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banging against the stalls,
snarling and growling. I left the barn, blinking in the bright
sunlight again. I made my way to the front of the estate, jogging
down the driveway. The compound was lined with double fences and
trees. Outside of that was ‘the moat.’ Really, it was a deep and
wide ditch that worked as zombie sink holes, preventing the undead
from pushing on the fences—like they had done once before.
    “Hey,” I called as I approached the guard
tower. The sun was almost directly overhead, making it impossible
to keep my eyes open as I looked up.
    “Hi, Orissa,” someone answered and came out
of the stone structure.
    “Did you happen to see Hayden leave?”
    “Yeah,” he answered and I recognized the
voice to belong to an A3 named Jones. “He left just around
sunrise.”
    “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I
muttered to myself. “Did he say where he was going?”
    “Yeah, the farms.”
    “Sure he did,” I muttered again. “Ok,
thanks.” I turned on my heel and went back into the house, going
directly downstairs. I detoured to the weapons room so I could get
my bow and arrows. I punched in the code to open the door and
stepped in.
    Right away I noticed the shelves were scary
low on ammo. We had dozens of rifles, shotguns, pistols, and
machine guns. All had been cleaned to the point of gleaming. But
what good would they do when we had no bullets?
    I unbuckled my belt and slid the sheath of a
knife through it so that the blade rested on my hip. I picked up my
bow and held it in front of me, making sure nothing had been messed
up when it had been cleaned. I liked not having to scrape the
zombie goo from my weapons, but it bothered me to have someone else
messing with my bow. I drew the string back, testing the pull.
Satisfied, I set it down and picked up my quiver, filled it with
arrows, and slung it over my head. I grabbed the bow again and went
to the back of the room.
    The tunnel door stuck when it opened. I
yanked it hard and got hit with a blast of stale air. A path had
been worn on the dust and dirt covered floor from people walking in
and out of the tunnel. It wasn’t used very often. It was dingy and
creepy and full of spiders. But it was a direct—and safe—route to
the farms. If Hayden really did take over, I’d have him enforce the
use of the tunnel. Why waste the gas driving to the barns and
fields?
    I turned around, stepping back into the
weapons storage room and grabbed a flashlight. Then I went back
into the tunnel and closed the door behind me. I clicked the
flashlight on and made my way down the dark hall.
    There was a steep and narrow stair case at
the end of the tunnel. I hooked my arm through the bow so that it
hung on my shoulder and climbed up the stone steps. There was a
small platform at the top of the stairs. Double doors guarded the
entrance to the tunnel and could only be unlocked from the inside.
I twisted the heavy wheel lock and the metal bars that held the
door banged into place, echoing down the long hall.
    The steel door creaked and slowly opened.
Holding the flashlight in my mouth, I pulled it closed and opened
the second door. Spiderwebs crackled when I pushed the door open.
Refusing to let myself be bothered by them, I stepped through that
door and flipped the lock to the exterior door, which looked like
an old fashioned root cellar.
    I turned off the flashlight and looked out,
making sure the coast was clear. The exit to the tunnel was outside
of the fences near where the cars were parked. A shed had been
built around the trap doors. Sunlight filtered through the slats in
the wood and the little building smelled like hay and grain. I
stepped out and closed the doors, brushing dust from my shirt. I
stood perfectly still and listened.
    Birds chirruped and I heard voices in the
distance. I closed the door and stepped out of the shed to see our
small herd of cows lazily grazing under the warm sun. I hiked up a
small hill, looking for the people who were