Sam wondered aloud, “Why didn’t we see a vehicle when we arrived? Did they park off a way and walk in? Surely they weren’t that energetic.” Sam pick up the still functioning flashlight and found the staples he needed.
Outside, they circled the large building and didn’t see a vehicle. Together they focused on where a vehicle could be hiding in plain sight. “Charlie’s garage,” JR said. Inside they found a fairly new maroon Dodge Durango. They closed the two wood doors and left the car inside with the keys in it.
“Charlie’s four-wheeler is under the lumber shed. I’ll dispose of the bodies,” Sam pointed toward where two ridges met. “There’s surely a gully where rainwater runs off those steep ridges. “Damn I get tired of dragging dead bodies around.”
JR nodded. “Better them than you, Handsome.” Solemnly she said, “I must be getting used to this because shooting Silvia doesn’t bother me. The bitch deserved it.”
An hour passed before the trio made their way to Charlie’s apartment. They climbed the narrow, creaking wood stairs and entered the kitchen. The room was functional but sparse. JR found a drawer full of ornate stainless steel flatware and gathered it while Sam was drawn to an antique windup oak kitchen clock with a glass front door. He found the wind-up key inside the case under the stopped pendulum. JR put three bottles of cooking oil and some canned goods in a cardboard box. They gave the other three rooms a cursory inspection and nothing of interest drew them except several books. Three crime novels and several how-to hardcover books joined their other swag. Sam said, “Thank God Charlie didn’t have any zombie Apocalypse novels. I’d burn the damn things.” Charlie lived an austere and simple existence. On the stairs Sam asked, “Don’t you think we already have enough canned goods to get through the winter?”
“We do. But seeds we plant won’t be edible until mid-summer, so we need canned stuff to last till then. There’s also no guarantee our home canning the first season will be successful, so I want enough canned goods to last well into the following winter.”
“Good planning. I hadn’t thought about that angle.”
“That’s why we make a strong couple; we each have strengths that complement the other partner.
They woke early the following morning and drove to Marion to ransack more houses for food and other supplies. Exiting the third house they’d visited, they encountered a woman running down the middle of the street chased by a single zombie. Sam said, “Heel Smokey.” Smokey obeyed but growled in a subdued tone. The redhead was panting and stopped with her elbows on her knees trying to get her breath. Her jeans and flannel shirt appeared a bit too large for her slender frame. The zombie was maybe forty feet behind her and gradually closing the distance. It wasn’t fast but lumbered along steadily. Sam and JR hurried across the small lawn to stand at the edge of the street.
The redhead glanced behind her, then chugged ahead. She glanced to the right and saw Sam and JR with guns drawn and aimed. She turned toward them, then heard two gunshots so close together they sounded as one. She stopped, turned and smiled at seeing the zombie was no longer a threat. Still breathing deeply, she approached. “Thank you, whoever you are. I thought it was going to get me. I couldn’t run any further. I’m totally winded” Another zombie several hundred feet away approached them slowly. The redhead followed their gaze. “That one broke into the house I was in this morning and chased me. I outran him when I was fresh. Then the other one saw me and ran me into the ground. I need to sit before I crash.” She plopped on the grass at the road’s edge near her saviors and breathed deeply.
Sam said, “Talk to her. I’ll tap the next bag of bones when it gets closer.” He glanced all around for safety. They were alone.
JR handed the woman a bottle of water from her backpack, and she gulped it between deep breaths. “I’m Mona Hendrich. I drove up from Dixon, I don’t know when, at least many days ago. Lost track of days. Going to cross the border into Canada at the crossing at Eureka. Ran out of gas. Here.” They both jumped as Sam put the lone zombie down with a solitary shot. He slowly turned again and surveyed the area around them. Mona was calmed, and JR helped her stand. JR said, “Walk with us. We’re pilfering houses for food. Join us until you feel better.”
“Thank you. I’m hungry. Hopefully there’ll be something I can snack on. I ran out of food this morning.”
Outside the house’s front door, JR took a shooting position six feet away as Sam kicked the locked door open. He glanced around the living room before he, JR and Smokey moved in unison to clear each room and ensure no zombies were lurking.
Mona entered the house behind them, and Sam said, “Tell us who Mona Hendrich is and what you want to do now.”
“Well, I’m thirty-three and widowed. I was a registered nurse in charge of the emergency room at Community Hospital in Dixon. My husband Gordon was a salesman at a metal fabricating company.
“Gordon turned into a zombie before I left home. I guess over two weeks ago. A neighbor put him and two others that attacked him down before he and his family left to cross the border. They didn’t have room for me, so I was left alone. Gordon was positive the authorities would stop the zombies, but, of course, they haven’t. Everyone in our neighborhood left days before that. When I accepted Gordon’s loss,
