Colin gripped the tent pole in his right fist like a hammer, swung it over Stacey’s head in a whistling arc and struck the nearest zombie across the mouth. A mist of blood and broken teeth spewed from its pursed lips and splashed across the pavement. It stumbled back down the hill and, its arms pinwheeling from its sides, hit the pavement with a soft thud.

  It was then that he remembered what that crazy old man said about the northeast side of the city. He didn’t pay much attention to him because he thought the old man was already crazy enough.

  “Go now.” He said.

  They did as they were told, their faces creased with a mix of fear and apprehension. Three more zombies joined into the mix and clutched at Colin’s left shoulder. He pivoted, peered into the eyes of a curly-haired old woman in a floral-print muumuu, loose stockings and black thick soled shoes and cursed under his breath and two skinny dark-haired men in mint-green scrubs and flat white shoes.

  He swung the pole at the other two and sent them sprawling back onto the street. He clenched the pole tighter than last time, drove it through the air in an upward motion and buried it into her soft decaying chin. He kicked her in the midst of her saggy pale belly and sent her face first into the muck.

  He jabbed his finger in the other direction, closed his fist and bashed it into the face of a dead blond man in a tattered jogging suit. The zombie stumbled back feet and bounced its head off the top of a fire hydrant with a sickening crunch.

  “Let’s go!”

  Colin spun around, slapped the zombie’s arms away from his shoulder and hissed. He clenched the tent pole in his right hand, grunted until spit flew from between his lips and drove his fist hard into the thing’s chin. The zombie flew back, arms and legs limp as that of a rag doll, spitting a large ball of blood and bits of broken teeth on its way to the ground.

  He snatched Jason’s wrist again. “Come on, goddamn it.”

  As they ran down the street, more zombie appeared from between nearby houses and trash-strewn alleys. Jason kept peering over his shoulders, tears welling in his eyes. All the speeches he’d heard about survival and insanity failed to shield him from the grim reality known as death and left a bad taste in his mouth.

  There were two choices now: save yourself and cry later or die trying.

  Their breath coming out in wild gasps, Colin grimaced at the pain pulsating in his ribs and felt the strap of the duffel bag rubbing against the back of his tee-shirt. Amongst the shifting Stacey had done while running, he caught the gleam of bright-eyed puzzlement in Rosie’s eyes and tucked it back for later.

  When they reached the end of the street, they veered right. A small cluster of discarded vehicles sat along the curb above puddles of sticky red blood. Colin and Jason reached the end of the block when they realized that Stacey and Rosie were nowhere to be seen.

  They stopped and glanced back where they’d come from. Stacey stood beside of a blue Ford Fusion parked against the curb on four flat tires and groped the back of Rosie’s diaper, pressing her fingertips into the soft pliable fabric.

  Waving his right arm at her, his face twisted with irritation, Colin said, “We can’t stop. We got to keep going.”

  She adjusted the back waistband of Rosie’s diaper, jerked her finger back to let it fall into place with a soft and sighed. They fled down the street, their shoes scuffing against the pavement. Beads of sweat cascading down his forehead, his heart tickled the back of his throat.

  The end of the road led out onto the top of a steep incline lined with one-story stucco bungalows and two story brick houses sitting back from the faded-yellow curbs. They ran across the street and slid to a stop behind a red sedan parked in front of a bungalow, their chests rising and falling.

  “Why the fuck did you stop?”

  “I wanted to check Rosie’s diaper.” She said.

  “We’ve got to keep going moving or we’re fucked.”

  They heard the loud clang of metal on a hard surface coming from their right. A ribbed metal trashcan rolled out from between two houses, tossing more discarded litter across the street. A tall, emaciated zombie in bright blue boxers and a dirty white tee-shirt stumbled toward them; a large yellow stain was spread across his crotch.

  They caught another sound, this one right in front of them. They snatched a quick breath and caught a short heavyset woman in a bright pink robe pounding her fist against the front porch window. Her gunmetal gray hair jutting up from her head in tight springy curls, the skin along her left jaw had been peeled back to expose a sweeping arc of bright pink flesh and blackened gums.

  Shock registered across their faces. Jason stretched his left arm across Colin’s right shoulder and brushed his palm across the front of his tee-shirt. Fear bristled across their skin, tracing the contours of their spines with steely cold fingers.

  The woman flashed a rotten black at them, reared her fist back once more and struck the window again. It shattered on impact, sending varied jagged shards of glass tumbling across the porch. She stretched her body through the open window, extended her left arm at them, gave off a loud guttural growl and snapped her teeth at the air like a junkyard dog.

  Colin mumbled under his breath, scrambled back onto his feet and clutched the right sleeve of Jason’s shirt inside of his left fist. He didn’t know if he were pulling him too fast but Jason managed to keep up, his breath coming out in great hot gasps.

  He inched beside of Stacey when a putrid odor stung his nostrils. He winced, sensing that it was coming from Rosie’s diaper and thought it was a more tolerable stench than the one coming from the zombies. As they reached the bottom of the hill, five more appeared on their left, their torn and ragged clothes hanging loosely from their foul decaying skin.

  Stacey and Jason stopped and traded a few whispers. Colin threw his arms across the front of Jason’s chest and stopped him in their tracks when they heard a voice and peered over his right shoulder.

  A tall skinny blond kid stood on a patch of greenish-yellow grass beside of a one-story yellow stucco sitting on the right-hand corner of the next street, waving his arms over his head. He wore a purple-and-white tee shirt with the logo of an Indian on the front, dirty scuffed sneakers and dirty blue jeans; the wooden baseball bat in his left fist looked tiny and almost child-like.

  “Get the fuck over here.”

  Stacey sighed. She cradled Rosie’s head in her left palm and sped out ahead of Colin.

  They made a wide berth around the encroaching army and hurried across the street. When they approached the house, Colin thought he might’ve caught a look of displeasure on the boy’s face. He picked up speed and, beads of sweat sliding down the back of his neck, ignored the sighing sounds coming from inside the bag.

  Jason hurried toward the right side of the house.

  “Come on.” The boy said. “Hurry.”

  He alongside the house and around to the back. They ran under a large white aluminum awning erected above a flat concrete patio decked out in cracked brown wicker patio furniture. Her hand still cradling the back of Rosie’s head, Stacey gave a loud exhausted breath.

  The boy opened a tall white-wooden door, stepped inside the house and held it open while they scurried inside. First Stacey and Rosie followed by Jason and Colin. He slammed the door shut, stirring the curtains draped across the window and snapped the deadbolt in place.

  Colin glanced around a wide spacious kitchen with white-tiled walls, smooth cherry-pine cupboards and sleek Formica countertop lined the right sides. A stainless steel refrigerator and a matching stove were sitting on the left next to a matching washer and dryer large enough to wash the entire house. A large bowl lamp was suspended above the room on a thin black chain, filling the room with soft amber light.

  A small moon-faced clock hung on the wall above a round wooden table sitting on the other end of the room. On the far left, an array of wooden picture frames were hung above the doorway leading into the next room.

  The house itself looked outdated by today’s standards. They were glad to be out of harm’s way so they could collect themselves before going back out.

  “Are you alright?”

  “We’re good.” Colin said. “Thanks.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, really.” He said. “My name’s Timmy but it was my grandmother’s idea that I–”

  The low hum of an electrical motor whirred through the house and cut him off. Colin leaned against the edge of the countertop, wiped the tiny beads of sweat from his forehead, peered around the right side of the fridge and drew a large cloud of dry stale air deep into his lungs.

  Behind him, Stacey bounced Rosie in her arms and patted the middle of her back. Timmy slunk in behind her as a dumpy old woman entered the kitchen on a red and black motorized cart.

  She wore white sneakers and pink socks although her feet were strapped down onto a pair of ribbed metal foot pads. She wore dark purple slacks and a large white tee with the same purple-and-white Indian logo he saw printed across Timmy’s tee-shirt. A bright red blanket was draped tightly across her lap; the old linoleum floor crackled like old bones under the front wheels of her cart.

  She looked to be about seventy-five, maybe older. Her wispy white hair lay on her bullet-shaped head in tight little curls that’d seen better days in an era when women didn’t wear two-piece bikinis or make sex tapes to become famous; a network of faint wrinkles bracketed the corners of her deep-set blue eyes. Her mouth began as a scowl before shifting into a warm and inviting smile that seemed both sincere and glowing with strong grandmotherly love.

  The overhead light caught the edges of her wheelchair as if it’d been brought in from the showroom floor. It emphasized the connected highways of bright blue veins meandering under her pale wrinkled skin.

  “Hello, everyone.” She said.

  She cast a warm friendly smile at them and parked her cart a few feet away from the doorway between this room and the one she came from.

  “Is everyone okay?” She said. “They didn’t bite you, did they?”

  “No.”

  “Thank you, miss.” Stacey said.

  “It’s nothing, really.”

  The old woman’s gaze flickered from Colin to Timmy and then back to Colin. He shook it off, braced his right arm on the edge of the countertop and set his head on the back of his hand.

  “I’m Dora.” She said. “You know like the cartoon.”

  Jason brushed the dust off the back of his shorts with both hands.

  “Can we get you anything?” She said. “A glass of water.”

  Colin sighed and shook his head. He gazed up at the row of picture frames hanging above the doorway between this room and the one she’d appeared from. Dora glanced over at the bundle of joy in Stacey’s arms, her face beaming with surprise, and held her arms out.

  “Oh, my Lord,” Dora said. “I just love babies?”

  Stacey shifted Rosie around in her lap for Dora to gander at. A soft-pink smile spreading across her face, a light red splotch flooded Rosie’s cheeks. Dora rolled her cart across the room, parked beside of the table and prodded the third knuckle of her right hand softly against the center of Rosie’s stomach.

  Rosie snatched Dora’s finger and peered down at it with bright exuberant eyes.

  “I’ve never seen her take a shine to strangers.”

  “I guess you met my grandson, Timmy.”

  “Sure did.” Colin nodded.

  “Hi, I’m Stacey.” She said. “Thanks. That was very brave of you.”

  Timmy cast a wide handsome smile across the room. Jason leaned back against the countertop, sighed and rolled his eyes. He’d seen that look on her face a hundred times before now and it always ended the same way.

  “He’s such a good boy.” She said. “He was always fond of his grandmother even before everything started going wrong.”

  Dora reached over and squeezed Timmy’s hand in one liver-spotted hand. She grinned at her grandson, slid her hand away and rested it on the edge of the left handlebar.

  “I’d leave school every day to see if she needed something.”

  “Thank God you were here when it all—”

  Colin blotted his left hand across the right leg of his jeans and leaned against the counter. Somewhere, a clock ticked. Dora leaned over her handlebars and peered at Colin.

  “You can take that bag off and sit a spell.” She said.

  Colin did as she suggested and placed it on the countertop.

  Dora held her arms out in front of her. “Do you care if I hold her? I haven’t held a baby since my daughter stopped popping them out.”

  “Sure.”

  He spun around and watched Dora’s face light up as Stacey slipped Rosie onto her lap. The baby gurgled as if she were about to cry but then settled down once she knew that her big sister was still there.

  “Thank you again for getting us out of that mess.” He said. “We don’t want to intrude. We’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes.”

  “There’s no rush.” Dora (like the cartoon) said. “Go ahead and kick off your shoes and relax for a little bit. Besides, she could always use the company.”

  When Colin opened his mouth, it was too late.

  Timmy flipped the bat end-over-end, caught it in both hands and drove it hard into the pit of Colin’s stomach. Pain bursting across his abdomen, he doubled over and cradled his stomach in both arms. He leaned back against the countertop, drew a slow breath and sighed.

  “What the fuck are–” Jason said.

  A loud sigh bursting through her lips, Stacey leaped out of her chair and reached out to snatch Rosie from Dora’s grasp. Dora slipped her right arm out from under the lap blanket and tightened her grip around Rosie’s midsection pinning her in place. She gripped a nickel-plated .38 in her pale withered hand and aimed it at Stacey, her thin pink mouth shrunk into an angry grimace.

  Tears streamed down Stacey’s hot red cheeks. Dora thumbed back the hammer and leveled the gun in Jason’s face.

  The sound sent a fresh blanket of goosebumps trailing down Colin’s arms.

  “Didn’t your mother tell you,” Dora said. “it’s not nice for good little boys to cuss.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  OUT of the frying pan and into the fire, Colin thought.

  He used the edge of the countertop to hoist himself back onto his feet and shook off the pain throbbing in his gut. He scowled at Dora, his face clenched tight under a mask of confusion and anger, and let out a long deep breath.

  The frozen look of horror on Jason’s face had said enough. He opened his mouth to say something when Timmy jabbed the tip of the bat against his chest and pinned him against the cupboards.

  “We don’t want any trouble.” He said. “We’ll leave right now.”

  “Who said anything about leaving?” Dora said.

  Timmy cast an arrogant grin at him and nudged him with the tip of the bat. The same insanity he’d seen in Dora’s eyes now radiated in his.

  Dora and Timmy switched places. She held the gun in her left fist while Timmy placed the blunt end of the bat hard against Colin’s chest. Colin slid away from Stacey, leaned his back against the edge of the countertop and raised his hands at shoulder level.

  “It’s all one big fucking conspiracy, you know.” Dora said. “They created a virus to weed out the old people so they don’t have pay us our disability.” She said. “We got to do what we can to survive even if it means sacrificing them to the very things that killed us.”

  She glanced at Timmy, her left lip tugged into a wicked grin. Colin thought about going for the gun, but decided not to.

  Jason’s lips trembled. “What are you going to do?”

  “Whatever the fuck we want to.” Timmy said.

  Jason bunched his fists together, pressed his knuckles deep against his thighs and gave a loud hacking cough. He exhaled, pursed his lips together and launched a ball of saliva across the air. It struck Timmy’s left eye with a wet sickening slap.

  Timmy whined in protest, dropped the bat, kneeled down and clawed at his face with both hands. Jason gnashed his teeth, reared his right foot back and kicked Timmy square in the chest. Timmy coughed, flew off his knees and sat down hard.

  Dora thumbed back the hammer on her .38 and swung it back in Jason’s face. The tension in the room grew thick as the others held their breath. She saw the mask of tight-lipped anger etched across Colin’s face, cast an arrogant smile at him and swung the pistol in his direction.

  “Try it.” She said. “I’ll shoot you without breaking a sweat, motherfucker.”

  Timmy rubbed the ball of spit from his face with the back of his right hand and, his cheeks flushed, leaped up from the floor. He reared his left arm back and brought the back of his left hand hard across Jason’s left cheek. Two front and back-handed slaps later, Jason gave a panicked yelp, knelt onto the floor and covered his mouth with both hands

  Blood trickled out from between his fingers and slid down his chin.

  Dora waved the gun at them. “We’ll give her these two first then we’ll give her the spitter.”

  “What about the baby?”

  A sickening dread twisted deep inside Colin’s gut. Fear strangled his throat and clenched his lungs like an invisible fist, robbing him of both his breath and his voice.

  Gazing up at her grandson with cruel blue eyes and a wide mischievous grin etched across her pale wrinkled face, Dora said, “I’ve always wanted to have a great grandchild.”

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Timmy said.

  “Take your goddamn hands off—”

  Tears cascading down her hot red cheeks, Stacey bolted out of her chair and stormed over. Dora snapped the hammer back on her pistol and stuck it in her face.

  “Or what?”

  Stacey froze, bit down on her bottom lip and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her right hand. Her mouth set in a hard line, she sighed.

  “If you had just cooperated,” Timmy said. “You, Rosie and I could’ve been one big happy family but since I know what kind of company you keep I’d rather not.”