“I hope you don’t mind, but your underclothes were filthy,” she said.

“It’s only our first date. I usually don’t take my clothes off, you know, until the third,” Bell said. He saw her smile. She’d taken her hair clip off and her long blond hair was beautiful. It was the first time he’d seen her really smile, and it was reassuring.

“You have a tattoo,” she said.

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Neither was my mom,” Bell said.

“It said something, but I didn’t want to stare.”

“This one is for fighting, this one is for fun,” Bell said. He’d had a .45 pistol tattooed on his right side, next to the old-soldier’s limerick. “I got it when I was very inebriated.”

“I see.”

“Thank you,” Bell said. “Maybe he’ll come back. Your boyfriend.”

“No, he won’t,” she said. She was sitting on the edge of the bed holding the bowl of soup. “Do you want some more?”

“Yes, please. I don’t remember the last time I ate. Yes I do—it was this morning, at the base with my sergeant.” She held the spoon up to his lips and he let her feed him more soup. “Were you engaged?”

“Yes. I guess. Something like that,” Lacy said.

He took the half-full bowl of soup from her hands and put it down on the nightstand next to him. She started to cry. He watched the tears well up in her eyes and roll down her pretty cheeks. He didn’t know what to say to make her feel better, so he said nothing.

What do I say: Your boyfriend is a prick and you’re better off without him?

“I was in love with him,” she said. “So stupid. I never thought he would just leave.”

Bell reached for her hand without thinking about it and held it. “Is there another car?”

“His truck. But I think he said it’s low on gas. That’s why he took the other car.”

“Your father wanted us to meet him at some place,” Bell said.

“Chuck Phelps’s ranch.”

“Is it far?”

“About eight miles from here. It’s next door to our place.”

“I don’t understand. Why don’t we just meet him at your place?”

“I don’t know,” Lacy said. “Chuck is kind of a Prepper. You know, like on TV.”

“You could have left me,” Bell said. “Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just couldn’t leave you. It seemed wrong to leave a sick person. I want to be a doctor. What kind of doctor would I be if I did that? Robin was afraid that you would turn into one of them. What we saw today. What happened to my sister. The TV said it might be a virus—what’s doing this to people.”

“It might be,” Bell said. “I touched those things. This morning. What if he’s right?”

“What if he’s wrong?” she said. “No one could know yet what’s doing it. How could they?”

“So we have a car, but no gas. No weapon. And you have to drag along an invalid.”

“Looks like it. Do you think you can leave? Are you strong enough?” she asked.

“I think so,” Bell said. “I’ll get up.”

Lacy moved off the edge of the bed and backed away. “Do you want help?”

“No. No. Time to man up, I guess. We need weapons—some kind of weapons,” he said, standing up. He reached for the flight suit and put it on over the clean underwear she’d taken from Wood. “And some warm clothes.”

“Of course,” she said. She took him up to Robin’s room and watched him pick out a blue Mackinaw coat.

“I want to clean up, too,” she said. “I kept some clothes here.”

“Okay. I’ll see about the truck,” Bell said.

“Would you—? I mean—this is strange, but—”

“Just ask,” Bell said.

“Would you stand by the door of the bathroom—while I shower?”

Bell nodded.

“Thanks. Do you think we’re going to die, lieutenant?”

“You want me to lie?” he said.

“No,” Lacy said. “I want the truth.”

“I don’t really know,” Bell said. “It doesn’t look good, does it?”

*   *   *

“Give me that Thompson,” Rebecca said. She was bloody and tried to tear the machine gun out of Quentin’s hand.

He had to grab her wrist to stop her. “What’s going on?”

“My father. There’s something wrong with him. He just tried to kill me,” Rebecca said.

“Where’s the boy?”

“He’s down there. He wouldn’t help me hold my dad down! I’m going to kill him,” Rebecca said.

“Hold on!” Quentin said.

“Fucking coward. We’ve got to get a doctor for my dad!” Rebecca said.

“Rebecca!” Quentin slapped her.

She stopped yelling. “You done? Now go get my dad a doctor. We had to hide down here when those things came. I’m going to kill him. He’s a fucking coward! Summers,” she said again.

“Where’s your dad?”

“In the basement. I had to tie him up. Now, go get him a doctor!” Rebecca said.

“There is no doctor, Rebecca,” Quentin said.

The girl looked at him. Her cheek, where he’d slapped her, was bright red. Most girls would have cried out after being hit like that, but she’d taken the slap like it was nothing.

“You can’t shoot him,” Quentin said.

“Why not? He’s a little bitch. I had to fight with my father. I might have hurt him. He wouldn’t help me.”

“Rebecca! Listen to me! We need that boy alive right now. We need everyone we can get to help us. If we’re going to survive.”

“What about my dad?”

“Is he—is he one of them?”

“I don’t know. He started talking crazy a little while ago. And he hit me. He’s never hit me in his life!”

Quentin saw Summers come up the stairs. He was pale and looked like he’d been through hell.

Rebecca turned around and looked at Gary Summers as he came through the door.  His bicycle tunic was torn and hanging off of him. Rebecca took a swing at him and hit him in the side of the head with her fist. He stumbled over one of the dead Howlers and fell down, but immediately stood up.

“You have to kill her father, sheriff. He’s one of them,” the kid said, holding the side of his head where Rebecca had punched him.

“Shut up!” Rebecca said. “I wasn’t going to let him shoot my father. You fucking asshole.” She lunged at Summers again. Quentin had to stand between them to protect the boy.

“I wanted to shoot him, but she took the gun away,” Gary said.

“All right, boy. It’s all right,” Quentin said. “Rebecca, listen to me. I want you to go outside and make sure Dillon has all the .216 ammo and .45 and .9mm you’ve got in the store. All right? We found the stuff behind the counter. But I’m hoping there’s more stored somewhere.”

“Yeah, there’s more than that,” she said, looking at Summers. “You better hope those things get you before I do, motherfucker.”

“I’ll go down and see about your father,” Quentin said.

“No. I’ll do it,” Dillon said. He’d come back into the store. “Where is he?”

“He needs a doctor,” Rebecca said.

Dillon was cradling the Thompson in his arms. “What’s wrong with him?” Dillon said.

“He’s acting crazy,” Rebecca said.

Dillon looked at Quentin.

“Okay. I’ll go down and talk to him,” Dillon said.

“He’s one of them!” Summers said. “You have to kill him!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Rebecca said.

Dillon walked up to the girl. “What did he do? Your father.”

“He started talking crazy and—”

Dillon punched her in the jaw. Rebecca fell on the ground like she’d been shot. “You better hold onto her,” he said. “I’ll go kill him. That’s what they do just before they become one of them—talk crazy. I saw it happen down south.” Dillon walked down the stairs to the basement and disappeared into the dark. In a moment they heard the Thompson bark.

*   *   *

It was snowing. The shovel Marvin had bought at Home Depot for gardening in the spring was new, and its end sharp. Vivian Poole’s small body was lying wrapped up in a pink blanket he’d taken from her bed. He looked up and saw snow falling through the late afternoon, the light failing quickly. “Snow devils” kicked up by the strong wind danced across the big white-with-snow lawn where they’d planned to put in a vegetable garden that summer. At the edge of the big yard was a deer fence he’d had put up; it was vinyl-covered chain link, and bright green, and brand new looking. Beyond the fence was the U.S. Forest Service forest. its snow-covered pines tall and dark, dominating the landscape as far as the eye could see. The trees looked ancient in the failing light. There were dark lightless spaces between grey trunks. The dark spaces looked like tunnels to nowhere.