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going on?”
    The appearance of the dead pilot answered her question. Ronald saw the entire world clearly for the first time in his life.
    “The end,” he whispered as the bloodied, drooling thing burst into the cabin.
     

THE GATHERING - Saturday - December 20 th – 10:45 a.m.
    Turner was full of raw, nervous energy. Too many thoughts zoomed inside his mind, threatening to eat away any semblance of sanity.
    He’d killed someone.
    No, several.
    Not a deer, or a hog, or even a rabid dog.
    Human beings .
    Or, what once had been humans. Turner didn’t recognize any of the others he’d shot.
    Except one—and the image, the smell, and the sounds—wormed their way inside his head like a barbed, two-headed venomous snake.
    He’d known Raymond Wright his entire life. Watched the kid skyrocket to local fame, heard the community buzz about scholarships and pro scouts skulking around the football games. Turner remembered him from school, though Raymond was only in the seventh grade when Turner graduated. Even then, playing for the junior high team, Raymond Wright had all the makings, the physical and mental agility, to go far.
    Not anymore.
    Turner ruined Raymond’s chances of achieving football stardom. All with one bullet. He’d taken aim and fired, not even wincing when Raymond’s blood, brain matter, and strips of flesh exploded less than five feet away from his position.
    He’d seen the military descend on his hometown like a plague of locusts. Witnessed a helpless neighbor treated like a treasonous criminal and executed in his own front yard.
    Stephen Sikes was only fifteen when his life ended in a flash.
    In front of his poor mother.
    Turner had been ordered at gunpoint by soldiers to leave under the threat of bodily harm. He’d watched the love of his life yanked away by the same goons while he’d be unable to stop them.
    Seeing the videos Seth sent him earlier were awful. They paled in comparison to actually experiencing, in real-time, people turn into flesh-eating creatures.
    Taking them out would haunt his dreams forever.
    Turner had played simulated, live-action video games all his life. He’d spent hours upon hours with his friends, stalking, shooting, blowing shit up. Real life was harsh, cruel, and downright sickening. Virtual reality didn’t account for the horrid smells.
    All of those issues were bad enough, yet the one bothering Turner the most was the overwhelming anger burning inside his mind. He knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill one of the sick. Considering what they were dealing with, Turner thought the response normal.
    What scared him more than anything was he knew he wouldn’t bat an eye if he killed a soldier. If one of them stood in their way of saving others, tried to hurt any of his loved ones, they’d be toast. The shift in his moral compass, and willingness to murder to save others, made Turner wonder if he was in the early stages of turning.
    Was that how the sickness starts? Your mind blocks out everything but anger, embraces hate? Jesus, how is this even happening? What’s turning people into monsters? How does it spread? Why are some sick and others aren’t? When will this nightmare end?
    With the world turned upside down, Turner felt physically ill as he followed his dad, mom, and the others toward the gym. Four years of his life had been spent in the familiar area, eating lunch with his friends, attending basketball games, taking Jesse to the prom. Seeing the place full of terrified people and armed soldiers made his head spin. He wondered how many residents had already been processed and deemed clear. Did they leave and head home, only to find the world they’d known their entire lives gone?
    Did they even make it home?
    Had the soldiers told them what was really happening? Given them any guidance or tips on what to watch out for, signs of contamination, what to do when confronted by a walking corpse?
    “Son, you okay?”
    The voice of his mother brought Turner out of his