“Kyle had formed a band when the apocalypse broke out. He got a bunch of us organized and helped us to prepare. He told us that only the strong would survive, and that if we wanted to come out on top we had to be the kings of the jungle. We had to be lions, he told us. So we gathered our supplies and guns and food and everything at Kyle’s house. He had a shelter and everything. There were eleven of us, and more were asking to join every day. The zombies hadn’t made it to Cheney yet, but people were going nuts. Everyone was in a mad rush to get what they cold and get out of town. Kyle was determined to make a stand of it. He kept telling us that the zombie outbreak would be everywhere, so why not have home field advantage? Soon we were twenty people. Then thirty.”
My mind raced. A group of thirty? In Cheney this whole time? How did we miss a group that big for so long?
“Kyle started getting worried about food. He made us pick. He made us choose who would get to stay and who would leave. We were told to pick the lions and to hell with the rest. He said that the strong would keep us alive, but the weak would only put us in danger. When we couldn’t choose, he chose for us. He kicked out my brother and his family. Women with kids but no ability to work. The elderly. It was awful. I stayed. My God I stayed ‘cause I didn’t want to die. I watched them leave. They’re all dead now, I know it. We sent them to die so that our chances would be better. One man, Richard something, told Kyle that he was wrong and Kyle shot him. He killed that man.”
Again, the room grew silent. I imagined Sergio watching Kyle murder his dissenter. It would be a powerful lesson for whoever was present.
“After that,” Sergio continued, “no one questioned Kyle. He formed two parties. Those who would protect the base, and those who would collect supplies with him. Pirates and guards we called ourselves, though not in front of Kyle. I was a pirate. We would stop people as they tried to leave and take their supplies. We were lions, he said. Everything in the city belonged to whoever was strong enough to take it.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and fought the chills creeping up my body. I prayed that this man did not say what I thought he would say.
“We killed people, man. But we did it to survive. We took from all over, raiding the city by neighborhood. All up and down First Street. The Salnave Park neighborhood.”
I waited for him to say it, but hoped he didn’t
“There was this family on Fitzner Lane…”
Oh shit.
“They were all loaded up. Husband. Wife. Kid. The guy wouldn’t hand over the supplies. We told him we would kill him but he didn’t do it. He called Kyle by name and swore that we all knew better; that we were better people than this. But we weren’t, man. We weren’t. We shot them and looted their van before anyone came by. We killed those people.”
It was them. The mob that killed my family. This was them.
“Some of us left,” he continued. “They couldn’t live like that, but we were lions. Everything in the city was ours if we were willing to take it. I believed him. Until Rebecca was turned. You see, it’s easy enough to tell one man he has to kill his loved one, but it’s a whole new deal when it’s your daughter. Rebecca was Kyle’s only child. His wife had left him as soon as the outbreak began, and his kid was all he had left. She was thirteen. She was out with the pirates, helping to clean out some abandoned houses, when we got surprised and she got bit. I didn’t think. I just shot her. You get bit, you’re a zombie. Right? She was bit. She was as good as dead. Kyle couldn’t see it that way. He told me that I had murdered her before we could tell if she was going to turn or not, but everyone turns, right? Nobody lives. I was convicted of murder. They brought me here and locked me in.” His voice was beginning to fade into a weak hum behind the great door. “But I didn’t kill her. I loved her. I’m not a murderer. I’m not. We’re just surviving…just surviving.”
It was them. I couldn’t believe it. “Where is Kyle’s house?” I demanded.
“Are you going to get Kyle?” he asked, hope spilling out in each word.
“Yes,” I said, though not in the way he meant.
“Up South Murphy Road, almost to Meadow Lake,” Sergio answered excitedly.
Just up the street from my parent’s home.
He cheered his thanks through the door so loud I had to yell to be heard.
“Sergio!”
“Yes my friend?!?”
“You killed that girl.”
“What?” he asked, his words peppered with horror and confusion.
“I don’t die from bites. There are lots of us out there. She was one of them. You killed that girl.”
I knew it was wrong, but I was operating off of pure hate at this point. Rotting was not enough of a punishment for what he and his band did to me.
“No,” he answered weakly. His voice was so muffled I almost couldn’t hear him. “No.”
“You killed that girl. And you killed my family, Sergio. That was my house on Fitzner. Those were my parents and my brother you shot. I lost everything because of you. If I let you out,
