone to call Frank and Katherine, to tell them I made it in once piece like I promised, but there was no dial tone.  I pulled my cell out of my pocket and tried to call them, and couldn’t get a signal.  I sighed and went outside, holding my phone up to the sky, walking around the cabin searching for a signal.  I got nothing, but towards the back of the cabin, I found a lean-to with firewood stacked up a quarter way underneath and two sheds, not just the one I saw from inside.  They were painted green as well, and appeared to be the only metal structures around here.  Probably some of those kit sheds you can buy from a big box store.

I walked to one of them and held my phone against the metal side hoping for a signal, but still got nothing.  I decided I might as well go get the licenses.  I checked the time on my cell phone and realized I still had hours left until the 10pm train, so I locked the cabin, got into the Jeep and took the twenty minute drive into town.  With no electricity up at the cabin, things sure would be interesting.

+++++++++++

The grocery store in town also doubled as a bait and tackle shop and I was able to get everything there that I needed.  I debated picking up a bottle of liquid courage, but in the end I didn’t.  Walking out of the store, I looked across the street, remembering I was supposed to fill my tanks. Suddenly, I was startled by my cell phone making a symphony of sounds.  Apparently I had gotten a signal, so I sat in one spot for a moment until the smart phone quit going crazy.  I saw I had missed a call from Janie’s parents and, instead of listening to the voice mail, I called them back.

They just wanted to make sure I had made it up OK, and had found the cabin.  I told them yes I did and I had run into town to finish buying supplies.

“Make sure get your licenses, you don’t want the possum sheriff to pop you,” Frank said with a chuckle.

“What’s a possum sheriff?” I asked.

“Fish and Game, the DNR.”

“I just took care of that.”

“Great.  Two things to remember: never leave a lantern lit when you leave or go to sleep, and everything about the property is outlined in the binder.”

The lantern, I had forgotten to turn off the lantern!

“I sort of forgot about the lantern,” I admitted, starting to run towards the jeep.

“Don’t let it burn dry.  The wick could burn up and cause a fire,” Frank told me, “but as long as you haven’t been gone long today, you are probably safe.  I filled everything up before I left.

“Ok, it looked full when I left.”

“You’re probably safe.  Just don’t make a habit out of it.”

“I won’t.” I replied.

“Don’t forget about the binder…”

“I won’t,” I repeated, “Hey, the land line is out at the cabin.”

“Probably a tree limb knocked it loose.  I’ll check it out when I get up there…”

And the rest of the conversation was a list of reminders; to get gasoline, where the chainsaw and splitting axe were, and a few more reminders about the binder.  My curiosity was piqued and, for the first time since Janie’s death, I wanted something to do.  Whatever was in the binder was obviously important to Frank.  I’d resigned myself to read it through and through.  I even thought I’d have a can of tuna fish on crackers for dinner.  Quick and easy.  The drive back took no time at all, and soon I was sitting at the table, the lantern giving off a soft glow to read the binder by.

I almost forgot about dinner as dusk fell.  The binder not only explained that the orangish liquid in the toilet was a biodegradable anti-freeze, but the theory on how the small septic system worked.  There were tips in there for how to prime the hand pump if it didn’t draw water, and how to put the stove pipe back on and make sure no squirrel or birds had made nests in the upper part of the pipe before firing it up for the first time of the year.  It even had diagrams on a solar setup that hadn’t been installed, but was in boxes in the ‘root cellar’.

That caught my eye for a moment, but I didn’t see anywhere to get to one, so I figured it was under the cabin somewhere.   I looked out the window and decided that not much sunlight could be had around the cabin unless we dropped a ton of trees someday, so I skipped over that.  Looking out, I noticed it was getting dark, and decided to finish tidying up the cabin and putting away all the groceries I had stacked around the small kitchen.

Deciding to go along with the humor of earlier, I put all my canned meat in the fridge, for lack of a better place.

Chapter 5 – First Morning

September 18th, 2015

I remember finding my way into the room with the bunks.  I tossed my two bags of clothes on the top bunk and pulled the rough wool blanket over the top of me.  I had a moment’s anxiety when I heard an owl sound off from somewhere close by, not realizing what it was at first, but soon the sounds of the night lulled me to sleep.

I dreamed of Janie, of our last moments spent face to face.  My accusations, which were not quite spoken, but were there between us.  The jealousy, the fact I didn’t trust her, didn’t trust the Professor.  How she would have to see him every day.  That hurt; even in my dream that hurt bad.  Then things morphed, only the way a nightmare can and I was sitting with Janie at the kitchen table of the cabin.  She was silhouetted with a soft glow of morning sun as she breast fed little Jim, a smile on her lips.  She looked up at me, noticing me smiling for the first time.

“Don’t worry Jim, he isn’t yours…”

I awoke with a start, the morning sunlight coming through the window, lighting up the other side of the room.  Apparently I picked the right bed to sleep on, as the rest of the room was still relatively dark.  I stretched and sat up, rubbing away the tears on my face.  The dream had been too real, and  I didn’t have to be a psychologist to understand what it meant.  It was a guilt dream; partly survivor’s guilt, partly due to my insecurity of the terms of our breakup.  I knew I was going to have to get over this sooner or later, but that didn’t make my chest loosen up any. I’d have to distract myself somehow, and my stomach was rumbling.

I did my morning ritual, one that hadn’t changed during my adult life, and got ready for the day.  I decided some yellow perch with fried potatoes sounded like a good breakfast and, looking out the window, it didn’t seem too late to get started.  I remember something in the binder about fishing, so I sat at the table a moment, letting the soft rays of sun gently caress my skin as they came in the window by the dining table.

I flipped to a hand drawn table of contents and found what I remembered.  It was a basic inventory list in the first shed, and one of the items listed was fishing gear.  I looked at the key ring Frank had given me, and decided to go look and see what sort of trouble I could get myself into.  Alone in this part of the woods, the silence was actually comforting and I smiled inwardly.  This was probably good for me after all.

The shed lock came open easily and the fishing gear was pretty easy to find.  I opened one tackle box, saw it had a little bit of everything, so I took that, a floating live trap to hold the fish, and a nice Ugly Stick with a decent open faced reel.  I was planning on using bobbers and a basic hook setup, but I had no live bait.  I pretty much ignored the stack of white buckets that took up the majority of the space, figuring that Frank had found an animal- and bug-proof way of storing his valuables when they weren't here.  I decided I’d work something out, and set off on the trail that led to the lake.  I knew I was going the right way, because I could see the opening in the trees ahead and my nose told me the water was getting close.

I started down a small hill and the sight below me made my breath hitch for a moment.  The trail stopped about 100 feet from the water, and wild flowers grew alongside the bank.  Random game trails led to and from the water, but I saw nothing that looked like any other people were around, except for the dock that Frank had told me about.  His rowboat was pulled up to the bank about twenty feet from the water and it was upside down as promised.  I considered the boat a moment, but instead walked to the edge of the dock and dropped my gear next to a log.

The wood of the log was smooth on top and it was probably worn down by generations of guys sitting on it, before the dock itself was built.  I suppose that meant that the fishing would be good, so I walked out onto the dock and looked around the water.  I was surprised by the lack of weeds around the dock, only a few lily pads close to the shoreline.  Twenty feet out at the end of the dock, I could barely see the bottom of the lake.  It looked to be at least ten feet deep and I could see long shapes cruising the edge of what looked like a drop off.

Perfect!  I couldn’t make out if those were bass, but I suspected they were some variety of pike judging by the size. I grabbed a spinner instead of the bobber and hook that had been originally planned. The bug had hit, and a good fight on the spinning reel would make my morning complete.  I was excited while I tied on a swivel and snapped on a black and yellow striped Mepps and gave it a practice cast.

I waited a few seconds before starting my return.  I wasn’t expecting the strike, but the rod bent in half and, before I could officially set the hook, the reel started peeling off line as the drag started its loud job.  I pulled the rod back and was surprised by the weight that was threatening to pull me off balance.  Knowing I only had eight or twelve pound test, I sat down at the end of the dock and decided to give the fish a little headway before I tried to tease it back in to shore.

Every time I would get the fish within twenty feet or so from the end of the dock, the reel would spin out line like crazy.  The weight on the top of the pole suggested either something big and heavy, or a fish that fought like hell, like a pike or some sort of catfish.  After about ten minutes of working the rod, I finally felt the fish tire.  It wasn’t pulling as hard and I regretted not taking the landing net I saw on the pegboard inside the shed.  I decided to just play this cool and not try to muscle the fish in the rest of the way.

It broke the surface for a moment, and a rainbow of colors accompanied the splash of water.  I got a good glimpse of its tail before it rolled and tried to make a run again, but the fish was spent.  Reeling quickly, not putting a ton of tension to the line, I was able to get the fish close to the dock.  I put the pole along my side and laid down flat, taking the blue tinged line by hand and slowly pulling the fish close.  I shot my free hand out and pulled a Laker out by the jaw.  I was awed by the color and beauty of the fish.  I’d never caught a trout in Fall, but I had evidence right here, and he was a big boy.

Once I had poked the fish in the head with the fillet knife from the tackle box, I packed up the gear and started walking back to the cabin.  I think my smile not only touched my eyes, I was wishing I had witnesses to see this epic fish.  I decided to take a picture with my cell phone, using my forearm as a sizing comparison.  When I got back to the cabin, I dropped the fish and knife by the door and took the rest of the equipment to get locked back up.  One thing I didn’t want to do was get lazy and give Frank a reason to get pissed at me.

+++++++++++++++++

The rest of the morning went by in a flash. My cell phone was dead, so I cleaned the fish and added a can of chili in a separate pot on low for lunch later on.  I fried one fillet with the potatoes, but I felt the humble spud didn’t do the fish justice.  The second fillet I put in a zip lock baggie and put it in a cooler that I filled with water from the well pump.  It was cold, but I knew it wouldn’t stay that way.  That’s why I decided to go to town.

I needed ice, and to use my Jeep to charge my phone.  Without my phone, I didn’t know what time it was, didn’t know when to wake up and, if I was up here long enough, I would forget what day it was.  This wasn’t acceptable to me and, even though I had to fill the bucket in the bathroom with water to flush the toilet, I wasn’t ready to go all off-grid just yet.  Besides, I was already lonely for human voices.

Chapter 6 – Town and Dire Warnings

September 18th, 2015

As soon as I could, I plugged my cell phone in.  I didn’t dare turn it on once I got into town, as it was still really low so I left it plugged in and went back into the grocery store.  One thing I remembered was how inexpensive the previous day’s shopping was.  Dried foods cost about a third of the price of pre-packaged or canned foods, plus it didn't need refrigerating.  Since I didn’t want to lug a ton of weight, space was an issue and all I had was time, I decided to do some more shopping and do about the same kind of shopping I did yesterday.

The store was oddly packed, and folks were acting nervous or worried.  I chalked it up to being a bad day or something, and went about my shopping.  In one aisle, I noticed all the cases of bottled water were completely gone, while there were a few jugs of gallon sizes.  Two women were arguing over a case of water at the end of the aisle and words became harsh, the inner bitch coming out in both of their voices, but they were still too far away for me to make out specific words.

Not wanting my eyes scratched out, I headed back down to the baking aisle.  There I stocked up on more rice, beans, and two 25lb bags of flour and some brown sugar.  If nothing else, I could leave the cabin stocked well for Frank, in thanks for helping me get away. And that’s when it hit me.  I hadn’t thought of Janie much yet today.  My heart twinged, but part of me also recognized that I would always hurt for her; I would always feel that loss.  I promised myself to take Sarah’s advice and keep on living.  I still had no clue how to go about that though.

As I was getting ready to checkout, I ran across the two ladies who had been arguing over the water earlier.  They were still bitching back and forth, but I kept hearing the words “Ebola… pandemic… virus… vaccine…”.  My blood ran cold and I left my cart for a second to go to the front of the store to grab a newspaper.  The headlines scared the hell out of me.

27 confirmed deaths and 397 confirmed cases of Ebola hit Los Angeles.  WHO and CDC recommending massive quarantine, state government threatening  Law.

I remembered hearing about the cases from Africa and the miracle ‘cure’ or ‘vaccine’ that one of the big pharmaceutical companies had been spouting off about on in the news lately.  I hurried back to my cart as somebody was looking inside it and looking side to side.  They were going to steal the groceries I just shopped for? Really?

“Hey, thanks for looking after my cart.” I told the lady, getting a closer look at her.

“Uh, yeah, no problem.  Hey, are you going to eat those…?” Her hand darted into the cart and without thinking I playfully swatted it out of the way.  She gave me a hurt look.

“What is going on here?” I asked her, noting that she was a slender mid thirties woman with chestnut hair and curves filling out all the right places.

In another life, I would have found her darkly attractive but the frightened look in her eyes canceled all of that and she looked like she was almost ready to wet her pants.

“The Ebola virus has everyone freaked out Why did you hit me?”

“I didn’t hit you, I swatted your hand.  Do your own shopping!” I reprimanded her playfully and for the first time she smiled.

“I think I will.  Listen, if I were you, I’d fill up your gas tanks and lay low for a while.” She murmured.

I glanced at the newspaper and wondered if she was correct.  The entire front page was dedicated to the outbreak.  Knowing my Jeep was already full, I pondered the four gas tanks that had been in the automotive section on the bottom shelf.  I circled back around and left the pretty lady near the checkout lines to get the tanks.

Only two were left, and I grabbed both and headed back up front.  As I neared I could hear an argument.  The pretty lady was bitching at the cashier that she had plenty of money on her card, that her machine was probably broken.  I had to wince in sympathy.  The cashier said something low and pointed to the ATM and her customer stomped off.  Since that was the only line open, I quickly put everything up on the counter, thankful I still had some cash left.

“See, I told you it worked!” The woman shouted from over near the ATM machine.

I had to get out of here, and was only too happy to get my change and head out to my Jeep to load everything up.  I hit the gas station across the street without any problems and while I was filling the two five gallon tanks, I figured I might as well call Frank and check in.

“Hey Jim, you doing OK?”

“Yeah Frank, how are you guys doing?”

“Day by day.  Katherine is still waking up with nightmares, and Sarah is still acting like…”

“A pain in the ass?” I cut in.

“Sarah.” He finished his thought with a laugh.

“I’ll bet.  Hey, the fishing was something fantastic this morning.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you get?”

“A Laker, on my first cast!” I told him proudly.

“Nobody fishes that lake; I’m surprised they didn’t jump into your hand the minute you walked out onto the dock.”

I smiled at the thought, wondering if the newspaper and the nervous tone of the grocery store was just an isolated incident up here.  Too many folks drinking the secret sauce?

“Hey, something interesting happened at the grocery store, folks are freaked out about an Ebola outbreak…”

“They were, well some probably still are, but the CDC came on the news today announcing a new vaccine and treatment.  Apparently it’s been going through the testing phases with the FDA and they’ve been able to treat about half of the folks who are in the early stages of Ebola.”

“Wow.  A lot has happened in the last couple of days,” I mused.

“It’s been happening for the last week and a half, Jim.  You were just… busy,” Frank said softly, and I appreciated the fact he said it without poking fun at me.

I already felt guilty enough for not thinking of Janie as much this morning while I kept myself preoccupied, but wasn’t that the point? For me to get my brain going on other things so my psyche could heal?

“Yeah, yeah I was.  It was just kind of creepy in the store though.”

“People panic easily.  Phone at the cabin still out?”

“I think so; I came into town so I could have an excuse to charge my phone up a bit.”

“Makes sense.  Hey, under the queen sized mattress is a flat Rubbermaid tote.  I think I have one of those low wattage solar chargers for keeping batteries topped off.  I think I have a cell phone adapter for it.  You’re welcome to use it if you think it’d help.”

“Sounds great, save a little bit of gas,” I joked.

“Listen Jim, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to lay low for a few days up there.  I know you probably won’t have any reception, but how about this coming Friday, a week from now, you sneak back towards town until you get a signal and call me?”

“Sneak into town?”

“Not in town, towards it, just until you get a signal.”

“That sounds…”

“Paranoid, I know.  If things get ugly, the cabin is where we all planned to ‘Bug Out’ to.  I hope this vaccine works the way they say it does though.”

“Hey, why so doom and gloom?”

“I watched one too many Discovery Channel shows I guess.”

Then we were laughing together on the phone.  I could hear a quiet murmur in the background and could barely make out Katherine’s voice, questioning Frank.

“Ok Jim, I have to go.  Talk to you in a week’s time if I don't see you first.”

“Ok, see ya.” I hung up the phone and put the gas tanks in the back of the Jeep and started the trek home, wondering if I should read the newspaper I bought, or if I should just burn it.

If Frank wasn’t worried about anything, should I be?

Chapter 7 – Friday

September 25th, 2015

I awoke with a start; my night time had been dreamless for once.   I took that as a good sign and went to the doorway where I had already placed the fishing rod and tackle box. It seemed silly to take it back to the shed every day when I had a routine down now.  I’d get up, catch something for breakfast, pan fry it, do my dishes and go hiking in the woods.  I wasn’t sure who owned the land surrounding the cabin, and for all I knew it could be Frank and Katherine’s, but it sure was beautiful.

The lake sat low between two ridges, so the mist was always thick in the morning, burning off by 10am or so as the sun’s rays broke through the dense foliage.  On another set of small hills about fifteen minutes to the west of the cabin was a grouping of oak trees.  It was here that I would sit in solitude and watch the mist burn off the morning air.  As far as metaphors went, the mist was a good one, and it had been helping me.

In the early morning, everything was hazy, obscured and hard to make out, just like my emotions regarding Janie.  Somewhere in the mist, I had to forgive myself; I had to mourn for the loss of a baby I never got to meet.  As the sun rose, it shone light into the darkest parts of the forest, and things became clear.  I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but for three mornings in a row, I’d been making a go at it.  I could see the problem, but that didn’t mean that with understanding that the pain went away, it just helped make it easier to bear.

When the sun had finally burned away the mist, I was about to get up when a group of deer bounded between the high spots on the hill, picking their way between the trees intently until they were standing underneath the limbs of one of the larger oak trees.  They started browsing through the fallen nuts and I had to marvel for a while.

Apparently these guys had no fear of humans, as I was sitting not twenty feet away and was sure my scent had probably lingered on in the area from three days worth of pondering. They didn’t even startle away when I stood and made my way back to the cabin.

Time was up, and it was time to call Frank.  If I was going into town, I might as well be ready for some unpleasantness.  Getting back into the cabin, I heated a pot of water for a hobo bath and walked into Frank’s bedroom.  The gun safe was still there but, so far, I had resisted the urge to check out his guns.  I know the urge was a guy thing, but it couldn’t be helped.  Now, there was a perfectly plausible excuse and the key chain Frank gave me had a couple more keys on it that I hadn't used.  Figuring one of them went to the double locks on the safe, I tried them.

The second set of keys unlatched the locks, and I marveled at the size of the safe.  It was almost 4’ wide by 6’ tall, much larger than the little one my grandpa had kept.  Turning the handle, I was able to pull the heavy door open.  I was a little bit surprised to notice that hunting rifles weren’t in abundance here. What looked like half a dozen AKs, four shotguns, two long guns with scopes and big mags and, somehow hanging off the inner door, a small collection of handguns with their respective holsters.  Ammo was stacked along one side and I marveled at the amount, knowing that in reality, it wasn’t that much and the lion share of it was the 7.62x39 that the AKs ate.

“Damn.” I muttered to myself.  I was looking for a handgun, and the only one that looked like something I could use was an old school revolver.

What looked like Glocks were hanging there, but I’d never shot one.  A revolver was something I knew though, and I pulled a Dirty Hairy look alike out of the holster and spun the cylinder.  I could see it wasn’t loaded and started looking for ammo.  I found a box, but I also found two speed loaders already set up and put those into the pocket of my sweater, and a handful of cartridges into my pants pocket.  There was a tooled leather holster, which I put on my belt before taking the pistol and feeding the fat .44 Magnum cartridges in.

I couldn't help it; I walked into the half bath and closed the door, looking at my reflection in the mirror on the backside of the door.  I looked like an absolute goofball.  I was a little on the thin side, and my clothing choices made me look skeletal.  My blue jeans and bulky hooded sweatshirt almost made me look like I was swimming in my clothes.  I know I had been losing weight in the last couple of weeks, but that wasn't a huge worry for me; it was how the pistol looked that caught my attention.  It looked normal on my hip.  I shucked my clothing off in a corner and went to get the pot so I could wash up off the stove.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

I was driving down the railroad tracks when I noticed the Turkey Buzzards circling in the distance.  It wasn't unusual to see the birds, and it was usually a deer killed by a car that brought them out over the roadway, but never in this amount.  They didn't look like they were over flying the town, which was my first worry, but seeing that many was unnerving.  I slowed the Jeep and, although the fall was cool, I rolled down my window so I could listen.  Every nerve ending was on high alert, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention.

My hearing returned slightly as I got off the railroad tracks, the sound of the tires loud enough to make hearing other things difficult.  I turned off the Jeep a moment and listened.  I heard silence, which in of itself wasn't that big of a deal, but I hadn't been up there long enough to know what was normal and, other than driving through town and coming back once, I had no clue what to expect.  I looked at my phone, and didn't have signal.  I had turned it off the last time I was using it, so it remained charged and I cradled it by my ear as I drove slowly, hoping to get signal before I got close to people.

The last time I'd been in town, I was uncomfortable by the tone, the worry, about the virus.  People had been acting strange in the general store, but after talking to Frank I hadn't been concerned, it seemed to just be people reacting to 'what ifs'.  The buzzards though, that worried me.  They usually indicated something dead.  Two or three would circle a carcass until it was either ripe enough, or safe enough for them to feast upon.  There must have been over a hundred floating on the thermals, so there must be a lot of corpses.  A cold trickle of sweat traveled down my spine and I mentally shuddered as I creeped along the road.

There was no point in delaying any longer; I started rolling faster, and just as I was about to cross the hill that overlooked town, my cell phone started dinging, as a flood of text messages came through.  I slammed on the brakes and pulled to the side of the road.  Most of them were from Frank, and a couple were from Sarah.  My heart dropped as I started reading them.  Things were bad. Really bad.

Chapter 8 – A Disturbing Phone Call

September 25th, 2015

The virus had spread, and now something else was going on.  Frank was going into what he called ‘lock down’ and would be turning his phone on in what I could tell would be about ten minutes.  This was all conveyed in the first message, then periodic updates like “we're fine, see you soon.”  The messages from Sarah chilled me to the bone.

“Ebola killed thousands, maybe millions” was one, another read “CDC pushing through Ebola vaccine, maybe there's hope?” and one of the final ones that caught my attention was “zombies walk the earth; pray the three of us can join you soon.”  My hands were shaking as I tried to go back to the main screen on my Galaxy, to fumble and try to find Frank’s phone number. I wasn't going to wait to try him in the eight minutes I had left until his phone came back on.

Those buzzards had me freaked out, and if the Andersens were playing some elaborate prank on me, fine, they won. I was starting to get scared.  Really scared. I pulled the .44 out of the holster and laid it across my lap, the cold weight of the gun comforting on my legs.  I was about to hit send when somebody started rapping on the glass of the passenger window.  I screamed and fumbled for the gun, as I kept my hand on the phone.

A little boy was knocking, probably twelve or thirteen years old.  I blew out a breath and dropped the pistol on the passenger seat and looked him over.  He was a little tow-head, blonde hair, and blue eyes with a Justin Bieber type haircut that was all the rage.

“Mister, do you know what's going on?” the boy asked loudly, his voice muffled by the glass of the window.

“No, do you?”

“No, you are the first car I've seen all day.  My mom didn't come home from town last night, she was just going for groceries.”

“What's the TV saying?” I asked him, hoping we both were hearing everything right, and smiling when I realized the passenger side door was locked.

I had no idea if he was infected with Ebola or not - and zombies?  Sarah was enough of a bitch to be messing with me, but I doubt Frank was. I hoped he wasn't anyways.

“We don't have a TV; Mom says that it rots the brain.  You really don't know what's going on?”

“Nothing that makes sense.  I'm going to head into town.  What's your mom's name?  I can ask about her if you want.”

“Claire Woods,” he shouted back, looking down.

I think he was considering pulling on the door handle, joining me in the cab.  I don't know if I'd like that or not, but with everything going from good to ultra creepy in the space of a week, I decided to get on the gas.

“Kid, I'm gonna roll, I'll stop by here on my way back if I have any news.”

“Oh... Ok.”

I stomped on the gas, my nerves shot.  The boy jumped back in surprise, but waved anyways.  I hit send on the cell phone and it started ringing immediately.  Frank picked up on the second ring and he sounded almost amused.

“Jim, how are you doing?”

“I'm OK, listen, I got your messages and I'm driving towards town...”

“Don't go there.  Stop somewhere safe.”

“Well, I'm about a mile outside of town...”

“Make sure your doors are locked, and if anybody approaches, get out of there.”

“I will Frank.  I will.  Now, what the hell is going on?  Sarah's text said something about zombies?”

“Oh god, she shouldn't have said that.  That isn't even close.”

“Fill me in; I'm kind of in a mood here, man.”

“It's worse, much worse. The Ebola Virus, well the CDC didn't have things controlled like they thought, and it had a couple more days to fester than anybody knew of.”

“What do you mean?” I asked him.

“I thought this started Monday, it was probably the previous Friday, because by Tuesday they were already starting to put out small batches of an Ebola Vaccine.  That's when things went to shit in a big way.”

“Holy...”

“Yeah.”

“How bad is it?”

“The news is just running on a loop down here, but they declared Martial Law on Tuesday.  Estimates are a 90% rate of death for those infected.  The Ebola was weaponized Jim, somebody did this to us.”

“What?”

“This was done to us on purpose and the vaccine...” Franks voice trailed off.  “It wasn't a good thing; it was rushed, or sabotaged.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sarah wasn't messing around, the infected are everywhere, and they aren't the ones with Ebola.”

“Infected?”

“We have a lot to talk about, Jim.  Try to avoid going to town.  It's probably spread that far already.”

“I don't know.  This is a lot to take in.”

“You're still not there are you?”

“No, I'm parked, about a mile away.”

“Good.  I mean, you have plenty of stuff up there in the cabin, right?”

“For a while, yeah.  How about you and Katherine?  You two doing OK?”

“Yeah, we are holed up in the basement.  I sort of built a panic room; Sarah's wearing out the DVDs and sleeping a ton, and Kath is just... The hospital is trying to get her to come back, even though she's been retired for years.  I won't let her...”

“I don't think that's a good idea considering...” I told him.

“If you do go into town for anything...?” Frank asked.

“Yeah?”

“Tylenol or ibuprofen and any antibiotics you can get your hands on.”

“You need a prescription for antibiotics, Frank.”

“I know, but if things are bad...”

I missed the rest of what he was saying as a movement on the drivers' side caught my eye.  I looked on in horror as a group of people had quietly moved within sight range of the Jeep out of the woods, approaching faster than I could believe.  Their faces were gore streaked, their movements jerky.  A woman who was running in front of the group fell, and the few behind them fell on her, ripping her flesh in long strips.  I almost lost the contents of my stomach as they stuffed strips of torn flesh into their mouths, her shrieks chilling my bones.  I panicked and hit the gas, uttering curses.

I had no room to turn around and, when I looked in my rear view mirror, another had moved in behind me, the people almost sexless as the gore and dirt on their clothing, skin and hair obscured most of them.  The stench hit me a second later and, realizing I couldn't turn around or go back yet, I went forward, into town. No matter how bad the smell of their unwashed bodies were, I kept the windows rolled up, making sure all the doors were locked and desperately looking for somewhere that I could turn around.  Within seconds, I could see shambling forms on both sides of the streets.

Chapter 9 – East Jordan

September 25th, 2015

I heard Frank's voice finally, and found the cell phone I had dropped, and heard whimpering.  After a moment, I realized it was myself and tried to answer him, my voice shaking.

“Jim, are you OK?”

“Yes, my god, it's all true.  Holy shit Frank, they are zombies.”

“They have some form of mutated virus from the vaccine,” he told me softly, almost correcting me like my third grade teacher.

“I saw a woman eaten!”

“I hear wind, are you driving?”

“Yes, I was surrounded.  I'm heading towards town, looking for somewhere to turn around.”

“Shit, let me think.”

“I don't have time Frank...”

“You armed?”

“I have my arms.” I replied, confused, my brain shutting down in the terror.

“No, guns. You have a gun?”

“Your .44”

“Shit, that's not enough.  Get out of there as soon as you can.  You still on 66?” he asked, referring to the main road running out of town towards the cabin.

“Yeah.”

“Shit.  I hate to ask, but there's a Rite Aid in town, and it's got a big parking lot...”

“What are you asking me, Frank?”

“Antibiotics?”

“Frank, there's no time for this.”

“Damn.  OK, early reports say a heavy dose of Cipro can disrupt the infection if taken within an hour of being bitten.  Anything later than that...”

“Oh shit, Frank.  Oh shit.” A shrieking form ran out in front of the Jeep as I came into town proper.

I tried to swerve, I tried to do everything in my power not to hit the figure, but it literally ran in front of my grill as I tried to speed to the other lane.  A dull thump and a red spray hit the windshield before the back tires lifted and thumped back to the ground in an obscene burnout.

“You OK?”

“I just hit something,” I panted.

“Flat tire?”

“No.”

“Get the Cipro if you can, if not, get back to the cabin.  The three of us will be up there as soon as we can.  The binder has...” and my fucking cell phone made that obscene sound it does when the battery dies and the phone shut off.

I threw it away in disgust.  Shambling forms were all around me as I sped through the first blocks of downtown, and saw the Rite Aid coming up in a big damn hurry. Either luckily or not, it was one of the first businesses and buildings coming into town.  Shit.  I had to do this; it might make a difference someday.  I ran over the curb and the sculpted landscaping and ended up sideways near the entrance of the pharmacy.  I grabbed the pistol off the seat next to me and took a deep breath.

Was I going to do this?  I killed the ignition and left the keys in it.  I had to do this. I patted my pockets making sure the extra cartridges and speed loaders were still there, then opened the door like the gates of hell had been unleashed and my ass was on fire.  I hit the door at a run and almost knocked myself out.  It was locked, and I felt my nose, wiping blood away from mashing it into glass.  Shit, I was waiting for the automatic doors to have opened.  I looked at the pistol, thinking of shooting the glass of the door, but smiled to myself.

It was an obscenely large and phallic symbol, one used to intimidate and scare off hoodlums from every Dirty Harry movie in my parents’ youth.  I swung my fist with the gun and watched in satisfaction as the safety glass shattered.  I heard a siren start going off and almost stopped in dead fear, looking around.  Even with the lights out, the sound of the alarm would draw the attention of everything in the area. Luckily it shut off after ten seconds.

There were zombies shambling towards me, but the majority of them had met me out of town, like they had heard my Jeep's muffler and all had been trying to cut me off before I could even get close...  For once, things were working in my favor and I rushed inside, grabbing a couple of red baskets normally used by housewives who only wanted to buy a couple things.  The locked door had me hopeful that the store was empty so I immediately rushed towards the back.  There was a half door that separated the customers from the pharmacy, so I vaulted it and tried to look at the shelves full of white bottles in the dark.

I couldn't make out shit.  It was too dark.  I almost died of panic, but jumped over the counter and headed to the house wares section, finding what I wanted almost immediately, holstering the pistol.  I ripped open the flashlight and popped the two batteries in it that came in the plastic blister pack.  Immediately, the LED flashlight lit up the back of the pharmacy and the industrial sized white bottles of medicine filled my vision.  Cipro, that was what I remembered and I sent a worried glance over my back shoulder.

I was praying for luck, and listening intently when my eyes randomly stopped on two large white bottles labeled ciprofloxacin.

“This must be it.” I said quietly, pulling them off the shelf and tried to quietly put them in the basket when I heard glass crunch behind me, in the vicinity of the front door. I immediately dropped down under the counter and looked for a back door; there was always a back door wasn't there? I asked myself.  I crawled towards a naturally lighted area, the drive through window, when I came across another large white bottle that caught my attention: clindomyacin.

I put that one in the basket too and explored the back of the store as I could hear a couple of somebodies moving through the store.  It must have been some of the infected, because they let out an inhuman moaning noise that set my hair on end.  With the alarms off, I could tell that their shuffling gait was bringing them closer to the back of the store and I still couldn't find a way out. Things went silent, and I froze.

A sickly sweet odor came to me, almost like meat gone bad, but not quite as repugnant.  I resisted gagging and tried to breathe through my mouth only, listening, listening intently.  Nothing; no moans, no more shuffling footsteps, just the smell.  Resisting wiping a trickle of fear sweat off my forehead, I waited and waited.  I considered that I had dreamed the sounds, and now that I was trying to, I couldn't make out the smell any more either.  Had all of this been a bad dream? I asked myself.

Slowly, I rose up, keeping one of the pharmacy shelves holding the bulk medicines between the front of the store and myself. What hadn't been in the plan was silhouetting myself in front of the drive through window.  Scab and pus covered hands started banging on the glass and I turned, startled out of my wits as I saw at least ten people, all sick or infected with something.  I would love to say I didn't scream out loud, but they startled me and I cursed for a long moment until I heard something slap on the ground about ten feet behind me, right next to the back of the pharmacy counter.

Peeking around the corner, I saw an infected lift its nose like a dog and sniff the air, tasting it for my scent.  I could see its eyes, almost pus yellow, and fought the urge to scream again.  Moving quickly over two shelves when it was looking the other way, I looked again.  It was walking down the aisle way that I had first entered the back, where I found the Cipro.

“Now or never,” I told myself, exploding into a run and clearing the counter.

I wasn't an athlete by any means, but having every horror movie and video game of my youth suddenly come alive and in my face, I found the needed dexterity to become amazing... Until I ran headfirst into the chest of a large infected, falling down.  We didn't land in a tangle, and because of my speed I had bowled the man over, and luckily was able to roll to my feet without losing much time.  I looked at the basket and saw that I had lost two bottles.  Panicked I looked at the zombie.

It looked around, confused for a moment before trying to roll over and get its hands under it to right itself.  I had a moment or two of grace if I could just find... The two bottles were closer to the front door than I was, so I ran towards both salvation and the medicine, grabbing them on the way.  I looked out the main door and was relieved that the parking lot was relatively clear, but there was a big congregation of bodies trying to hit the back of the store.

“Shit! The drive through window.”  I thought to myself as I got out of the dark building as quick as I could, getting my happy ass in the car.  For a moment I couldn't find my keys, I patted my pockets, my hoody pocket, even checked the center counsel.  Thinking I was doomed, I put my head down on the steering wheel a moment when I saw them dangling from the ignition.  With a roar, my Jeep started and I tore out of the parking lot, and headed back towards the outskirts of town.

Surprisingly, the area was even more empty of the infected than it was before and, knowing I'd need to call Frank soon, I plugged my phone into the car charger.  I looked at the passenger seat, at the white pharmacy bottles in my looted Rite Aid basket and wondered if they were worth it.  Was any of this worth it?  How far out in the woods did the zombies travel?  How long would I be safe?  The other thing that scared me, was I still could use my cell, and the alarm in the store proved that the electrical grid was still working, but for how long?  How long until the gas pumps quit pumping, how long until I couldn't reach Frank and Katherine?  They were the only family I had left, and I worried, worried deeply.

I glanced in the rear view mirror, perhaps looking at town for the last time when I saw a sight that chilled my blood.  A young woman was running as if her life depended on it, and it did.  She had half a dozen of the infected chasing after her.  Slamming on the brakes, I looked around; the infected were everywhere, but not in the numbers I saw coming into town.  The closest of them were half a minute away.  I could spare half that.  I beeped my horn as I rolled down the window.

“Jump on the back, hold the tire.” I screamed.

She peeled off from the group and made a beeline towards me, and the swarm of infected followed suit.  I didn't have time to stay standing still, but if she could jump on the bumper while I was rolling, I wouldn't have to leave her in the dust.  I checked my rear view for her, and she was closing fast.

“Hurry,” I murmured to myself.

When she was within twenty feet, I started rolling slowly.

“Hurry,” I shouted.

I felt the back end squat down hard as her weight hit and I slowly accelerated faster, hoping she could hold on.  There's one thing about cars that I noticed, you can cover a ton of ground in a hurry if you need to, and not put the pedal to the metal.  We outstripped the infected within a minute or two, and I needed to figure out who she was, and if I needed to worry.  I pulled the .44 as I slowed and pulled off onto the shoulder of the road, not seeing anybody else nearby.

I saw as well as felt her hop off the bumper as I eased out of the Jeep, trying to keep the distance between us, the Ebola virus a very real fear to me.

“Hey, you OK?” I asked her lamely.

“I am now, thank you, thank you,” She said walking towards me, but I held the gun up chest height.

“Please don't.  I really don't...”

“I'm not infected.  I promise you.  I've been hiding out since last night and when I heard your car...

“Have you been... uh, bitten?” I asked her, not knowing how the infection was spread, but many numerous nights of COD were fresh in my mind, along with about every zombie movie -  especially 28 Days Later - flashing through my head.

“No, no I haven't.  I went into town, and had to bail out by the grocery store.  I didn't believe the news and...” she broke down in tears.

I'm a guy, and I gave her the usual guy once over.  She was pretty, but she was probably at least ten years older than me, her figure more muscular than curvy, wavy brown hair that framed an elfin face, her hands thick with callous as she had them raised in a don't shoot gesture.  Embarrassed, I lowered the Dirty Harry cannon, unable to watch a lady cry.

“I have to get back to my son...” she said after a moment, wiping her nose.

“OK, hop in the passenger’s side, let’s go before more of them come.  I'm Jim, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you Jim. I'm Claire, Claire Woods.”

I smiled, for as bad as today had turned out, I was able to do something good after all.

Chapter 10 – Reunion and Preps

September 25th, 2015

I had an uneventful trip to the Woods household, other than Claire almost bursting into tears twice in the moments it took me to get there.  Reassuring her that her son was fine an hour ago, she was grateful that I found her.

“I need to make a phone call, and this is about as close to town as I get a signal,” I told her, turning my phone on as she was stepping out of the passenger side.

“Thank you again Jim, looks like my buddy was worried,” she nodded to her son who was almost tripping over his own feet in a rush to get to the Jeep.

“You found her!”

“Yeah, or she found me, either way...”

Claire embraced her son fiercely, almost squeezing the blood out of him, and then shut the door.  She gave me a small wave and I gave her a nod, checking to see if my phone was on, which it was.  I tried Frank's number right away, and it rang into voice mail.  I left him a message that I was OK and that my phone died.  I'd try to call three days from now at the same time as I did today, and would continue every three days until I got a hold of them.  If he couldn't make the phone call, I told him to send me a text message like he did before and I'd answer when I could get a signal.

“Thanks again, Jim.  I hope your family makes it up here OK,” she said, hugging her kiddo as they turned and started walking into the house.

I smiled absently, and took off again.  Maybe the zombies didn't come this far out into the woods?

Once I got back to the cabin, I set a pot of beans to boil, and sat down to think.  This morning was almost too much to process all at once.  How quickly had I accepted the fact that zombies were roaming the earth?  It was unreal.  Sarah's text message had left me conflicted and wondering if this was all a joke, but seeing them acting just like every movie or video game had me instantly convinced.  The infected woman getting devoured by the group when she fell... I shuddered at the memory.

I did score the Cipro, and hoped the other stuff I got would help as well.  I didn't know how full the bottles were, but I prayed it would never be needed.  I never wanted to see anybody I knew turned.  The images of the sloughing flesh, the sickly sweet smell and the wounds that never healed; they just festered and rotted by the look of them.  Frank's words that the Ebola was weaponized made me wonder; was the vaccine tampered with?  I hadn't heard of the CDC or the FDA pushing a new vaccine through so quickly and, if one was found, how could any drug company make it in enough quantity to distribute it quickly?  Why was the infection so virulent?

I stood, feeling restless, and went and got Frank's binder out.  I knew it had nothing in it about a zombie apocalypse, but he did have inventory lists and instructions on the cabin.  I paged through it absent mindedly, but my brain was still running a mile a minute.  How long would the propane last?  How long did it take a normal human to travel from town to the cabin?  A day?  I looked to the wood stove and wondered how much wood I'd need for the winter, or how I could keep my phone charged until my next call with the Andersens.

I smacked my forehead and went into the larger bedroom and looked underneath the bed, finding the flat tote immediately.  I pulled it out and set it on the bed, sitting beside it.  Its weight was surprising, but as soon as I cracked open the split lid, I saw a small flexible solar cell with various cords, just like Frank had told me.  The rest of the tote had me scratching my head.  It was a mixture of Roman candle fireworks, glow sticks, road flares and some of the larger firecrackers.  I dug through the packages of items confused and, when I found three dozen rat traps and some spools of heavy fishing line and a spool of speaker wire, my brows pinched together in concentration.

I was almost ready to give up figuring out what this random pile of supplies meant when I came across a small book, the title almost the same size as the publisher's imprint.  Paladin Press presents: Man trapping by Ragnar Benson.  It wasn't a huge book, but I suddenly had an idea on what this pile of supplies was.  I went and took the book to the kitchen, forgetting about the cell, the tote and the mess I was leaving behind.

+++++++++++++

I read the book from start to finish.  I grabbed a long sleeved flannel out of my bag and left the cabin, locking it behind me.  With no destination in mind, wandering seemed to be the best course of action, taking in the surroundings of the cabin.  I already knew that if you weren't looking hard for the driveway, you'd miss it if you were driving.  Would that be the same if you were walking?

For twenty minutes, I wandered about and decided to pull some dead brush in front of the driveway.  That didn't take any time at all and it actually looked rather natural when I was finished.  Next step was to check out behind the cabins, and see what could be done as far as protecting my backside, if anything.  In all honesty, by myself, I needed to stay as low key as possible because one man isn't an army. I wasn't even trained to be a private, so hide, avoid and lay low would be my mantra.

I already knew what was in the first shed, but when I got to the second shed, I decided to take a peek inside of it.  Unlocking the steel building, I noticed the difference in the two structures immediately.  Shed two had a cement floor and in the corner had some kind of pipe coming up out of it.  For the well? I wondered.  Stacked neatly on one side were eight boxes’ worth of Kyrocera 130 watt solar panels.  There were other boxes that were labeled as a switching something or another, charge controller..., but they were all shrink wrapped in plastic.  I felt a package to see if any moisture had gotten in, and that's when I noticed the re-rod sunk into the concrete, effectively grounding the shed's wall.

“What is this place?” I wondered again, this time out loud.  I saw the solar panels, but no batteries.  I knew that it wouldn't be an effective system without batteries and my mind was boggled at the cost of the equipment, just sitting here waiting to be installed.  The remaining side had a bench, and on it, what looked like a reloading press.  Looking at it, it appeared to be for loading shotgun shells, something I was a little more familiar with, but unsettling none-the-less.

I locked the shed up behind me, trying to remember what shows Frank had been talking about and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Preppers.  Frank was telling me in his quiet way that he was a prepper, wasn't he? I wanted another look at that bookshelf.

I spent a better part of that evening looking at titles, and reading the backs of the books to get an idea of the information they contained, as this library as I'd come to think of it, was mainly nonfiction of the survivalist/prepper type of mentality.  The library was loaded with topics that I'd never dreamed of, from soap making to raising backyard chickens.  Homesteading topics were in a big abundance, as well as some titles that surprised me.

After looking through the bookshelf for a while, some more reality set in.  I had plenty of food for at least another two to three weeks if I didn't pig out or quit fishing, but I didn't have some other things I would need for a long cold winter.  I figured if sleepy little East Jordan was over-run, then the rest of the state was.  There was no going back to work, the electrical grid would probably go down, and it would get cold.  Really cold.  I had work to do, before the Andersens arrived, without attracting a ton of attention from the dead heads.

I remembered Frank telling me about where to find the saw and splitting axe, and headed out to the sheds, opening the first one.  Now all I had to do was to find suitable firewood.  It had to be something that was already dead and dry, otherwise it would be hard to cut up and wouldn't burn well; that much I remembered from my grandparents. Looking at the ridge line where I had taken to sitting and deciding the area wasn't ready, I started moving in a half circular shape to the north of the cabin so I'd circle around and make it to the trail leading to the lake.

“Bingo!” I thought as I found at least a dozen Ash trees that, although they were still standing, they were quite dead and had been for at least a year, probably from the Emerald Ash Borer, a bug that had been on every roadside sign on my way up.

I considered going back for the chainsaw, but didn't want all that extra sound, in case any of the infected were about, and give them a location to zero in on.  I cut a v-shaped notch in the side of the trunk of an Ash tree that was at least ten inches in diameter, then from the back of the notch, cut down on an angle towards the notch.  Halfway through my last straight cut, the wood fibers started giving and the tree started a slow lean towards the v.  I pulled the saw back quickly, and waited.  The tree swayed gently but didn't go over, so I sort of just... pushed.  That did it, and I was almost hit by the end of the tree as the top fell, as the bottom snapped loose and bounced up to head level.  The tree falling was one of the loudest sounds I'd heard since my week in the woods, and I winced.

Adrenaline made my muscles shake and I worried how far the sound would carry. There I was, sitting there with a bow saw and a splitting axe.  How ridiculous.  Running to the cabin like the hounds of hell were on my ass would have been too dramatic, but I did hurry, and I locked the door for a time.  The tools were forgotten by the tree for the time being, but I wanted to get the .44 and watch the windows.  If there was anything in the area, I figured it would have to pass somewhere within sight of the cabin, or else slog through brush so thick that it pulled at your clothing.

Thirty tense minutes of waiting and nothing materialized.  The remoteness of the cabin probably was enough, I thought to myself, before holstering the .44 and heading back to the downed tree.  It took two hours of sawing by hand to chunk up the tree, and I was covered in sweat.  Before anything else, I got  a drink of water and cooled down.

This process was repeated once more on the first day and three trees were dropped the second day.  The third day, I was supposed to get a hold of Frank, and I had chunks of five trees to carry back to the cabin, or split them on the spot.  I figured I'd do a little of both on the third day, depending on how crippled my muscles were after the hard labor.

Chapter 11 – Frank's Message

September 28th, 2015

I knew driving all the way to where I would get cell phone reception was risky, but getting caught sneaking in without a fast way to get out would have been worse.  The infected had bunched up last time I was in town, and I figured it was my muffler breaking the silence that had caused them to investigate.  Without the Jeep though, I had no chance.  Once I was down the road from the railroad tracks, I let the Jeep coast, my foot off the gas. The vehicle barely crept along at three to four miles per hour, barely making a whisper.

Almost in front of the Woods' house, my phone found signal and I put the Jeep in park, relieved to see that there was not a soul in sight.  I had two bars of signal and I tried to call Frank but got a weird busy signal when he didn't pick up.  My phone buzzed with text messages; most were from Frank, but there was one from Katherine and about two dozen from Sarah.  I was smiling, wondering what sort of insults would be hurled my way, when the little boy knocked on the passenger window and scared the hell out of me again.

“Shit!” I said, fumbling for the dropped phone.

“My mom was wondering if you want to come over for a minute.”

“Is everything OK?”

“I don't know,” he told me honestly, “Our water quit working.”

“Is the electricity out?”

“Yeah but, our stove works. It's propane.”

“Ok,” I told him, unlocking the passenger door and pulling the handle to open it.  It was a clear invitation but the kid hesitated. “Come on kid, you want to walk back?”

That did it and he scrambled in, closing the door and putting on his seat belt.

“Which house is it again?” I asked him for something to say.

“The blue one, right there!” He pointed but kept looking at the speedometer, probably wondering why I wasn't using the gas pedal.

“Gotcha.” I told him, pulling in.  “By the way, I'm Jim; I didn't get your name last time.”

“Justin.” He said quietly, looking at the small clapboard house as his mother ran out the door.

Alarmed, I pulled the .44 and got out, thinking she was being chased, but she ran and put her arms around me, pulled me close and started crying.  I probably looked like a fool, but I didn't know what to do.  Part of me wanted to comfort her, but I didn't know this woman and I had the gun... I put it in the holster, and put my arms around her as she buried her face in my chest.  Justin looked at us in surprise, but I kind of gave him the 'I don't know' gesture with my hands.  He nodded and headed back into the house.

We sat like that for at least a full minute, but it seemed longer, long enough for me to become aware that I had a vulnerable and beautiful woman pressed close to my body. I tried to back up a step and Claire broke the embrace and met my eyes for a moment.

“I was hoping I'd see you today.”

“What's going on?”

“Let's go inside,” she said with a sniff, wiping the tears away from her cheeks with a shirtsleeve.

“How about the porch?” I asked, nervous about being anywhere unfamiliar without a quick get-away.  I'd been having nightmares about the pharmacy, and being trapped in a strange building would be right up there with a living nightmare.

“OK.” She sat at the top of the front steps and patted the spot beside her.

Once I sat, I asked her again, “So what's going on, why are you so upset?”

“Because, this is like some kind of bad movie.  I don't know what to do.  The food is running out and we'd hunt if we could, but we get the infected that walk through here from time to time, and the water cut out today.  I know we have water in the water heater and the back of the toilet tank, but after that?” She started crying again, her head down.

I put an arm around her, and she leaned in close.  I don't know what it was about the end of the world, but this perfect stranger was willing to take comfort in me, somebody who she knew nothing about, and I was confused.  Was it because I was one of the last guys up here?  My mind spun with this nonsense until I asked her:

“Are there a lot of infected here?”

“Enough that we have to hide at least once or twice a day, and if I knew of some place safe, I'd leave in a heartbeat.”

“Someplace safe...” I considered it, knowing that I only had their best interests at heart, but it wasn't my cabin.  I didn't know what Frank would say... “Wait a second, I need to check something,” I told her, pulling my phone out.

The message from Katherine was to stay safe and healthy, Sarah's were about blaming me for the zombie apocalypse because I played too much Call of Duty, and to send me random insults but Frank's got my attention in a hurry:

“Have to hunker down for a while, can't leave yet.  City is full of infected.  Hope to leave in a week’s time.  Gather any and all supplies you can before it gets over-run up there.  Hunt, fish, gather firewood while you still can, use solar dehydrator in 2nd shed to jerk the meat.  I have other supplies listed in binder, use what you need.  Help survivors if possible.  Stay safe, stay uninfected.”

“Damn,” I said softly as Claire sat up, rubbing her eyes, looking to see if Justin was around.

“Can you help us?” she almost begged.

“I think so.  How long would it take you two to pack?”

“We've been packed for a day now, in case we got chased out of here by the infected.”

“Do you guys have any cold gear, or hunting gear?”

“That's packed up too, as well as my rifle.”

“Well, I'm staying at my in-laws cabin. I don't think they'd mind...”

“Mom, we have to get out of here.  It isn't safe anymore.” Justin came out of the house and sat down close to her side.

Claire looked around like she was being attacked from two sides for a moment and then laughed quietly.

“Would they mind?  Would your wife mind? I promise we won't be a burden.”

“They won't mind.” I said, pain from Janie's funeral re-igniting in my chest, making it want to hitch.

Claire stood up. “Justin, grab the bags.”

“OK, Mom.”

“I don't know how long we'll stay Jim, I mean, I don't even know you...”

“I know, but I think that those of us who aren't infected are becoming scarce.  When my in-laws make it up, we'll have to see where it all stands anyways.”

“Is it a big place?” Justin asked, feeling left out of the conversation.

“No, it's just a little bit bigger than your garage actually.”

“Is there enough room for us?” Claire asked.

“Yeah, enough room for six people.  It's cozy, but it's out in the middle of the woods and there isn't anybody close.” I hope, I added silently in my head.

“Fishing?” Claire asked.

“The best.”

“Can I pack my fishing rod, Mom?” Justin asked in a whiny voice and she threw her hands up in the air.

“Let's get your stuff.” I thumbed out a quick text message as I walked into the house.

++++++++

“How much further is it?” Justin asked from the back seat.

My Jeep wasn’t capable of carrying a lot of bags, and the backseat was jam-packed.  Both of the Woods had backpacks full of supplies and two duffel bags.  Claire rode up front with me and Justin was under the pile in the back.  There might have been more room, but I’d had Claire strip the house of any usable food, just in case.  We were on the railroad tracks, looking for my turnoff when Claire grunted with the way the Jeep was bouncing all around, the bags of food on her lap causing a bit of pain with each bump.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice modulating in tone as the bumps made her voice funny.

“To the cabin.”

“Down the railroad tracks?”

“Yup.” I murmured, looking for the turn off.  Finding it, I turned and, in no time at all, I pulled into the cabin's drive, only pausing to pull the brush back across the front of the drive to make it less visible.

“Oh, wow.” Claire stepped out of the Jeep and gave the cabin the once over.

“I know it isn't much, but my in-laws love it.”

“It's probably been here over a hundred years, and will probably last another fifty without any major issues...” she marveled.

“Mom, can you get me out of here?” Justin's voice floated up from behind the pile of bags.

I had to laugh, it was too surreal.  I helped Claire unload the Jeep enough to get Justin out, and we all made trips inside the cabin to unload their belongings.

“I've got the big bed.” Justin told us, laughing as he looked inside the bedrooms.  Frank's bed was made up still, and it was obvious where I had been sleeping, as I hadn't been making my bed.

“We'll see about that, big guy,” I told him, “That's my in-laws’ bedroom.” I smiled.  I hadn't realized how much I had missed being around people.  I hadn't been on my own all that long, but the prospect of being some of the last uninfected people in the area had been clouding my thoughts.

“What's for dinner?” he asked, without missing a beat.

“Do you two like Chili?”

Chapter 12 – Waiting

September 29th, 2015

The vegetarian Chili turned out decent, but I could tell my culinary skills didn't impress the Woods clan.  I mulled over Frank’s text messages.  Gather food, firewood, survivors...

Justin ended up taking the top bunk over top of where I had been sleeping for the first night, and when he was asleep, Claire joined me in the small living room area in front of the cast iron stove.

“How bad do you think it is out there?” I asked her after she sat in the shadows next to me for what felt like an hour.

“I think it's the end of the world bad.  Like the Book of Revelations bad.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, listen, I'm sorry I fell apart earlier.  I've been living in terror for days, and finding somebody who wasn't trying to devour me, well...”

“You needed a hug.”

“I needed a hug,” she said, the same moment I did, and we laughed.

“The books here...”

“Frank is a Prepper.” I told her, wondering if admitting this was some breach of secrecy or something.

“Oh.” She went silent.

“His last message to me was to gather firewood, hunt and fish, and find survivors.  I don't even know where to start,” I admitted.

“There's wood all around here, and the hunting must be fantastic.”

“The fishing...”

We stayed up for a couple of hours planning, going through the binder and vowing to find the solar dehydrator that Frank talked about in the shed.  I'd been through both, and hadn't seen it.  Apparently Claire and Justin were both accomplished hunters (and I was a neophyte) so we talked about splitting tasks up, and talked about the smoker that Claire had in her garage.

“The dehydrator is good, but a smoker is better,” she explained.

“If you can concentrate on hunting, Justin on fishing, I'll get the firewood squared away.”

“What about the zombies?”

“Let's hope we have a few days of leeway.  Pretty soon, we're going to have to set up some kind of watch, and that's going to hurt things.” One of my fears while I was alone was trying to stay awake long enough to mount an effective watch.

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Yeah.  I just hope that Frank, Katherine and Sarah make it up here soon.”

“Is Katherine or Sarah your wife?”

“No....”

And I told her.

I told her everything, nothing left out.  Somehow, the telling didn't make me feel any less guilty, but the weight of the guilt didn't feel like I was being crushed under it.  For once, I could breathe and think about Janie without wanting to cry - but I even felt guilty about that.  I don't know if my emotions were in overload, but the end of the world seemed to justify it enough for me not to keep me awake.  I added some more logs to the fire, and stared into the crackling flames, my feet now propped up on the recliner.  I fell asleep that way, the .44 still strapped to my side.

++++++++

I woke up, hearing the screen door opening and slamming shut. I saw the back of Justin's head and a fishing rod over his back.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stretched, every muscle, tendon and bone popping from sleeping so deeply.  I groaned in relief and looked around.  Claire and Justin's bags were nowhere in sight.  I stumbled to the bathroom and got ready for the day, filling the bucket from the kitchen sink to flush it when I was done.  I still had no idea where Claire was, but she wasn't inside the cabin.  I debated looking for her, or fixing breakfast, but I decided to see what they were up to.

Justin had a fishing pole, and the rest of the gear was gone from the door, so down the trail I went.  It wasn't long before Justin's voice could be heard, and his mother trying to keep him quiet, to keep the chance of the infected from hearing and locating the three of us.  I had to smile, she was smarter than I was about things up here and wasn't a townie.  I spent most of my life in the city, living with my grandparents and in apartments.  My nature experiences were at the local park.

“Now, get him close and I'll use the net to...” Claire was saying but I lost the rest as the weeds and leaves crunched under my feet as I left the trees and walked into the opening that surrounded the lake.

Walking to the rowboat and stopping to watch, I saw Justin pull a good sized walleye from the water, easily a few pounds, with his mom's assistance with the net.  They raised a rope that was tied off on the dock, showing some sort of wire cage contraption and opening the top, dropping the fish in.  Then Justin cast the bait back out, jerking the rod in an odd manner while reeling in, pausing and repeating all over again.  I watched in silence as he did it a couple more times, almost giving myself away when his rod bent in half, and I choked down a surprised sound.

“Good, let's hope this is a fat one.” Claire told him, getting the net ready again.

I walked as quietly as I could, watching mother and son bring in another fish, putting it into the wire looking cage.

“Looks like breakfast is served.” I commented, and watched them spin around, eyes wide.

I almost missed Claire's rifle, in my attempt to sneak up, but it went from the shoulder strap to her arms in half a heartbeat and was pointed at me before I could take another breath.  I froze and watched the bore of the hunting rifle waver for a moment, before she lowered it, making an exasperated sound.

“Don't scare me like that!” she said, clearly pissed.

“I heard you telling Justin to stay quiet, not to draw the zombies in.”

“I did, I meant that...”

“Mom, can I keep fishing? I have a ton more to catch.”

“More?” I asked.

“You know how much food we need to put away for this winter?  How much protein it's going to take?” Claire asked me.

“I honestly don't know.”

“A lot.  We won't have a ton of vegetables, so we need to stock up and store what we can.  Fish is the easiest, but it doesn't last long.  I really need that smoker...” she said wistfully.

“How many fish do you think it'll take?”

“Too many.  I lit the fridge this morning, so we can start storing the jerked fish in the fridge and freezer.  I'm going hunting later on, though I hope you aren't going to follow me out there too.”

“Mom...........” Justin begged.

“Fish, hon,” she told him; he smiled and started casting again.

“You lit the fridge?”

“It's propane.  You have a huge tank, and I figured you hadn't lit it to conserve the gas, but with all the food we need to get soon...”

“A propane fridge?”

“You didn't know?”

“No,” I admitted.

“City boy, you have a lot to learn.”

“Mom, I have another one!” Justin exclaimed.

Instead of hunting and firewood gathering that day, we spent it at the lakeside.  After a while, we started cleaning the fish, and Claire made trips back and forth to the lake, once bringing us sandwiches, another time to bring a large tub and a container of salt that she had found in the cupboard.

“What's this for?”

“Making the brine.  We're going to soak the fish overnight, and set them out tomorrow.  It would taste more like Jerky if we had something to add to the marinade.  Liquid smoke, Teriyaki, Soy Sauce... something.

“Hey, I've had teriyaki and black pepper before.  I think I might have some different seasonings packed away.”

“Thank God... Now the fish will last a while, but without the fridge or freezer, I don't know how long it'd last at room temperature.”

“Luckily, it's getting cold outside soon.”

“Bears.” Claire said softly, her lips pinching into a smile as her gaze drifted over my shoulder. Turning, I saw Justin pull a Laker out of the water, this time without the landing net.

“Got you.  I, uh... There aren't a ton of them up here, are there?”

“City boy...” she growled disgustedly, and we laughed.

++++++++++

November 13th, 2015

The next few weeks were spent in a feverish pace.  It ended up being a warmer than usual November, and the snow had stayed away. I split and carried wood until my back wouldn't take any more.  I'd wade into the lake, letting the cold water loosen my muscles until the shivers overtook me, and then I’d start all over again.  Claire was able to kill a deer and two turkeys and Justin caught a ton of fish.  The solar dehydrator was used almost nonstop and, using one of Frank's books, we made a poor man's smoker.

What we did was basically make a tepee frame over a small fire pit, with small sticks woven in and out almost every three to four inches to make a shelf within the tepee.  Then we wrapped the outer surfaces with a tarp.  A fire of hickory was made, put out, and added underneath the tepee, loaded with fish and meat sliced thin.  Everything had been soaked in Claire's brine solution and, even raw, it smelled wonderful.  She made good use of the supplies I had bought and, after a few attempts, we made some fish jerky and venison jerky.  But we also wasted a lot of food learning...

“If I had my smoker from the garage...”

“Would it make things easier?” I asked her.

“We wouldn't have lost almost twenty pounds of food, and firewood.”

I winced; I felt every pound of firewood in my muscles.  I had thought I was in shape before, but even in my pained state, I was in 100% better shape than I was before Janie died.  It had only been a few short weeks and I could still picture her perfectly, and I wondered what our child would have looked like.  It hurt, a lot, but I kept my distance from everyone as much as I could when the day was done.  My soul was still raw, and watching Claire and Justin, I was jealous.  I wanted that sort of connection someday, and I avoided questioning Claire or Justin about his father.

To say I was worried about the Andersen's would have been an understatement.  I had gotten no messages, no voice mails and no updates.  I also hadn't been back towards town in a week, so it was also possible that my phone would blow up if I did, if the cell towers were still working.  That weighed heavily on my mind as I walked up the porch, the way a zig/zag pathway of firewood leading to the doorway.

Claire and I had thought that stacking the firewood by the front would do a couple of things.  We stacked it in a way to slow any zombies from a clear and direct path to the door; oftentimes the stacks were almost six feet tall and eight feet deep.  They would have to climb over it, or run a gauntlet that we had devised using the visibility of the front facing windows for shooting paths.  Anything that tried to approach us while we were diligent would be cut down or slowed enough that we could get away.

The smoker though, it was at Claire's house, the closest point I could get a cell phone to work.  I debated the risk for two or three days.  We hadn't seen anything the entire time, and we had set up a watch a week ago and abandoned it almost immediately, as there was never anything moving about but the deer, squirrels, or the fish jumping out of the lake.  It was almost an idyllic sight, if we weren't under the threat of death from either Ebola or being ‘zombified’, as Justin called it.

I needed to check on Frank's progress, as it had been way too long.  In the normal world, it was a four or five hour drive.  It had been over two weeks since Frank had sent his last message and, besides, if I got Claire's smoker, she could be happy and quit bugging me about it.  She was sort of growing on me, but I puzzled how or why; my dreams were messed up, and Claire's face was superimposing over Janie's.  I knew it was my brain's way of coping, but it was damn confusing and, other than the first day she hugged me, we'd had no contact, and I was relieved.

“I'm going to go get the smoker and check on Frank's progress tomorrow,” I told them that night, as we ate some fish and greens that were picked that afternoon.

Justin had found a book he thought was originally about hunting called 'Stalking the wild Asparagus' but it wasn't about stalking, it was about finding edibles and foraging.  We'd have to do a lot of that until the snow hit, and then things were all up in the air.  I just hoped Frank was close, if not here soon.

“Can you clean out the cabinet over the stove?” Claire asked me.  I raised an eyebrow in question. “I have a ton of spices and vitamins up there.”

“Sure.  I hope to be in and out in a hurry.  Where is your smoker at?”

“Right inside the door on the left.”

“Is the house and garage locked?”

She held out a set of keys, and pulled off one.

“Front door and the garage,” she told me, pressing it into my hand.”

“Thanks.  I'm leaving in the morning.  If I don't come back...”

“Mom...” Justin said over his plate of fish.

“You'll be safe,” she told me, and then to her son, “This city boy is learning fast.  As long as he doesn't meet any wayward girls...”

“Mommmmmmmmm…” Justin stammered, exasperated.

“He’s mine, Justin,” she said, more for my benefit than his, and Justin colored a deep red.

I realized that there may not be any girls his age, not for a long time, and I almost agreed with him before meeting Claire's gaze.  She looked athletic when I first met her, but the two weeks had trimmed us down even more.  She smiled at my glance, and squeezed my arm for a moment before turning and finishing her dinner in silence, my face burning in a blush, not used to being looked at like that by anyone other than Janie.

I needed a plan and, as long as the dead heads hadn't traveled that far out, it would be an easy trip, one I could make quickly.  It was my night for dishes, and the pot of water we kept on the wood stove went into the sink.  I did them up quickly.  I was soon joined by Justin, and Claire headed to the bathroom and bedroom to get ready for the night.

“You will be back, right?” Justin asked.

“I plan on it buddy.”

“I'm just worried...”

“What about?”

“My dad went away when I was younger.  It was almost a month later when they found him.  He'd gotten hurt while hunting and he...” his voice hitched, and soon he had silent tears running down his cheeks.

“I'll be back.  I promise, buddy.  You still have to catch me a pike for dinner one night, remember?” I asked him, remembering the boast from a week ago.

“Yeah, I'll have one ready for you tomorrow night.” He wiped his eyes.

Chapter 13 – Running Gun Fight

November 14th, 2015

I spent the rest of the evening looking through Frank's gun locker, trying to decide if I needed to take another gun or not.  I had looked over the AKs a few times, making myself familiar with them as best as I could, before loading three clips and putting a box of ammunition aside with enough for another two clips.  I prayed I wouldn't need it, but I knew it was better to have it, and not need it.

My sleep that night was troubled, the nightmares peppering my sleep.  It was more guilt dreams, more of my untold terror at venturing outside the zone of imagined safety we had here at the cabin.  I didn't have any illusions that two weeks of food gathering would be enough for the winter, but if the smoker could be added to our supplies, Claire was sure that we would waste a lot less food and lose less to spoilage.  It was worth the risk, and I needed to call Frank.

In one of the dreams, I got to Claire's house, only to find a dead dial tone every time I tried to call somebody, and my way barred from leaving by tons of the infected.  I awoke in a sweat, and looked around.  For once, I had beaten sunup, and wanted to make a quick start to the day.  I found the notepad that we'd been keeping notes of what we put up in storage and wrote a note out to the Woods'.

“I am going to get an early start today.  Everything I know about this place, Frank has left in a binder that I'm leaving under this note.  With any luck, I'll be home before you're awake.  I'm taking the Jeep so I can make a quick getaway if one is needed.  Depending on whether or not I get word from Frank and Katherine, I may scout out a little bit by the town.

I'm not telling you this to worry you, but to let you know.  None of us know how long the infected can live, and I don't know what they eat or drink on a regular basis.  I know we've had talks about zombies, Ebola, rabies etc., but none of us know.  It would be good to have an idea of what's going on, and if I find any other survivors... They might have valuable information.  If Frank, Katherine and Sarah make it up here before I get back, show them this note, that way they know you aren't random looters.”

I added a smiley face and my name.  I contemplated putting more in there, but decided that I couldn't trust my emotions enough to tell them how much they had grown on me.  I had started to wonder what Claire thought about me, but had beat those feelings down, chalking them up to the situation we were all in, and the endless days of work and worry for almost nothing but sore muscles and close quarters.  None of us really knew if this was all needed, or if the government had finally gotten control of the situation and we could come out of the woods.

I grabbed an old camo backpack I had found in Frank's room, emptied the contents out on the bed and left everything except a belt knife and some waterproof matches.  I didn't know what the rest of the supplies were, or how to use them.  I think Claire called it a blowout bag, or something like that, but I didn't want to be carrying the extra weight if I had to move quick.  I didn't plan on being gone long.

+++++++++

The drive wasn't as long as I thought, and in no time at all I shut the ignition off.  Trying to open the Jeep quietly was both an exercise in caution and patience.  The world had changed, and I had hardly touched upon the changes in my isolation.  Were there others like us?  Just as isolated and not knowing what was happening around the world?  These questions swirled through my head as I pulled the AK, and put it over my shoulder, settled the .44 on my hip, and carried the backpack loose on my back.  I found the keys to the garage and considered what I wanted to get first.

In the end, I decided to try the garage.  There was only one window and one door, and I could easily see that neither had been tampered with.  The smoker was right where Claire said it would be and I gulped.  It wasn't a little smoker like I expected, but rather a stainless steel looking box that took up at least a four by four foot square on the ground.  I expected it to weigh a ton, but I was able to rock it easily.  I lifted the top up, and quietly put it on the cement behind me.  The inner grates came just as easily, but now I had to figure how to fit it all in.  My doors weren't big enough, and I cringed when the answer came to me.  It was going to be a cold ride.

After I had things loaded up, I approached the house.  Something didn't sit right with my gut, and I hesitated before unlocking the front door.  Something stank; all the lights were out and the dawn light was still weak, and the rooms were cast in deep shadow.  I moved through the unfamiliar house, looking where I could, the .44 held out in front of me loosely.  The smell got stronger as I saw kitchen cupboards in the gloom.  I figured the smell was the garbage can, left uncovered in the house.  It had been weeks after all, and there were dead flies by the windows, something I noticed right off when I came in.

I padded quietly when I heard a soft noise.  I stopped, and tried to control my breathing as it started to turn into a panting due to barely controlled panic.  This made the smell almost into a taste, and I gagged involuntarily.  I leaned into the wall, my arm over my nose, trying to filter the smell out enough to not puke and hyperventilate.  I didn't know how long I stood like that, but the soft noise wasn't repeated and wondered if it could have been a mouse.

I used my free hand to help navigate the gloomy shadows until I found the stove.  It was an old gas model, and the cupboard above it was literally cram packed full of spices and other things I couldn't make out in the dark.  I set the gun on the counter and took the AK and backpack off.  Wincing, the zipper was undone on the pack and I tried to quietly start stuffing things into the pack.  I froze when I heard a soft thump from another room, but I soon started again, almost finishing off the pack when glass shattered somewhere in the house, in another room.

Literally, pissing yourself isn't something that happens in the movies, but it almost happened to me right then.  My hands started to shake as I closed and shouldered the pack, grabbing the rifle and pistol.  A soft moan floated out of the darkness, and I faded back into the shadows, finding two doorways.  One was slotted, and one had an animal door.  I could hear footsteps getting closer and had no more time to choose, so I opened the slotted door, finding an almost empty pantry, and quietly wedged myself into the corner, closing the door softly.

I tried to quiet my breathing for a second time, peering out of the slats in the door, when a shadow detached itself from the gloom, and moved in front of the sink.  My bladder almost let loose when I realized it was one of the infected, new wounds on its face and arms evident as the soft sunlight lit its features.  It walked slowly, its flesh gray and sagging off the bones.  The smell became stronger as it entered the kitchen.

The rational part of my brain screamed in terror.  How could something dead be methodically searching?  The infected lifted its head, and sniffed the air, its mouth opening to expose blackened teeth, stained with something foul, as its tongue flicked the air.  I realized in horror it was tasting the air, much like a snake. I held my breath.  Softly, slowly, it crept towards the doorways as a trickle of fear sweat ran down my temple.  I lifted the .44 beside my head, ready for the door to open.

The zombie considered both doorways; the one I didn't open, and the one I was hiding behind.  I agonized over cocking the gun, but didn't want to make a sound.  My left hand held the door handle and, when the zombie tried it, I firmed up my grip.  A quiet grunt, then it lifted its head again to smell the air, and opened the other door, exposing two steps leading down.

“Must be the basement,” I thought to myself.

I couldn't hold my breath much longer, and was starting to see spots when the thing peered down the steps into the darkness.  I had seconds to react before I passed out, and tried to quietly open the door before I lost consciousness.  The hinge squeaked and the infected spun.  Committed now, I inhaled loudly and burst out of the pantry in a near panic.  My right fist, full of Smith and Wesson, swung and hit the zombie across the cheek, spinning it.  It stumbled, and I figured I had hope; I booted it in the ass and slammed the door to the sound of it tumbling down the dark stairwell.

I almost dropped the backpack and rifle when I took the corner to the front door too fast, stumbling.  An inhuman shriek erupted from the basement, and the sound of more shattering glass nearby worked to move my sore muscles into a fevered pitch.  I hit the front door running as the sun peaked over the horizon, like the demons of hell were fast at my heels.  I barely got the AK and backpack thrown into the passenger seat when I tore out of there, not paying attention which direction I turned. The panic finally overtook me, and the wind whipped through my hair because I had to take the top off to fit the smoker.

M66 took me into town, and the speed I was going, I probably could have watched the gas gauge quiver as much as the buried speed gauge.  When I realized I had roared into town, I slowed immediately and tried to calm my thoughts enough to look around.  It was quiet, almost too quiet, but with the top off, I could hear and smell that things weren't right.  I couldn't see any of the infected, but the entire town had the sickly sweet smell of meat gone bad.  I knew what that smell was and once again swallowed my gorge, and looked for a good place to turn around.

A figure ran across the street behind me, its movements blocked in the rear view by the smoker.  I almost slammed on the brakes, but it wasn't the shaky, uncoordinated movements of the infected.  Then again, the infected that broke into Claire's house wasn't all that uncoordinated like the ones I saw two weeks ago.  It was almost normal, like a cunning intelligence had taken over its rotting flesh.

With no cars about, I realized I could make a u-turn anywhere, and started to when young child walked out into the road and stopped, her small arm held up in the universal gesture to stop.  I had been accelerating, so I had to brake even harder to avoid hitting her.  The girl’s eyes opened in surprise, and I saw that the whites were almost all red, blood seeping from the edges, crusting around her mouth.  I jerked the wheel roughly and swerved.

The entire morning had gone well until that point, but when my bumper clipped a parked car in my wild maneuver to avoid the child, I realized two things.  One, I forgot to put on my seat belt on in the panic, and two, she was infected.  My Jeep acted like a pinball, and when the rear bumper swung around, it hit the car almost dead on, slamming me into the headrest, then rebounding my agonized body into the steering wheel.

+++++++++++++++

Hands were pulling at me, and the first thing I remembered was vomiting.  My clothes were covered with it, and gray colored hands were trying to pull me free from over the roll bars of the Jeep.  I'd taken the soft top off to fit the smoker into the back seat that I'd laid down, but the bars were too tall to get any leverage, and it also kept me out of range of the infected’s faces, and I screamed.  Long, loud and clear.  I needed to turn the key, start the ignition, but my eyes were blurred and I couldn't find it.  I also couldn't climb into the middle, because that's where the gearshift was, and the back was full of the damn smoker.  I was effectively trapped unless...

I stood on the seat, making sure both guns were still with me.  I grabbed the AK and backpack out of the seat, the .44 still in the holster.  I stood up and climbed to the top of the smoker, my vision blurring and hazed in red.  I wiped my eyes with my forearm, and came away with blood.  No wonder.  I shouldered the AK, unsure if this was to be my last stand when I heard somebody yelling.

“Shoot them!”

I pulled the trigger, the selector switch all the way down in what I hoped was single shot.  I think the extra clips were in the backpack, out of reach for the moment.  A man wearing hunter orange, his cheek half sagging off a cut over his exposed bone was the first to get hit, his head exploding in a gory smear, the infected immediately behind him jerking and falling down as well as the bullet continued through, blowing through the center of her throat.  Nothing like this ever happens in the movies, and I almost puked again as a wave of dizziness rose up inside of me.  I fired, again and again, bodies falling around the Jeep, only to be replaced by others.

The entire clip was gone within a minute, almost every bullet finding a target.  I couldn't miss at point blank range, but something happened that made me sure I was never leaving this place alive.  The infected started climbing the bodies of the fallen, forcing me to stand on the center of the smoker, just out of reach of snapping teeth as they climbed inside the Jeep.

Other than the voice that urged me to shoot, I hadn't seen who had shouted.  I wished I had, because I didn't know which way to bail out.  Right over the hood was the most clear, as the infected swarmed the sides, so I grabbed the backpack and leapt.  My knees buckled as my feet hit the hood and I fell to the ground hard.  I must have hit my head hard enough to concuss me, because my vision was still blurred, and I was dizzy.  I staggered to my feet as the first hands found my pack and almost pulled me back down.  I shouted and jerked to a side, breaking the grip and took off running.

Feet were slapping the pavement behind me, and the rotting stench of their dead bodies was almost overpowering.  I needed to find somewhere to hide, rest and get my head back, or I was dead.  I barely was able to pull a new clip out of my pack and change it while running, stuffing the empty in my front pants pocket, where it was sure to crush my balls if I fell.  The footsteps were closer to me, so I stopped and braced myself before turning.  Figures dripping either drool or blood were close, and I clicked the selector switch up one and held the AK at shoulder height, my vision still blurring.  I aimed at the middle of the bunch and pulled the trigger, trying to make a figure eight, hoping to hit everything as I was seeing double and triple at the moment.  The gun fell silent, the bolt locking open once again.

“Over here,” a voice sounded from the north side of the street, the water side.

I stumbled that way, when two sets of hands roughly grabbed me and pulled me towards the water.

“Hey, let me go...!” I stammered, my brain confused.

“Don't fight us Jim, I'm trying to help,” another, separate voice told me.

“Frank, catch his legs, he's passing out...”

And everything went dark.  Darker than when I hit my head on the wheel.

Chapter 14 – Boat

November 17th, 2015

I remember holding a bucket as I puked, and soft, gentle hands wiping my brow with a damp cloth.  The smell of disinfectant and the sting of alcohol as my head wound was cleaned out before being stitched was strong, almost enough to bring me out of my fugue state. I slept, awoke, slept, and lost track of time.  It wasn't until a hot cup of broth was brought to my lips that I was able to focus, and I knew I was having a nightmare.

Sarah sat at the end of the bed, a wicked smile on her face, holding the broth in one hand, the .44 indifferently.  Shit!

“Are you awake now?” she asked me, poking me with her free hand.

“Don't shoot,” I asked, my voice cracked.

I realized my throat was dry, and I was thirsty, almost painfully so, and my stomach was clenched up in a knot.  She put the broth down on a small end table.

“How do I know you haven't changed?” Sarah asked me, the gun now pointed at my middle.

I had been in the middle of stretching my legs, trying to get my stomach to loosen up, but froze when the cold barrel touched my naked skin.  I looked down and realized that I was completely stripped.  In front of my little sister-in-law.  Naked, on the bed, with barely a sweat stained sheet covering me.

“Shit.  Sarah, it's me.”

“So, maybe zombies can talk now.  They're getting better you know.  Better at hiding... at setting traps.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked her as she removed the gun.  I tried to sit up, but kept the sheet as close to me as I could.

“Nothing much.  Mom said you would have turned days ago if you were going to.  Just wanted to mess with you.”

“And sneak a peek.” A deep voice boomed and the color drained out of Sarah's face as she put down the .44 next to me on the bed and backed out of the room.

I recognized that voice. It was Frank, and he was outside the room... Which was oddly shaped.  The left wall was curved slightly, and the window was rounded.  The paneling on the walls looked to be either teak or mahogany and the lights on the ceiling resembled a car's dome light.  I was puzzling all this out when Frank walked in, closing the door behind him.

“You're alive.” His eyes met mine for a second, then he looked away.

“Yeah, my head hurts.”

“Concussion, you've been out for three days.”

“Three days?” I almost shouted and fell back on my back; my head killing me, and I scrabbled to  find the bucket once again.

When I was done, Frank continued. “How bad is it out there?”

“You saw me surrounded?”

“Yeah, we'd just come ashore,” he said, and I was trying to figure it out still, but it was escaping my grasp, the connection was there, but I couldn't make it yet.

“It's bad I guess,” I said, rubbing my eyes, wishing the jackhammers would stop. “I haven't seen any by the cabin though.”

“That's good news then.  When you are safe to travel...”

“Where are we, Frank?”

“On my boat, of course.” Finally things clicked.  Frank had his sailboat anchored in Bay City.  No wonder I hadn't heard anything.  The only way he could have taken it up here was to have crossed around half the state by the Great Lakes and come inland from Charlevoix.

“Nice boat.” I mumbled.

“Yeah.  Well, it doesn't look like you are ready to move, but Katherine said if you woke up soon it was good news.  We were worried that you were scrambled for good.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Well, you didn't miss much.”

“No?”

“Sarah spent two days insulting and cussing you out while you were asleep.”

“She hates me,” I told him, pulling the sheet up to my chest and trying to roll to my side.

“No, she doesn't.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“You are a dumb ass, aren't you?”

“What?” The question cutting through the pain.  I thought Frank was pissed at me until I could see his face clearly, the small smile that touched his eyes reassured me.

“Katherine will be in, in a minute to check on your bandages.  Rest up.” Frank stood and walked out the small room.

True to his word, Katherine was back within a minute.  I tried to be witty and crack a joke, but she forced me to drink the now cool broth, the liquid salty yet glorious in my parched throat.  I sighed and closed my eyes as she talked about everything and nothing at all.  Their escape to Bay City, loading the boat amidst a riot, looters trying to take the boat, or barter their way for a ride out of the burning city, and the endless undead.  The bigger the city, the larger the population of infected.

She was telling me how they sailed the boat for almost two weeks to conserve fuel until they had to make a decision to come to Charlevoix.  They’d known if the bridge was down, they would have to dismantle the mast and motor the rest of the way in, finding fuel where they could. If the bridge was up, they could sail right into Lake Charlevoix and motor down the channel to East Jordan.  They had been lucky, and had docked at a slip when they heard my running gunfight.  After pulling me to safety, they motored out to the middle of the channel and had waited for me to wake up.

“I still can't see straight,” I told Katherine.

“You will be able to.  You just have to take it easy for a little while longer.”

“But Claire and Justin...”

“Who?” Sarah asked, barging back in and sitting on the foot of the bed.

Somehow, being nude under a sheet with my mother-in-law there was only half as mortifying as Sarah's return.  I knew Katherine was a Nurse Practitioner, practically a doctor by all rights, and she had probably been the one taking care of me.  I looked in panic for a blanket to cover the half transparent cotton sheet.

“Who are they?” Sarah asked again, giving my leg a squeeze.  I jumped and my head swum in pain.

“Survivors.  They lived on the edge of town until two weeks ago.”

“So you just moved them into our house?” Her accusation was loud in the air.

“Frank said to help survivors; their house was attacked while I was trying to get the rest of their stuff...”

“He had his reasons, dear,” Katherine told her, “besides, how many other normal people, other than looters, have you seen lately?”

“None,” she admitted, blushing slightly.

“Quit being such a pain in the ass then, go help your Father with something.”

“With what?”

“It doesn't matter.  Go.” Katherine said, pointing at the door.

When I was sure we were alone, I tried to focus on Katherine, who was sitting on the end of the bed now, her head turned.

“She's in love with you, you know.”

My jaw dropped. “What?”

“Ever since you and Janie started dating.  She's never talked about another boy, other than you.  A mother knows these things.”

“But she's...”

“Shhhhhhhhhhh.  I'm telling you now, that way you can figure out when the time is right to either break her heart, or fulfill her dreams.  There's a load of guilt she has to swallow too, and it makes her almost unbearable...” Katherine stood up facing the door, her back to me. “Your clothes are next to you, on the floor.  I'll keep my back turned, but you need to get dressed.

“Yes Ma'am.”

True to her word, she kept her back turned until I stumbled after getting my pants on, almost hitting my head again.  She helped me get my shirt on, and kept me upright as I made my way, drunkenly, to the topside.  The fresh air shot a bolt of pain in my head, right behind my right eye, but it did more to clear my head than anything else so far.

“Kath, you have the helm.” Frank said in a low voice.

I did a double take; both Frank and Sarah were wearing black, tactical vests with matching AKs and black semi-automatic pistols on their side.  They had spare magazines sticking out of pouches in pockets of their vests.  Frank was wearing yellow shooting glasses and Sarah had her hair pulled back drastically, and what looked like welding goggles over her eyes, except they had some sort of red light that flashed when I looked at them directly.

“What, haven't you ever seen a gun before?” Sarah snickered.

Shit!  It was getting dark out, and I could see the boat moving again towards the shoreline, vague shapes moving in the dying light, mostly across the street from the marina.

“I have, I know how to use that one in fact.” I told her pointing to the AK she held.  She colored slightly.

“Well, you can't walk straight.  As it is, we need to see if your Jeep is any good.

“My Jeep?”

“Bumping dock in ten seconds.” Katherine intoned.

“Bumping dock,” Frank repeated before turning and crouching, his muscles bunching for a jump, “If we're not back in thirty minutes with the Jeep, hit the center of the channel, we'll swim out. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Katherine repeated, then turned to Sarah. “Keep your dad safe.”

“See you soon, Jim.” Sarah said, and then the both of them leapt off the edge of the boat.

Katherine hurried, and got a rope around the edge of the dock, keeping the boat close to the dock, but not so close it banged against the pilings with every wave.

Immediately, we heard a recognizable popping sound, one I had made plenty of.  I couldn't focus on anything, my vision blurry, but the Andersens must have a good reason for moving at night, with me hurt, danger all around.  Katherine sat beside me, taking my hand and squeezing.

“Jim, tell me it's going to be all right.”

“What is?”

“Everything.”

“Everything is going to be all right, Mom.” I told her.  She squeezed my hand again and sat at the edge of the dock, her entire body tense.

“How are they going to start the Jeep?”

“You had the keys in your pants pocket.”

“How?”

“I don't know.  I just know that they said your Jeep was off, and I found the keys in your pocket.  If it isn't too banged up…” She paused as a long string of gunfire stretched on for seconds before continuing when the bullets stopped, “…we should be able to load up and get home.”

“Claire and Justin...”

“I'm not worried about that right now.”

“But Frank and Sarah...”

“Frank told you to, Sarah is worried that...”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit.  She's always...”

“Mom, please don't.”

“Ok.” She finished, leaving the words unsaid.  It was better this way, I could ignore it easier if she didn't come right out and make secrets known.

We sat in silence for about ten minutes, and there was no more gunfire.  I didn't know if that was a good or bad thing, but I heard the distinctive sound of my Wrangler start up and the tires crunched on the gravel as it turned into the marina drive.

“Your supplies?” I asked Katherine as she stood up, pulling me with her.

“At the cabin. Don't worry, Jim, we've thought of everything.”

“Pull the rope close.” Frank's voice came out of the gloom, and the boat floated closer to the dock as Katherine gave me a gentle push.  Strong hands caught me under the arms, and I could see both Sarah and Frank's faces as we made our way to the passenger side of the Jeep.

“There are only two seats!” Sarah complained, giving the smoker the stink eye.

“Dump this thing,” Katherine said.

“No,” I complained, if they only knew how much trouble I went through to get it...

“Katherine, drive, I'll ride in back.” Frank screamed as shadowy forms started towards us from the dark.

“Where do I sit?” Sarah called back.

“Double up with Jim.” Mom called to her.  I was being roughly buckled in and, when Sarah's weight slammed into my waist and stomach, I finally passed out with the pain.

+++++++

“Help us move him!” I heard one of the girls say, not sure who was speaking.  Janie, it sounded like Janie.

“Get him in here, he's convulsing!”

“How bad is he?”

“I don't know.”

“Were we followed, Dad?”

“Not that I can tell.”

“Is Jim going to be OK?”

“I have dinner.”

“The book’s in here...”

The chatter washed over me as I faded in and out of consciousness, waking to be fed, or walked to the restroom.  Days went by in a blur and, when I awoke again, I felt stronger than before.

“Mom, he's up!” Justin was sitting on the edge of the big bed, apparently in Frank and Katherine's bedroom.

“Good, trade me places and go find Katherine.” Claire said, walking into the bedroom, her smile almost big enough to split her head in half.

“I'm alive.” I stated more than asked.

“Yeah, you and Sarah smacked heads together getting on the railroad tracks.  They didn't realize you were out again until they got here.”

Her hand found mine and I gave her a weak squeeze; it was the most I could manage.

“How long have I been out?”

“In and out for three days.  You haven't talked this much until now.  Katherine said you had a thick head, so you'd make it,” she said, smirking, “and I tend to agree with her.”

I looked down, and this time I was relieved to be dressed in a pair of sweat pants.  I had to use the bathroom, and I swung my legs over the bed and was able to stand with a minimal amount of leg wobble.  Claire put an arm around my waist, her shoulder under my arm, and led me out of the bedroom.  I knew if I stumbled, we'd both go down, so I took my time.

“You need a hand in here?” Claire asked me as I considered the toilet, which seemed to sway back and forth.

“Uh, no offense but...”

“If you need a hand, let me know.  I've been helping you since you got back.” She laughed as my skin turned even more red in embarrassment.

“Did, uh...”

“You'll never know.  Sarah was pissed.”

“Oh shit.” I said, deciding to close the door and take care of things myself.

My head swam.  How was it that everyone knew about Sarah's feelings, and I was just finding out?  If Claire was needling her, what did my in-laws think?

I opened the door and headed out to the kitchen to wash my hands, when I heard Frank and Justin talking and laughing softly from the front door, followed by Katherine and Sarah.

“Oh shit, you aren't supposed to be out of bed,” Katherine fussed, grabbing my wrist and feeling my pulse.

“I needed to wash my hands,” I explained.

“OK, wash them, and then sit down.” I was corralled into the soft chair at the dining table, the one that was next to the wall.

“I hope you like chicken and rice,” Sarah asked, “It's probably the softest solid food we have here, unless you want a tuna fish sandwich.”

“Chicken and rice sounds good,” I mumbled, accepting a glass of orange liquid from Claire as Katherine was looking into each of my eyes, poking about my head.  I finally had to put the glass down until she was done.

“You're very lucky,” Katherine told me.

“Look Mom, no bites,” I held up my wrists, trying to be goofy.  “Thank you though, thank you guys.  I wouldn't have made it back if you hadn't...”

“We never would have made it here if you weren't where you were.  You either have shit luck or are a shit magnet, I can't decide.” Sarah snarked.

“I don't know what that means.”

“I don't either,” Claire said with a laugh.

“Mom says you have to take it easy.  Do you want to help me with the fishing for a while?” Justin asked me, and I looked at him puzzled.  I couldn't remember fishing.  Was I supposed to be fishing?

“You are on light duty.  Claire said you've been working on the firewood stocks, and even fishing might be too much,” Frank told me.  Sarah's nose, but I didn't care, it could be my faulty sight as well as my fuzzy memory.

“OK.  I'm pretty tired though.”

“Oh, hell no, your ass is going to eat!” Sarah said, pissed.

“What did I do?” I asked Frank.

“She cooked it.”

“Oh shit,” I moaned.

Justin started laughing, and pretty soon the rest of them joined in, including Sarah. I looked out of the window and saw that snow had started falling.  It was going to get deep soon, and I was worried all the laughter would turn to tears before long.

Chapter 15 – Healing & Laying in Supplies

December 20th, 2015

Close to a month passed, and I got stronger day by day.  Katherine told me that my concussion was serious enough, that without imaging, I could have had a closed head injury, but when I hit it again on Sarah's head, I most certainly did.  I was given a month of light duty, plus Frank was impressed with the wood I had dropped and chopped by hand.

Sarah spent almost every night on security, going from location to location around the property line.  I found out that although Frank and Katherine owned the majority of land on this side of the lake, the cabin's parcel was about ten acres square.  That was the area that was patrolled, and Sarah made quick use of the supplies under Frank’s bed.  Tripwires were set up in a way that they would trigger a road flare, glow stick or a pull popper of some sort.  Even with six people, it wasn't enough to have an effective 24-hour watch.

Frank had spent his mornings hunting, and had gotten lucky several times as November came into December.  He bagged two more deer, and the smoker I had saved from Claire’s house came into great use.  It could hold most of a deer in its boxy 4x4 frame, just eating charcoal, or hardwood under a pan of wet hickory, to give it the flavor we wanted.  Fish, venison and some cat tail roots had all been smoked there, and the smell always made my mouth water.  The freezer was filling up fast, and we started smoking everything until it was brittle, storing it in a Tupperware storage container in the second shed.

Justin worked closely with Sarah and me when he wasn't breaking through the ice and fishing, learning how to preserve food, keeping the cabin picked up, and studying books on natural remedies and medicine.  I couldn't do much, so I mainly watched the fires, and kept the food cycled through the home-made smoker, the solar dehydrator and the big smoker.  Claire worked on gathering every walnut and acorn she could, almost having to fight the squirrels for the privilege.  Her other job was hunting, but it wasn't food she was hunting.

She patrolled much further than Sarah, looking for survivors.  She often took her bow as well as a handgun.  If she ran across one of the infected, she'd use the bow to take it down, preferring head shots.  It ruined arrows, but those were easy enough to make according to Frank, who worked on just that, at night time.  Most of Claire's patrols were on foot, or on a bicycle depending on the distance she was traveling.  The only thing she found so far were the dead heads, and had put down a half a dozen that somehow made it out in the direction of the cabin.  Some of them still had their ID on them, and most of them were from in town.  One was from Tennessee according to his license, and we all thought about that some before giving up.

Every one of the infected she came across was over a mile away from the cabin, but that was getting too close to where we lived; a mile was only half an hour of walking after all.  Frank joined her on the hunts, and I think Sarah would have too, but she seemed to be resting during the early part of the day, sitting close to Justin and I, resting when she couldn't stay awake any longer.  A lot of times, I carried her sleeping form to one of the open beds when her soft snores became overly loud.

We healed, I learned what it was like to be close to family and I figured out that both Sarah and Claire were getting close, and the way they looked at me... I missed Janie like hell, and being around her family without her was like salt on an open wound at times, especially when Sarah's snark was particularly sharp, but Claire tried to make things light, fun and easy.  The age difference didn't seem so big after a while, and we often took coffee together in the mornings, once folks were up and about.  I knew I was on my last days of rest when I asked Frank one night where he wanted me.

My limited woodcraft skills made me the poorer choice as a hunter, and Justin did such a good job on fishing, that we made him take a day off every now and then so we could catch up. I could, however, do some of the watches, and it was suggested that I pair up with Sarah for a while to get used to it, as she'd been doing it for most of a month.  After my training, I'd have my own time slot, as would everyone else as the hunting and food gathering came to a close with the snow.

The season usually averaged 70” of snow and, being right off the lake, it stayed cold enough for most of that to collect.  Once the heavy snow hit, we might spend a month or longer stuck in or around the cabin.  That's why it was important to get as much done as we could, as quickly as possible.

Sarah wasn't as abusive as normal when we were alone in the night.  She sometimes reminisced about times Janie and I would take her to the movies with us, and she talked a lot about how much she looked up to her bigger sister.  It was painful to listen to, but I knew she needed it as much as I needed to hear it.  Sharing together, perhaps we'd find some peace, instead of walking through life numb, no better than the infected that Claire ran across from time to time.

“We need to thin things out,” Claire informed us the next morning at breakfast time.

“The trees?” I asked, confused.

“No, more of the infected are starting to move this way.  We need to thin things out, otherwise they will bunch up and come after us again,” she said, looking to Sarah for a nod of approval.

“I ran across some last night,” Sarah said; nobody had told me that, as it was my first day doing a solo run, in the early daylight hours.

“Did you...?”

“I didn't use a gun, that's for sure.  I would have alerted everything around here.”

“My God, they were this close to the cabin?” Katherine asked, her voice tense and high in fear.

“Looking for us?” I asked, but got a stern look of disapproval from Frank.

“How would they know we’re here?” Justin asked me, and I shrugged my shoulders.

“Maybe we should organize some sort of hunt, or do something to draw them all in and...”

“And?” Katherine asked her daughter, an eyebrow raised.

“Fish in a barrel,” Claire answered for Sarah and they smiled at each other.  Huh, that was a new one; they'd been shooting death glances at each other since they'd all been under one roof.

Luckily the chair in front of the fire had become my new “spot” so I didn't have to worry about being stuck in the bunk room with both ladies and Justin.  That would have been... Awkward.  I was, however, both worried and anxious to find out why the dead heads had been traveling out this far, not having seen any myself since the day I got the smoker.

“Do you really think it's a good idea to lure them at all?  Maybe they are wandering around, because there’s nothing left to find in the city?”

“I hate to think of them out here,” Katherine said, her voice shocked.

“Well, let's take a day to think on this.  We can always go on the attack if we need to.  There are six of us now, enough to setup some sort of trap, if necessary,” Frank told us. “It isn't as if they are knocking on our door right now.”

“They almost were, Dad. I just dragged the bodies out past the trail to the driveway, that's all.”

“Dammit.”

“What do we do?” Claire asked.

“I've got a plan, but let me think on it.” Frank replied.

I just nodded; many of his plans had come together wonderfully, including the cabin I had been staying in, and I hadn’t realized that all those buckets in the shed had been literally tons of food and supplies that were so cleverly stored inside I hadn't realized I was looking at them.  The only indications of the Andersen's secret hobbies were the bookshelves and the enormous gun safe.

The rest of the stuff looked pretty normal, considering folks who lived here in the winter time might find themselves cutoff from civilization for long stretches as the almost six feet of snow made itself into drifts that could cover the cabin entirely.  Now that was a warm thought, I thought to myself.

“What do you think will happen this winter?” I asked aloud, not directing it at anybody in general.

“I kind of think they will freeze solid, as long as they aren't too active.  I'm surprised they have lasted this long, to be honest.” Katherine answered.

“Do you think the snow will stop them?” Justin asked.  I was confused for a moment, but figured the kid had made the same connections I did.

A ton of snow would make any sort of traveling difficult no matter who you were.

“It might slow them down...” I started...

“What do you have in mind for a trap?”

“Nothing special.  Just a different way of hunting predators.” Frank said with a grin.  Both Katherine and Sarah started smiling as well and all I could do was scratch my head and wonder what I was missing out on.

“Hey Jim, where's that small solar charger at?  I have some batteries I need to top off.” Frank grinned.

Claire’s stricken expression wasn’t lost on me; I just chalked it up to being horrified about the situation.  Later, I would find out the terrible truth.

+++++++++++

December 21st, 2015

It was just over freezing and snowing lightly when we set up the game call, which ended up being a fancy name for a digital recorder and a self amplified speaker that looked like a small megaphone.  The previous evening, we set the recorder up on the kitchen table as the entire cabin talked about random things.  None of us knew how long it would record, but Katherine assured me that it would play itself on a loop until we either turned it off, or the batteries died.

Sarah and Claire both built impromptu tree stands on either side of the tracks leading to the turnoff to the cabin, and the rest of us, including Justin, were on the ground, spread out so we wouldn't fire on each other, but close enough to hear a whispered word.  Our plan turned out to be simple.  We'd play our loop loudly, and the infected would be drawn to the center of the conversation, if things worked out as planned.  We all had a set of bow and arrows, as well as some sort of firearm and enough spare ammunition to make us jingle if we tried to move fast.

In my head, I knew that the sound of gunfire would travel a lot further, but the thought of using bows made me all cold inside.  I was also worried that if we saw any of the infected this far out, how many were close enough to the cabin?  I know in my head we needed a day like this to either thin things out or to get a realistic idea, but I knew in my heart that I wasn't a soldier.  Hell, I wasn't even a hunter, not in the true sense.  Here I was though, in the woods and about to find out how serious the situation was for us.

Frank's form was broken up by his camo ghillie suit.  Apparently, it was in the bedroom closet the entire time, but it looked like strips of randomly colored canvas.  Now he looked like a running bush, with sticks, twigs and leaves breaking up his form.  We all talked about whether or not the dead heads could smell us or not, but the suit was good enough to make Frank look like anything but a human.  Hitting the play button, he scrambled to the side of the road, between both Katherine and I.  I'd like to think it's so he could cover a better angle, but it was more likely that there wasn't a lot of faith in my woodcraft and shooting skills.  I could live with that.

I waited for the soft chatter of last night’s conversation to come out of the speaker when I almost got scared out of my skin.  The Jimmie Hendrix version of the Star Spangled Banner blared at concert volume, and we all resisted standing and putting our hands over our hearts, but we had our bows ready, guns for backup.  When the music died, there was a long pause, perhaps four minutes.  I was bewildered, I knew things had been recorded and Frank had a new SD card.

The conversation I heard made me blush; I must have been washing up for the night, because the voices I heard were only of the ladies.  I had no clue where Frank was, but I had a feeling it was when he was walking the outside of the cabin, having a rare cigar.

“I see the way you look at him, I just want to know.”

“That isn't fair,” Sarah's voice.

“He was practically married to your family.  I just want to know if...”

“He never looks at me that way.”

“Yes he does, but he looks at me too, that's why I can't figure out if...”

“Please stop.  There's too much else to think about.”

“Sarah, cut the shit and quit being so practical.  I want to know, you want to know.  I just want to know if you think about him like that too?”

“It doesn't even matter.”

“It does.  We're friends, right?”

“Yes,” Sarah's voice, sounding defeated.

“How long have you known him?”

“It seems like forever.  You?”

“Not long enough.”

“Well, I'm not going to fight you over him, but this has been awkward from the start...”

I looked at Frank in a panic, but he just gave me a pained smile.  I looked to Katherine and she had her hand over her mouth, holding back from laughing out loud and giving away our position.

“Oops,” Frank whispered.

The rest of the conversation on the recording was even worse, lasting another two minutes.  The loop wasn't quite done until there was another two minute pause when the Star Spangled Banner started up again.  When it was done, Frank hit a button on a small remote.  My ears were on fire, my cheeks so red that nobody would recognize it as human skin.  I'm glad I hadn't seen the girls, but when I met Katherine's eyes, she was smiling wickedly.  It was all I could do not to take off.  There was no way that... Surely, she hadn’t…

“Don't move,” Frank whispered sharply.  “Movement, 8 o'clock”

Chapter 16 – Who's going zombie hunting?

December 21st, 2015

After a couple of moments, I could hear something pushing through the underbrush, no attempt at silence, and the sound was joined with something else almost at two o'clock, in the direction Claire was.  My heart rate shot through the roof, my blood roaring.  I knocked an arrow and was surprised to see how bad my hands were shaking; the broad head was almost bouncing off the end of the rest when the infected from Claire's direction came into my sight.  It was male from what I could tell, and its clothing was in tatters.  The funk of corrupted flesh seemed to fill the small open area we’d set up around by the railroad tracks, despite the freezing temperatures.

The infected was close to Claire before I could raise my bow, but with a casual draw and release, an arrow flew from her bow and hit with a wet thump in the center of its forehead.  It went limp and it slumped soundlessly to the ground.  My hands were really shaking, and I lowered my bow to listen.  Katherine's breathing was the loudest thing I could hear, and I wondered what happened to whatever movement that Frank had talked about from 8 o'clock

The minutes seemed to tick by and I could see Frank move his hand, ready to key the remote again when a dead head shambled out into the open.  He was different than any of the other infected I'd seen early on.  He walked softly, slowly, his nose raised to the air.  If he didn't already look dead, I would have sworn that he was a normal person with a nasal fixation, sniffing out the issues.  The infected paused about ten feet from the predator call and looked around the clearing before lifting his face to smell the air again.  The action sent chills down my spine and I slowly raised my bow, the arrow already knocked.

I don't know why my hands weren't shaking like they were before, but I slowly extended my left arm, pulling the string back with my right, when the zombie looked towards where Sarah was hidden. So far, I'd only killed these creatures out of self defense, or running for my life.  I debated whether I could do it in cold blood; after all, this was a hunt.  I centered the sight on the center of the Z's head and let go.

The snap of the string releasing was loud and the sting across my arm almost made tears come to my eyes, but the real horror was the arrow flying straight and perfect, nicking the zombie's ear, missing the center mass entirely.  It slapped at its head, and its insane eyes fixed on my position.  My heart rate went through the roof again and my vision narrowed.  The dead head started running in my direction as I fumbled for another arrow, my hands shaking horribly, until I heard another wet smack and the deadhead fell almost at my feet.

Sarah lifted her chin to me and nodded, and all I could do was hope the day would end soon with all of us safe.

The rest of the afternoon was spent mostly in hiding, and I tried not to cringe every time Frank played the loop.  Even the girl's faces were turning red after the fourth time it was played aloud, but no more dead heads popped up.  I was ready for my kidneys to start floating when Frank finally approached and waved everyone out of cover.

“I think that's all we're going to get.  I don't want to overdo this here and end up drawing them closer in.”

“Yeah, I'm ready to go,” Sarah said, smiling at me, probably ready to rib me on my miss earlier and how she had to make a save on me.

“I have to use the restroom,” Justin told his mom.

“Me too,” I said, nodding towards some trees, asking Frank if things were safe.  He nodded and we headed off towards the heavier brush.

We stood almost back to back, watering the wild mint and evergreens and I avoided the subject.  That was his mother I had heard, and Janie's little sister.  I had known they had gotten close, and honestly I was jealous.  Of whom, I didn't know; all I knew for sure was that I continued my existence in the living room of the cabin, when I sometimes dreamed of being in a soft bed, lying next to Janie.

“My mom likes you,” Justin told me.

“Shit.”

“No, really, she does.”

“I know she does, I just meant... I don't want to talk about this right now.” I said, zipping up.

“Well, when will you talk about it?  My mom and Miss Sarah are keeping me up late, talking and arguing.  Can I get the couch by you tonight?”

I smiled; the mental image inflated my ego, and my head, to gigantic proportions.  I wasn't too old to feel flattered, and I waited another moment or two before turning, making sure I heard the kid’s zipper before walking towards the tracks and his mother.  I tried not to look embarrassed, but honestly, I didn't know what to feel.  I didn't want to hurt either woman, but my heart was still spoken for, even though I'd had moments, brief thoughts where I'd thought that I should feel so guilty.  Part of me had moved on, but my emotions were still torn and confused.

“Hey boys, let's go back, before more dead meat shambles this way,” Katherine said with a grim look on her face.

“OK, you ready Jim?” Justin asked me.

I looked at the three ladies, my father in law, and then to Justin, all eyes were looking at me, gauging me.  I hoped I wouldn't get them all killed someday...

“Yeah, I'm hungry now, too.” I told them.

“Wait a sec,” Sarah said running to the corpses and pulling the arrow free from her shot. She tried to pull the arrow from the first kill, but it bent and she left it.

“Ugggg.” Justin complained.

“That is getting washed off before it even gets close to the cabin.” Frank told her, then turned his back and started walking.

I knew how long it was going to take us to get back, I'd used my odometer a few times to figure out how far until the driveway, but it had been so carefully hidden that you'd never find it without knowing it was there first.  The walking was easy on the two track trail, beaten down from my Jeep's repeated passages, except for the snow.  My mind wandered a bit, and it went to food as it often did lately.  I'd been eating foods that I normally wouldn't, spicing things up to give it more flavor.  There were things that had started invading my thoughts though, like milk.

Every time I thought of milk, I'd think of cheese, every time I thought of cheese I'd think of pizza... When I thought of pizza I wanted a beer, when I thought of the corona in the now functional fridge I would remember that it was Janie's favorite.  Damn, even thinking about food brought me back to Janie lately, so instead of obsessing about chocolate, ice cream and yogurt, I thought of the myriad ways that the flour that Katherine had stored in one of the sheds was used.  Breads, muffins, biscuits, pancakes… But the food was still bland.

I missed something else, something I never would have thought I'd get the cold sweats thinking about.

I wanted a Big Mac.

My mouth watering, I wondered if I could grind some venison with black beans, add some canned bacon to the grind, and come close... The canned cheese would have to do, and we were still able to find wild greens on warmer days... Maybe.  I decided that I would make dinner tonight.  There was a griddle I could use on the wood stove.  Successfully diverting my thoughts of the awkwardness earlier, I was swept away and ready to start dinner when Justin asked,

“Hey, where did Sarah go?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, embarrassed that I had been so lost in my thoughts with no concern for anybody else.

“Katherine, get the rest into the house, I'm going to look for Sarah.” Frank said, more of a command than a suggestion.

“I'm coming too,” I told him, handing my bow to Justin.

“No, you stay here, I’ll go.” Claire offered.

“You have Justin to look after,” I told her softly, pointing out she was better capable of protecting her son than I was without being too obvious.

I could pull the trigger, but my woodcraft skills were limited.  I did know I was pretty perceptive, and I could find her trail, snow or no snow.

“But I can help out with…”

“Claire, you keep my wife safe.  You have a son to protect.” Frank told her, the subject closed as far he was concerned.

Frank gave me an odd look, until I pulled the Dirty Harry special out of the holster.  He just nodded to me and the ladies took off, Justin in tow.  They had a five minute walk left, and little chance of running into any issues.  I thought about the fact that Claire hadn't said anything, as the ladies had been walking side by side; how could she have missed Sarah dropping out of the line?  My blood ran cold with the possibilities, and I looked behind me as she put her hand on her son’s shoulder, smiling at us.

We worked our way slowly back the same route we'd been walking, treading softly, quietly and trying to keep in the shadows.  I strained to keep the same pace as Frank, because at times he'd stop suddenly and stare off into the woods.  In his camo, he almost turned into a bush when he did this, and only when he started moving again was I able to make out his vague outline even though he was only twenty feet in front of me.

It was almost luck when I spotted a fluttering orange ribbon tied at eyes level on an evergreen and I stopped, whistling softly for my father in law.  He made his way backwards, keeping his eyes forward until he was side by side with me, his AK swinging back and forth to cover a large area.  Frank looked at the marker and motioned for me to stand still.  He started working in a circle, first at ten feet, moved it out to twenty, and when I almost couldn't see him anymore, he was almost through another circuit when he waved his hand for me to follow.

I moved on and found Frank at the next marker and again we repeated the exercise until we found the third marker, and Sarah.  What I saw before me made me swallow down vomit before I could lose my breakfast.  Amongst the trees, standing in their own piles of snow at the base, four figures were tied to the boughs, being devoured by two of the infected, the bodies already as dead as the zombies by the looks of things.

Frank motioned for me to crouch down, and I did.  Then Sarah pantomimed using her bow to draw the string back, and then pointed to Frank and one of the figures.  He nodded and she made the motion again, pointing to herself and the other infected.  They both locked eyes and nodded, getting arrows ready.

They released at the same instant and the two infected twitched, one of them dropping moments later, the other turning to scream incoherently.  It had long black scraggly hair, its clothing the most noticeable thing marking it as one of the infected.  December is a cold month at the cabin, and warm days were barely at the freezing point.  This one had tattered and gore stained blue jeans, a white wife beater that was filthy beyond measure and an arrow angling down through both sides of his jaw.  Sarah had botched her shot.

I winced at the scream, bringing the .44 up in a smooth motion.  The infected had spun and started running faster than I thought would have been possible in the snow.  Sarah and Frank were scrambling to knock arrows, but I judged they'd be too late.  I pulled the hammer back with my thumb, took careful aim and blew out my breath slowly, gently pulling the trigger like I'd been taught.

The cannon went off, almost hitting me in the head as I hadn't been expecting the recoil to pull that much, and the zombie's face and skull evaporated into a red mist which hung in the air.  Its body continued forward for another two running steps before falling right at my feet and I realized that I still could hear the echo of the gunshot, the still silence now shattered.

“Oh shit,” Frank said looking around, scanning the trees for more figures.  He put the arrow back into the quiver and hung his bow across one shoulder, pulling his AK free.

Sarah had mimicked his movements, her rifle scanning side to side and she walked closer to the figures tied to the trees, their heavy coats torn open or pulled to the side.  She hissed in either surprise or disgust and called to us softly.  The bodies couldn't have been up there long; there was no obvious decomposition, but it was cold, and the bodies were horribly mangled by the infected's teeth and nails.  The last body in the group looked the freshest, its coat opened and shirt torn off.  I saw two breasts, one half gnawed off by the infected Frank had took down and I felt sickened.  I tried to look everywhere but the corpse’s chest, and that's when I noticed the bloody line across its neck.

“Frank, her throat has been cut,” I whispered.

“These two girls too,” Frank said.

“This last one's throat is cut, but I can't tell if it's a guy or a girl,” Sarah whispered, the horror she felt evident in her voice.

I tried to put the pieces together.  These four were wearing winter gear and didn't have any tell tale signs of being infected.  In fact, they were dead and not even undead.  It didn't make any sense.

“Oh my god, look at this,” Frank said, both Sarah and I coming closer to the body to see his find.

In her right fist was a chunk of wavy brown hair.  I felt my stomach drop and I looked up at Sarah, wondering if she thought the same thing I did.  She met my gaze and nodded, her expression stricken.

“Frank, that looks like Claire's...”

“We need to go.  That .44 made the forest shake.” Frank said, pulling the hairs loose, his gun back at the ready position.

“OK Dad, want me on point?” Sarah asked.

“No, I'm on point.  You two keep your ears peeled.  If there's any infected around, they'll have heard that shot and be on their way soon.”

I felt horrible for breaking the silence with the gun, and decided to top off the chamber, pocketing the empty shell casing before rolling the cylinder closed with a quiet snick.  Sarah looked at me sharply, and I just shrugged.  I had no other weapon, and they weren't ready to stop the charge.  We’d survived; I just hoped that we'd figure out what was going on and what Claire was doing.

I don't know what the point of killing them and roping the bodies to trees was, but I knew it didn't bode well and Claire was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

Chapter 17 – Confrontation

December 21st, 2015 Twilight

The trudge back to the cabin was horrible.  My shoulders were slumped in defeat, and I had no clue how to even approach the problem.  Sarah was pale, and she kept stealing glances my way, probably expecting me to burst into tears or scream in terror.  I couldn't read her expression, but I knew she was probably thinking the same thing, except she was waiting for an opening to insult me some more.  Frank on the other hand, walked with a slow and determined purpose.

When the cabin was in sight, he let out a low whistle, almost sounding like a hoot owl, and it was returned immediately.  Walking into the open area of the driveway, we were met by Katherine, her gun raised until she could make out our features, her facial expression relaxing from the scowl it was a moment ago.

“Where are Claire and the boy?” Frank asked her abruptly, his voice barely carrying over the short distance away.

“Inside, why?  Sarah, are you OK?  Where were you, why did you...?”

Frank hushed her with a finger to his lip in what was a universal gesture.  Sarah and I walked forward to stand at Frank's side, and Katherine took in our expressions, knowing something bad was happening.

“Mom, when we go in, don't put your guns away,” Sarah told her.

“What is going on?”

“It's bad, hun, it's really bad.  It's something to do with Claire.  We can't talk out here though, she might overhear us and I don't want her to get away or hurt the boy...” Frank said softly, his voice the same quiet tone he used before.

“Mom, it's bad.  We all need to go in, and just believe us,” I told Katherine, not knowing how the night was going to end.

“Alright, but you guys are scaring me.”

“Good, then you'll be ready for anything,” Frank said, striding to the door and opening it.

Trying to act like nothing is wrong was a lot harder than it sounded to me, and we rarely carried our guns around the cabin with us, though it wasn't totally unheard of.  They had almost become a habit over the past month, almost as much as using the bows whenever possible.  After shucking out of our winter gear, we headed to the dining table, where Claire was sitting in the corner, her own pistol sitting in arms reach, Justin beside her.  They were each reading a book, and her smile lit up when she saw us coming.

“Could this all be a mistake?” I thought to myself.

“Claire, we found the dead in the woods, tied to the tree.” Sarah said bluntly, plopping down in the chair across from her, as the rest of us took seats, effectively blocking the mother and son team in the corner.

Claire winced, her jaw dropping open.

“So it was you?” Frank said, putting what he had cupped in his hand on the table, flicking his fingers from his palm slightly.  Long wavy brown hairs fell and shined dully in the lamp light.

“What did you do?” Katherine asked, horrified.

“I was using them as bait.  They were already dead and...”

“They weren't already dead.  One of them had these hairs in her hand, where she must have struggled against being tied up.”

“They were dead already!” she nearly shouted.

“Wait, there was blood on the ropes.  If they were already dead, there wouldn't be fresh blood on the rope.  It's too cold for it to stay liquid for long.” I spoke aloud, as one piece to the puzzle snapped into place.

“But, they were... I mean, you can't know that.  I found them stuck in...” she stammered.

“Why did you kill them?” Katherine asked.

“They would have died anyways,” she snarled, “and I wasn't going to let him fall in love with the women.” her voice shrieked at the end as she raised the pistol and leveled it at my head.

Everyone froze, only their eyes moving.  From Claire to me, back and forth.  Finally Justin moved slowly, his mother’s eyes darting to the side as he reached up and put his small hand across her bicep and pulled her gun arm down slowly, softly.  The gun hit the table with a clatter and she buried her head in her arms and started sobbing.  Justin slid the pistol towards me and I caught it before it could skitter off the table.  I handed it to Frank, my hands shaking so bad, I felt like I was going to drop it.

“Jim isn't falling in love with anybody,” Katherine said softly over top of Claire's sobs. “Were you trying to draw the zombies to us?”

“No, no, I'd never do that.  You guys are like family to me and Jim is perfect for Justin, he's a great father and...”

“I'm not a father.” I said, and Claire raised her head to look at me, wiping a stringer of snot off her nose with a shirt sleeve, her hair in disarray.  I was going to have been a father, but Janie was gone, the baby with her.

Once the mask was off, I could see how much we all had missed noticing, Justin included.  Somewhere, somehow, Claire's mind had snapped.  Her eyes were bloodshot, but not from infection, more like little to no sleep.  Her eyes had deep dark shadows under them that had nothing to do with makeup, and her exposed skin had a pallor to it that I hadn't noticed before.  The conversation she’d had with Sarah that I'd heard on the recording was one little slip of the mask, but she was stark raving mad.  She had to be.  Claire tried to push the table into Frank and I and bolted upright.

Katherine cursed, drawing her own gun, but Sarah stopped the attempted break away by cold cocking Claire in the side of the face, the lights going out immediately.  Claire slumped back into the chair, her upper body leaning on Justin who still looked at us in shock and his mom in horror.

“Did you know?” I asked him.

I thought his head would wobble right off his shoulders as he shook an unmistakable no.  Frank abruptly left the room and was back in moments with long, thick zip ties.  Claire's eyes had started fluttering, and before she came to, he had both arms secured to the arms of the chair she was sitting in, and both legs were done in the same fashion.

“Claire, Claire! Wake up!” Sarah pushed on her shoulder and pulled her hand back quickly as Claire's teeth snapped shut.

“He's mine! I found him first!  I saved him!  You don't love him the way I do, he likes me!” She started to sob when Sarah continued to stare at her, her hands out of reach now.

“This isn't good.” Katherine turned to Frank.

“No, it isn't.  Justin, if you untie your mom, I'm going to throw you both out of here.  Got it?”

“Yes sir,” Justin said, moving away from his mother.

“I want to talk to you three.” Frank said, pointing at Katherine, Sarah and I.

We headed towards the bedroom where Frank and Katherine slept and stood in the doorway.

“She can't stay here.” Frank started.

“We can't make them leave in this weather.” Katherine hissed.

“Who said them?  The boy stays.  He had nothing to do with this.” Frank was pissed, betraying the stoic face he usually kept.

“Daddy, you can't kick her out and expect Justin to stay here with us,” Sarah said.

“What do you want him to do, take her out back and shoot her?” I demanded, and the girls winced.

“That might be the best thing, actually.” Frank said.

“That's murder.”

“That's what she did.  She's looped the loop. Cracked. Crazy.  I don't think I can sleep here tonight, knowing she's awake.”

“She's tied up tight.”

“Justin might let her out...”

“The kid is a good kid.  You all probably watched her face when Sarah dropped the bomb, but I watched Justin's.  The kid was absolutely horrified when he realized what his mother had done.

“What do we do?” Katherine asked.

“I'm thinking of Bobby's cabin.  We can drop her there.  He's setup almost as good as we are here.”

“What if Bobby is there?” Katherine asked, ignoring Sarah and I completely.

“I got a message from him before we left for the boat.  He'd been bitten and...”

“Oh honey, I'm sorry,” Katherine said, putting her hand to her husband’s cheek. “He was your best friend, why didn't you tell me?”

“Didn't have a chance to.  Things up here are hard enough to focus on, let alone mourning the loss of a friend.”

“That's cold, Daddy.” Sarah spoke up.

“You're probably right,” he said after a long pause. “But if Jim will loan me the Jeep, I can drop Claire off in the morning.

“I don't mind, but you're going to need one of us to go with you.  We can't trust her.”

“No, we can’t.  I don't think I want you to go though, Jim, she's fixated on you for some reason.”

I just nodded and the group split up.  Sarah and Frank approached the table and Frank explained the exile he had in mind.  The screams were long and loud, and she wailed fit to wake the dead.  I was worrying about her being overheard in the advancing gloom of night when first one flare went off, then another.

“Shit!” I screamed.

+++++++++++++

Something had set off the tripwires in two different directions.  The tripwires were easy to make, with the hardware from under Frank's bed.  Basically, a rat trap and striker were positioned and nailed to a tree.  The tripwire itself was tied to the trigger, and ran down the length of the tree through a metal eye loop and ran parallel to the ground and tied off at the other end.  Once tripped, the rat trap would close, hitting the striker on the flares or snapping a glow stick, giving us an idea when and where it was hit.  I was wishing they were claymores at that point.

“Stay here with Claire and Justin.” Frank pointed at me.  I just nodded, and the three Andersens put on their winter gear, grabbed their rifles and patted their pockets for clips.  They weren't even looking at bows when another flare went off, then a glow stick, sickly green in the gloom.

“I will, be safe.”

“Got your gun?” Sarah asked.

“Always.”

“Good. This is for luck,” Sarah said, leaning in, her lips brushing mine, and then opening as the kiss deepened.

“He's mine!” Claire screamed, breaking the moment.

“Shut her up,” Katherine said, slamming the door open and stomping outside, all Momma bear in a rage.

One by one the Andersens left the cabin on a grim task, one that left me wondering about their safety and, of course, the kiss.  I rubbed my lips absentmindedly while Claire continued to shriek.  I went to my bag, grabbed a pair of socks and jammed them into her mouth.  She'd either have to calm down, or she would choke, and if it weren't for Justin, I wouldn't have cared at that point, chemistry or no.

“You aren't going to hurt my mom, are you?”

“No, but I have a lot of things to do here right now.  Follow me if you want to talk,” I told him, heading for the gun safe and getting a vest, mags and the AK I had used.  Justin shadowed me.

“What happens now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you kicking us out?”

“You can stay, kiddo.” I told him, starting to go window to window, loading the magazine and pulling the bolt.

“But my mom...”

“She's snapped, kid.”

“But she's my mom!”

“There's another cabin up the lake, just like this one.  We're going to drop her there.  If we survive the night,” I said, listening.

“Contact!” I heard Frank shout, then the guns started to go off.

We both rushed to the window in the bunk room to look outside, in the direction the shots had come from.  We were so intent on looking that, although I heard the front door open, I figured it was somebody coming back in to give us the all-clear. The crash from the kitchen brought me back to the present and I ran out of the bedroom.

Claire's chair had fallen over, probably due to her struggling to move away from the bloody horror that had wandered into the house.  The ball of socks in her mouth kept her screams from being heard, but the cords of muscles on her arms, neck and legs were evident as she struggled to free herself.  The dead head was bending down to get a bite when Justin launched himself forward, his arms wrapping around the creature's neck before both of them crashed to the floor.  The zombie pulled on another chair leg, probably to right itself, but the heavy oak chair fell between it and the boy, the heavy seat of the chair hitting Justin on the head.  He quit struggling, making his mother’s movement even more frantic.

I wasn't going to let this happen, and rage filled my body.  The dead head struggled to a kneeling position and used one arm to push the table back before I remembered how my feet worked.  I raised the gun but hesitated.  I might blow through the undead body and hit Claire or Justin.  Instead, I turned the gun around and used the stock like a baseball bat on a down swing, crushing it into the dead flesh against the side of its jaw.  I heard a sick sound and it was still, either dead or knocked out.  I was hoping for dead.

Gasping for breath, I pulled Claire's chair out of the way and righted it.  I stepped over the lifeless form and flung the chair off of Justin's head, kneeling and feeling for a pulse with one hand.  He had a strong pulse and I was ready to pick him up when I felt teeth sink into my left wrist through the cloth of my shirt.  I screamed and pulled my arm free as the horror tried to break the skin, shaking its head the way a terrier would to kill a rat.

As far as bites go, it was the more psychological aspect that hurt than anything else.  I flung myself backwards, hitting the wall and drew the .44, not caring if it went through and hit Claire.  I pulled the trigger just as the infected gained its feet once again, and my gun roared, painting Claire and the wall behind it with a red mist, flecked with gray chunks.

“Oh, shit!” I screamed, running to the sink to wash my wrist off, pulling the buttons of my flannel off in my frantic effort.

I pumped water with my right arm, holding my left under the stream and Claire was finally able to spit out the wad of socks.

“Did it break the skin?” she asked, her tone now calm.

“I can't tell, it got me, it got...”

“There are teeth marks, but I don't see any blood, Mom.” Justin reported, looking over my left shoulder.

I almost jumped, I had been so absorbed in washing my wrist that I hadn’t heard the boy come up beside me.

“Good, if it didn't break the skin, there’s a good chance that...” she screamed as another figure loomed into the open door to the front of the cabin.

I scrambled, trying to find the .44, not knowing where had I dropped it.  I had just seen it under the table when Justin let out a shout of joy, and a snowman walked into the cabin. “Frank, is everyone OK?  You have to hurry, Jim, he was, Jim was....”

“Let me through, let me through, a smaller snowman elbowed her way past the first, the snow falling from her outer clothing to show Katherine's red snowmobile jacket.

Apparently the weather had turned ugly in a short period of time, something that isn’t unusual up by the Great Lakes.

“You were bitten?” Katherine asked me, and I heard Sarah behind her mom, her sharp intake of breath.

“Yeah, but there's no blood.  My shirt... I hit it in the head first, must have broke its jaw.” I stammered as the room started to spin and my legs went watery as I hit the floor.

“Mom, he's going into shock!”

“Don't let him hit his head Frank, get him over here to the couch…”

“You make sure my Jim is safe,” a crazed voice shouted over them all.

“I think he just passed out.”

Then things went totally dark, and I didn't wake until the morning.

Chapter 19 – Cipro

December 22nd 2015

I awoke on the couch when somebody was shoving a pill into my mouth and half choking me with water.  I sat up coughing, to see Sarah sitting close by, her pistol in her other hand.

“Good to see you’re still with us,” Sarah said, smiling.

“What happened?”

“You passed out.  You're such a wuss.” She punched my arm lightly.

That hurt, and I looked down to my wrist.  I was black and blue already, in an oval shape, but holding it close to my eyes, I couldn't see any breaks or scratches in the skin.

“What was that you gave me?”

“Cipro, as a precaution.  I don't know if I could...”

“Could what?”

“Be the one to put you down.  If you changed,” she said, looking over my shoulder towards the kitchen.

I stood and looked back as well, noting the quiet in the cabin and not seeing anybody else nearby.

“Where is everyone?”

“Mom and Dad are taking Claire to Bobby's cabin.  They said to watch you, but...”

“Wait, where's Justin?”

“He wanted to ride along to say goodbye.”

I felt relieved and slumped back into the couch, and Sarah sat down, facing me.

“How long have they been gone?”

“An hour, maybe.  It snowed heavy for a little while last night, but not for long.  There's only a few more inches of snow and your Jeep is pretty good in that.”

“Yeah, especially if you go slowly.”

“Like us?”

“Us?” I asked her dumbly before she pushed me back, her lips meeting mine.

“Wait, Sarah, stop.” I said pushing her back gently, a smile on my face.

“Why?” she asked, tears in her eyes.

“We're on the couch in front of the front door.  Your dad catches us and he'll...”

She started giggling, and soon we were laughing, breaking the moment.  In a way I was glad, knowing in my heart I wasn't ready, not yet.  Too much had happened in too short a time frame.  It would be easy to get swept away in everything, and it was the guilt I knew I’d feel afterwards that I wanted to avoid.  It's easy to pave your own way to hell with good intentions and following your heart.

“Are you hungry?”

“A little,” I admitted.

“Good, I made you a nice bowl of fish jerky.  Come eat.”

I groaned and stood.  Sarah's night to cook usually had her breaking open some sort of jerky, or oatmeal, as she rarely liked to cook.  That gave me an idea, one I'd had last night and I got some black beans out and put them on the stove to boil, and got some venison steaks out and found a small can of canned bacon.  It was a weird sort of thing, wrapped in paper then canned tightly.  It tasted OK, if a bit limp.  I was hoping that it would add enough fat and flavor to the venison, and the black beans would add enough bulk to give it the heft of the pseudo burgers the chain was known for.  If nothing else, it was better than fish jerky...

Sarah watched me for close to an hour, her expression puzzled when I started grinding the meat together, then mixing in the beans that had started to soften.  I didn't want them all a mush, but I wanted them firm enough, like the meat, to be able to hold a shape once I added them in.

“Find me some rolls, or buns, would you?” I asked Sarah, who was still staring at me.

“Uh, Mom has biscuits…”

“That sounds even better.”

She sat the bowl of biscuits down on the kitchen table and watched as I formed the patties.  I considered adding an egg, but having so precious few, decided not to.  They lasted forever in the fridge, but I didn't want to have to eat canned eggs for Christmas day, so I left them alone.  I lit one burner and put the patties in the warmed cast iron fry pan, flipping them from time to time, using salt, pepper and some seasoned salt lightly.  It wasn't long before the smell was making my mouth water, and Sarah was standing at the stove expectantly.

“Ten patties,” she said excitedly.

“Two for each of us,” I reminded her. “Or none. I don't know how these will taste.”

“They look like McDonald’s...”

But we both paused as we heard a noise and turned to look.  The Jeep was pulling in, the tires crunching through the packed snow.  I hadn't heard them moving the brush, but with tracks in the snow, I wondered if it was even necessary.

“Don't burn mine!” Sarah chided, poking me in the side, then ran to the door.

The poke made me jump.  It was one of those fingers in the side jobs, enough to tickle but also a surprise.  I knew I was making the right choice by waiting.  I had to be, as my mind was still warring with my conscience.  Sarah turned and gave me a look as I was pulling the burgers off the stove and onto a waiting plate, the patties giving off a light heady steam.

“Justin's not with them!”

I almost dropped the plate, then put it on the kitchen table and ran to the door.

“Where is he?” I boomed.

“He ran off into the woods.  Claire followed him, and we tried to look... but...”

“He made his own choice, Jim,” Frank said.

“Dammit!!!.”

“Yeah.  Let's go inside, maybe we can figure something out.”

“Oh wow, what's that smell?” Frank asked Sarah, kicking his boots off.

“It wasn't me, Jim made some burgers...”

“Well, let’s dig in.”

“I want fries.” Katherine said.

“Yes, dear.” Frank answered and we all sat down to try my concoction out.

They explained what happened, with Claire's heartfelt confession and Justin forgiving her.  They had no indication that he was going to leave with his mother, but it had happened.  They both heard it when they told them where Bobby had a spare set of keys hidden, and they promised to check in on them in the spring.

“Do you think she'll hurt Justin?” I asked them once we'd eaten and they'd filled us in.

“No, she might have murdered those people but...”

“But what?” I asked.

“I think it's more likely that she'll kill herself, not her son.” Katherine said softly.

“In any case, it's ten miles away.  On foot, she'd have to travel two days to get here in this snow.  I don't see that happening.”

“Not at least until the spring time.  We'll worry about that when it's time.” Katherine said, and Sarah and I nodded.

“Now, we've got two days to Christmas Eve, who wants to help decorate?” Frank asked, his eyes lighting up.

“Uh, decorate?” I asked stupidly.

“No lights, of course, but we have tinsel and ornaments, and we have to cut a tree in two days!”

One thing I learned early on while I was dating Janie, is their family wouldn't put the tree up until the last minute.  Something of an old school tradition their family had; instead, they would make homemade decorations, and write poems or something in preparation for Christmas Eve.  It was a day of decorating, feasting and family time.  The first time I experienced it, I was blown away and flat worn out by the experience.

“There's some good Christmas trees on the edge of the Ash thicket where I was getting the firewood.”

“Good, then you can do the honors this year.” Frank said smacking me on the shoulder, then looking to my wrist.

“No blood.” I showed him.

“You make him take his morning pill?” Katherine asked her daughter.

“Yeah.”

“Good, now that he's on his feet he can keep track of it,” she said slapping a baggie of pills into my hand.  I absently put them in my pocket, making a mental note to take one around lunch time.

“Sarah, want to help me get the decorations out of the first shed?” Frank asked his daughter.

I was left to do the dishes after our burgers were finished.  Everyone agreed that I'd have to cook those again, this time on Christmas Eve.  I kind of felt good about that, but we had two turkeys that we'd smoked and stashed in the shed in a cheesecloth that we'd also saved for the occasion.  It wouldn't bother me too much though; I kind of liked how it turned out, even though the events of the previous few days had left my head spinning.

The cabin had a sudden sense of urgency and, even though we'd had dark days, we had a cause to celebrate.  We threw ourselves into the work, unpacking old ornaments to hang around the cabin, on tinsel and beaded ropes.  Katherine baked an assortment of breads and rolls, each more mouthwatering - judging by the smell - than the previous, and soon we had a mountain of food.

I had the patties made on the morning of Christmas, and was ready to put them on the griddle when Frank called me over.

“This year, you have the honor,” he told me, handing me an axe.

It was the same one I'd used countless times to drop trees, and I'd become quite good with it. I put the patties in the fridge and headed to the door, grabbing the keys almost as an afterthought and pocketing them.  Within minutes, we were all dressed and ready to go out.  I was worried about sweating in the bulky clothing; the temperatures had dropped down to dangerous levels in the -20s the night before, but once the sun was up, the temperature had risen to almost above freezing.

It wasn't a long walk, but it was a beautiful morning.  Sparkles of light glistened off the icicles as we exited the cabin. The sun glistened off the shiny mounds of snow and ice, and the glare in the trees was the light reflecting off the mirrored glass of the frozen lake.  I'd had a couple days’ notice, and had mentally picked a tree out, smiling when my memory matched reality.  The Andersens surrounded the tree and I pulled a bough up, considering the trunk a moment when it was time to do the deed.  Wordlessly, I swung; great chips started flying by the third impact of the sharp axe head.  Once I figured I had one good whack left, I paused and caught my breath a moment.

“What are you waiting for?” Katherine asked, the cold bringing rosy red spots to her cheeks.

“I give you the Griswold family Christmas tree!” I said, swinging one last time, laughing as the tree fell.

“He understands!” Sarah shouted despite herself, and launched herself into my arms, kissing me deeply.

“What the hell, it's Christmas,” I thought to myself and kissed her back hard, giving my emotions free reign.

Frank cleared his throat loudly and I could hear clapping and broke the kiss to see Katherine putting her hands together quickly.

“The shitter's full,” Frank muttered, and we all broke out laughing.  I handed over the axe, figuring on cutting the bottom of the trunk flush with the bow saw, and started dragging what had to be an eight foot tall Christmas tree to the cabin.

It wasn't long before we had the tree lugged into the cabin, everyone quoting snatches of the favorite movie.  I was ready to saw the base flat to put into the tree holder when Sarah got an odd look on her face.

“Dad, is that a flare?” she asked, squinting outside the front window.

“Uh... Oh... Oh shit.  Katherine!” he yelled, running to the bedroom, the safe open within seconds.

He handed out guns, ignoring our surprised and shocked faces, and nodded his head out the front window.  Coming out of the woods and breaking into a run seemed to be close to three dozen of the infected.

“Drop the shutters,” Frank yelled to Sarah, “and start loading magazines!” he shouted to me.

Katherine joined him at the door, her own AK in her hands, looking wild like a Valkyrie as she started shooting, hot brass bouncing off the door, waking me from my stupor.  I got the bag of empty mags and a handful of boxes of shells and started thumbing them in with shaking hands when Frank started firing as well.

“Mag?” Katherine yelled as her bolt latched open.

I’d only managed to get the one in my hands two-thirds full. “It's a short one,” I told her and started on a new one as she tossed me the spent one from her gun.  Sarah joined me and we got two clips ready when Frank burped the last of his ammo out and called for another.

“They're getting too close, Dad!”

“We can't stay in here.  There's still too many.”

“Shut the door, Frank.” Katherine shouted.

“Jim, get Sarah and Katherine out of here. We’re going to be overrun any moment!” Frank screamed at me from the northern window, and his rifle continued to boom loud in the confines of the small cabin.

Chapter 20 – Present Day, Now Happening In Real Time.

December 24th – Present moment

*******************

“Oh shit,” Frank said from the floor, slowly coming to his feet.

“Oh, Daddy, you’re safe,” Sarah gushed.

“No, none of us are,” Frank said, looking at his ankle.  Teeth marks in the denim and bloody mouth prints marked the material.

“Oh no,” Katherine said, sinking to the ground, her face turning as white as a sheet.

********************

“Oh shit,” I mumbled, remembering the bag I'd shoved in my pocket.  I held up the bag of Cipro.  “Frank, here.” I said shoving the bag of pills into his hands.

“What is it?”

“Cipro.”

“But you need these.”

“It never broke the skin.  Take one right now.  Right the fuck now.” I told him, my voice clearly panicked.

“Take two.” Katherine said as she pulled the sock back, the flesh around the bite inflamed, blood running much too freely.

“Jim, get Mom the first aid kit over there on the shelf, it's got gloves. “Mom, wait for the gloves,” Sarah scolded.

I got to my feet, my breath finally filling my lungs.  For the first time, I looked around the 'root cellar'.  It was nothing like I expected.  The walls were made of concrete, and along one wall were three sets of bunks, and the opposite had a counter top, sink, cook top and propane bottles.  The rest of the wall had steel shelving that held more boxes and white buckets like the first shed did.  It wasn't a cellar, it was a bunker!

I found the first aid box, it was blue with a red cross on it, and I took it back to Katherine as quickly as I could.  I watched as Frank dry swallowed two of the pills and lay out on the floor, trying to hold still, but he was starting to sweat, tremors taking over his body.  I remember him telling me once that Cipro seemed to work if taken immediately after being bitten; was a minute or two too late?  I hoped not, I wasn't going to splatter him down here while we were trapped.

Then Katherine did something that I’d never forget for all of my days.  She gloved up and used a scalpel to make an X shaped cut, squeezing as much blood out as she could.  I almost gagged, used to seeing doctors trying to stop bleeding, not promote it.  She then dashed the open wound with rubbing alcohol, causing Frank to scream loudly, his muscles straining with pain.  I couldn’t watch any more.

In a panic, I started exploring, trying to look at the pained expressions the girls were giving each other, trying not to meet Frank’s gaze as he silently screamed in pain.  At the end of the bunks, across from the cook top was a door.  I opened it and found myself inside a small bathroom, with toilet, sink and shower stall.  I was trying to figure out where the pitcher pump was to run this when Sarah shouted.

“What is it?” I asked her, running up.

“Shots, I hear somebody shooting up there.”

I got close to the hatch and listened.  I could hear a buzzing sound, almost like a weed whacker, but from a distance.  Then the unmistakable booms of a shotgun close by.  I almost stumbled backwards when the gun went off again, almost right over the hatch.

“Shit! Some body’s out there, Frank!” I yelled, before turning and remembering that he was down.

“Katherine, somebody is out there...”

BOOM, the gun went off again and the buzzing noise started up again, this time loud, more like a big chainsaw.

“Somebody coming to help?”

“Probably whoever led the zombies to us.  Anybody want to guess who that was?” Sarah asked, her expression grim.

“Look, Frank!” Katherine pleaded, and I looked to Frank.  The sweating had abated, the tremors stopped.  He smiled and pulled his leg to his stomach, looking at the ankle.

“I don't think the Cipro is supposed to work this fast!” he said smiling.

“It doesn't.” Katherine said, turning her face away before any of us could tell what she was thinking.

“But I feel better.  Maybe it'll be OK?” he asked hopefully.

“You'll be fine, Frank,” I told him walking towards the middle of the bunker, listening for the sound.

I returned to the hatch, where I could hear better after a few moments.  The buzzing sounds were coming and going, and we could hear the random boom or whip crack of guns going off over-head.

“What do you think is happening up there?” Sarah asked me.

“Sounds like chainsaws and guns.  I hope somebody didn't go all video game style up there.  We can't wade through blood like that...”

“Those aren't chainsaws.  I'll bet you anything they are snowmobiles.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right.  It does sort of sound like that.”

“Dumb-ass, city slicker,” she said, smiling.

“When will we know it's safe?” I asked Frank and Katherine.

“In a minute.  I'll show you.  Let me get my feet under me,” he replied.

Katherine helped him to his feet, and we went towards the bathroom.  In what I assumed were pipes that brought water in, Frank turned one and I saw the gray of the sky above.  He turned it and with a start, I realized it was a crude, but effective periscope.  It must be connected to the pipes outside the second shed.

“Do all these look outside?” I asked him, but he shook his head.

“The others are vents.  This is the one by the pallets.  If we didn't block the view by tipping the pallets... Here, look.”

I looked through it and immediately saw a flash of movement, followed by a very faint sound of what sounded like a chainsaw.  The movement was red, and I had no clue what I was looking at until a dead head moved out of my sight line.  There were two red quads, and they were riding in rough circles, occasionally firing at the zombies.  The first glimpse I got was a quad running close, trying to get the Z's into a circle.  I watched for minutes until one of the quads broke off and drove to the hatch.  A heavily padded figure took out a hammer and started banging on the door.

“Who is it?” Katherine screamed from the other room.

“I can't tell.”

“Justin!” Sarah screamed, hearing his voice from the other side.

“Get the keys!” Frank yelled.

I was still watching things above, and there was a large group of Z's chasing the second quad; the figure had long flowing brown hair and I realized it was Claire.  She had drawn the group off, but was making circles and figure 8s through the trees, to buy Justin some time.

“You coming in?” Frank yelled, getting the lock free and opening the hatch.

“No, I came to rescue you guys.  My mom has them on the run, she said to take you to Bobby's cabin.  It's better stocked.  Hurry, please?” he pleaded.

Frank looked at me.  I knew what he was thinking though, grab the kid, lock the hatch and wait.  Knowing him like I did, he probably had more food down here in those buckets, and we could probably last for quite a while before we'd have to come out.  The kid would hate it, but it was his mother up there, and it wasn't part of his plan.  The kid would fight, tooth and nail, I was sure.

“Kid, why don't you come down here with us?”

“My mom is just making a diversion.  You guys have to hurry, she can't keep going in circles forever.  You need to kill the infected people so they don't kill her!” he pleaded.

“I thought we were supposed to go to Bobby's cabin?” I asked him, pulling myself through the hatch.

“Look!” he pointed.

My heart almost stopped.  We started the day with what I had thought was almost three dozen zombies, but the numbers now numbered twice that, if not more.  The first wave was probably dead, or reinforced by others to now number almost one hundred.  They were almost tripping over themselves to get to Claire, who was now laughing wildly, the color in her cheeks making her look jolly on Christmas Eve.

“Oh God, there's more.  Frank, Uh... We can't sit down here.  There's too many.”

Everyone else pulled themselves out of the hatch one by one and crouched by the stack of pallets, the quad now silent as we watched.

“We have to kill them now, or kill them later.” Frank said, wincing as he put weight on his ankle.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“OK, everyone reload with what you have.  It looks like she’s moving towards the lake.  We can setup an ambush spot if we follow the driveway to the trail.  As she breaks free of the woods, we can shoot the infected as they break out of the trees.  We'll have the advantage of high ground, so remember to correct your aim before pulling the trigger.  Everybody ready?”

My head swam; Frank had just pulled a plan out of his butt like he was on the TV Series A-Team.  I just hoped that if he was going to be Hannibal, I would be knocked down to Murdoch.  Shit!

We rushed into position and, when Claire broke cover, the swarm was almost upon her.  Her quad was now sputtering, losing speed and I feared she was running out of gas.  When the Z's broke cover, Justin opened up with his shotgun, and the rest of us followed suit, shooting as many and as fast as we could.  In a last desperate gamble, Claire ran the quad out onto the dock, and jumped the end, landing on the ice.  She had made it to the center of the lake with the remaining hoard following her, at almost touching distance, when the ice let loose.

“Noooooooooooooooo,” Justin yelled as the hole opened up, swallowing everything in a large area.

“Oh no, honey,” Katherine said, pulling the boy close, hugging him tight as he buried his eyes in her coat, screaming.

“Keep your eyes peeled, Sarah,” Frank said, changing magazines.

“Scanning.”

“Dad, what the hell?” I asked him, motioning to the large wet spot in the lake.

“You remember that spot of ice I kept telling Justin to stay away from?  The clear ice?”

“Yeah,” I said, starting to understand what was coming next.

“There's a warm spring under there.  The ice isn't very thick and the weight of the quad plus all those people...”

“Oh no.”

“I don't have any rope or ladders that'd reach that far.  We can always hope that Justin's mom...”

“Did she know about the rotten ice?”

“She must have, she’d warned Justin away from it.”

“Do you think she…?”

“Let it go, son.”

We waited.  Part of it was waiting for a hand to appear at the edge of the hole, but none did, the other part of it was seeing if the coast was clear before we headed back.  To see if any of the infected had gotten trapped in the house, in the bunker.  It was the longest walk I'd ever had, and Justin's cries and sobs felt like knives in my heart.

We found the cabin deserted, and Sarah and I dragged the bodies off the porch, through the maze of firewood.  Thank God for that; if we hadn't done that and kept it up, we would have been over-run before we ever had a chance.  Now, it was a pain in the ass.

“Over here,” she said, indicating across the road, where she'd dumped them before.

“Merry Christmas,” I said forlornly.

“It'll be OK.  In the end.”

That night, the wind howled and a storm covered the world in white twinkling ice that made everything shine, before the temperatures dropped into the sub zero ranges again.

Epilogue -

Winter turned into spring.  We spent the remaining part of the winter splitting our time between the cabin and the bunker.  Often enough, Sarah and I would escape for a couple of days at a time down there to be alone, together.  We’d developed an easy-going relationship, having buried our guilt, and we never knew what the next day would bring.

The ice and snow melted as things warmed and, in April, it was almost gone when Justin screamed from somewhere in the woods.  Sarah and I had been getting the wood for the evening’s dinner ready, and stealing kisses, when we heard the shout.  I got there in time to see him run into the cabin and slam the door.  I listened, and heard nothing.  It was strange.  Sarah motioned to his footprints and I nodded.  We backtracked to where he'd been, the little valley with the acorns, probably watching the squirrels.  I was looking into the majestic oaks when I noticed a figure across from me, its legs buried in a snow drift.

My heart started hammering and Sarah kept trying to get in front of me.  I'd grown, changed over the winter.  I’d become someone different, and was no longer the shy guy.  I didn't want to lose anyone else, and the Andersens were all I had left as far as family went.  With a one fingered salute to me, I took point and approached the figure.

It was an infected and, judging by things, it had been standing there for quite a while.  Its eyes were completely milky white and the odor coming off it smelled reminiscent of road kill, not the reeking stench of rotted meat that was marinated in horse piss that I'd come to recognize as something entirely different.  The infected just stank different, that was all.  The other thing I noticed?  It was dead.

“Go get your parents.” I told Sarah, the .44 in my hand as I nudged the body lightly.

“They're coming already.”

“What was it your dad told me to do to dead deer?”

“Poke them in the eye.  If they flinch, shoot.”

“Yeah, but why do that?”

“Nobody can hold still if you poke them in the eye. Nobody.”

“Ok, be ready,” I told her as I held my breath; the barrel of the .44 brushing against the infected's flesh, which almost smeared off.

“Oh God, that's bad,” Sarah gagged.

“Yeah, it is.”

Katherine examined the body, and a day later, we found another one.  She wouldn't tell us what she was thinking, but kept going back to the library shelves, pulling books out at random.  After we found a third and she muttered, “Just the same.” We forced her to talk to us.

“Dammit Kath, what is going on?”

“It's too simple.  I'm just trying to get my head around it.”

“Did they just freeze to death?”

“Sort of, but not really.”

“I'm getting tired of this.  You're the doctor here, what killed them?”

“Without an autopsy?  I'd say freezer burn.”

“What?” I asked, not sure if I’d heard her right.

“When they froze solid, their cell membranes burst.  When they thawed... Well, neural pathways, muscles and so on… the entire body is probably a wreck.”

“What does that mean?” Sarah asked, coming up behind me, putting her arms around my waist.

“They froze to death.  Literally.  I've been trying to wrap my mind around this for the last couple of days, looking at every possibility if this was the case...”

In the end, it turned out to be the cold.  Sure, the infected could thrive in the warmer climates, but not up in the great white north.  In the end, Mother Winter conquered all.  Any infected we came across (Katherine theorized) would be freshly turned or from a more southern climate, migrating in.

“So we'd be relatively safe up here?” Justin asked.

“I'd be surprised if we saw another infected anytime soon.” She ruffled his long hair with a smile.

I had to smile too; if we were getting a reprieve from the infected, I wanted to drop some trees close to the cabin and get the solar setup installed.  We could do so much more if we did that, and we needed enough sunlight for the permaculture garden that Sarah was planning. It would supply us with enough greens and vegetables to barely keep us going without relying on foraging too much.  There was always Bobby's cabin of course, and his stash, but we didn't think we'd need it.  We'd keep it as a fall back location.  Just in case.

You just never know when you'll need someplace safe to bug out to.

The End.

About The Author –

Boyd Craven III was born and raised in Michigan, an avid outdoorsman who’s always loved to read and write from a young age.  When he isn’t working outside on the farm, or chasing a household of both blood and foster kids, he’s sitting in his Lazy Boy, typing away.

This is his first novel to be released, although he is a bestselling author under other pen names.  If you’d like to contact Boyd directly, follow the links below –

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/boyd3

Email: boyd3@live.com

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 – Funeral

Chapter 3 – Go North

Chapter 4 – The Cabin

Chapter 5 – First Morning

Chapter 6 – Town and Dire Warnings

Chapter 7 – Friday

Chapter 8 – A Disturbing Phone Call

Chapter 9 – East Jordan

Chapter 10 – Reunion and Preps

Chapter 11 – Frank's Message

Chapter 12 – Waiting

Chapter 13 – Running Gun Fight

Chapter 14 – Boat

Chapter 15 – Healing & Laying in Supplies

Chapter 16 – Who's going zombie hunting?

Chapter 17 – Confrontation

Chapter 19 – Cipro

Chapter 20 – Present Day, Now Happening in real time.

Epilogue