"Why don't you leave something for the imagination?" I snap and send a scowl her way. My reputation holds up as she walks away, muttering something I've heard before. Why can't they come up with something original so I can at least laugh? I look back to Kan, but she is gone. I bump myself from the wall in pursuit.

I find them watching in the back. I go back and forth between the fight and Kan. It's just as entertaining watching Kan like she has never seen such things. According to Rudy, maybe she hasn't. The crowd cheers on and off and at one point Kan chews her finger.

The announcer claims Rudy is the winner. His face is a little bloody, but he's holding onto a rib. I'll have to check him out to make sure he hasn't injured it too badly. I look back in time to see Kan being pulled away by a nasty sort of fellow I've never talked to but know his name is Gary. It's my job to know everyone's names. Following them to the dance floor, he's groping her when she turns and swings her fist, knocking him a good one. She shakes her hand out as he falls back to the floor with no one catching him. People laugh and continue dancing around him. I almost laugh at the indignant look on the pervert's face, but stop when I realize Rudy's right. She can hold her own.

Tapping him in the shoulder with my boot, I tell him, "Get the hell out here!" Gary jumps up and runs off, leaving behind a trail of body odor.

She stares at me and I smile. Looking stunned, she gives me a half smile in return causing me to wonder if she remembers our conversation. I melt into the crowd as I hear Glinda telling her they needed to leave. Glinda the good witch my ass, more like Glinda the Wicked Hooker of the West. She hates me and with good reason.

Then....

When I opened the garage door to leave the house, I had a huge problem causing my blood pressure to spike and more adrenaline kicked me into high gear. More of them were piling into the garage. The one in front moved its veiny arm in the way just as I was smashing the door closed using all my weight. The thing groaned, but I kept pushing as thick blood dripped down the doorframe. A crack came from his arm, but the door was getting harder to keep in position. The sheer number was overwhelming my strength.

I dropped back and took off for the stairs, remembering where my mom's car was parked. Bodies fell through the door landing on the floor in the place I just vacated. I heard them groaning and shuffling around as I made it into a standing position. Entering the front bedroom, I slammed the door closed just as I heard them on the stairs. I pushed some furniture to keep them out longer and looked out the window. Dozens of them were walking down the street to surround the house. The gunshot must have drawn them.

Opening the window, I climb out and maneuver myself along the ledge to the rain gutter before jumping and landing with a loud metal thud on top of the car. The impact caused my knees to jar my nerve endings, but it didn't last long. After checking out the situation, the majority of the growing crowd was inside the garage. Gripping my gun, I shot the nearest ones so I could make it to my car. After hopping in, I stared out at the scene before me, knowing it was only going to get worse.

I was so screwed, but I didn't care. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I gulped it in rapid succession. I had a few days to get my shit together, but I doubted that would happen. I hadn't slept in days, maybe for a few minutes at a time, but it didn't matter. I accepted a position on an ongoing field mission, meaning I'd be dead soon.

People watched movies and read books about this sort of thing. I always laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. There would be extreme emphasis on military jargon and weaponry or all the important people are safe, but no one else. Most of the time media and literature gave way too much power on politics or scientific explanations. Secondary characters honor bound to defend their country, but who didn't seemingly give a shit about their dead loved ones when only the main characters were able to save theirs or show emotional pitfalls when they couldn't. Bullshit.

In reality, there were revolutionist strategically placing this shit and now sitting back and laughing at the superb job they'd done. Nothing was safe. No one was safe. Anything and anyone that could help was already gone. They were the first to go. While everyone else scrambled to adapt and change because there was no going back. That was not to say there weren't people who wanted it, because there were. Of course, they were living in a fantasy.

A knock sounded at my door, but I didn't care. I stayed in place on my couch. My roommate answered the door. I forgot his name, but we hated each other. He was assigned to pick up trash. Yep. Trash. These were the majority of the remaining people and it had only been less than a week since the outbreak.

"Thank god. That asshole is drinking again. Give him a blowjob or something," he said to our visitor.

I lifted my head above the couch to see Carrie push him out of the way in a storm of auburn hairs coming out of her short ponytail. "Don't fucking talk to her like that, garbage man!" Roomie slammed the door and took off down the hall.

She shot me a grateful look as she sat down beside me on the rundown couch. "Hey."

"Hey yourself. Think you can get him a new housing placement?"

"I'm working on it, but they'll just replace him and the grass isn't always greener and all that. People are coming in everyday though."

"Has to be greener than that brown, crunchy fucker."

She laughed, a sound I hadn't heard very often as of late. "Hang in there. It's not like you'll be here a lot..." Trailing off, her face went pensive.

"You're sad." I said, surprised.

"Of course I'm sad. Where else am I going to get my booty call? Surely not from brown, crunchy fucker?" I was glad she made light of it. A reason I liked her.

I pulled her camouflage-covered hips to straddle me. "Let's try to get it out of your system." My thumbs brushed along her dog tag chain to her collarbones as she shook out the rest of her hair from its binding. She ran her hands up my stomach, pulling me closer by my dog tags. "Hey now," I mumbled, following my thumbs with my lips. I loved collarbones and hers had perfect prominence and dips.

She rocked her pelvis, grinding against me. "I've had a rough day, and I need a rough fuck."

I felt my lips tug into a smile. Another reason I liked her. "Whatever you say, private."

A few days after my old roommate moved out, I found I'd be getting another one.

The squawk of the CB sounded in my bedroom. I wanted to throw it out the window. Walking in there, I picked up the hand held, "What the fuck do you want?" I lit a cigarette, inhaling quickly before blowing the smoke out.

"You might get a roommate in a few days. Civilian. His choice. Quarantine ward is putting him through hell for fighting. He's in the cages."

"Name?"

"Rudolph Garrett Hawthorne. Want me to send a file?"

Rudolph? I laughed out loud. He probably wouldn't last, so why not? "Yeah, and send him over when he clears."

A few days later, I was getting ready to start my training, when the knock came. Opening the door, I immediately knew I should have looked the file over more. I knew he was twenty-four, engaged and a business graduate student with a 4.0. After reading that, my brain hit the hypothetical snooze button. I crossed him off as some kind of corporate ladder climbing nerd and tossed the file in the bottom of a drawer.

Saying the guy was large would be a massive understatement. Being shorter than average had nothing to do with this. Even him being three steps down we were head to head. Fuck me, I probably only came up to his chest. A beard covered his face in the same brown color as his short, messy hair, and he looked ready to pass out on his feet. But what caught my attention the most was the bow strapped to his back along with a guitar and a quiver full of arrows. He held his duffle loosely as if it weighed nothing.

I spent the next few years bunking with him off and on. He wouldn't ever know it, and I'd never tell him, but him showing up at the quarantine base changed my perspective on the outbreak. I was suddenly not ready to die, so I took my training seriously instead of half-heartedly.

Rudy handled the outbreak with a sort of calmness I envied. Although, he didn't loose people like I did, he'd been through so much shit before the outbreak it was like he woke up, saw zombies, flipped up both middle fingers and said, "Fuck you world. I've been through worse and you're not getting rid of me yet."

There was a lot of shit we ended up doing without consent... like going on looting trips off base. A lot of them. I figured if he was going to drink my alcohol, he could help get it. The first trip I'd never forget. After that, it was like he couldn't sit still and wanted to leave the base all the time. All it took was that one taste of freedom.

I was really surprised to figure out-he hated how women treated him-usually like some beefcake stallion. Most men would take advantage of that, and even though I was sure he'd done it before, he loathed it and loathed himself as well. For what exactly, I'd never been able to figure it out, but he did. And his weird relationship with the leech, I came to the conclusion long ago was more like siblings than an engaged couple.

"What's with the blonde?" I had finally asked him, referring to Julie when I was on a short weekend break from the community. We had been shooting arrows, but eventually downed a bottle of Jim Beam. Of course, he drank more than me this time and I let him because Julie had been over to our house that day. For some reason, her visits always bound him up tight. It was also the first time I figured out I could get him to talk when he was drunk. I only had to ask. I could probably ask him sober, but I'd never worked up the nerve.

"What-do-you-mean?" This came out in a jumbled slur. All one word. He was sitting on the kitschy couch bent over holding his head in his hands. His bandana was MIA, and his hair was all over the place because of it. He'd grown his hair out, well so had I, but he did it because it got on Julie's nerves. I was sure.

"I know you're engaged but..."

"Fuckin' nothin'."

I took the last gulp from the bottle and said, "OK. Whatever you say, man."

"Our dad died. Her dad, but you know...he was like my dad, too. He died and fucked everythin' up." He raised his head as he said up, popping his lips on the p. "We started whorin' around on each other. Guessin', can't get past it." After kicking off his boots, he lay back on the couch and adjusted himself while doing so. "Never had a dad."

I scoffed, "I did, and they aren't all they're cracked up to be."

"Why?"

"Served twenty-two years and died in the field. Never married my mom. Only thing he gave me was the attitude to serve. Look where that got me." I lifted the bottle to drink, but remembered it was empty. "Doing whatever that repulsive moron wants just to keep an eye on the place."

One of his eyes sprung open, bloodshot from the booze. The community was always a curiosity for him. "I wanna go."

"Sleep it off, dude."

Just a few days after that, I was called to Birmingham. A new Coalition development started there and was being kept on the down low for the time being. Theories were going around about the revolutionists' next move. I sat in front of my new lieutenant going over reports and updating my status at the base and the community I resourced. "I understand you've been staying with a..." He picked up a paper, but I knew he already knew the name without looking. "Rudolph Hawthorne for the past two and half years?"

"Yes."

"We've been watching him. And even though you didn't know it, you have, too. Tell me about him."

I went on autopilot. "Keeps to himself. Helps with maintenance at the base."

"He came with a group of people, most of which he didn't know. Started a fight and could have held his own against three men, had weapons. Seems like a good candidate for recruiting. His background gave us pause. What do you think?"

"No," I said, a little uneasy.

"No?"

"I mean he's not mentally capable. A little unstable. You can if you want, but I wouldn't recommend it." He stared at me for a long time, but my last sentence seemed to appease him.

He nodded, "OK, I'll write it off, but I still want to talk to him."

Shit. Walking out into the hall, I ran my hands through my mop of girl curls. Another Collins Curse passed to me from my mom. How the hell was I going to keep Rudy from enlisting?

Now...

I hate playing cards, but I find I like it just to spend time with Kan. I'll do anything to keep her mind off going to that stupid base, but she's bound and determined. Russell, a moron, sits across the poker table in the Clap Trap and steals a glance at Nick's cards, another moron.

"Hey! You're fucking cheating!" I belt out. Gangly Russell straightens up, trying to look innocent. Nick flashes him a deadly look.

An elbow catches me in my side, but Kan tries to hide her smile behind her cards. She whispers to me, "You're an idiot. He would have given away if Nick had anything."

"So you knew?" She nods, and I steal a peek at her cards. "Oh, thought I was helping you out." I whisper. "Carry on," I say to the table and Kan laughs beside me. I like hearing her laugh, but I hate that it makes me feel guilty.

I thought I had one up on her until she folds. Nick folds, too. Too bad. This could have been interesting. Turns out she's smart to fold, I lose after putting all in. Shooting her a look, I stand up, which only causes her to laugh even more until Reece steps up behind her.

When she sees him, she glances at me. "Got to go, Mac." The crossbow resting on the table is pulled from it as she stands and leaves. They've been spending an awful lot of time together, and since he's well into his forties, I don't think it's anything sensual. Rudy watches them leave from his place at the bar, seeming more confused about them than me.

"Where are they going?" I ask him as I walk up.

His eyes cut to me. "You probably know more than me."

"She's staying with you, so I doubt it."

A smile follows a snort. "Shows what you kno-"

A scream cuts through the warehouse over the beat of the bass. We set our sights on it. A chained famished has his mouth on an arm of a woman named Lucy. "Shit!"

That's how I find myself pacing in front of an extremely pissed off Guido and a smiling Mago. We were in the small workout room that smells like piss and the beat of the party continues on in the Trap. Lucy had decided to turn and be put on display. Kan got all righteous and sexy as fuck and shot the zombie bitch in the middle of her own Clap Trap celebration. Lucy was newly turned and would have lasted a long time, therefore pissing Guido off, so here I am doing damage control.

Kan has a weird thing with zombies and their souls but the fact is, she is right and doesn't even know it. It's a huge secret though. I know why Mago's here, but Kan is why he looks amused at it all-a rare sight for him. He never finds anything at the community amusing, and the fact he finds Kan so, is discouraging. I don't like his attention on her.

Mago's currently laughing and stroking his pointy beard. "She rendered a rabies metaphor when I inquired her about it."

Guido just glares at us both. "We had a deal, Mac boy!"

"I didn't do it this time and it's not like you can't get more. Kan's actions are her own. You act as though I told her to do it."

"Yew put up a fight on Lucy."

"Not out of the norm for me. And if I remember correctly, Kan tried to talk her out if it, too."

"You git me a new dead 'em?"

"Do you think about anything else? I'm starting to get worried and fuck no, I won't."

Guido lifts a shoulder, but there is tension around his eyes. "Had ta ask. But chickie need ta figure whut she doin'. She can't stay for free." With that he walks out with the music from the Trap blaring in while he opens and closes the door.

"Special acquaintance you have," Mago mentions.

I glance at him. "She's not just an acquaintance, and you leave her alone."

"You depart for the base soon? The general mentioned it. I guess you got your permission."

"Day after tomorrow. You get Mya transferred?" He nods. "Good."

"This community might be full of incompetent absurdity, but the revolutionists are organized extremists."

I sigh, wishing he'd tell me something I don't know.

I'm packing up my arrow booth from the marketplace. There's no telling when I'll be back. I hate doing it right now, especially since I can't get my head out of the bed. The smile on my face must be contagious because everyone smiles at me when they walk by. Probably wondering what's wrong with the asshole, but not going to complain.

Walking into my room, I put several boxes against the wall. I catch sight of the stupid skirt Kan had on last night laying haphazardly in the corner in the exact same spot I tossed it. It looked ridiculous on her, but not because it wasn't hot, just not her thing. Chuckling, I pick it up and stuff in a bag with other dirty clothing.

I notice my compound bow is missing, so I know she still has it at the target range, but when I get there the range is eerily empty. Chills race up my arms as I walk out to the parking lot where the rest of the team is packing up vehicles. Rudy catches me walking up and turns the other way. Kan is nowhere in sight.

"Where's Kan?" I question and try not to panic when everyone looks at me confusedly.

"At the target range," Rudy answers. "I saw her there not even thirty minutes ago." His neck starts getting red as his jaw clenches.

"You saw her?"

"That's what I just said." The words are a rumble. He looks to the distance to calm himself I suppose. "She's here, probably in the Marketplace. She's been collecting jars of moonshine."

"I was just there packing up my booth." Dread washes over me when the conversation Kan and I had earlier this morning flashes to the forefront of my mind. I scowl at our audience and they back off to resume what they were doing beforehand. "She left." I state.