"I guess you found the weapons cache," the guy with the dog says. He's too fat to be military. And probably too short. Filthy military clothes, camouflage NASCAR hat that appears to be hiding a mullet. He's wearing a backpack that's been spray painted green and brown but you can still see the words "h.e.l.lo Kitty" across the bottom.

Kevin smiles and sits down on the stairs. "I took this off some National Guard dude. He was full Zed when I got it though. Had it strapped over his shoulder'n this big bag that was all caught in some barbwire." He leans the rifle against the wall and rests his hand on the machete handle. "So there's a weapons cache?"

"Nice job, Chuck." The guy Tyler is holding is older than Chuck, in his 50's at least. Too old to be out traipsing around here in the middle of the night. His graying beard is trimmed and one eye doesn't track with the other one. He must be the brains of the outfit. At least I hope so. For their sake.

"It doesn't matter," Chuck says and lets his hands fall. Archie whines and stares at the food on the table in the kitchen. Karen is on the stairs behind Kevin and holding a Mini-14. She swings it around to take aim at Chuck's head. "Easy, easy," Chuck says and holds his hands back up. "Just relax. We're not gonna do s.h.i.t. Those guys down the road sent us down here to scout the place. They figured somebody would be in here. But who sends people out at night? Right? This ain't c.o.o.n hunt'n or frog gigg'n for goodness sake."

Archie whimpers and shuffles his feet around where he sits. "Easy buddy," Chuck says and lowers his hands slightly. "We're not really with them. At least not after this. Chain of command is getting all screwed up. Lots of weird stuff going on up there."

Karen brings the Mini around to point at the older guy's head. "You mean like at the school in the town? You mean like when you shot all of our friends in the head?" Her eyes have gone to slits. I can't see her finger move but I hear the click of the safety switch.

"It wasn't... " Chuck says. He is shaking his head no and trying to back up but I'm blocking the way. Kevin's hand slowly comes up with the palm open. "Eazzzee," he says. "I think I'll be take'n my rifle back now."

Karen gives Kevin a s.h.i.tty look before shoving the rifle back to him. Kevin catches it and puts the safety back on. "Gawd d.a.m.n, woman. Careful with that."

"I want my shotgun back then," she says as she walks down the stairs past Kevin towards Tyler. Behind her Kevin is shaking his head no. I shake my head with him.

"It's uh... jammed. I'll fix it and give it back to you later?" Tyler says from behind the one-eyed guy.

"You sons-a-b.i.t.c.hes," she mutters and stomps back out into the main room where the remnants of dinner sit unattended.

Kevin shakes his head and rolls his eyes before sighing heavily. "She's right though. I think we gotta kill ya."

Chuck takes a step forward, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. We had to do that. They were all... bitten. We killed all kinds of those things in there but all those people..." Chuck spits when he talks and seems to have a little bit of a lisp. It is hard to find anything menacing about Chuck. Especially with the mullet and h.e.l.lo Kitty backpack. He's even wearing loafers for chrissakes. "You know, we were doing them a favor. n.o.body wants to end up... you know. Like that."

"Oh yeah?" I ask and put the .45 into the back of Chuck's head a little harder. "And we should believe that cuz why?" I don't even know why I'm bothering to take a side. It's tempting to just shoot all of them.

Chuck turns to the old one-eyed guy behind him. "Geez, Bob. Say something. Tell them what happened."

Bob shrugs his shoulders. "Don't then. Don't believe us. Nothing we can do to prove it really. I just don't care anymore." The grey, trimmed beard, the determination in his one good eye, and the lack of a lisp all give him a little more credibility than Chuck. I keep the .45 pointed at the back of Chuck's head but there's clearly nothing in it. One-Eyed Bob is definitely the thinker of the two.

"Who the f.u.c.k are these guys?" Betty asks from the back of the house. She and Daisy have entered through the backdoor in the room behind the stairway to the attic. They both have shotguns. Christ. Everybody here is better heeled than I am.

"Well," Kevin says patiently, "hold on now. We're gett'n to that."

"Just a couple of guys," Chuck says. I have to suppress a laugh. Nothing to see here. Just a couple of guys.

"We're decent people just trying to get through a hard situation," Bob says, "None of this nonsense was happening when Brother Floyd was leading us. It all started when that d.a.m.ned imbecile, Ray, took over."

"I think I might have met Brother Floyd," I say. "He didn't look so good."

Bob shifts his one-eyed attention to me. "Did you send him out? Did you do the decent thing and send him back to the Lord?"

I nod yes. "Him and the rest of the congregation. All strung up like Christmas ornaments down the road. I suppose you had nothing to do with that either."

I can see Chuck shaking a little. "Yeah," he sputters. He does stink. I think maybe he did s.h.i.t his pants earlier. "Bob wasn't there but I was. I drove the truck. Ray said if I wanted to eat, I better do my part. I mean, h.e.l.l... they were already... you know."

"Yeah," I tell Chuck. "I know."

"We're trying to stay together," Bob says. "We were following Brother Floyd but he wasn't that strong of a leader it turned out. Too many factions. Too much changing too fast."

Kevin turns to Betty, "They're the ones who shot up the people we were staying with back at that school."

"I didn't like those people anyway," Betty says.

"Got any chocolate?" Daisy asks.

Karen reappears from the back of the main room holding her little .25 caliber pistol. The pistol that I just gave her the bullets for. She moves towards Bob with her arm extended. Even though it is a double action, she c.o.c.ks the hammer anyway.

"Yes, I have chocolate!" Chuck blurts out.

Karen stops advancing but leaves the pistol pointed at Bob. "They killed all of those people back there. What makes you think they aren't going to do the same thing here? With us?"

"Those people back at the school hated you," Betty says. "They hated all of us. Just like everybody else."

"Young lady," Bob says, "those people were infected. Would you rather we had left them to turn? Left them to wander the earth in pain and without salvation?"

"Bulls.h.i.t," Karen spits. "They were fine when we left. They'd of been fine when we got back if it wasn't for you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds."

Chuck turns to look at Bob. He wears an odd expression of knowing something he'd rather not. He shakes his head no at Bob.

"So you were staying with those people but had left for the day?" Bob asks still staring Karen down. "You left by the gate on the north side of the building?"

Karen's eyes dart around to all of us. Her fingers readjust on the little pistols grip. "Yeah. How did you know? Were you watching?"

Bob puts his hands down slowly. "A small girl, a girl who was bitten badly on the shoulder told us that someone had left the gate open. She had gone out to shut it but it was too late. The undead were already inside."

"Well, h.e.l.l," Kevin sighs.

All eyes turn to Karen. I can see the back of Chuck's head turn back and forth like a lawn sprinkler on a pivot. Archie's head turns with him. Bob stares ahead at Karen in righteous judgment and condemnation.

Karen's hand begins to tremble slightly as the pistol pans off Bob. I find myself looking directly down the barrel. I lock eyes with her but there is no one there. She is staring straight through me and into someone who isn't there; someone who doesn't exist in this dimension. I pull hard and to the left, knocking Chuck out of the way with me. A ringing fills my ears. We land in a pile on top of Archie who is cowering with his tail between his legs.

Betty and Daisy open up from their side of the room. I feel the concussion of each round ripping through the air as round after round explodes through the house. Kevin is yelling at the top of his lungs, "Hold it! Hold it! Hold it!' but he sounds like he is underwater to me. Bob and Tyler have hit the deck behind me. Kevin is holding the edge of his flannel shirt up over his head to deflect the debris from the shattered stair railing.

It stops. Betty and Daisy are out of ammo. Karen is untouched and walks forward. Her face has gone white but the slide on the .25 is still forward and the hammer is still back. She is in shock. If her finger moves even a millimeter...

Kevin s.n.a.t.c.hes the pistol out of her hand and drops the magazine. "G.o.dd.a.m.n crazy f.u.c.k'n..." he lets the phrase disappear into the air as he pulls out the empty clip. "What the h.e.l.l, man?"

"s.h.i.t," Betty spits.

Daisy laughs. "Oh my G.o.d, we're such totally bad shots."

Karen explodes into a shrill scream before slumping against the wall in flood of tears. She sobs silently and buries her head between her knees.

I look at the pieces of door blown away behind where I was standing and can't help but smile. Which spreads uncontrollably across my face and down into my chest. I begin to laugh as I brush away bits of plaster and wood. Chuck and Archie scoot forward and away from me. Behind me Bob and Tyler are picking themselves up off the ground.

Kevin looks down at me from his perch on the stairs and shakes his head, "Holy s.h.i.t."

My laughter is uncontrollable and I feel drunk from lack of sleep. I am out of adrenaline and everything in the world is absolutely beautiful and pointless. The future and the past have shrunk to a crust of minutes that crumbles off the edges of what is exactly now. I close my eyes and laugh breathlessly. A tear rolls out of my eye punctuated by a gasping "Whoooo boy."

Archie crawls out from under Chuck and starts licking my face, his wet sandpaper tongue dragging across my cheek. I pet him on the shoulders while Chuck begins to wriggle up off the floor. "You people are f.u.c.ked up," he mutters.

"You got that right," Kevin says. And with that, he pulls the small bra.s.s pipe out of his shirt pocket. "Welllll," he says slowly, "I'm smoke'n a bowl."

I roll to my knees while still petting Archie. Daisy has moved over to give Chuck a hand up, "Hi," she smiles. "I'm Daisy. Where's that chocolate?"

Betty is trying to reload her shotgun. Kevin turns and says, "Need sum hep?"

"No," Betty mutters. The round finally slides home. She wipes her hair out of her face and asks, "Which part are you supposed to aim with again?"

"We haven't had a hot meal in quite some time... " Bob begins from the dining area.

"Groundhog," Kevin says and sucks in a big hit of skunk. "Hep yersef."

I stand up and walk to Karen. She looks up at me with broken red eyes swollen from crying. I offer her my hand. She takes it and stands up. "I suppose you and I should have a chat." She nods and wipes her nose.

"You two ought to f.u.c.k or kill each other," Betty snipes from the other side of the stairs. The sound of the bolt closing on her shotgun punctuates her sentence.

Chuck is up and smiling at Daisy. "You mentioned chocolate?" she asks and bats her eyelashes. Chuck's smile broadens.

Tyler is up and stalks back to the dinner table. "You mentioned chocolate," he mocks under his breath.

Karen and I move out the front door into the still falling rain. I nod towards one of the outbuildings. We walk in silence into the black night.

Chapter 10: Just the Two of Us.

She lights a candle and sets it on the small table beneath the window. A bed is made up on the floor of the opposite wall. A door leads into another small room at the back of the shed. In the corner, a wood burning stove sits glowing warm. I sit down at the table and remove a layer of clothing. I drape my jacket over a chair and begin taking off the holster that holds my scoped single shot pistol. As I pull the strap of the shoulder holster over my head, I catch a true whiff of myself. "Jesus," I say to myself.

"What?" Karen asks.

"I stink."

"Yeah, you do," she says flatly. "That's why we're out here. This is the bathhouse of sorts. There's a tub in the backroom. Showers are outside under the porch. The roof is reinforced to act as a cistern... the stove here heats some of the water. Whoever built it knew what they were doing. Hot and cold running tap."

I lay my hands on the holster of the single shot pistol. My little .22 is leaned against the wall. I still have my .45 and cleaver on. I'm not sure I want to be naked and unarmed around this woman. I drum my fingers lightly over the leather.

Without saying a word or looking in my direction, she begins to undress. She pulls off her sweater and tosses it into a corner. She sniffles from crying and wipes it with her arm. I watch as her bra comes off next. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s hang free, nipples erect. She knows I am watching but never looks my way. As she slides her pants off, she says to the floor, "You might as well get undressed. Unless you're going to shower with your clothes on."

"I'm not sure I want to be naked and unarmed around you," I tell her.

She tosses her pants in the corner on top of her sweater. She has been barefoot since my arrival. She drops her underwear down, off and over in one step. "Well," she says turning to face me, "I'm unarmed as you can see."

A nerve in the head of my d.i.c.k twitches as it starts to grow. Everything in my head says not to do this. Every red flag jumps in warning.

I begin unlacing my boots.

"Of course," she continues, "I don't need a gun to kill people, apparently. All I have to do is leave a gate open in this s.h.i.tty- excuse-for-a-world that we have and then everybody dies."

She disappears into the back room for a minute. I stop unlacing and reach for my .45. She comes back out holding two towels. She sees the .45 and tosses me one of the towels. "I don't suppose I can blame you." She roots through a bucket filled with soaps and shampoos. "You don't want to get your gun rusty. Bring that big knife thing if it makes you feel better. I don't give a s.h.i.t anymore."

She sits down in the chair opposite of me and picks at a hang nail. I can smell her body mixed with the horrible rose scent of the burning candle. I lay the .45 down and go back to work on my boots. "A hot shower is pretty extravagant these days." I stand and start to remove my pants.

She looks up from her fingernails. "You don't seem to be afraid of me."

"Who said I'm not afraid of you?" I say and toss the cleaver on the table.

"Not very afraid anyway," she says and goes back to studying her fingernails. "Most men wouldn't be out here right now. They probably would have killed me by now."

"Most men," I say as I drop my drawers, "are dead. Or dead-ish. I, on the other hand, am very alive. Or alive-ish. And I figure I'm gonna die sooner rather than later. So I figure be'n scared of stuff is kind of a waste of time these days." I slide off my filthy underwear. My erection salutes her in the candlelight. "So if I'm gonna get killed, I might as well get killed by some psycho in mid-coitus as by anyone or anything else." I pick up my towel and the cleaver. "Ready."

She looks at the cleaver. "You just said being scared is a waste of time."

"Well," I say and smile, "I guess I still believe in safe s.e.x."

She smiles a twisted half crying smile at me in the light of the flame. It softens her features and makes me forget that I plan on killing her out here away from the others.

"Have it your way," she says. She takes the candle and lights a lantern before walking out the front door. She has a slight sway in her walk now. It pulls on the invisible leash wrapped tightly around my d.i.c.k.

The side of the building is tiled with pipes and k.n.o.bs crudely attached to the wall. A corrugated tin roof provides shelter from the rain. Empty wires run between the rafters; plastic curtains would have hung here. She hangs the lantern from a wire and turns on the water. She tests it with her hand to get the temperature right. Her towel goes over another wire and she stands under the gravity feed shower with her face under the water.

I hang my towel up next to hers and move behind her. I still have the cleaver in my hand. I look around for where to put it. Nothing and nowhere seems right. She pulls her hair out of her pony tail then regroups it back into a bunch and holds it high behind her exposing her neck. I step behind her and place my hand on her shoulder. She remains standing with her back to me and her hair lifted in one hand. My thumb traces the muscles in her shoulder. Her body relaxes slightly and leans back towards me.

I could kill her and then f.u.c.k her. It'd be easier that way. But I know what she wants. And I don't like her enough to give it to her.

I run my hand up her neck and take hold of the wad of hair in her hand. I pull her head backwards. Her feet remain in place. I place my elbow against her back and roughly lean her further backwards. She does not resist. I carefully and slowly bring the cleaver around to her front. The water splashes against her closed eyes. She is completely still. A tiny hint of a smile is on her lips. If she's crying, I can't see the tears in the rainwater. I slide the back of the cleaver to her neck. She lifts her chin slightly. Her mouth opens as her breathing quickens.

I press my naked body against her from behind. The water flowing off her body is warm but her flesh is covered in goose pimples. She grinds her a.s.s against me. I twist her head by the ponytail and flip the cleaver over to bring the sharp edge to bear against the soft meat of her neck. Our lips touch and her tongue darts into my mouth. I suck the tip of it before pulling her bottom lip into my mouth.

She turns when I move the cleaver away and I press her into the cold tiles of the shower wall. She brings her legs up and wraps herself around me. I enter her standing, one hand helping hold her next to me, the other still gripping the big blade. We rock slowly in the warm water. I continue to get harder and harder inside her.

She kisses me deeply and reaches down for the hand still holding the cleaver. She pulls it up and puts it back to her throat. She leans forward and kisses me again. I pick up the pace of f.u.c.king her and she pulls tighter around my neck, trapping the great flat blade between us. I can feel the o.r.g.a.s.m building. It has been so long since I was with a woman that I know I won't last.

I can feel the trembling muscles in her thighs as she meets my thrusts. My knees shake as the release builds and she seems to be building with me. She leans forward and whispers in my ear, "Do it when I c.u.m." With that, she puts her head back flat against the wall and begins to tremble.

I place the sharp of the edge of the cleaver hard against her neck and pick up my pace. What a way to go. A luxury to die in the throes; clean, fed and f.u.c.ked. I place my thumb on the back of the blade and tighten my grip. Her back arches and her mouth falls open completely. The water from the shower fills her mouth and spills out. She rolls her head and lets go with a long, loud moan. A zombie outside the wall answers her.

Her legs tighten around me as her hips rock back and forth.I lower the cleaver and toss it off to the side. It clatters across the concrete floor. I place both hands around her neck and squeeze. Her eyes open in surprise and I kiss her hard on the mouth. As our tongues touch, I explode deep inside her. A scream is stifled in her chest as I have cut off the flow of air. Her body spasms more as I continue to drive into her. She seems to c.u.m again.

I let go and she gasps for air with a giant hoa.r.s.e rasp. My legs shake and I fight not to drop her. She squeezes my neck and kisses me frantically. I close my eyes and let her. Her hand strokes my matted, wet, greasy hair. Her lips cover my cheeks and eyes and forehead. I open my eyes and look into hers. I feel nothing and she sees it. Where there should be a moment of tenderness sits a callous flat void defined only by the scars that border it.

Her legs unfold off of mine. I smile at her and rub the side of her head. I am still hard inside her. "Got any of that soap?" I ask.