At that point, we cried. The young couple's unborn child would never know its parents' love. But it also would be spared the fate its parents suffered. Perhaps the unborn child was the luckiest of the three.
I checked the area behind us and then the entire open ground. We were still in the clear. We met beside the passenger door and embraced briefly as we wept. No one tried to vocalize our frustration and sadness. It was too painful to speak of because the ridiculousness of the situation was overpowering. After a few moments, I gently asked the ladies to get in the truck. We the living had to move on. I drove back onto the highway, and we continued in morose silence.
It still seemed strange to me that the undead affliction surrounding us at every turn could cause a human to transition into a monster by vicious biting and tearing of flesh. At first, I'd stood and watched as the victim died from the terrific trauma imposed on their bodies. The first transitions were embossed on my brain as the dead slowly became animated and rose as undead to join the attack on other humans. How could that occur in a matter of a minute?
Then we learned through harsh deadly lessons that the affliction could also enter the human body without the painful trauma of having chunks of flesh and bone torn away. Blood or body fluids passing through entry points like cuts and deep scratches could cause the dreaded change from human to monster; even fingernails and cuticles served as entry points. And those subtle methods of transmittal were so much more sinister because the affliction occurred over a period of weeks instead of minutes.
Worst of all was the knowledge that no one was immune to the affliction. There were no cures, no hope of the human immune system fighting it off.
I shook my head to clear it and put a soft instrumental disc in the player. Kenny G floated saxophone notes gently throughout the cab.
South of Mankato, we'd buried our grief and forced our minds back to our mission. What we'd seen and done was simply another day of life and death in our crumbling new world. Another day of winners and losers. The town passed around us without incident. A few zombies wandered the deserted parking lots, but no swarms ran out to have us for lunch. Past the north city limit sign, we encountered two small packs of zombies and eliminated them with a vengeance.
Our conversations circled mostly around happenings and immediate plans for the people in our group. After several hours, we grew silent. Marilyn snapped us out of our lethargic state. She was back to being her positive, outgoing self. "Why doesn't our compound have a name? It could be something to reflect the goals and ideals of the group,"
Both women looked at me. "I guess the idea was never pushed before. It's been on a back burner in my mind, but there are always more pressing matters. Since you've brought it up, will you handle getting suggestions for names the group can vote on?"
"Sure, I'll do that. Kira will you help me?"
Nodding, Kira said, "Thank you, I like this. After a name is chosen, we can put a sign on the end of the building toward the entrance road. It's dreary to think of our home as the compound or the metal building. A name would anchor it."
Marilyn sounded excited, "The name could be Libertyville, Iowa, or Survivorville, Iowa. I'm sure we'll get a lot of good suggestions from the group."
I thought for a few seconds as the women talked. Their excitement was obvious, but reality eluded them.
"The leadership committee has talked at length about something that relates to this. They've struggled to come to terms with my vision of our future and the future of mankind. Recently they've slowly come around to seeing and accepting the reality of our plight and our future.
“This is my view on using the state name, or the USA for that matter. Neither exists from here on. There is no United States of America or a state of Iowa except in the minds of us adults who lived up to the introduction of the zombies. Villages, towns, small cities, and even major metropolitan cities like New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles that we knew will fall into disrepair and become ruins like those from ancient times. The roads, highways, and bridges will eventually crumble, and many will be impassible. Our vehicles will wear out, or the refined fuel to operate them will be depleted or contaminated. Horses will again become the means for transportation and farming. All manufacturing has ceased, and I firmly believe in a decade, two at the most, mankind will decline back to the time of the pilgrims, or possibly even further back in history. Our lifestyles will eventually be comparable to that of maybe the sixteenth century, or earlier. Be prepared in our lifetimes to live without electricity, air conditioning, refrigeration, gas stoves and furnaces, computers, fossil fueled vehicles, all of the conveniences we still enjoy. Vegetables will be grown, harvested and canned, until the rubber sealed lids we're now hording wear out. Wheat and corn will be grown, milled by ancient methods, and made into flour for bread or cornmeal for cornbread or porridge. The firearms we carry today will become clubs when the ammunition is gone. People will return to religion for comfort, security and bonding. Incorporate that future into the name we choose."
The women became somber and shrank back into their seats. I glanced sideway at Kira and saw a solitary tear descend her
