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flung dirt in the air as Ralph hit it in reverse. He placed the vehicle between Phil and the afflicted.
    “Can you get in?” Ralph asked.
    Phil crawled forward and dragged himself off the ground and into the backseat next to his son.
    Derrick emptied his weapon into the group. Another one dropped. He took Phil’s rifle and emptied that, too, nailing another two afflicted.
    The ATV’s engine drowned out the screams of the remaining. They lurched forward, cruising down the hill at top speed.
    The leftover afflicted chased after them, falling further behind with every passing second. Would they give up the chase? Or would their hunt never cease?
    Phil glanced at his son. “Nice shooting, Derrick.”
    The young man looked at the gaping wound on his upper arm. His grimace morphed into a smile. It was the first compliment Phil had given his son since Derrick was ten years old and had hit a walk-off home run. “Thanks, Pop.”
    Phil climbed over the front seat and sat down. He placed his hand on the GPS unit. “They still there?”
    Ralph nodded. “Almost a straight shot there. Might as well take advantage of some of these country roads. If things look bad, we’ll just slip into the woods.”
    “The other camp is close.”
    “Yep.”
    “I was in touch with them when this shit went down. We should go there first, see how they fared, how many made it. Might be able to scrounge up a few more men and leave him behind.”
    The both glanced at Derrick, who sat with his head back and eyes closed. If the community was intact, it would be the best place for him. Somewhere he could heal up. Then work to keep things going.
    “You good with that?” Phil asked.
    Ralph said nothing. He had family who were slotted for the southern camp. His ex-wife, along with his two children. Unfortunately, the communications system they had planned to use had failed, so the fate of the group was unknown. Sometimes it seemed as though the thought of Ralph’s family making it to the camp and being alive was all that kept him going.
    “I’m sure they’re fine,” Phil said.
    Ralph nodded. “I’m sure.”
    Soon enough he’d find out.

Chapter 7
    Turk spun toward the front of the room in search of the source of the screams. Skinny stood in the doorway, facing outside. His head turned as if it were attached to a swivel, whipping left to right and back.
    Stepping around heaps of trash and using the empty racks for cover, Turk made his way forward.
    “What’s out there?” he asked Skinny.
    The guy said nothing. Either he saw nothing, or was too scared to speak.
    “What’s going on?” Turk said.
    No response.
    Turk approached the door from the right side, staying clear of the flood of light that splashed across the concrete floor.
    The air went still. Only the ticking and cracking sounds of the building expanding in the humidity were audible. That, and Skinny’s rapid breathing.
    “You see anything?” Turk said.
    Skinny shook his head. His lips trembled. He might not have seen who or what screamed, but he knew what had happened. Turk did, too. A scream like that meant one thing.
    “Okay, look,” Turk said. “You can stay here or you can come with me. If you do, I need you to stay right be-fucking-hind me and keep your mouth shut. Got it?”
    The man took a step back without saying anything. He didn’t need to. Actions spoke.
    “All right.” Turk reached out for Skinny and pulled him into the dark. “Stay right here. I’m going to go check the other building.”
    “Juh-juh-just don’t shoot,” he said. “Please, don’t shoot.”
    Turk ignored the man’s babble. If he were going to kill Skinny, he’d have done it long ago. Another ten seconds of silence passed. Turk slipped out of the building, well aware that he’d exposed himself to anyone watching. The streets were laid out north, south, east and west. The buildings offered a way to stay out of view, but that couldn’t be counted on.
    He heard a cry for help. Baldy? Mike?