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Theo’s attention to the area beyond what he’d come to think of as his own hospital room.
    “Goddamn zombies!” came a gruff exclamation. Whomever it was slammed a door and stomped across a nearby floor in what sounded like heavy boots. “Don’t know what the hell I have to do . . .” His voice trailed off into something unintelligible, but clearly annoyed as he clanged and banged and thudded. “Damn things!”
    Fascinated, the way he might have been by a mountain lion toying with its prey, Theo slid his feet to the floor, cocking his ear to listen. Then he was off the bed and out of the room, following the sounds and padding on bare feet back to the kitchen to find an elderly man sorting energetically through the contents of a pantry.
    Elderly he might be, the man appeared to have excellent hearing—or maybe just a sixth sense for being crept up on—for he turned just as Theo walked in on what he’d thought were silent feet.
    “Who the hell are you?” the man asked, turning from the pantry and skewering Theo with sharp gray eyes. He wore olive green workpants and a matching shirt that strained over a rounded tummy, although he wasn’t by any means fat. Short white hair bristled all over his head as if to match his personality, and rolled-up sleeves exposed surprisingly muscular forearms. “You one of Selena’s friends?”
    “I’m Theo,” he replied, and realized with a start that this man was probably at least a decade or even two older than he and Lou. There weren’t many people who could claim that.
    The man had already dismissed him, turning back to the pantry and muttering in a gruff, nasally tone, “Nobody tells me any damn thing around here. Damn good thing I don’t care.”
    Something bounced out of the closet and tumbled to the floor, eliciting another round of cursing from the man. Before Theo could move to offer assistance, Vonnie stalked into the room.
    “What are you looking for, Frank?” she asked, standing there with her hands on her hips in that age-old way of feminine annoyance.
    “Eh?”
    “What are you looking for?” Vonnie repeated in a louder voice.
    “A goddamn pair of pliers,” he replied. “Don’t need to shout, dammit. Have to fix the damned fence around the—”
    “They’re right here,” Vonnie said, interrupting him as she yanked a drawer open.
    Theo didn’t miss the meaningful look she gave Frank—a tight-lipped glare that meant for him to shut up.
    He either didn’t notice or didn’t care, for he continued his tirade. “Goddamn zombies always have to tramp through my ca—”
    The pair of pliers clattered onto the counter. “Frank,” Vonnie said loudly, “did you eat breakfast?”
    “I didn’t have no breakfast but my damned coffee, as usual,” he growled, snatching up the tool. “Nobody around here to cook when I got up. Everyone sleeping the damn morning away. Damn day’s half over already.”
    Theo had edged farther into the kitchen by now, at once fascinated by the bundle of energy in drab olive and curious about what Vonnie was trying to hide from him. She glanced at him warily, but before she could speak, Theo asked, “How’s Selena?”
    “What the hell’s wrong with Selena?” Frank demanded, pausing for the first time. Was the guy deaf or not? Theo couldn’t figure it out.
    “She’s fine,” Vonnie replied, looking as if she were walking a tightrope.
    “I don’t know why the hell she’s got to mess with those goddamn zombies,” the old man said. But instead of a complaint it sounded more like worried affection. “Leave them be.”
    Theo tried not to look interested, certain that the moment he did, Vonnie would put the kibosh on any further information from Frank. And he realized suddenly that he was more than a little interested in what the hell was going on here.
    He watched as Frank jammed an old baseball cap on his head and snatched up a rifle that had been leaning in the corner. Pliers in hand, he stalked out of the kitchen