Katie spoke up and asked, "When are weleaving?"
Lou watched her as she subconsciously patted her stomach.The gesture tickled something in the back of his mind, but it quickly faded."I say we leave in the morning. The sun comes up, and we're gone."
"Do you think we're going to make it? I mean, doesanybody here think that we're going to make it?" Clara asked.
"Don't talk like that," Joan said.
"Why not? I'm not giving up, I'm just wondering ifanybody here actually thinks that the five of us can just walk from here to thecoast and still be alive."
"What's the alternative?" Katie asked.
"Maybe we should just find a place, sit down, take abreath, and try and survive."
Lou had nothing to say to that. It was an idea. One thatthey had all entertained when they had first set out from the movie theater.The reality was that no place was safe when you were talking about the kind ofnumbers they were talking about. A couple thousand dead, you get one breach inyour defenses, and it's all over from there. Then there was the problem of foodand water.
The coast solved all those problems. The ocean providedfood. There were plenty of streams and rivers that fed into the ocean forwater, and the Oregon coast wasn't nearly as populated as the city or even thesuburbs. Once you got out of town, it was all forest, hills, and mountains.That's what he had been told at least. He couldn't wait to see that ocean, andin the end, that made up his mind for him.
"If we sit still, we die. Listen to them out there,once they know where you are, it's over. I don't care what place we find in thecity. If one finds us, hundreds will find us, and then possibly thousands, andthen we're dead, killed by those things, by starving, or by thirst. And I don'tknow about you, but I'm not keen on dying in any of those ways. I got my heartset on dying in my sleep somewhere, preferably far from here, and far away fromanything that's not living but keeps on walking."
There was no counter-argument. It was decided. They heardhis words, and for the first-time, Lou felt like he had done exactly what Zekewould have done... and he hadn't even been trying. He had just been himself. Hehad said what was in his heart. Maybe that's what being a leader was, sayingwhat's in your heart in a way that others can hear and appreciate.
With everything settled, Lou walked downstairs. He wouldneed Mort's help.
****
Mort sat crumpled on the floor, his eyes glued to Blake'snow-rotting corpse. Lou could see that he was in bad shape. His eyes were redfrom crying, and a thin sliver of drool hung from his lower lip, threatening toreach all the way to his lap.
He squatted down next to Mort, hearing his knees pop.When had that started? Was he actually getting old? He laughed on the inside atthe notion. He had a long way to go before he would ever be considered old.
"Hey, Mort." Lou put a reassuring hand on hisshoulder, but it was like saying hello to a wall. There was zero response fromMort, just that thin string of drool dangling lower and lower. "You inthere?" he asked.
Still nothing. This was not good. The last thing heneeded was a catatonic dude to carry around. It was bad enough with Katie alongfor the ride. At least he didn't have to carry around Rudy anymore. But thatwasn't fair. Rudy might not have been the most fit person in the group, but henever complained. He struggled to keep up, but he somehow managed it.
"Listen. I need your help. We need to move upstairsand block that stairwell. I don't think that doorway is going to last muchlonger."
"Can Blake come?" Mort asked.
"We should probably leave him here."
"Then I can't go with you."
Mort's answer surprised Lou. Things were going a littletoo far. "You have to, Mort. If you stay here, you're going to die."
"Maybe I should die."
"I don't want you too, man. We need you."
Mort said nothing.
"Blake would understand," Lou said, taking ashot in the dark.
"What if he comes back?"
"He's not gonna come back. You did your job. Blake'sgone. He's safe now. Now we need to do the same for ourselves. We need to makeourselves safe. Can you help me with that?"
Mort nodded his head, slowly.
"Good, come on." Lou rose from his squat, hisknees popping again. He turned to walk up the stairs, but Mort didn't follow."I thought you were coming with me."
"I'll be up in a second," Mort said. "Ijust... I just want to say goodbye."
****
Mort waited until he heard Lou's footsteps upstairs, thenhe turned to look at the now rotting body of Blake. He wanted him to get backup. He wanted Blake to rise up the way he had always done, on the rooftop inPortland when he'd lost his hearing, in the Coliseum when it had collapsed, inthe streets of Portland when things had been going to shit. How was this possible?How was it possible that the best and the brightest could be taken down soeasily?
On the streets, he often heard the other homeless folktalk about the strongest surviving whenever they lost one of their own. Itwasn't an occasion for sadness. It was an affirmation that those that were leftwere stronger and more capable of life on the streets. But the saying now ranguntrue to Mort. Blake had been everything that he himself was not. He waslikable, he could kill one of the undead from a hundred yards out, and he couldrun all day.
In all ways, Blake had been stronger than Mort. But itwas Blake rotting on the floor and not himself. It didn't seem fair to him.Mort had never known anyone that had died personally. Sometimes anotherhomeless person would pass away in the night, but it was never anything morethan a passing acquaintance,
