“I’ve made sautéed brains, care to try some?”
“Ewww, I don’t like my brains cooked.”
“Sushi brains! Now that’s the way to go . . .”
She giggled despite her dire situation.
She looked up the road, to the north. There were houses all along this road, although they were spaced much farther apart than in California.
To the South, a few buildings on the edge of town stood silent.
She spotted a general store, a hotel, and a bar.
A sense of escalating danger set in. Shattered windows dominated the town. Every single door was broken open. Could someone be lurking in the shadows? In the darkness of the buildings?
But she needed supplies, at least better food, and as she walked toward the store, her fears were confirmed.
A man walked through the shattered window of the bar.
He looked like a man in his fifties, with gray hair and hints of wrinkles on his face, which bore a large pustule.
A draugar.
But he didn’t chase after her, like George had. He could have been any ordinary man with a pustule on his face.
About to draw her sword, a shot rang out, and the draugar’s neck exploded.
Chapter Twenty-One
Day Three
The next day, when Vin announced he would build a fire, and that the sheriff would guard him, Jize realized that helping them would be a good chance to get to know them both.
Jize put on his gloves and picked up the shovel they had told him to bring. He gripped the handle tight, feeling a rarely experienced tautness in his knuckles. He normally refrained from manual labor, for fear it would damage his hands.
The other two were already outside, and he followed through the vestibule, pushing hard on the automatic doors so they would swing open. Although the snow had stopped the day before, the air, while warmer, was still raw and biting.
The sheriff insisted on shoveling the snow that had drifted underneath the overhang with Vin at the guard. They would swap roles for building the fire.
“Is having a guard really necessary?” Jize asked as he pushed his eyeglass frames up the bridge of his nose. “There isn’t a soul in sight, and there hasn’t been since we first got together at this market.”
“We don’t know what’s out there,” the sheriff said while moving the snow with his shovel.
“Nothing,” Jize said. “Nothing is out there. They’ve all become zombies and left. And we should leave, too.”
“With what vehicle?” the sheriff asked. “Yours won’t start, mine won’t start, Janice carpooled, et cetera. We have no vehicle. Besides, where would you have us go?”
Jize shrugged. “Denver. There may be more survivors there.”
“Or more zombies,” the sheriff said as they finished up the shoveling.
“What do you think, Vin?” Jize asked. “Should we go to Denver or remain here?”
“Remain here. Too much uncertainty out there.”
There was no point in arguing with them, so Jize dropped the subject.
“Jize,” Vin said, “do you want to get one of those sandbags from inside the store? I’ll hold the door open for you.”
They went about the work of building the fire structure—dry sand forming a pit, newspaper and kindling on the bottom, with the driest firewood they had on the top. When they finished, the sheriff handed Jize a lighter gun.
“You wish to do the honors?”
Jize stared at the lighter gun in his gloved hands.
“What’s got into you?”
“These gloves won’t protect me from a burn.”
“Take ‘em off,” Vin said. “They’re only likely to make it worse.”
Jize shook his head. “I’m sorry. I cannot do this. I must protect my hands.”
“For what?” Vin scoffed. “For playing the piano? Man, you are living in a fantasy world—your piano-playing days are over. This—” He made a large circle with his hand above his head. “—is your world now. Get used to it and light the god-damned fire.”
His piano-playing days were over. No, he refused to believe that.
“Vin,” the sheriff said. “There’s no need to be cruel.”
“Cruel? I’m doing this guy a favor.”
“One day we will leave this place,” Jize said. “Maybe not now, maybe not today, but one day we will leave this place, and I will find a piano—”
Vin shook his head and snatched the lighter gun out of Jize’s hands.
Day Four
Janice woke up hearing Emily’s distressed moaning, followed by a loud “help” over and over.
Janice groped for Emily in the darkness and found her body twitching. She shook Emily a little but to no effect; she was getting louder. Janice vigorously shook her until she sat up screaming.
Janice hugged her, telling her repeatedly that everything would be all right, that it was just a dream.
But as Janice was consoling Emily, she realized that she was lying. Everything would not be all right. She changed her words to “you’re safe now,” and after that, Emily relaxed, but she still whimpered, “where am I? I can’t see.”
“Does someone have the lantern?” Janice called out at conversational volume. Whoever held the lantern was awake because it came on right away.
Janice could see everyone stirring—Emily’s nightmare had awakened them.
Emily remembered her nightmare this time, and Janice persuaded Emily to share her nightmare with the group. Emily recounted a horrible story about how the zombie attacks on her brother, and her parents, had interrupted her tea party, and how she managed to break away and get rescued by Vin.
When Emily had finished, Alexander asked, “Emily, that was a dream, but did this all happen for real?”
Emily nodded, crying and looking down as Janice still held her.
“Emily,” he continued. “Do you understand what a zombie is?”
Janice gave Alexander a look that meant to convey anger. “Don’t,” she said. “Do not go there.”
“Why not?” Alexander asked. “She deserves the truth.”
Emily stopped crying and looked up at Janice. “What’s the truth?”
Janice continued to stare at Alexander. “The truth is your parents are in Heaven now. Isn’t that right, Alexander?”
Alexander was about to open his mouth when Vin interrupted him, announcing that he would use the restroom.
The sheriff yawned. “Vin, I have a lot of respect for you. A lesser man would have fled
