Sunday June 24, 2001 Park City, UT 12:38 PM.

Jenkins sat down at the bar in the hotel lobby. He was unarmed. The hotel had confiscated his weapons when he checked in. In the city you could carry a sidearm at all times but inside the hotel, because of the gambling and drinking and women the house rules were No Weapons. Which was fine because Jenkins had simply come down for a drink and to think about their situation.

In Park City economics, they were filthy rich. Eight tons of food and one ton of luxury items would buy all of them two years of easy living here in Park City. He and Ron had discussed that while sitting at the tariff station. Ron had been against the idea. He was sold on settling at Rainbow Lake.

Jenkins thought of taking his equal share of the goods and going his own way. He could start his own band of freebooters and conduct raids down into Salt Lake City. He owed these people nothing. But it was nothing more that a fleeting idea. He had hardened himself to the horrors of life in a zombie world just days after the plague broke out here in Utah. He had intentionally kept himself distant from everyone. Even Ron, whom he considered the closest thing he had to a friend, would scarcely get a tear out of Jenkins should he fall to the zombies. But for some reason the idea of parting company with these people filled him with uneasiness. Like it or not this rag tag group of survivors was now his family.

So it would be Rainbow Lake. They would head out just as soon as Zack could travel. It was no more than forty miles to Kittewa, the small farming town that was nestled in the foothills and valley below Rainbow Lake. Jenkins figured since the highway through the mountain pass had been blocked at Kimball Junction for several months the roads would be fairly clear of abandoned vehicles and they would make good time. No more that a couple of hours to Kittewa. From Kittewa there was only one road leading up to the lake, making it very defensible. According to Matt there were a couple dozen houses and cabins on the shore of the lake and in the surrounding forest. Most were uninhabited except for summer and most of the winter when the ski runs were open. There was a good chance that many of the property owners flocked to their hideaways when the crisis first developed. Matt's friends Adam and Kelly Prescott had done just that, fleeing to their cabin on Rainbow Lake. Jenkins knew from Matt's description of the place that the cabin would not house all of them. They would have to expand into at least two more houses. And what if they were all occupied?

There was no what if. There was only the enforcement of one's will.

There he went again, being Mr. Hardass. He lifted his glass and drained the rest of his whiskey. As he sat it down and signaled the bartender for another, Corporal McReedy came and sat next to him at the bar.

"Beer..." Mac said to the bartender.

"What are your plans Corporal?" Jenkins asked.

"First things first. We're not in the army any longer. You can drop the Corporal and just call me Mac." They locked eyes. Jenkins saw that Mac was ready to fight over this issue so he let it go. Besides, he was right. They weren't in the military any longer. They were just survivors like everyone else.

"Ok. Call me Jenkins." They nodded at each other. "So what are your plans?"

"I plan on surviving." Mac said flatly. "That's why I came aboard. I saw a chance to survive."

"Are you staying here in Park City or going up to the lake?" The bartender returned with their drinks.

"There's plenty of opportunity here in the city." Mac took a swill of his beer. "But then again the thought of the lake is so damn appealing; the peace and quiet, and the safety. I'm burned out on fighting zombies. Do you know what I mean?" Jenkins didn't need to answer with words. The look in his eye and a nod of his head said it all. "I need some downtime." Mac let out a tight laugh and took a long pull on his beer. Jenkins just sipped his whiskey.

"What about you?" Mac asked.

"You said it all partner." Jenkins said. He gazed around the bar, surveying the other patrons. On the far side of the room was a table with three freebooters fresh in from the raid. They were loud and boisterous. They were pawing at several young house girls who milled about their table for just such a purpose. Two men sat further down the bar but apart from one another, each mulling their own thoughts in a mug of beer. Other than that the place was empty. It was still early in the day. Many of the would-be patrons were planning raids or sleeping off the previous nights partying. Jenkins again found himself amazed at how...normal everything seemed; The bartender serving drinks and wiping down the bar, the patrons at their tables, the waitresses serving the patrons and the house girls trying to hustle them. Sure, the University had been somewhat similar, but the refugees were for the most part confined to their area of the campus while the military stuck to itself. And the atmosphere had been much more claustrophobic and desperate...But not here. Here it was relaxed... Quiet. One could easily get the impression that the apocalypse hadn't bothered to touch this part of the world.

Jenkins was turning back to the bar but spun around to the main entrance for a double take. Matt and Susan were walking in and between them was Zack!

"What the hell is this?" Jenkins asked as they walked up. He looked Zack up and down.

"Who are you?" Zack asked. He vaguely remembered Jenkins face through the pain and drug induced fog he'd been in the past few days.

"Jenkins."

"He's with us. Don't you remember him?" Matt asked.

"Barely...Sort of like a dream." He and Jenkins shook hands.

"I can't believe your back on your feet. You were only at the hospital for a few hours." Jenkins said.

"Neither could the people at the hospital. Miracle of luck I guess."

"It might have been luck but I wouldn't count on miracle having anything to do with it." Jenkins said with sarcasm. "What did it cost us?"

"One hundred pounds of canned food..." Matt said. They all got a chuckle out of that. Jenkins directed them away from the bar and selected a table, which they all sat around.

"So what's our next move?" Matt asked.

"We should stay here for a couple of days and get all the things we're going to need to survive up at the lake. This is a very big undertaking we're talking about here, one that will affect the rest of our lives. We can't go into this half-cocked. We need to have a plan of action. Your friends cabin won't be able to house all of us. We need to take more houses, preferably a large mansion with several bedrooms. We don't want to spread ourselves over too wide an area."

"I've been thinking about that as well." Matt said. "The town of Kittewa had a population of approximately one thousand. I'm wondering how many of them evacuated up to the lake when the plague hit hard?"

"In a small isolated town like that they may have been able to control the plague, just like Park City." Mac said. "There are plenty of hunters so guns and ammo wouldn't be a problem. If someone died or a zombie was sighted everyone would know rather quickly and the problem could be dealt with."

"We can only hope."

Jenkins noticed that Zack had been paying little attention to the conversation. Jenkins took a sip of his drink and watched him. He appeared to be gazing through the far wall, his eyes far away. Then he looked to Jenkins, noticing how intently he stared at him. It appeared to make Zack uncomfortable.

"I'm going to go outside and get some fresh air." Zack said suddenly. He came to his feet and walked back outside.

"What's with him?" Jenkins asked Matt.

"I don't know. But I can't believe he's already up and about after what he's been through. You should have seen him before we got him to the University. Blood was frothing out of his mouth and bubbling out of his side wound with every breath. His lung had been nicked for sure. The doctor at the U even told us that. And that was only a couple of days ago. Now look at him! His breathing is unlabored and clear. He's walking around like he's barely hurt. He's got more energy than I do."

"He's become a wild card, and a danger to us all." Jenkins looked Matt straight in the eyes.

"What are you saying?" Matt asked, staring back.

"I'm saying that something is not right with him. We are walking a tight rope here. We may be safe for now but as soon as we leave Park City we are back in the shit again. There will be no room for fuck-ups. In his present state your buddy is a wildcard and a wildcard causes nothing but fuck-ups."

"Zack will be ok."

"Will he? How many people have you seen up on their feet two days after being shot in the lung with an M-16? I've been in the shit for a long time and I haven't seen any."

"Maybe the doctors at the U. did something to him while he was in the hospital." Matt said conspiratorily.

"That's exactly what I'm thinking."

"Do you know of any secret experiments they were conducting at the hospital?" Susan asked Jenkins.

"There was nothing secret about the experiments they were conducting. They advertised the tests." Jenkins saw the confusion on the others face. "They were studying the deadfucks... Trying to find a cure. I heard all kinds of horror stories about what went on in some of those surgery rooms. And not all of the stories I heard had zombies on the tables if you know what I mean?"

"He did go into surgery for over an hour at Ft. Douglas." Matt said.

They all fell silent and looked at one another.

"But what did they do to him?" Susan asked.

"Maybe we should go find him." Jenkins said.

"Good idea." Matt answered. All four of them stood up and exited the bar...

They walked out of the resort lobby onto a narrow, bustling street. Men dressed in various stages of battle gear; flak vests, riot helmets, a hodgepodge of pads from half a dozen sports intermixed with black leather, spikes and chains. And almost every one of them was armed with a weapon of some kind whether it be a pistol, machete, hammer, pickaxe or any other small hand held weapon suitable for cracking open a zombie's skull. These freebooters intermingled with regular park City citizens who were easily distinguished by their casual dress and quiet, almost polite demeanor. A pair of motorcycles driven by longhaired, leather clad raiders rolled slowly down the street. Two men and a woman dressed in camouflaged hunters clothing and riding on horseback trotted by in the opposite direction. The stripped down shell of a pickup truck converted into a wagon and pulled by a team of horses came around the corner. At first Matt found this surreal but he realized that unlike Salt Lake, Park City had kept order, and their economic infrastructure had survived and now operated on a barter system. Most of the businesses that operated in Park City catered to the raiders who frequented the city and stayed at the resort; Food, clothing, sex, drugs, alcohol, fuel for their vehicles, ammo for their weapons and a thousand other goods and services. Most of these shops were located near the resort in the downtown sector of old Park City.

Matt scanned the surrounding area, but there was no sign of Zack. An open top military jeep carrying four soldiers dressed in the brown and green of the Park City Militia came to a halt in the street beside them.

"Halt!" barked the officer sitting in the passenger seat. Matt recognized the two parallel bars of his insignia as Captain. The four soldiers exited the vehicle as two more jeeps came up from the other direction. One carried nothing but soldiers, but the other had two white-coated doctors in the back seat.

"What's going on here?" Jenkins barked and reached for his pistol.

"Don't!" the Captain screamed. Jenkins hand froze on the grip of his weapon.

"What the fuck is going on?" Jenkins repeated. "We were admitted into the city legally. We paid the tariff."

"I don't see him." One of the doctors said. Matt recognized him as the doctor who had treated Zack in the hospital. He moved through the ring of rifle aiming soldiers and walked up to Matt. "Where is your friend Zack? The one who you took from the hospital? Where is he?"

"I don't know?" Matt said.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE!" Jenkins screamed at the top of his lungs, getting everyone's attention.

The Captain walked over to him and the two men looked one another over. The Captain was much larger than Jenkins, at least 6'3", and topping 250 pounds. His clean-shaven face and blood shot blue eyes were as hard as any Matt had seen. Matt sensed a moment of absolute intensity pass between Jenkins and the Captain, and he was certain both men were going to draw a weapon and try to shoot the other...and then the electricity faded as quickly as it had begun.

"Name and rank soldier!" The Captain barked at Jenkins.

"Jenkins." He gave him no more.

"Rank and unit soldier." the Captain said.

"I was stationed down at Fort Douglas. But I got out just before the place fell."

"Deserters!" It was an accusation, not a question.

"Survivors." Jenkins said. Another moment of silent intensity passed between the two old war dogs before the Captain finally smiled.

"At ease..." The Captain said. He looked around to his own men. "That goes for all of you." They eight soldier lowered their M-16's.

"Where is your friend?" the doctor asked Matt again. "It is urgent that he be found and quarantined." The doctor's words held a frantic tone to them. His eyes were wide with fear.

"Quarantined?" Matt gasped in surprise. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's been infected with the plague." The doctor's words were a shock to them all. But it also confirmed their worst fears.

"We thought something was wrong with him." Matt said, cursing himself the moment he did.

"What?" the Captain said in amazement. "You suspected infection yet you told no one?"

"Worse yet they helped him escape the hospital." The doctor added for good measure.

"You've got it wrong." Matt said. "We didn't help him escape. YOU released him from the hospital." Matt pointed at the doctor. "And we didn't think he was infected until just a few minutes ago."

"We were going to look for him when you arrived." Susan said.

"Why would an infected man be released from the hospital and not terminated immediately?" the Captain now turned his glare to the doctor who swallowed hard and looked over at the other doctor who had accompanied him.

"We didn't know the man was infected." The doctor said meekly. "He bore no bite marks. No scratches. It wasn't until we got the blood results back from the lab that the infection was detected."

"Why did it take so long to get the results from his blood work?" the Captain asked even more scornfully. The doctor swallowed again before continuing.

"The hospital is understaffed when it comes to qualified lab technicians and therefore there is a tremendous back log of work. The subject's blood sample sat in cold storage for several hours before the lab work was finally done. If we had some of the newer, portable units they use downstairs, the infection would have been detected immediately. Once the results were back they were acted upon swiftly. Unfortunately by that time his companions had arrived and took him from the hospital."

"You released him to us." Matt said again.

"He must be found. Quickly!" the doctor seemed on the verge of panic.

"Relax doctor." The Captain said. "He is just one man. Should he turn before he can be found he will certainly be killed by anyone who spots him."

"You don't understand." The doctor said. "The subject does not carry the Beta strain of the virus. He has been infected with a pure Alpha strain." For a moment the Captain's eyes seemed almost as afraid as the doctors, and then they became cold as ice once again.

"That would explain infection without being bitten."

"Precisely, Captain. Now you understand my urgency. Based upon the growth stage of the virus in the subjects blood culture, it will have completed its cycle in less that 24 hours."

"Would you please tell us what the hell you are talking about?" Jenkins asked. The Captain snapped his stare back at Jenkins.

"No I will not. This is classified information. You have heard too much already. Sergeant!" One of the soldiers behind the captain snapped to attention. "Place all four of these people under arrest!"

"Yes Sir!" the soldier barked. The entire squads M-16's raised in unison. "Place your hands on top of your head."

With a bellyful of icy fear Matt complied. They were quickly disarmed and handcuffed.

"Why are you arresting us?" Mac asked.

"You traveled with him. You took him out of the hospital. For all I know all of you could be infected as well."

"That's ridiculous." Jenkins said. "None of us are bitten. How could we be infected?"

"Your friend wasn't bitten either. But he is infected. I am quarantining all of you until your blood is screened for infection."

"And when we come back clean? What happens to us then?" Matt asked.

"Pray that you come back clean." The Captain looked at each of them coldly. "Sergeant! Call in a truck to transport them back to the hospital."

"Yes Sir."

Matt's head spun with shock. In a matter of seconds their plans had been shattered. Zack was infected with some new strain of the zombie plague. And now they were being taken prisoner by the Army.

"What will happen to us when we come back clean?" Jenkins repeated Matt's question.

"You will be debriefed once you are safely secured at the hospital." The Captain turned away without another word and walked towards his jeep. The two doctors fell into step on either side of him, talking frantically.

"Keep calm." Jenkins said. His eyes were bright and clear. He was enjoying this. Just like when Matt had first gone out on perimeter patrol with Jenkins squad a few days ago. It was all a big game of life and death to him. "None of us are infected. If so we would know it."

"Zack certainly did." Susan said.