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eyes, found the dirt floor.
    “Bus wasn’t killed in a firefight with Jerry’s men.”
    The older man’s eyebrow twitched, but otherwise he gave no indication of even having heard her.
    Angela continued. “I was in the room with Bus when all this went down. We surrendered, Keith. We threw down our weapons and we unlocked the door. And Jerry and his men come barging into the room, they surround us. And then Jerry and Bus are arguing about the infected and Jerry starts yelling for Bus to shut up. And the next thing I know, Jerry points that big, sawed-off shotgun right at Bus and shoots him in the chest.”
    Keith closed his eyes and grimaced as though he were being forced to eat something he wanted none of. “Goddammit, Angela.”
    She reached out and grabbed the older man’s shoulder. “Keith, listen to me.”
    Tired: “I’m listenin’.”
    “Bus didn’t die right away. He was alive for a few more seconds, and I ran over to him, knelt down next to him. I was asking them to help, asking them to get something to stop the bleeding, but nobody moved.” Angela realized that her throat was constricting again. “They all just stood around and watched him die. But he said something to me, Keith. He looked right at me and he said, ‘Take it, Angela. You have to take it’.”
    She swiped at her eyes as though they had betrayed her. “I didn’t know what he was talking about, Keith. I didn’t realize it because I was too confused. I was thinking about Abby and getting back to her and that was the only thing I could grasp.” She jabbed her index finger into her thigh to punctuate her next words. “But he was talking about this! He was talking about Camp Ryder. He was telling me not to let it die, not to give up on it.”
    Keith grimaced. “He was dying, Angela. You have no idea what was goin’ through that man’s head. For all you know, he could have been delirious.”
    She shook her head. “No. You weren’t there, Keith. You didn’t see his eyes. He looked right at me when he said it.”
    “Angela…”
    “This is our home,” she said abruptly, as though she had issued an argument that could not be refuted. “This is our life. And we’ve worked hard to make it safe, to make it a place that’s worth living in. Jesus Christ, when I first got here I thought about killing myself every miserable day. The only reason I didn’t was Abby. But you know what? We turned it around. We made our lives worth living again.” She pointed outside. “Now that man has come along and is taking all of that away. He’s taking it all away from us, Keith, and no one wants to do a damn thing about it.”
    “Plenty of people want to do something about it.” Keith leaned away from her. “I’m just not sure it’s the right time.”
    “It’s the only time we have.” She put her hands on his knee. “You have to help me.”
    The old man heaved a sigh and looked at her for a long moment. “You know, when I was growin’ up, just startin’ to feel my oats and all, my pops told me that blonde women were nothin’ but trouble.”
    Angela hung her head and cracked a long-suffering smile.
    Keith patted her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I never did listen to my pops.” He rose, his joints complaining with loud pops and cracks. He looked down at the woman sitting before him, her eyes just looking so cold despite the smile on her lips. Like they’d forgotten what it felt like to have hope. And it made what little mirth he’d been able to muster drift away like the last dregs of muddy water from a dammed riverbed.
    He shoved his weathered hands into his pockets and his normally-kind face grew stern. “You can’t afford to be runnin’ around talking to folks about this stuff. You let me do that for you, okay?”
    Angela considered it for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”
    “We gotta keep this real quiet.” He turned partially away from her, eyes on the dirt floor again. “I see a lot of folks dyin’ if we don’t keep