Don hung his head, fingers sliding ammunition into his empty clips.
'Yes, Danny,' he answered quietly, 'that's Mrs. De Santos.'
Cringing, Danny stepped away and wrapped his arms around his father's leg, hiding his face in Jim's thigh.
'I'm sorry for your loss,' Martin said.
Don shrugged, continuing to reload.
'After I-after that,' he nodded to the remains, 'I made sure the house was secure. I nailed plywood over the doors and windows and the garage door is chained shut. Won't stop them now, I'm afraid, but it should slow them down long enough for us to equip ourselves.'
'You stayed in this room?' Jim asked.
'The whole time. Luckily, they didn't know I was in
here. I still would be I guess, if I hadn't heard you folks come along.'
Jim picked Danny up and kissed him on the forehead. This man, Don De Santos, had sat here in relatively comfortable safety while his son had faced endless nights of terror, peril, and hunger alone in the attic next door. He hugged Danny even tighter.
'I missed you, kiddo. I missed you so much.'
'I missed you too, Daddy.'
'How much?' Jim nuzzled him.
'This much!' Danny squeezed tighter.
'How much is that?'
'More than 'finity.'
They both laughed, and Martin turned away to hide the fresh tears that sprang to his eyes.
'Okay.' Don pocketed the extra clips. 'I'm ready. Wish I had some ammo for your rifles, but I was never much of a hunter.'
Jim grinned. 'Even if you were, I don't know that you'd have any to fit the M-16s. They're not exactly deer rifles.'
'Like I said, I'm a city boy.' Don shrugged. 'There's a knife there on the table. One of you can have it if you want.'
'I'll take it,' Martin offered. 'That way, you can carry Danny.'
Both father and son seemed to like the prospect, judging by the relieved looks on their faces.
'Not that it will do much good, I guess.' The preacher sighed, picking up the blade. 'Unless I stick it hard enough to go through their skull.'
He shuddered, remembering that he'd done that very thing earlier in the day, fending off not a zombie, but a fellow human. It seemed like years ago.
'Why is that?' Don asked, shoving bottles of water
into a backpack. 'Why does it have to go through the skull?'
'Damaging the brain is the only way to kill them.'
'Makes sense, I guess. I figured as much. That was what it finally took-for Myrna.'
'I liked her,' Danny spoke up. 'She always let me play with Rocky, and she used to babysit me when I was littler.'
'Well,' Jim said quietly, 'at least somebody was watching out for you.'
'What do you mean, Daddy?'
'Nothing, squirt. It just seems like your mother and Rick didn't think. They should have gotten you out of here as soon as this started.'
Danny's face clouded. 'I wish you wouldn't talk bad about them. I don't like it.'
Jim opened his mouth to reply, but Martin interrupted him.
'Danny, I bet you're thirsty after that ordeal. Why don't you have Mr. De Santos open one of those bottles of water for you?'
Danny shrugged. 'Okay.'
'That a boy.'
'Shouldn't we come up with a plan?' Jim asked. 'Those things outside know that we're in here.'
'It will only take a second,' Martin assured him.
'Make it quick,' Don said. 'That plywood won't hold them off much longer.'
Jim put Danny down and he scampered across the room. Martin motioned for Jim to follow him outside the panic room. They stepped into the bedroom.
Once there, Jim turned to him with a grave expression on his face.
'What's up?'
