"Why don't you lie down on my bed and get some sleep? We'll let you know if anything changes," Dez said.
Joan replaced the bandages and the covers. "That's a good idea," she said. She hobbled out of the room, trying to leave her brain behind to watch over Tammy, but her stubborn brain came with her. It was funny that way; it went everywhere she did, no matter how much she didn't want it to.
She closed the door behind her, flopped on the bed, and fell asleep to the horrific shrieks of a hungry baby.
****
Liz huddled on the bed next to Theresa. Her lover's breathing was slow now; she had finally fallen asleep. But Liz couldn't seem to drift off. She had been close a few times, but the occasional banging on the side of the trailer would make her eyes snap open, and her heart would jump in her chest.
They were surrounded by the dead now, and the snow kept falling. The trailer was cold. They had piled all of the blankets they had on top of the bed, but it was still freezing. She thought her feet would never get warm.
She imagined a song from the times before, when everything had been normal, a simple little tune. She had forgotten the name of the singer, her raspy country voice echoed in her head. She wasn't sure she had the words right, but they were close enough. She played the song over and over in her head, focusing on the rhythms, the words, and her eyes drifted closed.
Bang!
Her eyes snapped open, and she was right back to being wide awake. They would have to clear the dead when the sun came up. There was no way around it. She couldn't live like this. Maybe they should all move inside the ranger station. She would run the idea by the other girls and see if they were good with that. It would be nice to be among other people. The trailer felt empty with just her and Theresa. Tammy's presence had always made it feel cozier, more like a home. She didn't understand why that should be; it was just the way she felt.
Liz had come from a large family, both in numbers and size. Her family was filled with ogre-ish-sized people, none of whom would ever be considered attractive. They were a big people, round and tall. She had three brothers and two sisters. Of course, she didn't know if she still had that many siblings, or if any of them were alive, but her family had always been tough. She was sure her brothers would still be out there somewhere. They loved guns the way mothers loved their babies, the way she hoped to love her own baby someday. She imagined them surviving in the woods, living up in tree stands, waiting for elk or the dead to stomp by.
She imagined them running through the forest, a step ahead of the dead every way, creating traps that would ensnare them. She missed them all. On the day that the trailer park had packed up and moved out to the ranger station, she had tried to call all of them, but to no avail. The lines were too jammed up. Now, there was no way of finding them. Maybe at her parents' house, they had left a note. The rise of the dead had to have moved slower out in the sticks. Less population, more space, more people with guns. It had to have happened that way.
She realized now how bad she missed her family. She pictured their faces in her mind. Dave's big bulbous face, with his long brown hair. It had always been unkempt and stringy, but somehow it had fit him. Her brother Aaron, thick but powerful. She could see the two of them wrestling in the woods over something stupid, and she wanted to be there. She sighed and let the tears roll down her cheeks. The baby inside shifted, and her hand went to her belly unconsciously.
Bang!
The dead broke her out of her thoughts, and she wept silently, trying not to wake Theresa. At least one person should be able to get some sleep.
****
Mort woke up feeling like he had run a marathon. The first thing he noticed was the silence. It was quiet in the ranger station and cold. The fire was down to coals, and the chill of the outside had crept in through the hundreds of holes in the ranger station walls.
He pushed himself off the ground, stretching his shoulders, his knees, and his hips. The ground didn't suit him so much anymore. He had gotten soft from sleeping on couches. He flexed his neck, moving it from side to side, and it popped.
The howling wind stopped for a second, and then he heard it, the groan of the dead. They were outside. They were waiting for them.
Memories of the previous evening came back to him. He had never been so happy to see a baby. They had let him hold it, though he had never held a baby before. He had seen babies in the streets, being wheeled along by parents who either looked a-hundred-percent happy or a-hundred-percent exhausted, but none of those mothers and fathers had ever offered to let him hold their child. But here, in the small room, crowded with people, he had held onto the baby, marveling at how tiny it was. Tiny little fingers, tiny little ears, tiny little everything. It was the ears he couldn't get over. They were the size of lima beans. That the baby he held in his arms would turn into a grown adult, God willing, blew his mind.
He had wondered what Blake would think of the baby. Would
