The Zs get thicker and thicker, and I’m soon sweating heavily, despite the chill in the pit. I’m also limping hard from my bad leg and starting to cramp in my good one from the extra work it’s doing. I elbow a Z back, smash another in the face, kick a third, elbow a fourth, smash a fifth, kick, elbow, smash, kick, elbow, smash, smash, smash, smash.

  Trip.

  Shit.

  I’m on top of a squirming Z, and I can’t get up because my arm is twisted under the thing’s back. Which also means my rock is under the thing’s back. Not good. Very not good.

  “El!” I shout. “I’m down!”

  “Hold on!” Rafe says, only a couple feet ahead of me. “Keep talking so I can find you!”

  “Never thought I’d hear someone say that!” I shout, then begin to sing Row, Row, Row Your Boat. It’s the first thing that comes to mind.

  A Z stumbles and falls across my back. I twist and send it rolling off, but a second one, and then a third one just do the same thing.

  “I said talk, not sing badly,” Rafe says, his voice coming from right above me as he pulls off one Z. “Which you can stop doing now.”

  I stop singing and am grateful Rafe yanks the other Z off. I try to roll to the side and free my arm, but the Z I’m on is all kinds of twisted, and I almost get my ear bitten off. The thing’s teeth clamp down on the collar of my shirt, and I slam my head back again and again until there’s nothing but the sound of wet pulp.

  “I think you got it,” Rafe says, helping me to my feet.

  I bend down and start feeling around, but Rafe grabs my arm and pulls me away.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he growls as he keeps pulling me.

  “I lost my rock friend,” I say.

  “How the hell did you make it this far?” Rafe asks.

  “Luck and charisma,” I say. “Heavy on the luck part.”

  “My name is Elsbeth, not luck,” Elsbeth shouts from way ahead of us.

  “How can she hear that?” Rafe asks. “That chick is different, that’s for sure.”

  “You have no idea,” I say as we start battling our way through the Zs.

  I don’t get another rock friend, but with a lucky twist of my wrist, I snap off a Z’s arm and start using that to whack a path through the never ending pit horde. I may accidentally whack Rafe a couple times, too, but he doesn’t notice and thinks it’s just Zs.

  “I notice, shithead,” he grumbles.

  “Oh, sorry,” I apologize as I take a Z’s head clean off with one swipe of my Z arm friend.

  “Everything does not have to be called your friend!” Rafe shouts. “Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

  “Shhhh!” Elsbeth calls back. “You’ll let the Zs know where you are!”

  I have no idea if she’s kidding or not. Sometimes you just have to live with the mystery of El.

  Inch by inch, foot by foot, smashed Z head by smashed Z head, we trudge through the pit, until I slam up against Rafe’s back as he stops suddenly.

  “Take my hand,” Elsbeth says, and I drop Stanley.

  That’s what I’ve named my Z arm friend.

  I reach up, and Elsbeth pulls me up out of the pit with one hard yank. And it is a hard yank. I didn’t really need that shoulder to be connected. Shoulders are overrated.

  “Don’t be a baby,” Elsbeth says.

  “Was that out loud?” I ask.

  “No, I just know what a baby you are,” Elsbeth says. “So stop it.”

  “Right,” I say, and step away from the pit to give Rafe room to get up. I don’t go far, since I can’t see a fucking thing. Basically, I stumble a little ways away and stand there with my dick in my hands.

  Not literally. I do not literally have my dick in my hands.

  Elsbeth gives me a shove in my chest and spins me around, then starts pushing me at the small of the back.

  “Knock it off,” I say. “I know how to walk.”

  “Not fast enough,” Elsbeth says, her voice cold and hard. “Move. Now.”

  “Okay, okay,” I say. “Calm down.”

  We get a few feet away, and I run right into a large boulder. My nose stings from the impact, but I don’t feel any blood start to flow, so it’s an impact that goes into the win column.

  “Down,” Elsbeth says just as the pit is illuminated by bright lights.

  Elsbeth shoves me and Rafe around the side of the boulder, then clamps her hand over my mouth. Probably a good idea since I find myself blinking against the intense brightness while also looking right at Critter, Stuart, and about six of the cannies from our crashed RV. Critter and Stuart look rough, but not as bad as I feared they would considering how Reptile Jesus was talking.

  I immediately want to say something to them, which is exactly why Elsbeth has her hand over my mouth. So I blink a whole bunch of times, hoping my Morse code isn’t too rusty. Critter rolls his eyes and Stuart just shakes his head. I don’t think I’m blinking what I think I’m blinking.

  There are some far off screams, and the sound of several shotguns going off.

  “Come and get ‘em!” someone yells.

  We all sit there and wait. I’m guessing we’re waiting for the lights to go out. Never thought I’d be glad to be plunged back into pure darkness.

  The sounds of Zs fighting over fresh meat is something you recognize instantly when living in the zombie apocalypse. That goes on for several minutes, intermingled with laughter and small talk from the shotgun assholes. Then the laughter and talking slowly subsides, and finally the lights go back out.

  “Hey, Short Pork,” Critter greets me from the darkness. “Wasn’t sure we’d see you again. I figured that hissy fit you threw causing you to pout and go upstairs might have saved ya from gettin’ captured. Guess not.”

  “It wasn’t a hissy fit,” I reply. “You were being a dick.”

  “It was a hissy fit,” Stuart says. “And did you just try to tell me my lips are full by blinking in Morse code?”

  “No,” I say. “I was trying to say hello, and it’s good to see you guys.”

  “Well, that’s not what you said,” Stuart says. “But it is good to see you.”

  “What now?” I ask. “It’s great we can all be back together as one happy family, but how the hell are we going to get out of here?”

  “Through the back door,” Elsbeth says.

  “This place has a back door?” I ask.

  “Every place has a back door,” Critter replies, his voice thick with smirkiness. “You just have to know where to look.”

  “It’s not going to be easy for you, though,” Stuart says. “There’s some climbing involved.”

  “Climbing? I don’t do climbing,” I reply. “Not anymore.”

  “Ain’t got no choice, Short Pork,” Critter says. “You want to leave the pit, then you best be gettin’ to the climbin’.”

  “You can’t call me Short Pork anymore,” I state.

  “Oh, and why’s that?” Critter asks.

  “Because Elsbeth says so,” I reply.

  “Critter can call you Short Pork,” Elsbeth says. “I just said that Little Canny can’t call you Short Pork.”

  “Why the hell does Critter get to call me Short Pork?” I snap.

  “Because he’s Critter,” Elsbeth answers.

  “Because I’m Critter,” Critter chuckles. “There’re perks to bein’ me.”

  “Why the hell do I put up with y’all?” I ask.

  “Because you have one arm and can’t take care of yourself,” Elsbeth says. “Not that you were any better with two arms.”

  “He actually got into more trouble when he had two,” Stuart says. “Losing an arm has slowed him down.”

  “It has,” Critter agrees. “That’s a fact.”

  “I’m sitting right here, assholes,” I say. “I may not be able to see, but I can hear.”

  “Shhh,” Elsbeth says. “You hear that? Zs are about done eating. We need to get out now before they come hunting.”

  Someone picks me up and starts walking my ass quickly away from the boulder. I’m guessing it’s Elsbeth from the sure-footed way we’re moving. Or at least she’s sure footed, I keep tripping over every damn rock and crack on the ground. I’m not the only one; quite a few grunts and curses follow us as the group tries to keep up.

  Bam. My nose hits a wall.

  “You did that on purpose,” I say.

  “Huh?” Elsbeth replies, all bullshit innocence.

  “You let me run into the wall on purpose,” I repeat.

  “Did not,” she says, but isn’t very convincing.

  Then she takes my hand and presses it to the rough surface of the wall.

  “Find a grip,” she says.

  I search until my fingers can curl into a depression in the rock a foot or so above my head.

  “Got it,” I say.

  “Good,” she says then sighs. “Find a place for your toes.”

  I jam the foot of my good leg into another depression then stand there feeling stupid.

  “Okay, now what?” I ask, well aware that physics are not on my side.

  “Climb,” Elsbeth says. There’s a tone of regret in her voice.

  “You okay, El?” I ask.

  “I will be when we’re out of this pit,” she sighs again. “Now, climb, Long Pork.”

  “Okay, but I’m not going far,” I say.

  I dig my foot in more, grip hard with my fingers, and pull. I lift off the ground and that’s when I find out why Elsbeth isn’t sounding so happy. She puts her hand right on my ass and pushes, keeping me from falling back down.

  “Keep going,” she says. “Move, Long Pork.”

  I don’t want the sigh to turn into a growl, so I do as she says, and I move. One hand, one foot then the other foot, and a shove on my ass from Elsbeth. That’s how I climb the twelve feet or so, and find myself crawling up over the lip of a ledge. I roll out of the way, and Elsbeth joins me.

  “Don’t stand up,” Elsbeth says.

  “Ow!” I cry as I slam my head into very hard rock. “Too late.”

  Elsbeth keeps us moving. She turns us right, left, right, right, left, then it’s straight on forever. We’re walking for so long that I think I’m going to pass out, but I dig deep and keep going. Hearing the voices of the others behind me helps as motivation. I can’t quit with an audience.

  I glance over my shoulder as someone cries out. It’s one of the cannies, holding his foot as he jumps up and down. Looks like he stubbed his toe on a decent sized rock. Ouch.

  Hey ... hold on. How can I see that?

  I whip my head back in the direction we’re moving, and realize that there’s light up ahead. It’s not much, but considering I’ve been a subterranean troll for probably twenty-four hours, my eyes treat the little bit of light as if it’s a full fucking moon. Huzzah!

  Of course, for there to be light that must mean we are getting close to the surface. Which, by the way, is freezing fucking cold. It only takes a couple of minutes for my enthusiasm at being sighted again to be replaced by my whole body shivering uncontrollably.

  I’m not the only one. I look back again, and everyone is shaking and shivering. None of us have winter coats on, just shirts and jeans. We do have sturdy boots, so maybe we won’t lose our toes once we get outside. Not that it matters, since we’ll die of hypothermia well before we feel the effects of frostbite. Or not feel the effects. I guess you don’t feel the effects until you start to warm up. Oh, God, I wish I could warm up.

  Teeth chattering and my will to live slowly fading just like my body heat, I step from the rock tunnel we’ve been walking in and out into the open air. Kill me now.

  “Huddle together,” Stuart says. “It’s the only way to stay warm.”

  He doesn’t have to say it a second time. We all instantly get into the group hug mood. Somehow I’m on the outside, which sucks, but at least part of me is warm. I wish all of me was warm, but freezing beggars can’t be cozy choosers. I should have that saying cross stitched and framed when we get someplace that has cross stitching and frames.

  “What the hell are you babbling about?” Critter asks. He’s who I’m pressed up against. “I don’t think arts and crafts are the priority right now, Short Pork.”

  “We’ll need to find shelter,” Stuart says, his eyes scanning our surroundings. “Getting out of this weather is our priority.”

  “Can’t we huddle in the mouth of the tunnel?” someone asks.

  “It’ll just take longer to freeze to death,” Stuart says. “We need to find a place where we can build a fire. The last thing I want to do is start a fire in that tunnel with all of that coal dust. It could get a lot warmer than we want.”

  “Right,” Critter says. “And we should take some coal with us.”

  “Are you fucking nuts?” I snap.

  “What?” he replies. “It’s just sitting there. Look.”

  He points back at the mouth of the tunnel at the various size hunks of old coal that litter the ground not covered by snow.

  “I bet if we dig a little under that snow we’ll find even more,” Critter says.

  “Fuck the coal!” I yell. “And fuck shelter! We need to go get Greta!”

  “We will,” Elsbeth says, her voice a steel that’s colder than the weather. “Don’t you worry, Long Pork. We won’t leave Greta behind. But first, we get to shelter like Stuart says. We get warm, we survive, then we get Greta. That’s the plan.”

  “That’s going to take too long,” I growl. “Who knows what they’re doing to her in that compound!”

  “Nothing yet,” Elsbeth says. “Trust me, Long Pork. These ain’t crazy crazies, but religion crazies. They’ll break her first before they hurt her. That way they think they are doing good. Religion crazies have to think they’re good before they do bad. Which, I guess, makes them crazier than crazy crazies.”

  “You’d know,” Critter says, and holds up his hands. “Not an insult.”

  “I know,” Elsbeth says. “I do know. That’s why I said the words I said. Because I know. If I didn’t know, then that would make me crazy too. I’m not crazy.”

  A few of the cannies look down at their feet. Sure, I can see how they think Elsbeth is crazy, but they would be very wrong. Sometimes that woman is the sanest of us all.

  “Let’s go,” Elsbeth says, and breaks up the warm group hug. “We have some walking to do.”

  “Hold on, let’s think this through,” Stuart says. “We don’t know where we are. We could end up wandering out into the middle of nowhere and never find any shelter.”

  “Didn’t I say?” Elsbeth grins. “I already know where the shelter is.”

  “You what?” Stuart asks.

  “I already know where shelter is,” Elsbeth says, and waves us on. “Come on, or you people are going to freeze to death.”

  Stuart looks at me, and I know he catches the “you people” part. What the hell does Elsbeth mean by that? Isn’t she going to freeze to death too? Pretty sure humans all freeze at the same temperature, give or take a few degrees due to natural insulation. Which, by the way, none of us have. Despite a few folks back at Whispering Woods, being hefty and having a layer of fat for warmth is not a luxury people get in the apocalypse. We’re kind of all skin and bones.

  Very cold skin, and very cold bones.

  “What about the coal?” Critter asks.

  “Don’t need it,” Elsbeth says. “No place to burn it.”

  “How will we stay warm?” one of the cannies asks.

  “You’ll see,” Elsbeth says.

  “El, you have to give us more information than that,” Stuart says.

  “Not really,” Elsbeth says. “You’ll like the place. It’s cozy. And there’s a fireplace. With wood. That enough information?”

  “It’s a start,” Stuart says.

  “A start’s all you need,” Elsbeth smiles, then turns and hikes off into the blowing snow.

  We have no choice but to huddle together and trudge through the deep snow after her.

  Even with the boots on, my toes go numb after at about twenty minutes of walking. Actually, every part of me is numb. I’m afraid that if someone yelled in my ear right now it would just snap right off from the shock. The same goes for my nose. I’m afraid to wipe the snot away from it. If I bump it too hard, it’ll shatter and leave me with a hole in my face. Besides the hole in my face called a mouth. That’s already there.

  A few more minutes, and I think I’m going to collapse. I look ahead, and Elsbeth is hiking along as if it’s a spring day, and the sun is shining, the birds are tweeting, and—.

  “Shut up!” half the group grumbles at me.

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “What’s that?” Rafe asks, pointing up ahead. “Is that it?”

  We shove through a winter-dead hedge and onto a front yard that is maybe half an acre across. At the far side of the yard is a good-sized farmhouse. The windows are boarded up, and the place looks solid, but we can all instantly tell that things aren’t right.

  “What happened here?” I ask Elsbeth as I break from the pack and push myself to catch up with her. “Doesn’t look like Zs took the place down.”

  “They didn’t,” Elsbeth says. “This was a people fight.”

  As I get closer, I can see the bullet holes in the wood siding. There are scorch marks around the window frames, and I see a dark stain by the front door as we step up onto the porch.

  “The stains are new,” Elsbeth says. “The fire and bullet holes are old. The fight was a while ago. Don’t know who won.”

  “What do you mean the stains are new?” Stuart asks.

  He holds up a hand, and the group stops at the edge of the porch. Everyone is freezing, but all eyes are on the stains that are obvious blood. No one is in a hurry to get inside.

  “Elsbeth? Where you done brought us, girl?” Critter asks.

  “It’s safe,” Elsbeth says. “They’re gone. They won’t be coming back.”

  “El? What are you talking about?” I ask. “What is going on?”

  “Nothing, no more,” Elsbeth says. “Do you want to come inside and get warm, or stay out here and die?”

  There are a few grumbles about getting warm, but it is far from unanimous.