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door. Judy panicked. She had let herself get cornered. She did not think the zombies followed her into the complex. They could not have smelled her all the way up here. She knew the walkers would give up on a solid door after a few attempts. This one continued to rattle and pound, until she thought the wood would splinter.
    Finally the door popped open. Judy grabbed the nearest item for defense, an umbrella. Good choice, she sarcastically told herself. Luckily, Judy did not need the weapon. She looked into the face of a man in a boy’s body. He carried a baby in a crude sling over his shoulder and chest. Next to him stood the dirtiest girl Judy had ever seen. The poor thing’s blonde hair matted down to her head with who knew what grime.
    Judy knew who she was looking at. She did not have to refer back to the journal for the names Zac and Holly. Judy had no concern for the undead out in the streets right now or where she would get her next meal. Her only thought came out in a question.
    “Did you name your baby yet?”
    Zac looked at her in shock. He must not have made the connection that she read his journal. A brief explanation from Judy helped him understand.
    “I’m not giving him a name until I’m back with Liz,” said the hardened youth. Judy looked at the dark curls surrounding his head. The baby boy had a tiny matching set.
    “Do you think she went south with Matthew?” Judy asked.
    “I plan to find out. We gathered the last of our supplies. If we can find a working car, or maybe some bicycles, we are leaving for the turnpike today,” explained Zac .
    “Towards Miami?” said Judy.
    “Then Key Largo or Key West. However far it takes. You can come with us if you want,” said Zac .
    Judy considered the boy. Considered his offer. She had made a life on her own in this nightmare. She did not know if she was ready to travel with anybody. The thoughts turned her mind back to New York. Back to what she called the Dark Days, before she got out. Back then, she thought she could turn to someone powerful like Bueller , in his tall, glass fortress. The guards with their machine guns would not let anyone, human or otherwise, close to the building when things started to get really bad. Judy remembered another misfit group of survivors. She almost went to them, but ended up on her own. She let her memories of New York carry her back to those Dark Days. She thought about the self-created legend of Randall Bueller . She thought about the myth of superheroes.
     
A Legendary Headache
 
    Randall Bueller , Randy to his friends, sighed and rubbed his forehead. Always with the fucking distractions. It was like managing a bunch of children. What do we do about it Randy? Boss, we have a problem on the east wall. Randy, water is running low. For five years, they endlessly whined about this and that. Now to top it all, the last thing he needed in his private community with limited resources was a greedy sneak thief. He sat up straight, fixed his false smile, lit a fresh cigar and pressed the intercom.
    “Send him in.”
    The guards brought in a dishevelled man from the lower levels. His mandatory ID badge proclaimed him a Level Two resident, very small fish indeed. He looked to be in his late forties, but more ragged and sallow than his age should allow. His cheeks had the hollowed look of the malnourished and his clothes were little more than rags. Despite this he was struggling valiantly against the guards.
    “The thief, sir. A Mister Ernest Miller.”
    Randy tried not to let the disgust for this creature show. It was tiresome being a bloody diplomat all the time.
    “What do you have to say for yourself Mr. Miller? We have footage of you stealing food from a market stall in the compound.” Bueller gestured towards a bank of cameras on the wall in his office. “The camera never lies.”
    “It’s my daughter sir. She’s starving. Doc Mendez says she needs more vitamins. Our rations just aren’t enough. She’s very weak