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day late afternoon.  It is hot and I am sweating. I try not to wake Katrina and quietly sneak into one of the unoccupied outer offices.  I have been making a habit of watching the zombies. I want to observe their movements, to see if maybe we have a chance to get to the other building or to one of the boats in the bay. They are still there, but there are less of them.  Many of them are huddled around the buildings trying to get in. The ones in the street, there is something off with their movements. They are no longer moving in sync with one another and they do not appear to be near as fast.  They don’t even appear to be running anymore. I zoom in with the binoculars and notice they also look far less human than before.  They have deteriorated at an incredible rate. Far faster than a normal dead person would deteriorate. They are missing entire chunks of skin and some of them are even missing limbs. Their skin that remains is pale and thin.
     
    Anne comes into the room.  “Are you ready?” she asks.
     
    “Yes, but are you?  Are you sure you want to take point?”
     
    “I know how to fire a gun. I have one at home.”
     
    “I understand. But killing someone, it is not easy. If you hesitate …”
     
    “I won’t.”
     
    “Still . . .”
     
    “I am done arguing about this. It is my gun and I am going to use it. You will all stay behind me and I will take care of them.”
     
    “Okay.”  We stand silent for a long moment.
     
    “So, Katrina?”
     
    “What do you mean?”
     
    “Are you two a thing?”
     
    “Frankly, I don’t know. She seems nice and I am glad I was able to save her, but any one of us could be dead before tomorrow.”
     
    “Yeah.  Well, I wanted to let you know I think she is nice.”
     
    “Okay, thanks I guess. Since we are putting stuff out there, why are still letting Remington boss you around?”
     
    “I am not.”
     
    “You kind of are.” She does not respond.
     
    We go to Remington’s office to strategize. Even Remington argues with Anne to not go first, but she cannot be moved. 
     
    “I will not play the damsel in distress,” she says.
     
    We give up, and all head for the door-except of course for Remington.  He lets Tom take his bat. As I hold my sword, I worry that as cool as it looks, that it won’t hold up. It is only a replica after all. What if after the first strike, it shatters. No time for that now. We are here. Tom and I move the desks that were barricading the door.
     
    “Anne, I will open the door and back up. Do not go into the stairwell. Let them come to us. Aim for their heads and shoot them as soon as they get through the door. The three of us will be right behind you to step in,” says Tom.
     
    “Do it,” she says. She has the gun raised and aimed at the door. She looks confident. Tom complies and quickly runs back. Danny is standing in the doorway. Half of his face is sagging and his jaw appears to have lost its place.  He is missing a hand and he is just staring at us. He begins to head for Anne, but slowly. He does not run like the others from before. His gait is off and he moves like the muscles in his legs barely works.
     
    “Wait for him to get through the door,” says Tom.
     
    “I know.”
     
    She waits until Danny is three steps in and shoots him directly between his eyes with one shot. He falls backwards. The other two zombies stand in the doorway now-the emo guy and the teenage girl with braces. Anne only lets them two steps into the doorway before shooting them both with equal skill. She was right. She knows what she is doing. She turns around to face us.
     
    “See, I told you I could do it. I have been firing a gun with my dad for 20 years. He used to …”
     
    My mind wanders from the conversation. Something here is not right, but I can’t quite place it. We left three zombies in the stairwell and she killed three zombies. Danny, the emo kid, and the girl with braces. Danny, the emo kid , and the girl with