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apocalypse would come, and he’d eventually swayed her with conspiracy theories and articles on the blogs he followed with an almost religious fervor. Eventually she’d realized it was plausible, but she’d doubted the day would come in her lifetime. Now he was right, and instead of handling it with aplomb, he’d chosen instead to hide like a child who prays the big, bad thing will go away.
    She didn’t have that luxury, and it ate at her. She’d lost things, too. She’d lost her family, and had had to kill her brother. Not that Jeff knew that, or had even asked. Lorna had learned a lot from Jeff. She’d learned about BOBs and the importance of being prepared. She’d learned how to wield a blade, and he’d helped her build her stamina so she’d stand a better chance of survival when the time came. Yet now he was nearly catatonic with the changes around him, and she was forced to shoulder the load.
    Lorna wasn’t a loner, and she hated the thought of going on her own after everything went to Hell, but she was nearly sorry she’d gone looking for Jeff. She needed help. She didn’t intend to have to carry him along, nagging him like a mother to eat and tend to his needs. And yet… and yet, that seemed to be her lot in this new life. It was bitter as ashes. She didn’t need a man to lead her, and she damn well didn’t want to follow along, d umb as a sheep and just as mute. She did want a partner, though. She wanted to share the responsibility, not bow under the weight of all of it. And here he slept, undisturbed, while she lay awake and seethed, so tired she couldn’t even summon the energy to close her eyes.
    Jeff stirred, and he shot one hand out as though warding someone off. He didn’t speak, but whimpers escaped him as he battled his internal demons. Grudgingly, a pang of sympathy struck Lorna. Obviously his dad had turned first, and he had likely bitten Mrs. Masters. It was achingly clear who had severed the poor woman’s head from her body. Jeff had a right to his nightmares, just as she did. She couldn’t allow her own grief and anger to strike out at him and drive him away. Whether he remained her boyfriend or not, whether their relationship was a lifelong one or just the temporary coupling of teenagers, was moot. What mattered was sticking together for survival. For another pair of hands, and another set of eyes. While they would likely survive on their own, it didn’t mean that they had to.
    Decision made, Lorna felt more secure. She rolled onto her side and rubbed one hand gently, soothingly, up and down Jeff’s arm. He moaned once before settling back into sleep and going silent. She kept the movement up and found it was a balm to her own nerves as well as his, and used it to clear her mind and allow her to think rationally. Idly, it crossed her mind that it was like petting a cat or dog, and she stupidly wished she’d had a pet to bring with her for comfort. Then she winced, knowing an animal likely wouldn’t fare well in this new world. She was almost grateful that her mother found animals to be a disgusting and dirty waste of money. She couldn’t handle losing anyone else.
    It had been a narrow escape. While Jeff stood, dull-eyed and blank, she lunged forward with her new best friend, the crowbar, and waded into the fray. Most of the undead seemed sluggish, but a few thinner ones, ones that were likely health nuts before they died, moved almost as quickly as she did. Those she dispatched first, one quick blow to the head before spinning on the others. She didn’t have the leverage with her weapon to kill them with one blow, but she was able to slow them down enough to kill them… eventually. The slower ones, those who were crippled or overweight, were left for last. She was drenched in sweat and gore before she’d finished, but she was satisfied with the ache in her muscles. She survived… she was no victim.
    That was when her patience waned. She picked up her gear and t he damned