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candle. “It’s a little skuzzy, but maybe tomorrow we could clean it and go swimming. It might be the closest thing we have to a shower for a while.”
    “Maybe.”
    I still had my messenger bag looped over my shoulder. I pulled it up over my head, along with the gun and set them on the bed. My tennis shoes had been very nice Converse before I wore them all to hell, and I slipped them off. When I sat down on the bed, my feet throbbed painfully.
    “I don’t wanna walk tomorrow,” Harlow said. “I don’t think I can do that much again.”
    She sat on the bed next to me, and I looked over at her feet for the first time. They were covered in bloody, swollen blisters.
    “Holy hell!” I gaped at her wounds.
    “I know. When I pulled off my socks, they were full of blood.” She stared down at her feet wearily for a second, and then looked sharply at me. “Don’t worry. It was all my blood. Those are army grade boots, and they don’t have any holes. I double checked.”
    “Those boots are killing your feet, though. They’re way too big!” I wanted to get up off the bed and take them from her, so she couldn’t let them mutilate her feet anymore, but I wasn’t ready to move just yet.
    “But they’re great for kicking in zombie’s heads.”
    “Yeah, but I haven’t seen you kick any zombie’s heads since I met you.” I shook my head. “You can get gangrene and lose your feet. And there’s no way you can go swimming like that.”
    “What? Why not?”
    “The water is probably contaminated with the virus, and you have open wounds,” I said. “Even if it’s not full of the zombie virus, it’s probably has something that would cause a major infection. In fact, come here.”
    “I am here.”
    “Come closer. I don’t know why you argue so much. Have I led you wrong yet?”
    She sighed and scooted over to me. I put her feet on the bed, setting the argyle sweater underneath them. I reached in my bag and dug out a bottle of alcohol. Beck had told me to always be sure to pack plenty of bandages for wrapping wounds and lots of alcohol. It might not stop the zombie virus, but it would suck to die from tetanus.
    “This might sting,” I warned her, and before she could protest, I poured it on her feet. She let out such a shrill scream, I would’ve thought someone cut her leg off. “Harlow! Shh! It’s okay!”
    Within a minute, I heard feet pounding up the stairs, and Blue threw open the bedroom door, gun in his hand. I reached for my gun, but I only put my hand on it.
    “Is everything okay?” Blue scanned the room.
    “Yeah, I was just cleaning her feet.” I pointed to Harlow’s damaged appendages.
    “Are there zombies in there?” Lazlo shouted from somewhere down the hall.
    “No, it’s all clear,” Blue yelled back at him and lowered his gun.
    “You used to be a doctor, right?” Harlow asked him. “She’s killing my feet.”
    “Do you want me to check them out?” Blue offered, stepping closer to where we sat. “I mean, I wasn’t board certified, but I can clean a few cuts.”
    “Yes, please.” Harlow nodded and glared distrustfully at me.
    “Alright, whatever.” I threw my hands up and stood, wincing at the pain in my own feet. “She’s all yours, Doc.”
    Blue took my spot on the bed and talked to Harlow, reassuring her that everything would be all right, and examined her feet. After a few minutes of listening to him soothe her, I was convinced that he didn’t have plans to rape and murder us.
    I excused myself to get some food. Since I was hydrated and a little rested, my stomach remembered that it was starving.
    The downstairs was lit with lots of candles, too. Thank god for Crate & Barrel. Lazlo stood by the patio doors in the living room, but I went into the kitchen without saying anything to him.
    He left a can opener out on the counter, and I used it to open a can of salmon. I grabbed a fork, eating it right of the can, and I made my way back to the living room.
    “The cat is