“There might be more than one,” I whispered, my memory of the incident in the Sheriff’s Office still fresh.

  Jensen nodded and waved us toward the left side of the house into the dining room. I bent one ear upstairs but heard nothing. The dining room was beautifully bedecked with dark navy brocade wallpaper. A slightly tarnished tea service sat on a cherry server. The formal dining room had a small serving window that looked into the kitchen. In the back, Mrs. Franklin clawed at the back door.

  “Got her,” Jensen whispered then took aim.

  “Watch out for Gary,” Ian cautioned.

  I turned away, unsheathing my sword, keeping one eye on the dining room entryway.

  Bam. The hunting rifle discharged with a loud boom that made the chandelier rattle.

  A moment later I heard a flurry of feet from the other side of the house. Surprisingly fast for being undead, a young woman, Jenna, caretaker for many of the town’s elderly, emerged from a side room and lunged at me.

  “Layla!” Ian called out.

  Jumping onto a dining room chair, then onto the table, I spun, the sword slicing through the air. I severed Jenna’s skull in half. Her momentum caused her body to fling forward. It hit the table and buckled. The severed head spilled a mush of brains and blood onto the table.

  “Gross,” Jensen said.

  “Dammit, she was fast,” Dusty cursed.

  We all paused and waited, listening. My heart was pounding.

  “Let’s check upstairs,” Ian whispered.

  When we got back to the foyer, Gary joined us.

  “Better keep guard,” I told him. “You might have gotten someone else’s attention.”

  “I’m on it,” he said and took a post on the porch.

  When we got upstairs, Ian called out. “Anyone alive up here?”

  We waited.

  A moment later we heard slow footsteps. Everyone raised a weapon. One of the bedroom doors opened, and an elderly man stood clutching the doorframe. It was Mr. Franklin. Clearly, he was not in good health, and he looked frightened out of his mind.

  “My wife,” he whispered, rasping.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Franklin, she’s dead,” Dusty told him.

  He nodded sadly and took a puff on his inhaler.

  “Come sit down,” I said, sheathing my sword. I guided the old man back into the room and to a chair. The room smelled like body odor, urine, and moldy food. He must have been locked in there for several days.

  “Mr. Franklin, we need to move you. You’re not safe all alone in the house. Let us take you to stay with someone,” Dusty encouraged.

  “Mrs. Finch is going to move in with Fred Johnson. That might be a good place for him,” Ian suggested.

  “My medicines,” the old man said, motioning toward the table.

  My stomach hurt. There was no way this man would survive. Just like Frenchie’s children, he was so vulnerable. The enormity of keeping such people safe overwhelmed me.

  “I got them,” I said and rose. I unzipped a pillowcase and put all the medicines inside.

  Dusty and Jensen helped Mr. Franklin downstairs. Outside, Gary shot twice at an approaching undead man. I could only see the shadow of their figures through the beveled glass windows.

  Mr. Franklin stopped at the bottom of the steps. “What‘s happening?” he asked.

  “It’s the end of days,” Dusty replied. “Come on, Mr. Franklin. The good Lord hasn’t called you just yet.”

  The old man muttered in reply.

  When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I noticed Mr. and Mrs. Franklin’s wedding portrait hanging on the wall. They looked so young and happy.

  Ian came up behind me. He stopped and looked at the photo as well. “I want to talk about last night,” he whispered, but I raised my hand to cut him short.

  “Not now,” I said and went outside. Who would have thought that the end of the world would bring me the one thing I wanted most. I did still want him, didn’t I?

  Chapter 11

  The sun had just peeked over the mountains when we collected in the elementary school parking lot the following morning. The sunrise was a mix of pink and orange. The air was cool. Mist was rising off the lake and river. Half the streets were shrouded in fog. It was amazingly quiet: no cars, no hum of electricity, no nothing, just birds and the sound of the wind.

  About two dozen people had assembled.

  I rubbed my gloved hands together. “We need to get some barricades in place at both ends of Main Street. Is Fred here?” I asked, looking around.

  “Here, Layla,” he called.

  “You’re our man, Fred. What have we got? What can we roll in?”

  “I need about ten bodies to help. We can drive in the old school buses and fill the gaps with scrap, dumpsters, barrels and the like,” he replied.

  “I think I saw that in a movie once,” Jeff muttered.

  “The Williams folks just had a ton of chain link fencing delivered to expand their kennels. It’s still rolled up on their property. We could try to fence the barricade as well,” Jensen offered.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Layla, this is Kiki Jones. She’s Lil’s and Wilson’s daughter—they didn’t make it. She had an idea,” Tom said.

  Kiki’s eyes were red and swollen from crying. Dark rings made half-moons under her brown eyes. “Well,” Kiki started, “I did a project at college with short wave radios. I might be able to get a radio up and running. Maybe we can see if there are other survivors out there. But I need to see if there is some equipment in the school.”

  “Great idea,” I said, smiling encouragingly at her, “take whatever you need.” She reminded me of my fencing students. I choked down the wave of despair that bubbled up as I realized they were probably all dead.

  “I can give a hand with that,” Gary told Tom and Kiki. “I used to play around with the CB. I have some stuff that might help.”

  “All right then. Let’s split up. This group can go with Fred,” I said, portioning off the crowd. “The rest of you will keep patrol. We need to set up a schedule, get on rotating shifts. Jensen, can you put that together and let people know when they are on patrol?”

  He nodded affirmatively.

  Summer waved at me. “I’ll come with you to Mara Hunting Club. They have bulk food stored up there, and I have a key,” she said, dangling a key chain in front of her.

  “Great, let’s go,” I called and everyone moved out.

  Jamie, Summer, and I packed into my SUV. Ian, Will, and Dusty headed out in Ian’s truck. We crossed town and turned up Morrigon Hill. I sat in the back while Jamie drove. Summer tried the radio stations. There was nothing but static.

  “How is it that everything just stops?” Summer asked. “It all just stopped.” She snapped off the radio.

  “I haven’t seen an airplane in days. Sky is completely empty,” I added as I looked out the window. We passed a dense pine forest, the green needles making a thick canopy, the ground covered in pink needles.

  “Makes you wonder, right? How many man-made things out there are dependent on electricity, oil, fuel? With no one around to push a button, what prevents missiles from going off or dams from collapsing?” Jamie questioned.

  “I guess we’re screwed either way,” I said, popping a cartridge into my gun. I rolled down the window. “Slow up,” I called to Jamie.

  An undead man plodded out of the woods and into the ditch that led downhill toward town. As we rolled up on him, he stopped and looked at the SUV. I leaned out the window and took a shot. His neck snapped back as the bullet hit him between the eyes, and he fell into the ditch.

  “Christ, that water runs downhill and into the stream,” Jamie said, putting the SUV into park.

  I grabbed some medical gloves and jumped out, handing a pair to Jamie. We pulled the gloves on and went over to the body.

  “Recognize him?” I asked as we stood over the body.

  Jamie shook his head.

  We lifted the heavy man, carried him to the bank, and dropped him into the forest. We climbed back into the SUV.

  Summer was staring out the window at the dead body.

  “We need to tell people to boil their water,” Jamie said as he put the SUV back in gear.

  Summer rolled the window back up. “Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth,” she recited absently, “the beatitudes, Matthew 5.5. Yeah, right.”

  Neither I nor Jamie knew what to say. We rode in silence the rest of the way to Mara Hunting Club.

  When we got there, Ian’s truck was parked at the very end of the long driveway. The club sat in the middle of a large field. The shooting range was set down in a pit with an earthen retaining wall. From the end of the driveway you could see the roof above the shooting stand. The club itself was a large log cabin with arching windows that looked out onto the field.

  What caught us all off guard was the fact that there were cars in the parking lot. There was not another town within an hour’s driving distance. Who was there?

  “Was there an event or something?” I asked Summer.

  She looked surprised. “Not that I know of.”

  We got out of the SUV and joined Ian’s group. I’d brought my binoculars with me. I crawled into the back of Ian’s truck and leaned on the roof. I focused the binoculars to get a better look.

  “See anything?” Ian asked.

  I scanned the place. There was no movement anywhere. Nothing moved at the shooting range nor could I see anything through the windows. “No movement in the building.” I looked toward the parking lot. “Nothing is moving, but there are two vans and six cars in that parking lot.” I jumped out of the back of the truck and stared at the building. My hands were shaking. Something felt off. Something felt wrong.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Ian said.

  Jamie read the expression on my face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Something.”

  Ian started pulling guns out of the back of his truck. “It’s clear. Let’s move.”

  “Naa Ian, not like that,” Jamie said, taking one look at me then back at the building. Jamie turned and gave Will a knowing look.

  Will nodded and took off in a sprint across the grassy field, keeping as low as possible in the tall weeds.

  I lifted the binoculars and watched him go.

  “Do you always have to be right, man?” I heard Ian grumble at Jamie.

  “Just being cautious,” Jamie answered.

  Will moved quickly, and soon he was at the building. “He’s clear so far,” I said. I watched as Will looked into the windows of the club. He flashed me an okay sign then dodged around the back of the building out of sight. I held my breath. We waited.

  Moments later, Will came running from behind the building. He was dashing quickly through the grass. “They’re coming,” he yelled. “They’re coming,” he screamed again as he ran toward us.

  Seconds later, cresting over the shooting range hill, two dozen little bodies appeared. I lifted the binoculars. “Oh my god,” I whispered. “Oh god,” I said, pressing the binoculars toward Jamie.

  Without even waiting to know what was coming, Summer yelped and jumped back into my SUV.

  Jamie lifted the binoculars and took a quick look. “Is that…the Cub Scouts?” he asked in amazement.

  I jumped into the driver’s seat of Ian’s truck. “We need to get Will,” I called to the guys. They hopped into the back, and I hit the gas.

  I sped across the bumpy field to intercept Will. When he was close, Ian and Dusty leaned down and pulled Will into the back of the truck.

  “Layla, turn the truck around so we can get a line of fire on them,” Jamie called.

  I turned the truck, and getting it on higher ground, pulled to a stop. At once they started to fire.

  “Fuck, there are like two dozen of them,” Will called. “They are in the god damned weeds. I can’t see a thing.”

  “Layla, we need your automatic,” Ian yelled to me.

  I shimmied through the window of the pickup cab and stood in the back. I unholstered the gun and took aim. The first child appeared in the grass. He was still in his Cub Scout uniform. Half of his face was a bloody pulp. He looked like a broken cherub. He came crashing toward us at an alarming rate.

  “Layla, shoot,” Ian yelled at me.

  A moment later six more children emerged from the weeds. The guys shot at them but they were quick, moving swiftly toward the truck.

  “Layla, shoot that fucking gun,” Ian yelled at me.

  I stood frozen.

  “Shoot that fucking gun!” Ian screamed again.

  A split-second later Jamie took the automatic from my hands. “It’s all right,” he whispered. Turning, he launched a barrage of bullets toward the oncoming children. They fell quickly. I backed up toward the cab. A moment later, however, I heard the horn on my SUV honking.

  I looked back. At least four women were clawing at the side of my SUV. I realized then that Summer had locked herself in without the keys.

  A boy grabbed at Will’s leg, nearly pulling him to the ground. Dusty shot the child’s brain through his ear.

  I looked back at Summer. “Dammit,” I swore. I pulled the Glock from the holster, climbed over the roof, down onto the hood of the truck, and set off in a sprint toward Summer.

  “Layla!” Jamie called, but the children kept coming at them.

  I dashed through the field toward Summer. When I got close, I whistled to draw the undead Cub Scout moms’ attention. Afraid I would hit Summer, I didn’t want to shoot toward the SUV.

  The women turned and lunged toward me. I was quick. I shot the first two with no problem. The second two were fast, and I missed. As the third one came close, I finally got a shot off. The fourth, however, seemed to purposefully avoid being shot. She dodged. I pulled my sword and let her get in close. I swung, decapitating her. Her head fell to the ground. The body wandered across the grass a few more steps then toppled over.

  I stood over the head. It was still biting and snapping at me. I stabbed it between the eyes; the pale moons lost their sheen.

  I ran toward Summer but heard rustling in the brush behind me. I turned to find a plump little red-haired boy bearing down on me. Child or not, he would kill me and eat me alive. Or worse yet, turn me into one of them.

  He grunted and charged.

  I pulled a dagger out of my belt and lobbed it at him. It hit him squarely between the eyes. He fell to the ground with a thud.

  I looked behind me to see Ian swing into the cab of the truck. They drove back toward the SUV. In the back, the others fired shots into the weeds.

  I bent low to pull my dagger from the boy’s head. I pulled the dagger, sticky with blood, from his little forehead. I felt sick. I turned and retched into the weeds. It was too horrible.

  I’d just caught my breath when the truck pulled up beside me. Jamie jumped out and came over to me; Will went to the SUV to check on Summer.

  Jamie put his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?” he whispered.

  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stood up. “Yeah,” I said with a heavy sigh.

  “Layla, you all right?” Ian called from the truck.

  I nodded.

  “Come on,” Jamie said. He took the dagger from my hand and cleaned it on the grass. He handed it back to me. “It’s done now,” he said, and we walked back to my SUV.

  Will was talking to Summer, calming her.

  “I’m okay now,” she whispered, wiping tears. She smiled at me and shook her head in disbelief.

  “This is a lot of work for a 5 gallon can of fruit cocktail,” Dusty said finally, causing us all to laugh.

  We loaded back into the vehicles and drove to the hunting club.

  Chapter 12

  We kept a sharp eye on the tall grass as we headed toward the building.

  “We haven’t seen the Scout leaders yet,” Summer observed.

  Everyone’s weapons were poised and ready. Will opened the door. The place was seemingly deserted. The kitchen was in a state of upheaval; brown bag lunches and puddles of blood covered the floor.

  I heard Summer inhale sharply at the sight.

  Bloody child-sized footprints marred the white tile floors.

  “Stay close,” I whispered to Summer. I holstered my gun and pulled my sword from its scabbard.

  We passed through the kitchen and down a hallway toward the reception hall. At the end of the hallway, Dusty looked out.

  “Eww, man, there are your Scout leaders,” Dusty said.

  The terrible smell of decay filled the otherwise beautiful room. On the one hand, the room boasted a massive stone fireplace with an elaborately carved mantel. Overhead, a lovely chandelier twinkled in the morning sunlight. The windows were all outlined with stained glass that depicted woodland scenes. Rays of sunlight illuminated the colored glass which cast a rainbow of sunny blotches on the floor. On the other hand, the remains of two men lay heaped on the floor. Not much was left save their skeletons and hanging bits of flesh and entrails. A small boy, about eight years of age, was chewing on the rib bone of one of the men.

  Ian stepped forward and shot the undead child. The boy’s head exploded, a shower of blood and bits raining onto the floor.

  “There could be more,” Jamie said. “Let’s sweep the building. You guys take that end,” he said, motioning to Dusty and Will, “Ian and I can cover this end. Summer and Layla hang here and watch outside for movement,” Jamie said, and they set off in opposite directions.

  I slid my belt knife off and handed it to Summer. “Keep this on you. And we need to get you a gun.”

  “Layla, you know I’m not…well, you know,“ she said, shaking her head as she took the knife. She stuffed it into her back pocket.

  I knew exactly what she meant. Summer was a gentle girl. She used to squeal and cry when the boys teased her with worms. “Just in case,” I said.

  She nodded.

 

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