nodded.

“The store seems clear, but be careful. Grab what you need. I have to get antibiotics—for two people now,” he said, nodding at his blood-soaked shoulder. “I’ll meet you at the entrance in a half hour.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

As Noah headed toward the pharmacy, Alvin knelt next to the little girl and smoothed her hair over the fresh gash on the side of her skull.

Noah ducked beneath the pharmacy bar flap, blade extended in front of him. He believed that all the corpses had been rooted out of the store, but he knew better than to take anything for granted. Despite almost a complete lack of cognizance, the dead had a strange knack for surprise.

Noah pawed through the medicine bottles looking for any drugs with names ending in “-cillin” or “-mycin.” Although not thoroughly looted, the shelves had already been picked over enough to indicate that Noah wasn’t the first person to come in search of medicine. Whoever else had been there was most likely pounding on the car in the backlot now.

After dressing his wound and swallowing a few Amoxicillin capsules (the same antibiotic he was prescribed for acne when he was 13), Noah went in search of the sporting goods department to scavenge for ammunition.

As he rounded an aisle leading back to the produce section Noah stopped, frozen in disbelief. Alvin was kneeling next to the dead girl, his hand rooting beneath the skirt of her dress. His other hand was in the crotch of his unbuttoned pants.

“What are you doing?” Noah said, not entirely sure what he was seeing.

“What?” said Alvin surprised. His hands snapped back into the open.

“What are you doing!”

“Nothing. Nothing,” he said, springing to his feet. I was just—I was seein’ if she had anything useful on her.”

“In the skirt of her dress?”

Alvin’s face flushed. “No, I—I just—I meant—”

Noah shook his head. “You are messed up, man.”

“Oh, come on.” He opened his arms, trying to entreat his friend. “You said it yourself, these things ain’t people anymore.”

“You just said she looked like your sister! And now you’re—” Noah abruptly shut up. His eyes widened as a whirlwind of memories spun around inside his head before falling into a coherent line:  Abby’s despondency, her loss of appetite, the nightmares, the bedwetting, her pelvic pain, and at the end of it all: Alvin—always eager to watch over her.

Noah’s mouth opened, but no words came out. After a moment, he finally spoke. “Dad was right,” he said to himself. He pulled his machete from its sheath and pointed it at Alvin. “You get away from her!”

“Hey now, Noah, relax. She’s dead!”

“I don’t care! She was a little girl,” he said, his voice catching in his throat, “and I’m not going to let you defile her!” He stepped toward Alvin.

He put his hands up in the air. “Come on, man. You know how long it’s been since I seen a woman?”

“That’s not a woman!” He looked away, thinking of Abby, and then looked back to Alvin.  “Did you touch her?” There was a hint of desperation in his voice.

“What?”

“My sister, did you touch her?”

“Of course not, buddy.” Alvin said, forcing himself to chuckle. “I would never. She’s like my own sister.”

Noah kept the machete pointed at him. “Yeah. I know how the Bartletts treat their sister.”

Alvin looked away.

“Who really got her pregnant, Al? Was it you? Or are your brothers just as sick as you are?”

The blade was now so close that Alvin could see the bits of dried blood stubbornly clinging to the scores in the metal. It made him think of an old war movie he had seen as a kid where fighter planes were plastered with kill markings on the sides of their fuselage. His lips quivered, but he said nothing.

Noah sheathed his blade. Disgusted he turned and headed toward the front door.

Alvin followed him. “Hold on now,” he said putting his hand on Noah’s shoulder.

Noah rotated his arm, shaking off his grip.

As they exited the first set of double doors Noah froze, startled by what lay outside. A drab sea of living dead was spreading across the parking lot like a barrel of spilt tar.

“Look, we gotta—” Alvin’s words were muffled by Noah’s hand covering his mouth.

“Shut up,” Noah whispered. He headed back into the store pulling Alvin along with him.

Once inside, they closed the second pair of doors.

“Oh my god. What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do!” said Alvin as he stared through the glass.

“Volume.” He strained to see through both sets of doors. Hundreds of living dead were headed their way. Where did they come from? He thought. Where the hell were they hiding this whole time? “Calm down. They’re coming for the alarm, not us. The car’s battery should die soon. As long as we don't do anything to draw their attention they should leave once they find there's nothing to eat—most of them anyway. So until then, just stay away from the doors and don't make a sound.”

“Yeah. Yeah, good thinking, buddy.”

Noah sneered. “This doesn't change anything between us. We're stuck here, for now, but after that, you're on your own.” He started to walk away but then turned back to face Alvin. And if I get home and I find out that you did something to Abby, I’m coming back for you.” He pointed at Alvin. “Do you hear me? I swear to god, I will come back.”

VI

It was dusk when Adam Fitzpatrick reached the gas station at the end of the Walmart parking lot. By then the car alarm had stopped. His glassy eyes shifted toward the highway that ran beside the store and disappeared over a hill into the vermilion horizon on the edge of town. He stared long and hard at

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