Joe’s mouth watered at the smell, and he readily forgot about the coming storm for the next ten minutes. Only after he’d eaten his fill did he accompany the two teens to the watchtower.
As they crossed the yard, he looked around him with a sense of deep satisfaction. At the start of winter, they’d been homeless, starving, and on the run. A rag-tag group of survivors who’d banded together, none of them related.
They found this little farm out in the middle of nowhere and decided to stay. Throughout the long weeks that followed, they’d put in a vegetable garden, foraged at the nearby farms for supplies, and even caught a couple of chickens that ran wild.
With his own hands, Joe had erected the concrete fence and built the tower for their safety. He’d also reinforced the house and fixed the big truck they found in the barn. He reckoned they were secure enough to make this their home with a river surrounding the property on two sides and nothing to see for miles on the other. They were a family now, even if it was a weird one.
Joe climbed up the ladder and reached for the binoculars that Xavier handed to him. “Where is this so-called storm?”
“Over there,” Xavier answered, pointing at a low-hanging cloud on the horizon. “It’s moving fast, though. I mean, it’s a lot closer now than it was half-an-hour ago.”
“Let me see,” Joe said, gazing in the direction Xavier pointed. It took a couple of seconds for his eyes to adjust to the lenses, but then the image became clear. In an instant, his blood ran cold. “No.”
“What is it?” Xavier asked.
“It can’t be,” Joe murmured, unable to focus on anything but the sight in front of him. “There are so many of them. It’s impossible.”
“What’s impossible?” Candy asked, her shrill voice piercing his intense focus.
“Zombies,” Joe said. “That’s not a cloud. That’s a horde of zombies, and they’re coming straight for us.”
Candy paled, and Xavier took a step back.
“How many?” Candy asked.
“Too many to fight. We need to leave. Now,” Joe said, hurrying toward the ladder.
“Leave? We can’t leave,” Xavier cried. “This is our home.”
“Not anymore,” Joe said with a grunt as his feet hit the ground. He strode toward the house. “Sandy, I need you to pack as much as you can. Whatever we can fit into the truck.”
Sandy stared at him. “Are you serious, Joe? What’s happening?”
“There is a horde of infected coming this way,” Joe explained. “We need to leave.”
“Can’t we fight? Or just wait it out?” Sandy asked. “They’ll pass us by if they don’t know we’re here. That’s what the storm shelter is for, isn’t it?”
“Exactly,” Xavier said, running up next to Joe. “We prepared for this.”
“I don’t want to leave,” Candy said, adding her voice to the argument. “I’m tired of running.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Joe said, rubbing one hand across his furrowed brow.
“Of course, we do,” Xavier said, his expression mutinous.
“Not this time.”
“I’d rather die than leave,” Candy declared, folding her arms across her chest.
“Then, you’ll die!” Joe bellowed, losing his patience.
Candy dropped her arms, her expression stricken. Her lips quivered when she spoke. “Joe?”
Joe sighed, immediately regretting his outburst. “Candy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you, but if we stay, we’ll die.”
“What about the storm shelter?” Xavier asked.
“I won’t take that risk. Not with so many infected. If they catch even a whiff of our presence, they’ll break down that door within seconds.”
“Impossible,” Xavier said, his mouth set in a stubborn line. “It’s a solid metal door.”
Joe ground his teeth in frustration. “That won’t matter, Xavier.”
“Everyone, please! Calm down,” Sandy said, raising both hands palms out. “Joe, explain to me what’s going on. I need to understand.”
“It’s simple, Sandy. We need to leave right now. We can’t fight a horde that size, and we can’t hide either. They’ll plow right over us,” Joe explained.
“How many are we talking here?” Sandy asked.
Joe hesitated. “I…”
“How many?” Sandy cried.
“Thousands, Sandy. There are thousands of them,” Joe replied in a soft voice.
Sandy shook her head. “That many?”
“Maybe even tens of thousands,” Joe affirmed. “My best guess is they’re moving up from the south following the warmer weather. Perhaps even coming from as far down as Mexico.”
“My God,” Sandy said with a shake of her head.
“And with every big city they hit along the way, their numbers have grown as new groups join them,” Joe said. “San Antonio, Austin, Dallas… It’s like a snowball effect.”
“How long before they get here?” she asked.
“Half-an-hour, if we’re lucky,” Joe said. “It depends on how fast they are moving.”
Sandy was quiet for a couple of seconds before she nodded. “All right. Xavier, Candy, I’ll need your help with the packing.”
“But—” Xavier protested.
“No buts, Mister,” Sandy said. “It’s all hands on deck.”
“Are we really leaving?” Candy asked. “Where would we even go?”
“I don’t know,” Joe said. “As far away from here as we can get.”
Sandy, Xavier, and Candy rushed into the house, leaving Joe to stare at the vegetable garden he’d just finished weeding. I can’t believe it’s come to this—all our hard work, destroyed in seconds.
His hands clenched into fists. Whatever happened, they’d make it. He’d make sure of that. With fresh determination, he whirled toward the barn and headed for the truck. Sandy, Xavier, and Candy were his responsibility now. “And I’ll be damned if I let the zombies get them.”
***
El Dorado, Arkansas; 01:37 am
Wanda stirred in her cocoon of blankets, a sixth sense warning her of danger. Her eyes popped open at the sound of breaking glass, and she scrambled to her knees. One hand searched for her weapons, while the other reached toward the sleeping form of her partner, Tom. She shook his shoulder and spoke in a low whisper. “Tom, wake up. We’ve got company.”
He jerked upright but didn’t make a sound. The long months had taught them both the value of silence. While he pulled on his boots and
