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I looked at him. “Sorry to hear that, Ty.”

“It happens.”

“She doing okay?”

“Yeah. After we parted ways, she started shacking up with some Air Force type. A captain, I think. Lives on base with him now.”

I thought about asking him what drove the two of them apart, but decided against it. Instead, I asked, “What about you? Where are you living?”

“Over in Tenth District, just south of the university.”

“Oh. So you’re not far from us then.”

“Nope. Sorry it took so long to track you down. You know how long it takes the intake center to update the roster.”

I nodded. The ‘roster’ he referred to was a central directory of refugees who made it to Colorado Springs maintained by the people working at the refugee intake center. They also kept a list of the missing and deceased (M&D), all gleaned from information taken from refugees upon arrival. Any day of the week, the former department store housing the roster was awash with worried relatives anxiously searching for the names of loved ones on the refugee list, and if not there, the M&D list. It was a place of joy and tears. But mostly tears.

I remembered reporting my father, Lauren, and Blake deceased when I arrived, speaking in a dead monotone, vaguely hoping Tyrel or one of the others would see it. “Did you find us on the roster?”

“Yeah. You, Mike, and Sophia anyway. When I didn’t see the others’ names, I checked the M&D.”

I swallowed and cleared my throat. “So you knew before you came to see us.”

“Yeah. I took it pretty hard at first.”

“At first?”

His skin color darkened. “Sorry, Caleb. I waited a while. Two weeks, in fact. Had to get my head straight. Didn’t want to show up a blubbering mess.”

I wondered if I should be angry, but then decided I did not have the energy for it. “It’s okay, Ty. I understand.”

We said nothing else about it.

The street parted ahead of us. An Army Humvee came rolling slowly through with a gray-haired, stony-faced general sitting in the passenger’s seat. There was a livid scar above his right eye, and as the Humvee passed, I could not help but feel like I had seen the general somewhere before. Dismissing the thought, I said to Tyrel, “So what are you doing for work these days?”

He watched the Humvee drive away. “I was working with a salvage crew for a while, but they disbanded. General partners had a falling out, split up the business and went their separate ways. So I filled out a resume at the intake center and took a job with one of the volunteer militias. That was about three weeks ago. What about you?”

I grimaced. “Civil Construction Corps.”

“Shit. You’re not working on the wall, are you?”

I nodded.

He shook his head angrily. “Caleb, that ain’t no kind of a job for you, and you know it.”

“What else am I supposed to do? Join the Army?”

“It’s not a bad option.”

I glared at him from the corner of my eye. “No, Ty.”

“Well, what about the militias? You’re perfect for that sort of work.”

“Like hell,” Sophia said, speaking up for the first time since we had left the caravan district. She slipped her hand into mine. “I’d rather have him dead-tired than just plain dead.”

Tyrel gave her a hard look. “Did you ever bother to ask him what he wants to do?”

She ground her teeth, but said nothing. I let out a long sigh. “Okay, kids, no fighting. Today’s been hard enough without you two going at each other.”

By Ty’s face, I surmised he remembered Sophia saying goodbye to her father less than twenty minutes ago. He had the good grace to look chagrined. “Sorry, Sophia.”

“Don’t be. I’m in a mood today.”

“And you have every right to be.”

We walked a little farther in silence, then out of curiosity I asked, “Ty, what happened to your hair?”

He chuckled. “Head lice. You believe that shit? My first week in the field with the salvage crew, and I come down with fucking head lice. Had to shave it bald and douse my head and all my clothes with powder. Had to buy a new bedroll too.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “Talk about kicking a man while he’s down.”

Tyrel smiled.

“Heard anything from Lance lately?”

“Yeah. He’s back to being a cop again, works on the south side of town. Haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks, but last I heard he’s doing all right.”

“Glad to hear it.”

A short time later, we arrived at Ty’s street. “I’m up this way,” he said, pointing down a row of shipping containers virtually indistinguishable from the street I lived on.

I said, “Don’t be a stranger, Ty. You know where we live, now. You’re welcome any time.”

“Duly noted. Y’all take care.”

I put my arm around Sophia, feeling the tension in her shoulders, and held her tight against me on the walk home. When we arrived, I opened the padlock, unwrapped the chain from the front doors, and swung them wide. The two of us sat on the floor, drank tepid water, and stared at nothing. The place seemed too quiet, too empty, and even more squalid than usual. It is not until someone is gone that you realize what an influence they have on your life, and your home. There is an energy to each human being, to each life, and it affects the people around them whether they realize it or not.

It was mid-afternoon before Sophia spoke again. “He’ll be all right, won’t he?”

I glanced up at the soft chestnut eyes, full lips, and the delicate fall of hair. My heart constricted at how beautiful she was, even dirty and dressed in clothes little better than rags. The fact I could not provide a better life for her made me want to break something. “He’s a smart man, Sophia. He knows how to take care of himself.”

“Just tell me he’s going to be okay. Please.”

“He’s going to be okay.”

She pushed her hair out of her face, and said, “You know what? Don’t. It sounds like you’re bullshitting me.”

I did not know what to say to that, so as usual, I didn’t say anything.

FORTY-NINE

The warmth of summer faded into the chill of autumn.

We passed the days as best we could, living and working and hoping that someday, somehow, things would get better. It was the same hope people had before the Outbreak when they climbed in their cars, or public transportation, and whisked off to jobs they hated in order to pull in a paycheck and keep the fire burning for another day. There are no promises, and some days it seems pointless, but what else are you supposed to do?

In the mornings, I would go to the end of the street and get our water, carry it back, and then we would have breakfast. Afterward, I left for my job building the wall, while Sophia left for hers on a cleanup crew. We had to make sure the place was locked up tight before leaving, as theft was rampant in the refugee districts. Leaving a door or a hatch unlocked was as good as throwing your possessions into the street.

Sophia’s job, from the way she described it, mostly consisted of tearing down buildings with heavy equipment and then loading the refuse into large trucks. My job involved walking an hour to the job site, engaging in backbreaking labor for ten hours, punctuated by a thirty minute lunch break, and then enduring the long slog home.

Some days it rained, and the job site shut down. The rest was nice, but the government docked our pay.

In the evenings, either Sophia or I would heat some water in a metal pot and wash one another with damp rags. I found it amazing how little water it takes to wash when you have no soap, and consequently, do not have to worry about rinsing.

Sometimes, when we had the strength, we made love. Most nights, however, we ate a bland meal, read books from the public library (delivered to the refugee districts by volunteers), and slept. The next day, we got up and did it all again.

The fighting north of town never stopped, but it did slacken in pace. There were trenches, miles and miles of trenches, dug along the northern perimeter a few miles from the city. The Army crouched behind these trenches at night, and during the day, they made forays in armored vehicles. They located hordes, lured them to various killing grounds, and waited while fortified bulldozers, bucket loaders, and other heavy construction equipment squashed the infected into paste. With the undead immobilized, the troops dug enormous mass graves and pushed the bodies in by the thousands. Something close to half of them were still kicking and biting when they went over the edge, but the troops buried them anyway. It was easier and less dangerous than finishing them off, and used less ammo.