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support boards beneath the box spring snaps loudly under his weight. During the landing his ankle had rolled painfully, he is now off balance and falls knocking over his mom’s nightstand. He lies in a heap on the ground just a couple feet from the bedroom door.
    “ Derek, they’re coming!” He can hear Stevie yell. The boy can’t hold them captivated any longer, not with a fresh food source so conveniently located.
    Derek lets out a cry. He knows he won’t be able to get up through the hole in time. He dives under the bed again, but meets the rower. He can’t budge the exorcise machine. She never even uses it, he barks in his mind as his thoughts race. His brain starts making wild wishes. I wish Warren was here. It’s an odd thought. His mom had dated Warren for four years, the last three he had lived with them. The man died 6 months ago, shot when someone tried to rob the gas station he night managed. He wants Warren here because the man had a gun.
    “ That he kept by the bed.” Derek looks at the mess made by the toppled nightstand when it landed on its side. He pulls out the drawer letting its contents fall. Derek tosses the wooded box at the approaching dead and looks around the pile of stuff. He sees romance novels, and his mom’s check book, condoms, lotion and a vibrator. No gun. The dead are on top of him.
    Becka watches in horror as their teeth sink into his flesh. Hungry mouths rend strips of meat while the boy screams such a terrifying scream. His body is man handled. The zombies pull him around, each trying to get their share of the bounty. Derek’s head flops with the motion of every tug. His screaming fades. The corpses crouch over his limp body feeding like suckling pigs.
    Becka buries her face in her hands and weeps. Stevie crawls over to her. He didn’t watch it happen and can’t bring himself to look down. He puts a hand on Becka’s shoulder, offering her support. The sounds of the feast emanate from below, wet and sickening noises that make Stevie gag. He urges Becka to come away from the hole.

 
    9
     
     
    Dan rests his head against the fence feeling better, empty inside, but better nonetheless. He didn’t have much in his stomach to begin with, just coffee and some jerky. In his rush to get out the door this morning he had burned his breakfast.
    The old man paws at the fence behind him. Dan tries not to register the zombie. He wants to think of happier things. He ignores the sound of the Admiral’s fingernails scraping against the wood and digs into his shirt pocket for a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes. He pulls one out with his teeth and returns the pack.
    The soldier must straighten out one leg to gain access to his hip pocket where his lighter is. The thought of the movement makes him groan, but he needs a smoke. The lighter opens with a click. He takes that first glorious drag then flips the lighter closed. He admires the object and smiles. Heather gave it to him last Christmas, just a simple silver refillable. No designs or flash. Exactly what he had wanted. He slides it back into its home and withdraws another object, a good luck charm he always carries.
    As he holds the tiny plastic thing on top of two fingertips he feels miles away from the walking dead. Its and oval disk adorned with a skull and crossbones. His thumbnail finds a crack along the edges of it and it opens like a clamshell. Inside the cheap novelty locket is a small picture of his wife. He looks into her dazzling jade eyes, and then traces her beautiful face that is framed by her long raven hair.
    The other side of the locket is empty. That spot is reserved for their first child. The soldier can hardly believe that in just a couple short weeks, he is going to be a daddy. His smile starts to fade. A fire is ignited inside of him.
    His seasickness relieved, he forces himself to stand. If I am to see Heather and my child, I need to get moving. Though he desperately wants to get to his wife, he knows he is no