Bee watched Louise’s profile, remembering the horror of the night before. The echo of flames danced across Louise’s face, turning it shades of red and orange. Barbara closed her eyes and when she opened them Louise’s countenance was normal again.
Bee couldn’t help but picture that night of terror.
They’d been staying at Louise’s family’s estate high up in the mountains, past the wealthy town of Charity Pines. Louise’s father owned a ski resort that had been prosperous before all of the madness broke out, but now it was gone. Everything had burned.
Bee shook her head, resisting the images that clamored for her attention. It was a failing battle and she saw it all again like it was happening now. The men had come in the middle of the night, armed with flaming torches. They’d set the building alight. Oh, the fire had been so hot on her skin and the smoke billowed into the sky.
When she and Louise had arrived Louise’s father was in the middle of turning men away from his estate. He refused to help anyone but his own blood and that surely did not include loyal men and their families that had been under his employ for many years. Louise’s father was in his late seventies but had always been a powerful man. It didn’t hurt that he had a large collection of shotguns and hunting rifles. He refused the other men without conscience. Louise thought the problems were over but Bee had a bad feeling. She’d kept their van packed and ready to leave at a moment’s notice and it was a good thing she had. When days later the men came back, hungry and enraged by the injustice of their employer, Bee was ready.
She was awoken late at night by someone screaming. Bee bolted up in bed, hands clutching the down comforter to her chest. The room was dim but she could make out the outlines of the large mirror on the wall and the photograph of Louise’s father shaking hands with President Fitzgerald. A bit of light streamed from beneath the door and it had a distinctly orange hue. Someone screamed again and her first thought was that the afflicted had gotten inside but one whiff of the air told her otherwise.
Bee jumped out of bed, quickly donning jeans over silk thermal pants — pale pink with poodles running across them, they’d been a gift from her late husband. She slipped into her shoes.
“Louise,” she whispered forcefully, shaking her friend’s shoulder.
They shared a room on the ground floor — at Bee’s insistence — and she reached across the bed to shake her friend once more.
“We’ve got to get up, hon. I smell smoke.”
“Wha?” Louise murmured, blinking. She’d always been slow to wake up but there was no time for that now.
Bee shook her again more roughly. “Now, Louise!” she spat.
The smell of smoke was getting stronger.
“We’ve got to move right now.”
Louise snapped her eyes open and sat up in bed. Her face still looked groggy but at least she was moving.
“I smell smoke!” Louise exclaimed.
Bee rolled her eyes, prodding her friend in the back with her finger.
“I know, get moving!”
Louise got out of bed and stumbled to her suitcase. She pulled out thermal pants and jeans. Her fingers trembled.
Confident that her friend was actually awake, Bee zipped up her fur lined boots and felt the doorknob. It was hot and she could see the fine curling of smoke stealing in from beneath the door.
“Shit!” she spat.
The room had an outer door that led to a fenced-in patio. Bee rushed to that door and the knob was cool in her hand.
“Thank God,” she sighed, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Turning, she gestured for Louise to hurry. Her friend was glancing worriedly from Bee to the inner door. Louise walked toward it and reached out.
“It’s hot,” Bee said.
Louise touched the knob with her fingertip. “Ouch,” she said, sucking on the injured digit. Louise turned to Bee, expression bereft. “What about Dad?” she asked, eyes moist with unshed tears. Louise had always been easy to upset and difficult to calm down.
Bee did her best to sound relaxed when she spoke, to hide the tension that sang through her limbs. “I’m sure he’s fine, dear,” she said soothingly. Bee beckoned with her hand. “Come this way. We’ll likely find him outside.”
Louise nodded and pushed her hair from her face. “Okay. Just let me grab my coat.” She walked with maddening slowness to the closet and extracted a hideous purple jacket. It was goose lined and rain resistant. Bee couldn’t understand why her friend liked such a monstrosity.
Bee watched the tendrils of smoke curl beneath the door. It was almost hypnotizing how they twisted and looped. Suddenly Louise grabbed her arm and Bee had to muffle a shriek.
“Are you ready?” Louise asked in a dreamy sort of voice.
Bee frowned and, not for the first time, wondered how her friend was going to survive in the outside world. Louise hadn’t exactly been thriving before this terrible outbreak where the dead walked and the living ran screaming.
“Yes,” Bee responded. She grabbed an aluminum bat from above her pillow, holding it comfortably. She smacked
