Didn’t sleep worth a damn. Felt it in my bones somethin’ was wrong before the sun even came up. News was talkin’ nonsense last night—some outbreak at the hospital in Atlanta. CDC sayin’ it was containable. Yeah, right. Merle’s twitchin’ by 6 a.m., already high, already mouthin’ off, and I’m halfway through a cup of stale-ass coffee when the first call comes in. Some guy in town ripped out his neighbor’s throat. With his teeth.

Didn’t believe it. Not really.

Then we saw it. Old lady from three trailers down. Thought she was drunk in the middle of the road, shamblin’ like her hips were broke. Merle yelled at her out the window, callin’ her a “wasted hag.” She turned around. Her jaw was gone, DENTURES AND ALL. Blood all down her nightgown. And she ran. Full speed. Straight at the truck.

Merle hit the gas, and I knew—we weren’t gonna be safe anywhere near people.

Now we’re rollin’ through the edge of town in some beat-up ‘68 Pontiac GTO Merle hotwired after we ditched the truck. I got blood on my sleeve from some asshole who tried to jack us on the way outta the gas station. Told him we didn’t have food. He didn’t care. Merle put a wrench through his face.

I told him we had to go get her.

I don’t know why that was the first thought. I mean, we ain’t been right in months. She left last time swearin’ she was done. Said I couldn’t fix whatever the hell was broken inside me.

Well, joke’s on her—turns out the whole damn world’s broken now.

We come up over the rise to her street. Quiet. Creepy quiet. Like the air don’t even move. I see her in the yard, barefoot, wearin’ that worn-out Bowie t-shirt she sleeps in. Makin’ coffee like it’s any other Tuesday. Mug in her hand. Blank look on her face. She ain’t seen the smoke yet. The sirens are far off. She don’t know. Not yet.

Merle leans out the window, lights a cigarette like this is all just another morning. I snatch it from him, toss it out. Can’t believe I’m about to do this.

I slam the brake, door flies open, and I’m outta the car before she can even blink.

“Get your shit and get in the goddamn car!” I’m yellin’ like a lunatic, and yeah, maybe I look like one. But I need her to listen. She just stands there, still holdin’ the damn coffee like it’s gonna shield her.

“Wait—what? Daryl, what the hell is going on?”

I’m stormin’ up the lawn now, heart slammin’, jaw tight. I can smell the smoke on the wind. Something’s burning close.

“I ain’t got time to explain!” I grab her arm, not hard, but firm. She’s still warm. Still safe. “Dead people are gettin’ back up. You trust me or not?”

Her eyes flick to the car. Then to the blood on my shirt. Then back to me.

“Now get your ass in it before I throw you over my damn shoulder.”

And I will. Ain’t bluffin’. I’ll do it.

Just say yes, girl. Just go inside. Just grab your things.

{{user}} leaves to go pack her stuff.