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create several large subdivisions. Ethan drove through these randomly to throw off an imaginary tail before turning the corner at the firehouse across the tracks on Main Street and off into the wilderness of one of the back roads.
    I n the countryside river bottoms between miles upon miles of identical trees and farms, the road stretch into oblivion. Keith was completely unprepared when Ethan swerved onto a gravel road with a single level house at the end. His soda toppled out onto the grass, along with several loose rounds. After an insufferable amount of time on the dark, nondescript patchwork of gray and black county roads, they were finally home. Ethan leapt from the vehicle before it had completely stopped and ran into the house before Keith could even gather that they were at his friend’s house.
    The windows were all intact and the garage door was closed. Ethan grabbed the door knob. To his horror the door was unlocked, and the house completely empty. He cleared it twice, the living room, furnished basement, and loft bedroom too. No one.
                  "Hey, there's a note on the table." Keith pointed, unwilling to disturb the scene.
                  Ethan rushed over and snatched all four pages of it. His whole family had left their own goodbye letter just in case he made it home. The world stopped while he read them, tears already rolling down his face as he read of dead friends and family, and finally of what the Army had done to get people to leave. Nicole’s warnings were vague, as if she were afraid of someone other than Ethan reading it. She wasn’t the code leaving type, but there seemed to be a mortal, compelling reason for them to obey the Army when they were told to leave.
                  "FUCK!" Ethan threw a rather justified tantrum. "God fucking damnit!” A bowl of rotted fruit went sailing through the air. “Twelve hours! That’s all I needed was twelve fucking hours! If those fucking hillbillies hadn’t shot our fucking truck!..."
    “It would have made no difference.”
    “Fuck you!” The shouting continued until Ethan was exhausted and collapsed into an armchair a complete wreck. The air conditioner kicked on outside. Aside from the whirring of the vents the house was silent. "It's six thirty. We should go." Ethan finally admitted defeat.
    The Ford Crown Vic in the garage was still there, but barely started. One of Ethan’s Evanescence CDs started playing. The music was too painful for him right now and he ripped the faceplate off the radio and threw it in the garage. Who knew what would happen at the Police Station when they arrived. Someone might be trying to take power, someone might even attack them. The station parking lot was almost completely empty. Only a couple of cruisers and a pristine Cadillac town car were parked neatly by the door, but not in the handicap spaces. Were there really any handicap people left? Wouldn’t their medical needs have made them easy prey for the infected? A sad truth few were willing to admit. Ethan parked in the handicapped space and went inside and found the portly cop he’d met earlier, another male officer with a crappy bowl cut he must have done himself, making him look like the skinny guy from Delta Farce, and a female cop who tucked her lower belly fat into her pants like it was somehow more natural looking that way. 
                  "So now what?" Ethan said once everyone had turned to him.
                  "We were hoping you knew. You two are in the Army, right?"
                  "That’s an ambiguous question." Ethan took a chair and sat in the semicircle with them. "We were left behind at abandoned outposts when they pulled out."
                  "They left their own behind?" A man Ethan hadn't noticed was walking towards them. He had on jeans that might have fit fifty pounds ago, his gun hanging over a glittery rodeo belt. The pants had holes in the pockets