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shock.
    “Are you hurt?” Alice signed.
    Becky didn’t respond. Alice shook her, gently, and locked eyes with her. But the child’s gaze wandered away, her eyes going in and of focus. Alice signed again.
    “Baby… look at me! Can you move?”
    Still no reply. Becky’s fingers were silent.
    “I’m going to get out so I can pull you free,” Alice signed.
    Becky just stared.
    Alice coughed as smoke swirled more thickly around them, and crawled out through the bent, wrenched-open door, getting to her knees, immediately turning to pull her daughter out, hands gripping her upper arms, trying to not to drag her through broken glass.
    She got Becky clear, all the time looking for the Undead. She saw some in the distance, past the steaming truck. She couldn’t see the driver of the totaled vehicle—just a splash of blood running down the inside of the crack-webbed windshield.
    Becky sat up, hugging herself, rocking, and put her thumb in her mouth, sucking it like a baby.
    Alice knelt by the front of the car, looked in to see Rain—or whoever she was—hanging upside down from her seat belt, her jacket making it difficult to see. She didn’t appear to be breathing—most likely she was dead. Her hair and arms dangled down limply… a little blood dripped down from a gash on her head.
    If she was dead, or dying, would she resurrect as Undead? Alice wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t going to risk Becky by sticking around and finding out.
    Glancing around, as if through a haze, Alice saw that they were on the edge of a housing estate she’d passed by many times on the way to the supermarket. The sign over the gate read S UNDOWN M EADOWS . One of the big, split-level homes was burning out of control, almost entirely consumed by a single great red-and-blue flame. But there was no sign of fire trucks.
    The next house’s roof was caved in by something that she had to stare at for a moment to recognize— it was the crashed, warped wreckage of a news helicopter, embedded in the top of the garage. Its rotor blades were still lazily turning, swirling the gray smoke that rose from its engine.
    Alice looked at her daughter—Becky was still in a state of shock.
    Movement down the block caught her eye. A cluster of Undead, gathered at the next corner, was turning their way.
    Time to get a move on. But it was hard to know which way to turn. It seemed as if nowhere was really safe. Suddenly Alice felt sick to her stomach; felt pins and needles in her feet and hands.
    Is it a concussion from the wreck? But she didn’t have time for that. “Come on,” she signed to Becky, and scooped her daughter up, felt Becky’s legs reflexively clasp her around the waist as she carried her toward the upscale housing project—one large home, directly across from them, seemed intact, might be untouched. Perhaps the people had fled, had gotten away. Maybe there were no Undead inside— because there was no one there to eat.
    Arms and back aching, Alice forced herself to run. They crossed the street and she climbed the porch stairs of the big house. The door was slightly ajar, as if someone had left in a hurry. She kicked it open the rest of the way with one foot and carried Becky inside, set her on her feet.
    The house seemed empty.
    Becky began coming out her fugue. She looked vaguely around, and then signed, with jerky movements of her hands.
    “What… are we… going… to do?”
    “We’re going to be safe,” Alice signed. Lying with my fingers , she thought. “Someone will come and help us.”
    “What about Daddy?”
    Alice licked her lips, assumed a neutral expression.
    “Daddy’s going to be okay. We’ll see him soon.” She couldn’t face telling Becky what she suspected, not right now. Later, if they lived, there’d be time to grieve for Todd.
    She went to the door and looked out at the intersection, the still smoking car wreck, and the woman she thought of as “Rain”… who was moving . Rain was struggling, still hanging upside