Bill sighed.

He bet Katarina's hair smelled like strawberries.

3. Possibilities Lenore and Ken were jostled around as the moving truck made its way down the country road following the first team's red truck. They sat on a long bench secured to the interior wall, holding onto straps someone had drilled into the side.

"So why did you come?" Lenore fussed with her hair, wishing her new weave wasn't already getting smashed under a hat. It had been a relief to get some beautiful lush hair after months of dealing with her own short hair without any decent products or styling tools.

Ken crossed his legs and gave her his most annoyingly cute look. "Guess."

"Dale."

"That was easy!"

Lenore scowled at him. "You do realize, twinkle toes, that we are going into a highly dangerous situation where we will most likely get our a.s.ses eaten."

"He's really cute, don't you think? All rugged and strong. Dreamy," Ken said, smiling widely.

"Eaten. By zombies. Not a cute guy. A zombie."

"You do realize I only heard the words 'eaten' and 'cute guy' just then."

"I hate you." Lenore tried to get comfortable on the bench, cursing herself for volunteering.

"Why did you volunteer?" Ken fussed with the laces of his boots, retying them as he bounced around on the bench. He made it look easy performing this feat. She would have landed on her a.s.s.

"You volunteered, so I volunteered. Someone has to watch out for you.

You'd be all staring at Dale and some zombie would bite you. Then I would have to beat you for being stupid and then kill you for being a zombie. Which would be annoying."

Ken laughed with delight. "Besides, I'm your best friend and your f.a.g."

"I ain't your hag."

"Oh, yes you are."

"Oh, no, I'm not."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Do not make me feed you to the zombies!"

"Feed me to Dale," Ken whispered, winking.

"I am going to pound you." She winced the second the words were out of her mouth and she saw Ken's opening. She hastily added, "No, don't you say it!"

Ken rolled his eyes and began to check his weapons. "You love me."

"Maybe."

"Felix volunteered because you volunteered."

"No, he didn't. He doesn't like me like that."

"Uh-huh."

Lenore frowned. "No, he doesn't." She hated how the thought of Felix having interest in her made her pulse speed up.

"He likes you. Why else would he sit in our beauty shop for hours waiting for you to trim his hair?"

"Because he knows I know how to trim his black hair and that your white a.s.s does not."

Ken shook his head. "No, no. He likes you. Which is kind of funny if you think about it. Dale signed up to be part of the fort. I signed up to impress him with my prowess. You signed up to save my a.s.s. And Felix signed up to watch yours. It's the circle of life."

Lenore wasn't too sure about that, but she didn't want to think about much more than getting into the hospital, grabbing what they needed and leaving. She wasn't just doing this for Juan, but for everyone in the fort that may one day need the supplies.

After awhile, they lapsed into silence. Ken dozed off with his head against her shoulder. She loved the idiot, but she hated to admit it. He was the most loyal friend she had ever had, even if he was annoying. Sighing, she checked her crossbow and the bag of bolts.

When the truck came to a stop, she mentally prepared herself for the worst.

The doors opened and Dale looked up at them. "It's pretty clear except for some dead guys in wheelchairs inside the front doors. Weirdest s.h.i.t I've seen in awhile."

"Thank G.o.d for that," Ken said with relief. He hurried over to leap down, while Lenore pulled herself to her feet and grabbed her bag.

"Let's get this done so we can go home," Lenore grumbled as she tried to get down off the moving truck and still maintain some dignity.

Dale grabbed hold of her and helped her down with surprising ease. She flashed a grin at Ken's jealous expression and slung her bag over her shoulder.

Felix, Bill, Jenni and Roger walked toward them, their weapons out, looking around cautiously. Lenore also swept her gaze over their surroundings. It was surprisingly calm and zombie free except for the two creatures inside the gla.s.s doors of the hospital. Linda came around from the front of the truck, braiding her hair back from her face.

"Kinda feels too easy all at once," Dale decided.

"Never say that!" Ken chided him.

"It's bad luck," Linda added.

"Oh, sorry." Dale looked sheepish despite his huge size.

Bill pulled his belt up over his stomach and looked grim. "We go in. We get the stuff. We come out. Alive."

"Sounds like a plan," Felix said as he fell in beside Lenore.

Feeling shy after Ken's declaration about Felix's intentions, Lenore cautiously stole a look at him. Felix flashed a big smile and lightly took her hand in his. Giving it a soft squeeze, he seemed amused by her startled expression. Since she was not very good at the whole flirting thing, she ended up scowling at him, which elicited an even bigger grin.

"So, it's zombie killing time," Dale declared, stretching, his huge muscles flexing under his t-shirt.

"Yep. Better zip up your jacket and pull on your gloves." Bill motioned to Dale's exposed chest. "T-shirt ain't protection."

Lenore made sure her thick wool scarf was tight around her neck and yanked on the thick leather gloves that would allow her the flexibility to fire her crossbow. All of them were in zipped up leather jackets, jeans, and heavy shoes. Leather gloves protected their hands and anyone with long hair had it braided and pinned up on their heads.

"We should use motorcycle helmets," Ken pouted.

"They'd limit our hearing," Bill answered.

"And they get ya from behind easier. I've seen it," Dale added.

They had yet to come up with an effective way to protect their faces and necks, though a few people back at the fort were working on some ideas.

Lenore finished messing with her clothes and looked up to see that everyone else was ready, too. Jenni looked pale and worried as she stared at the hospital. Linda c.o.c.ked her shotgun and looked toward Bill, waiting for the word.

"Let's do it," Bill said grimly. "Let's get it done."

4. Banished Pain is what brought her to consciousness. Sitting up sharply, she was startled, then pleased to see she was in her bedroom at the mansion. Her face was throbbing and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth, but she was home.

The f.u.c.king hicks had finally seen the light and sent her home.

The last thing she remembered was Charlotte, that fat nurse, coming in to tell her that she was going to give her a shot for the pain. Blanche never should have believed her, for almost immediately she had felt herself slipping away into darkness.

But now she was home, so she supposed she could overlook that fat b.i.t.c.h's deceit.

Blanche rolled off the bed and set her feet down on the velvety softness of her Persian rug. It took some work standing up without feeling nauseous, but slowly she regained her sense of balance and moved into the bathroom. The sun was going down and she was annoyed to see that the generator was off. The lights were dead. She caught her reflection in the mirror and felt a fresh surge of fury well up in her. She had paid good money for her nose job, veneers, and cheek implants. Hopefully once the swelling went down, she would be able to see the full extent of the damage. There had to be a good plastic surgeon out there somewhere still alive and serving her kind.

In fact, she was sure the rich and famous were somewhere safe. She had told Stephen they should try to head out on the road to find the enclave of the rich. She was sure it was Malibu. But no, her stupid husband had dragged her out to the G.o.dforsaken town he had sunk so much money into in a ridiculous effort to revive it.

Finding a box of wet wipes, she took off her clothes and tried to clean off her body to the best of her ability. She slipped on a silk robe and opened her bedroom door. The house was very quiet and she moved slowly through the hallway to the grand staircase.

She hadn't even considered if she was alone or not, but now she was curious. The stupid hicks had brought her home, but she wasn't sure what it meant. Reaching the main floor, she saw that the doors to the dining room were open. There were boxes on the table and what looked like a piece of paper taped to one of them.

Curious, she moved closer and saw that it was a note. Then, slowly, she realized the boxes must be all the supplies Shane and his men had been stockpiling. Looking into one, she saw that it was empty. Frowning, she grabbed the note.

"Thanks for the food, thanks for the liquor, thanks for the s.e.x. If you ever make it back here, know that I took the stuff to survive. Good luck, babe.

You're going to need it. By the way, you're a f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h. Ray."

Blanche growled in anger and grabbed the nearest box. It had been full of fine champagne at one time.

All the boxes were empty of all the fine things she had paid Shane good money to collect. Moving into the kitchen she saw one can of chili sitting out. Another note was left on it. Grabbing the note she saw her gun under it.

Confused, she read the note.

"Here is dinner. Here is your gun. Hope you enjoy both.Curtis."

Curtis must have dropped her off here.

"Dammit."

She was furious now. Picking up the can of chili, she hurled it across the kitchen and watched it shatter the lead gla.s.s of her china cabinet.

Turning on her heal, she stalked to Stephen's office. She would just have to get money out of the safe and take Stephen's car. It shouldn't be too hard to find another dumb a.s.s to do her will.

When she opened the door, she blinked then swore furiously. The safe was open and empty. Dammit! Shane had said that Ray had once been in prison and would do as she wanted if she paid him. Now she had a good idea what Ray had been in prison for.

Stomping to the back hallway, she headed for the garage. She had a horrible fear that Ray had taken Stephen's Mercedes, but she had to be sure. When she opened the door and found the garage empty, she screamed with frustration.

Swearing, she charged back into the kitchen. Grabbing up the notes, she studied them again. Ray had f.u.c.ked her and so had Curtis. She couldn't believe they had taken her things. And what the h.e.l.l had Curtis meant about her enjoying the gun?

The sun would be going down soon. She scrounged around until she found a flashlight and some candles. She set up the candles and took a deep breath. The stupid fort people didn't know who she was and what she was capable of. She had some money stashed in her closet as well as some jewels. She could go out to the stable and get the work truck. They had their own gas pump and she could gas up and leave in the morning.

She just wouldn't be traveling in luxury, but things would be fine.

Comforted by this thought, she began to look for something to eat other than the disgusting can of chili. She did not want to be reminded of that gawdawful food from the fort. Finally, she found some chocolates and a bottle of wine. It would have to do.

She was halfway through the box of somewhat stale chocolates when she heard the yelling. Moving to the front door, she tilted her head and caught her own name in the shouts.

Slowly, she realized it was Ray's voice. He was yelling for her.

"Blanche, open the gawdd.a.m.n door! Blanche! Open the door!"

Hesitating, she turned back and grabbed her gun.

"Blanche! Open the door! Open the gawdd.a.m.n door!"

Blanche peered out into the dusk looming outside her window and saw Ray running up her driveway. She started to unlock the door, then considered what his note said.

With a snort she stepped back from the door.

He hit the door full force. "Blanche! Open the door! I know you're in there! I saw Curtis drop you off. Open the f.u.c.king door!"

"Oh, really? And why didn't you come to save me instead of ripping me off?"

"Blanche, the car broke down, okay? I was stuck up the road and saw them leave you off. I came back as soon as I could. Now open the door!

Blanche, open the door! They're coming!"

"So, you steal my things and then Stephen's car breaks down and you come running back here because they are coming, huh?"

"Blanche! Open the f.u.c.king door!"

She smirked. "Ray, let me get this straight. You come to my house, steal from me, take my dead husband's car, it breaks down, but you happen to see them leave me off, and come running back here expecting me to take you in?"

"Blanche! Open the door! Open the door!" Ray's voice was near hysterics now.

"You stole from me, you son of a b.i.t.c.h! You f.u.c.king pathetic hick! And you expect me to take you into my home?"

"Blanche! Just open the door! Just open the door! I'm out of bullets!" He was pounding hard on the door, desperate, terrified. "Open the f.u.c.king door, b.i.t.c.h!"