"Sarah . . . oh God," Joelle choked. She bent over her friend. Sarah's lips were turning dark purple and her skin was ice cold to the touch. She looked toward Dr. Adams who'd followed them. "Can you save her?"

He gave a long, tired sigh, "I'll do my best."

Sarah's eyes flashed open. At first, she thought she was still lying on the floor, covered in her own blood, but she soon realized that she was flat on her back on a bed. Her left arm burned and throbbed. She stretched her neck to look and saw that it was bandaged up and that an IV needle was shoved into her other arm.

"Don't move, stay right where you are," a gruff voice ordered.

She found the speaker sitting in a chair beside Joelle. Joelle had her head tilted back and was snoring.

"What happened to me?"

"You've lost a lot of blood. Your friend saved your life. Lucky for you she has O negative blood type and can donate to anyone."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Dr. Adams. I gave you a blood transfusion and removed the bullet from your arm. You can stay here as long as you like."

"No," Sarah said, and sat up in bed, "we have to go. We need to reach the others before they get too far away."

"Easy now, you'll break your stitches. I know who you and your friend are. I saw the tattoo when I treated you. Do you really want to go back to that kind of life?" he said, and walked to the door. "I'll return to check on you in a few hours. Please, get some rest." As he left he tapped Joelle on the shoulder.

She was slow to rouse but when she saw Sarah awake, she leapt out of her chair.

"You're alive! He said you might not make it." She wrapped her arm around her friend and squeezed.

"Careful, I don't feel very well," Sarah told her. She patted Joelle's back and then broke off the embrace. "So, are you ready to blow out of here?"

Joelle sat on the bed. Her shoulders sank.

"I don't want to leave yet. There's plenty of food here and everyone is really nice."

"Everyone here is either a teenager or a child. What, now you want to become a babysitter for these hoodlums?"

"Just for a little while," Joelle shrugged. "Besides, you need to heal before we can start traveling again, and I wouldn't mind a break for my ankle."

"We don't belong here, Joelle. We're raiders and bad guys, not mothers. Dr. Adams already knows we're Marauders."

"I know," she said. "I told him but he didn't believe me so I showed him my tattoo."

"And mine too, apparently," Sarah said. "He may seem okay now but we can't trust him. We can't trust anybody. We need to get back to the others before we lose track of them for good."

Joelle's lips turned downward. "I don't know if I want to go back. They're headed for the church no doubt, and the last time I was there I almost didn't make it out alive."

Sarah's fierce tone grew sincere. "What happened?"

"It was before Graves took me as one of his own. I was categorized as an escort and had to sleep with at least five different men a night. Some were gentle, others were rough, and a few were afraid. Can you image that? A Marauder being afraid of little old me," she laughed.

"Vaginas are intimidating sometimes," Sarah said.

They laughed together.

"One night a guy started slapping me around and even broke my jaw. I let him have me and after he went to sleep I tied him to the bed and constructed a bomb out of the spare grenades he had. I put them on his genitals. When he woke up he started screaming and I hid in the closet and detonated the explosives. But I miscalculated how much damage it would cause, and instead of just blowing him apart, it took out him and half the side of the church."

"That was you? I heard about that happening but . . . you did that? Damn, I guess you showed him."

Joelle smiled. "It felt great, and afterwards, Graves took me in. And believe me it's much easier to please one guy a few days a week than all the scum that proved themselves enough for some Lady Time'."

Sarah shook her head. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we'd be better off staying here. I'll think about it, but to tell you the truth, the Marauders are the only family I have left."

Joelle helped her lay back on the bed. "Get some rest. We have a lot to do in the next few days." She turned to go when Sarah called for her.

"Who saved me from the Watchers?"

"Mindy found you. If it wasn't for her you'd have bled to death."

"I know that. But I was being held captive. The Watcher holding me was about to feed me to the zombies when someone outside shot him and all the flesh eaters that had gotten inside."

"We didn't see anyone outside. All of us were on the roof." Joelle chewed on her lower lip. "What did he look like?"

"He was dressed all in black, like one of those characters from The Matrix, you know, like a spandex suit or something."

Joelle held her breath, standing in the doorway in deep thought.

"Are you sure that you didn't see anyone?" Sarah asked again.

"Get some rest, Sarah. I'll check on you later."

Joelle shut the door. She walked down the hallway, said hello to a few children playing Hide and Seek, and found a window which overlooked the main entrance and the forest. Dr. Adams and the Native American had fixed the chain-link fence and with the help of the other teenagers, they were disposing of the dead bodies in a huge bonfire. Joelle had seen them clear out the zombies that had stumbled through the downed gate, but heard that the teenagers had killed them all within the hour.

Joelle looked past the fire and into the forest and the darkness beyond. "What do you want from us?" she said to herself, thinking of the mysterious black-clad stranger.

The question lingered in her mind and when she slept she dreamed of being surrounded by zombies and the strange man who had rescued her.

Chapter 9.

From a distance, Alex watched the people in the schoolyard as they stacked the zombies in an enormous pile and lit them on fire. The air took on a horrible stench akin to burning tires or blackened hotdogs and hamburgers. He stayed near the tree line, listening for the moans of any approaching zombies, and paying close attention to the school's inhabitants. All of the people he'd seen so far were between the ages of eight and sixteen, with the exception of a grayhaired man and the two Marauders.

The black smoke rose high in the air and had he seen it from afar, he would have concluded that it was a Watcher victory signal, but that was far from the truth. The little band of Watchers was disposed of. Although there were many different factions, he was sure they'd been the nearest one in the region.

His CB radio crackled.

"This is Echo 219. Is anyone out there?" a girl's voice squeaked. "I repeat, this is Echo 219. We're searching for survivors. We can offer you food, water, and shelter if you comply."

Alex tapped the CB strapped to his utility belt. He pressed the talk' button but said nothing.

A strong winter wind cut through the trees and blew around him, creating a burst of static in the CB, and wrapping him in the cold.

"Hello? Is someone there? We can help you. Please respond," the girl urged on the other end.

Alex turned the CB off. They were still alive inside, and that was all he needed to know. If the nomads were injured they would be taken care of. He only needed to wait them out. By nature, the Marauders wouldn't last long trapped inside the school, no matter how safe it was. It would only be a short period of time before they would detach from the group and continue their search for the others, then he would get a chance to have his revenge. Right now, however, he needed to find shelter from the cold and the zombies. He hadn't seen any after he had set those two cars ablaze, but he knew they couldn't be far away.

Alex armed himself with his machete, using his free hand to hold a flashlight. He left his motorcycle at the edge of the woods. Quickly, he darted into the woods so that anyone on watch in the school wouldn't report the flash of light. The last thing he needed was to be tracked down as a supposed Watcher. He soon discovered the path the men had taken and followed the tire tracks. The Watchers were dead for now, but that didn't mean that they hadn't left someone or something behind. As Alex continued along the worn path, he spotted a dark patch and a black leather jacket. It was all that remained of the fat man he'd dealt with earlier. Cautiously, he moved forward.

He heard a soft crunch as someone stepped on dead leaves. Alex panned the beam of light around and caught two shining orbs staring right into him. It was a deer, female, no antlers, and frozen under the flashlight's beam. He grinned and turned the light away only to jerk back in terror just as a zombie reached for him from out of the dark. It grabbed him by the shoulders with strong, skeletal hands. He batted the rotting corpse away with a well placed side kick, his boot knocking the zombie back far enough for him to bring his machete to bear and down onto its head. The steel bit into the corpse's skull and didn't stop until it had split the head in half. The zombie fell to the forest floor, dripping brain matter from the gaping wound.

Alex cleared off his weapon on a tree trunk and searched for more of the flesh eaters, spotting two more heading through the woods. They saw him but they didn't seem to care. They continued onward, slowly making their way through the woods.

"Fucking Doomed Wanders," he said, and continued on his way.

After marching on the forest path for a few minutes he came upon a metallic ruin. It was an old farmer's truck with the front end wrapped around a tree. It didn't belong to the Watchers and must've been rusting out here for a year. As he approached, he noticed that the car was occupied. A man clutching a bible and a revolver was slumped over the front seat.

He tapped on the glass and when he did his flashlight beam found a small entrance hole in the man's forehead and a gaping cavity in the back. Exit wound.

The door was unlocked, so Alex tossed the dead man out and searched the car. There were stores of expired food, photographs of a woman with children, and plenty of rats chewing on the leftovers of this man's life.

"Dammit," Alex said, and kicked the motionless man out of his way. "Let me guess. You gave up looking for them and shot yourself in the head?"

A small black book fell out of the man's front pocket. Alex snatched it up and thumbed through it. The book contained elaborate hand drawn maps of a town in Alaska. The word Freedom' was written in bold above the latitude and longitude coordinates. It struck him. Freedom. Was it the name of the town? Or did it represent just that, freedom? Freedom from zombies, marauders, savages? He stuffed the book into his back pocket and left the man to rot. His only concern was to find shelter for the night, and after trekking a little further he made the find of a lifetime.

Off the wood trail he spotted a small wooden shack. It didn't have any windows, and was locked.

Alex produced a set of keys from his backpack. Before the world had become home to the walking dead he'd collected keys. Some of the keys he had amassed were given to him by his uncle who had been a locksmith, but most he'd found in parking lots or bought with locks at the local hardware stores. After the dead had started to reclaim the earth Alex had continued collecting keys and now had a sizeable amount. He fiddled with the lock, testing out different shapes and sizes of keys until one, a doublesided jagged piece of metal, unlocked it. When he swung the shack's doors open he stared in amazement.

Inside was a bed which stretched from wall to wall, a wood burning stove, and a locked cabinet. On the wall was a deer's head bearing down on him and a calendar from last year inscribed with hunting entries. The last one read: Shot a grouse, not enough meat, going back home. Alex briefly wondered if the man in the car with the hole in his head was the same one who'd written on the calendar. His instincts old him it was possible, but unlikely. Whoever had stayed here had left before the zombie outbreak, not afterward.

Alex shut the door and found a steel latch to lock it tight. He sat on the bed and watched as a cloud of dust exploded into the air out of the dusty mattress.

"It's not exactly the Ritz but I'll take it," he laughed, and slipped out of his Army boots. It had been so long since he had taken off his boots that his socks were stuck to the soles of his feet, and he had to forcefully peel them off. He stored his weapons and supplies on the floor and lay back on the bed, relishing the feel of a soft mattress for a change.

"Ah, that's so nice," he sighed to himself, lost in the simple pleasure. Then he spotted the cabinet in the flashlight's glow. He'd been foolish in taking in the comforts of this hunter's shed home without searching it thoroughly for hidden dangers. It was such behavior that could cost a man his life.

Alex snatched up his machete and pried open the small cabinet. He couldn't believe his eyes. On one side were stacks of firewood for the wood stove. On the other was a pile of unopened trail mix bars, a container of stale peanuts, bottled water, and Spam.

He grabbed a can of Spam, opened it, and dug his fingers in, scooping out the salted meat and stuffing it into his mouth. He chased the Spam down with bottled water which had an aged taste, but nothing his stomach couldn't handle, and lay back on the bed full and content. He couldn't remember the last time he had such a good meal. As his eyelids grew heavier, he turned off the flashlight and fell into a peaceful slumber.

Outside, hordes of zombies shuffled past the shack and headed toward the school. By dawn, the zombies had reclaimed the fence, and beat on it ceaselessly in a hopeless attempt to gain entry.

Chapter 10.

Days slipped by in quiet comfort. The IV drip came out of Sarah's arm, and she was free to do as she pleased. Her first task was to raid the supplies and take whatever provisions she and Joelle would need on their journey. But before she had gotten there, Joelle found her and forced her into watching over a handful of children so she could take a hot shower and grab a quick lunch. Sarah found herself sitting cross-legged on a desk staring down a handful of four-to-six year olds who were contentedly drawing on scratch paper. The little girl in front of her had drawn a house with a dog in the yard and stick people looking through windows. Another child, a blond haired boy, had drawn a bunch of people with red mouths chasing after a little boy, and in the sky was a faceless person flying through the air.

Sarah slid off the desk and look at the drawing. The boy ignored her as he colored in a dark gray background.

"Who's this?" She asked him, pointing at the flying being.

"That's an angel. Mom said they would watch over me and keep me safe. They were the ones who told me to come here."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Keep drawing, kid."

She walked around the room glancing at other drawings and recognized that nearly all the children were shaping their old lives on paper or how they had come to be at the school. She didn't feel like asking any more questions and went back to sitting on the desk, mentally devising a plan to steal some supplies without being noticed. Joelle returned half an hour later smelling of coconuts.

"Did you take a trip to an island or something?" Sarah said.

"Dr. Adams gave us a box of shampoo, conditioner, and bath soap. He even said he'd give us what we need when we're ready to leave."

"How thoughtful," she sneered. "Don't you think he's being a little too kind to us?"

"No," Joelle replied. "He's just thankful we could help him defend the place. He really thinks we should stay here."

"We don't belong here, Joelle."

The blond boy lifted his head. He looked up at her with puppy dog eyes. "Please don't leave us, Joelle," he said beseechingly.

Joelle went to comfort the boy, putting an arm around his tiny shoulders. "We're not leaving yet, don't worry. I'll watch over you, Kyle."

Sarah hopped off the desk and headed for the door. "You might've fooled everyone here and even yourself but I can see right through you. Our kind doesn't belong locked up in this prison."

She slammed the door behind her and heard a few of the children start crying inside the classroom. In the hallway she stormed past the tall Native American. He watched her go, but didn't say a word to her. Sarah continued until she reached an office marked "Principal." She hammered on the closed door with her fist. "Open up, Dr. Adams. We've got a few things to discuss."

The door creaked open and Dr. Adams looked back at her. He had bags under his eyes and looked as if he hadn't slept in a week.

"Yes Sarah, do come inside." He motioned for her to take a seat in a brown leather chair opposite him. "What can I do for you?"

"Joelle and I are leaving. We'll need a car, guns, and supplies."

"Of course, Sarah. I'd be more than happy to accommodate you, but I wish you would reconsider staying. We could use your help."

Sarah's mouth hung open. She'd expected a fight over the supplies, a heated argument, something to convey real emotion, but Dr. Adams simply gave in to her demands without so much as a raised eyebrow.

"We're not staying, find another babysitter. And another thing: where the hell did all these supplies come from anyway?"