Now, so many decades later, they have the Stronghold locked down tight against the zombie hordes with a system of ditches, barricades, fences, razor wire nets, pits, and other various defenses, all stretched out before a massive wall.

  In the beginning, and for years after, they had power from solar, wind, and geothermal sources, but that’s all gone as parts and expertise died out—remnants of a dead society left to live on in memories handed down from generation to generation.

  Val jogs past houses with wisps of smoke coming from their chimneys as they start stoves for the morning meal. Everyone gets up when the cock crows, ready to begin another day of work and duty, all to keep the Stronghold running and safe. Val waves at familiar faces and calls out to those who address her by name.

  Children rush out of front doors, wooden swords in their hands. They go at each other, emulating the Team Mates they have come to see as heroes. Val smiles, knowing she was once one of those children who wished to be part of the Teams.

  A Mate of Denver Team Beta One, Val Baptiste is in a hurry to get to the Team barracks and be counted among the candidates for promotion to the elite Denver Team Alpha. Or, as it is commonly called because of the level of shit the Team gets thrown in and the high casualty rate: Dead Team Alpha.

  But she has to make a stop first.

  “What?” Stanford Lee mumbles as he feels the hand jostle him over and over. “Go away.”

  “Someone’s at your door,” a voice says sleepily from his side.

  Stanford, twenty-two, tall, muscular, with blond hair like his cousin Val, but instead of brown eyes he has ice-blue ones, slowly pushes up from the mattress tucked into the corner of a bare room. He looks over at the naked young man in bed with him and frowns.

  “What’s your name again?” Stanford asks, feeling like his tongue is made of paste and glass. “Bongo?”

  “Benji,” the young man says, grabbing a fistful of blanket and rolling over, tucking it around his bare ass and legs.

  “Right,” Stanford says. “Benji. New Runner guy. Just moved in a few doors down.” Stanford fumbles through the clothes and trash on the floor and finds a canteen. He tips it up, but only a single drop of water comes out. “Fuck. You got any water over there?”

  “Drank it all,” Benji says. “We got thirsty, remember? Shrooms.”

  “Yeah, yeah, shrooms,” Stanford says as tries to recall the wild night. Bits and pieces come back to him, mainly the sweaty sex pieces, and he reaches over and slaps Benji on the ass. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself, asshole,” Benji says. “Fuck off, I’m going back to sleep.”

  There’s a loud banging from the other room and Stanford looks at the open bedroom door.

  “I gotta go, okay?” Stanford says as he gets up, yanks on his jeans, and starts rummaging for a clean t-shirt. He finds a cleanish one and pulls it on. “Uh, did you hear me?”

  “Yes, I heard you,” Benji says as he rolls over and throws the blanket off. He gets to his feet and shoves Stanford out of the way. “I guess that means I can’t stay.”

  “Sorry,” Stanford says. “Maybe we could get together later tonight? I hear there’s some hooch ready.”

  “No thanks,” Benji says as he gathers his clothes. “I don’t drink.”

  “But you take shrooms?” Stanford asks, wishing for a glass of water.

  “Shrooms are great for fucking,” Benji says, turning and giving Stanford a quick kiss. “That hooch will make your dick soft. Hate to ruin a good thing.”

  The banging starts again and gets louder and louder until Benji, naked with his clothes wadded in a ball in his arms, leaves the bedroom, crosses through the pigsty of a front room, and yanks the front door open.

  “Oh,” Val says, her fist raised. “Uh, hi there.”

  “Excuse me,” Benji says as he pushes past.

  Val watches him walk down the walkway of the apartment complex set aside for single men. He goes a few doors down and drops his clothes, searches through the pockets of the pants, and pulls out a key. He looks over at Val and frowns.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Nice ass,” Val smiles.

  “Whatever,” Benji says as he slips the key in the knob. “Forget you saw it, sweetheart. I don’t do vag.”

  “It’s Val,” Val smiles.

  “What?” Benji asks.

  “It’s Val, not vag,” Val smiles wider.

  “Funny,” Benji says in a voice that makes it very obvious he doesn’t find it funny. He shoves his door open and waves a hand at Val. “Have fun with that one. We tripped most of the night.”

  Then the door closes, and Val turns back to the open one in front of her.

  “Ford? Ford!” Val yells as she walks in and closes the door behind her. “We’re gonna be late, dick. You better not be hungover. Not today, cuz.”

  “No hangover,” Stanford says as he walks out of the bathroom, rubbing his face with a wet towel. “But I think I’m still trippin’ on shrooms.”

  “Jesus, Ford,” Val says as she looks about the mess of an apartment. “Better pull it together, or Aunt Maura will rip you a new one.”

  “I think Benji already did that,” Stanford smiles as he pats his ass. “He’s a cute one, huh?”

  Val shrugs. “I thought you were fucking that Pickering girl?”

  “Pussy gets old,” Stanford shrugs. “Gotta mix it up, ya know?”

  “Nope,” Val says, shaking her head. “I’m strictly a cock and balls girl. No switch hitting for me.”

  “Whatever floats your boat, cuz,” Stanford says. “Ready?”

  “Are you?”

  “Born ready,” Stanford says as he grabs his boots and a pair of socks and gestures to the front door. “After you, my lady.”

  “Thank you, kind sir,” Val says as she walks past, then stops and socks Stanford in the gut.

  “What the fuck, Val,” Stanford oofs.

  “Just double-checking,” Val says. “Wanted you to get whatever puking you have in you done now. Can’t have my favorite cousin vomiting during the Team Trials.”

  “I told you, I’m not hung over,” Stanford says, then yanks the water jug out of Val’s hand. “But I am thirsty as all fuck.” He chugs half the water and then belches. “That hits the spot.”

  “Fucking asshole,” Val snaps. “That was my ration for the day.”

  “Oh, quit bitching,” Stanford says as they walk down the stairs from the second floor and out to the street. “My mom will have plenty of water at the barracks.”

  “Not today, fucknut,” Val says. “No water until after the Trials. This is a test to find the best of the best, remember? And the best don’t get thirsty mid-fight.”

  “Well, that’s bullshit, since I’m the best and extremely thirsty,” Stanford grins. “You need to chill, little cuz. We’ve been kicking ass on Beta One, there’s no way we won’t make it into Alpha.”

  “Sure, easy for you to say since your mom is the fucking Commander,” Val frowns. “Not so easy for me.”

  “You are my favorite cousin and her favorite niece, Val,” Stanford says. “And way less disappointing than her only child. You have a better shot than I do. Fuck, she probably won’t let me in just to prove she isn’t playing favorites.”

  “Fuck that,” Val says, waving to a mother and her children busy throwing food to the chickens pecking at the grass in their front yard. “You’re the best shooter in the Stronghold and the second-best fighter.”

  “You being the first best, I take it?” Stanford laughs.

  “Just the best,” Val grins. “No need to qualify it with ‘first.’”

  They walk for a couple more blocks, passing old brick and wood buildings, many of them patched together with various materials. In the zombie apocalypse, you take what you can find and make do. Another block and they come across an entire family in their driveway going through fight drills. The father and mother instruct the children on how to hold an axe properly and where to aim to take down a Z.

  The head, of course.

  They see Val and wave. She waves back. Stanford waves, but the mother moves in front of her husband, glaring.

  “Ford, you didn’t?” Val asks, shaking her head as they walk past the family and turn at the corner of the block. “The guy has kids.”

  “I don’t know if I did or didn’t,” Stanford says. “Don’t recognize the guy.”

  “Slut,” Val smirks.

  Stanford just shrugs.

  Turning onto Broadway, the two cousins see people making their way onto what was once the University of Colorado campus but now serves as the Team barracks and command center.

  “I still don’t know why the hurry for the Trials,” Stanford says. “Moving up the schedule is a bit weird, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know,” Val says. “Aunt Maura didn’t say anything to you?”

  “Dear old mumsy hasn’t said a word to me since we got back from the last run down in D-town,” Stanford says. “She wasn’t very happy about that stunt I pulled.”

  “You could have burned down all of Sector Five,” Val replies. “She had reason to be unhappy.”

  “But I killed what, like a hundred Zs at once?” Stanford asks. “Led them into that building, using myself as fucking bait, then locked the doors and lit a match.”

  “I’m not saying it wasn’t a good idea,” Val says. “But if sparks had spread, then it would have been a disaster.”

  “Woulda, coulda, shoulda,” Stanford shrugs. “Whatcha gonna do?”

  “I’m gonna break my dick off in your ass, faggot,” a short, thick man says as he comes running up behind the two. “Then make you beg for more.”

  “Anyone that is subjected to your tiny whang will beg for more,” Stanford says. “They’ll beg for something at least.”

  “Fuck you, Lee,” the man grins.

  “Right back at you, Cole,” Stanford smiles and gives the man a high five.

  “Hey, Val,” Coleman Wright says. “You ain’t lettin’ this fucker distract you, are ya?”

  “Please,” Val says. “I’ve been ignoring this shit since we were born.”

  A good ten years older than the cousins, Coleman Wright walks next to them, shirtless so the ropy muscles and the pink scars that crisscross his dark brown skin are on display for everyone. A sheen of sweat covers his chest and he causally wipes it away, flicking the sweat to the ground.

  “Dude,” Val says. “Yuck.”

  “Oh, did I get some on ya?” Cole asks, then grabs her up in a bear hug.

  “Fuck you, Coleman!” Val shouts just before headbutting the man.

  “Ow! Jesus, Val,” Cole grunts as he drops her. “You gotta learn the difference between play and for realsies.”

  “You gotta stop getting your sweat on me,” Val says.

  “Come on,” Cole winks. “You like it. What do you say later tonight we see how much you like it?”

  “No,” Val says.

  “Come on,” Cole pleads. “Remember that one New Year’s? You telling me that didn’t work for you?”

  Val rolls her eyes. “Answer is still no. I’m with Hamish.”

  “Terlington?” Cole laughs. “Doctor Boring?”

  Val shrugs.

  “The lady said no, Cole,” Stanford says. “But I’m up for some sweating.”

  “Jesus, Ford,” Cole says. “You are such a slut.”

  “You’re the second person to tell me that this morning,” Stanford smiles.

  As they get closer, Cole starts winking and pointing at the young women in the crowd who are filtering into the building once known as Carlson Gymnasium. The ghost of the name can still be seen up over the door. Most of the young women frown and look away, but some smile wide, glad for the attention of the Team Leader of Denver Team Beta Two.

  “Who’s the slut now?” Stanford says, laughing at Coleman’s antics.

  “Can’t be a slut if I don’t get any,” Cole says. “I’m good for a laugh but not for a shag.”

  “Ahhh, poor baby,” Val says. “Maybe I will give you a pity fuck later.”

  “I’ll take all the pity you want to give,” Cole laughs.

  The crowd is thick at the entrance and the three have to push their way through, not bothering to say sorry or excuse me, since as soon as they are recognized, folks move out of their way. The three Mates’ moods and attitudes quickly change from smart-ass to straight edge. No more sexual banter or sarcastic insults. They are now inside the Gym, and a Team Mate doesn’t fuck around inside the Gym.

  “Good morning,” a woman says. Average height, late-fifties, salt-and-pepper hair tied up in a tight bun, crisp dark-blue uniform with the nametag “Commander Lee” sewn over her left breast. “Stanford, I’m pleased you made it on time and not smelling of vomit.”

  “I do have standards,” Stanford says. “You’re looking very butch this morning, Mother. I hope that doesn’t mean you’re promoting only the dykes into DTA.”

  Commander Lee sighs heavily. “Why do you have to say things like that? You only reinforce old world bigotry by perpetuating slurs like that.”

  “Cole called me a faggot outside,” Stanford says.

  “Hey!” Cole snaps, looking at the commander with alarm. “It was a joke, sir! He knows it was a joke! Tell her, Ford!”

  “I am well aware of your sense of humor, TL Wright,” Commander Lee says. “However crude it may be, and however much I believe it undermines your command as a TL, it is still obviously humor. My son’s quips and barbs? Not so funny.”

  “Tough room,” Stanford says.

  “Hello, Val,” Commander Lee smiles. “Are you ready for the Trials?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be, sir,” Val says, not daring to be anything but formal with the commanding officer, even if she is her aunt.

  “Good,” Commander Lee says and looks about the crowd as people take seats in the old wooden bleachers. “And my brother isn’t here, I see. God forbid Collin Baptiste be bothered with anything to do with family.”

  “Dad’s working through our food rations,” Val says. “One sip at a time.”

  “Good Lord,” Commander Lee says, then looks at her son. “At least you can never be the biggest disappointment in the family.” With that said, she nods at them all, turns on her heel, and walks her way to a small podium set off to the side of the Gym.

  “We’ll see about that!” Stanford calls after her. “The day has just started!”

  “What the fuck did you two do in your past lives?” Cole asks as they walk over to the other candidates standing close to a large mat in the center of the Gym floor. “You each have a peach of a parent.”

  “The Baptistes fell apart after Granny G died,” Val says. “I think that woman was all that kept the family together. Once she passed, they all sorta lost their way.”

  “No shit,” Stanford says. “I do miss that old woman. She used to tell me stories about the convoy trip across the country to the Stronghold. We live in Paradise compared to that.”

  “Your great grandmother was something, that’s true,” Coleman nods. “She died at what? Ninety-five?”

  “She was older than that,” Val answers. “She was a kid when Z-Day hit, and that was almost a hundred years ago.”

  “Bullshit,” Cole says. “No one lives that long.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Shut up,” Stanford says. “Party’s getting started.”

  The crowd takes their seats while the eight candidates around the mat snap to attention as Commander Lee steps behind the podium and gives a short nod.

  “Please lower your heads for the Remembrance,” she says.

  The whole room goes silent and every head is lowered instantly.

  “We always remember,” Commander Lee says in a strong and confident voice that carries to every ear. “The past is where we came from but not who we are. Today we live. We always remember.”

  “We always remember,” the entire Gym says.

  “There was weakness once, but not anymore. Today we live. We always remember,” Commander Lee continues.

  “We always remember.”

  “Anger is not hatred, violence is not evil,” she says. “This we have learned because today we live. We always remember.”

  “We always remember.”

  “You must work for security and die for safety. This is truth because today we live. We always remember.”

  “We always remember.”

  “No matter what, we do what is right, since every person counts and today we live. We always remember.”

  “We always remember.”

  “We are a community, a society, a family. One and all we are together. That is why today we live and we always remember.”

  “We always remember.”

  “And why do we always remember?”

  “Because every person counts.”

  “Yes, every person counts.”

  “Every person counts.”

  “We always remember.”

  “We always remember.”

  There is silence for exactly five seconds, then everyone raises their heads and starts cheering and clapping.

  Commander Lee lifts her hands and the Gym quiets down. “As you know, we lost two Mates from Denver Team Alpha last week.”

  “We always remember,” the crowd says.

  “That we do,” Commander Lee responds. “As a military society, we have sworn to protect any and all who seek refuge within our walls. In order to do that, we must have the strength of the Teams at full. We have many fine candidates ready to step into roles on Denver Teams Beta One and Beta Two, but, as you can see, only eight qualify to move up into the vacated slots on Denver Team Alpha.”

  “Long live Dead Team Alpha!”

  “Long live DTA!”

  “We are alive today because of DTA!”

  “Every person counts!”

  “Yes, yes, thank you,” Commander Lee says as she holds her hands out to silence the enthusiastic members of the crowd. “I thank you for that tribute.”

  She looks at the eight candidates, making sure she holds eye contact with each one for no more and no less than three seconds.