“And you plan to buy a house out here?” Hatcher whistled low and shook his head. “Pricey, man.”
Roger scoffed playfully. “Who said anything about buy?” He stopped the truck and pointed to the line of houses sitting empty. “It’s not like all of the owners are going to return. And the few who do? Big deal. We pull up stakes and move to the next one.” He put the truck in park and gave Hatcher a serious look. “Supply and demand, right? There’s a hell of a supply, but little demand. That drives the price through the floor.”
Hatcher shrugged. “I guess you’re right. It’s not like the banks are going to repo it.” He gave him a crooked grin. “No banks left.”
“Exactly.” Roger pulled the lever back into drive and slowly drove through the neighborhood. “What about you, Hatch? Where do you want to live?”
Hatcher stared out of the window at the empty homes. “Not here.”
“Too opulent for your tastes? I think there’s a trailer park across town.” Roger shot him a cheesy grin.
“I’m thinking closer to the park.” Hatcher got a faraway look in his eyes. “Yellowstone always felt more like home to me anyway.”
Roger gave him a stunned stare. “You’re serious? Then why’d you come back here?”
Hatcher shrugged. “This is where I grew up. My family was here.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “By the time I finally got here, Vicky Sue was the only one left.”
“Sorry man.”
Hatcher shook his head. “Ain’t your fault.” He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes, enjoying the breeze across his face. “If I didn’t go back to the park, I’d get as close as I could.”
Roger slowed the truck at an intersection and looked both ways out of habit. “What are the odds that there are more survivors than we think?”
Hatcher shrugged again. “No idea.” He sat up and rubbed at his eyes. “I mean, I hope there are tons of people. The more people alive means the faster we can get infrastructure back up. Water, power, phones…all the stuff that made life easier.”
“We almost have that where we’re at.”
Hatcher nodded. “And yet, you are already shopping for a new crib.” He gave him a lopsided grin. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you didn’t like the rest of us.” Hatcher waited for a response then did a double take when he saw the expression on Roger’s face. “What?”
Roger pointed down the street and Hatcher leaned forward to see what he was pointing at. A lone Zulu stumbled through an overgrown and dying yard, staring intently at a house down the block. “Tell me that I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing.”
Hatcher nodded. “Take us closer.”
Roger let his foot off of the brake and rolled the truck toward the lone figure. The closer they got, the more the pale skin and balding head stood out. “Dude, it’s fucking daylight out and she’s just…” Roger trailed off.
“Stop the truck.” Hatcher was pulling at the door release before the truck came to a complete stop. He unholstered his pistol and held it loosely at his side as he approached the lone figure. He glanced back over his shoulder as the Zulu seemed to ignore him. “Something isn’t right.”
The woman turned and squinted at him. “Help…help me.” Her voice was hoarse and barely more than a scratchy whisper. Hatcher stepped closer and she stumbled, falling to her knees, her arm blocking the sun from her eyes.
“Roger! Water!” Hatcher yelled as he stepped closer. “Are you okay?” He instantly regretted asking, feeling stupid as soon as the words left his mouth.
She fell forward, bracing herself with her hands. “Help…”
Roger appeared at his side, a bottle of water extended. Hatcher took it and unscrewed the top, handing it to her cautiously. She grabbed at the bottle and sucked greedily, choking and coughing as she swallowed.
“Easy now.” Hatcher reached for the bottle and hesitated as she turned away from him, greedily choking the water down. “Sip it. You’ll choke if you—”
She dropped the empty bottle, coughing and covering her mouth as she fought back the urge to vomit. When she got her airways cleared, she sat back on her heels and leaned her head back. “Home.”
“You’re trying to get home?” Hatcher glanced at Roger. “Where’s your home?”
She lifted a thin and bruised arm, extending a slender finger. “There.” She groaned and pressed the flat of her other hand to her head. “My head hurts so bad.”
Roger jogged back to the truck and pulled the emergency first aid kit from the back seat. He rifled through it and found some acetaminophen. He snatched another bottle of water then jogged back to the woman. He ripped open the small paper wrapper and shook out the tablets. “Here. This may help.”
She gladly accepted the medicine and the second bottle of water. She drank nearly half the bottle before she lowered it and sighed. “Thank you.”
Instinctively, Hatcher reached out and took her arm. “Let me help you up.”
She stood on shaky legs and barely noted the two men beside her. “Home.” Her voice sounded so forlorn that both men felt something melt inside.
“We can help you,” Hatcher soothed. “Which house is it?”
“The one on the end. There.” She leaned against him and Hatcher winced at the smell. He tried to ignore it as he and Roger walked her across the street and along the row of houses.
“Where did you come from?” Roger asked.
She shook her head slowly. “It’s all foggy.” She glanced at him and he noted the bloody patches in the whites of her eyes. “I think it was a grocery store.”
“Do you remember which one?” Hatcher asked, fearful that she may have left her family behind.
She shook her head. “There were others there.” She seemed to freeze and stared at him wide eyed. “More…like me.”
Hatcher gave her a reassuring smile
