1

The only victim of the camp that Hakima had burried was Audrey. Hakima didn't really know why she had done that. For the three days she had been with Audrey they had merely been trying to get a read on eachother. Afteral, when one would look secly at it, Hakima and Audrey were strangers who had acted on first attraction. Hakima had searched for feelings when she stood at the closed grave, but burrying Audrey had been a rather emotionless affair, unlike the tears Hakima had shed over Emily's grave.

Now, a day's walking away from the sacked camp, Hakima couldn't say that she missed Audrey. Maybe the time she had spent with the girl had just been too short to have deep emotions over the girl's passing. It was just that Hakima had at least expected to be sad when she looked at Audrey's grave for the last time.

Hakima had taken a last shower in the Irvings' RV and was now wearing low-rider bell-bottoms and a red tankie. To her delight, she had found a card of fresh lady-razors in the RV too. Clean and shaven, Hakima felt worthy to worship again and for the first time in a long time, she turned to Meccah to prey before Allah. It had been profound and emotional as after her prayers, Hakima just started to talk about everything that came to mind. And when she was done, Hakima was lifted of most of her burdens. Hakima had always maintained a pretty ambivalent take on her faith. She believed in Allah, but worship she never considered. Hakima was surprised and thankful that Allah had taken mercy on her and had lifted her worries. Maybe she should try to worship more often.

Her weekender was heavy as Hakima had stuffed it with canned food, clothes and a few books. It would constantly slip off of her leftshoulder as she followed the road with a brisk pace. It didn't bother Hakima, she would just hoist the weekender up again and it would be fine for a minute or ten. The clothes she had collected from both the banditcamp and from the sacked camp alone were giving her a warm feeling. The books, though they were really not deserving the name, she cherished. Even though her temporary reading-impairment was the result of a mental break-down, she wanted to train her reading to keep it in shape. And reading about John Mitchum, MD and his mis-adventures with the female medical staff in a private clinic was actually very entertaining.

Hakima's hand went to grab hold of the bayonet she kept in one of the pockets on her weekender. She was picking up the sounds of a car-engine and it is coming up in her rear. She left the road to walk in the dirt next to it and adjusted her Clint Eastwood-hat to cover her eyes with its shadow. Maybe, the driver of whatever model of car that was coming ever closer wouldn't mistake Hakima for a walker and hit&run. All the same, Hakima hoped they would just pass and drive along. She wasn't ready to meet new people yet.

2

"Look, Manny, on the side of the road!"

Manolito Sanchez, 'Dirty' to his friends, had been driving for hours without anything interesting happening. No sign of other traffic, no signs of life anywhere and a sporadic walker sighting. Next to him in the passenger-seat sat a hispanic girl he knew as Conchita Cruz. A few years younger than him, they knew eachother from the East-LA hood they had grown up in. Dirty didn't like the girl much. She was so stereo-typical hispanic it drove him nuts. It had taken him days to have Conchita stop calling him ese all the time. She had this diva-mannerisms and would go 'woah-woah-wooooaaah' when the mood struck her, mimicking those annoying R&B divas. The mood struck Conchita often.

Dirty wished that the girl beside him would just die. She wasn't Whisper. Both Dirty and Hakima finished their service at the same time and both were invited to stay on. Both needed time to think it over and both were returning home to do it. Dirty knew already he was going to sign on for the long haul, if the USMC would accept his request to be transferred to Marine-Recon. He loved being a scout sniper but he also had realised that the people around him over-classed him. He was hanging on and often felt like the others were carrying him. He wanted to change his mos, his military occupation within the corps.

Dirty and Hakima were the best of friends. He had never before met a woman so into what she was doing as Hakima was. He loved Hakima and was in love with her. So much that when they parted in the airport to catch their respective flights, he broke down in tears. Dirty was very well aware that Hakima didn't love him. She loved being his friend and for Hakima it didn't go further than that. Dirty had begged her to rebook to LA and come with him. It wasn't to be, though Dirty was rewarded with a hug and a kiss.

When the outbreak happened in LA and Dirty got ready to escape the metropolis, he sat in his room crying as he realised he would never hear from Hakima again. Dirty was not ashamed of his emotions. He was a hulk of a man, with muscles coming out his ears and a face that rivaled that of Danny Trejo and Charles Bronson rolled into one. People saw him as a hard bad-ass, but he had strong feelings and emotions that stood in sharp contrast to his appearance.

As he was getting ready loading survival goods into his car, he discovered Conchita hiding near his home. Dirty couldn't leave the girl behind and took her along. Now he was living with that mistake and it was driving him nuts.

Dirty needed only to look at Conchita to know what was on her mind. Him. Naked. He shuddered at the idea. Conchita was small and slim, but lacked muscletone and while typically easy to look at, she wasn't of angelic beauty. And her hispanic mannerisms were too much. It was almost as if Conchita had practised it to over-the-top perfection.

Dirty's decision to drive to Georgia was a conscious one. He hoped he would run into Hakima, against all reasonable odds. It was a stupid thing to do, he knew it. At least Conchita didn't bug him about it. She was just along for the ride, biding her time till Dirty would realise she was a woman with needs.

"Look, Manny, on the side of the road!"

Dirty started. He was ripped from his reverie and had been driving largely on auto-pilot. He looked at where Conchita was pointing and saw a small framed figure moving forward with a brisk pace.

"I recognize that ass-sway anywhere.", Dirty said with a voice that that made Conchita's face go dark, "It has to be..."

As they passed Hakima, Dirty couldn't tell if it was Hakima or not. The lithe woman was wearing a hat that covered her face in shadow, but that curtain of raven hair in her face... Hakima sported that look often. Hakima knew what kind of effect she had on men with her hair out of her face. If she had half the chance, Hakima let her hair down to hide her face. It was a defense-mechanism. It only made her mysterious and all the more attractive, Dirty had told her once, but Hakima had scoffed at that.

"Why are you stopping? She could be a serial killer or something.", Conchita said when she realised Dirty was braking. Dirty pulled the hand-brake, "If that woman is who I think she is, then you're right about her being a serial killer." Dirty got out of his car and turned to look at the woman he had overtaken.

"Are you Hakima Gunay, USMC?", he asked with a raised voice.

Hakima took a step back. This was too creepy for comfort. She let go of the bayonet and reached behind her back, going for her pistol instead.

"Please answer. Are you Corporal Hakima Gunay, USMC scout sniper?", Dirty tried again, desperately hoping that he wasn't seeing things that weren't there. What if he wanted that woman to be Hakima so much that he couldn't see she wasn't Hakima?

When Hakima spoke, it sounded confused and uncertain, "Dirty? Dirty Sanchez? Is... is that you?"

Dirty fought against his tears. From now on, he would never doubt God again. Trying to remain casually calm as he took a few steps towards Hakima, he broke down and rushed over to her. Hakima almost disappeared in his big hands as he took her by the sides and lifted her from the ground as easily as if she had been weightless. First Dirty held Hakima at arms-length. That little smile... Those hazel eyes, exotic and crazy making... She was Hakima. Dirty pressed the small woman to his chest, "I thought I would never see you again!"

"Dirty, you're smothering me.", Hakima was able to stammer with some effort.

"I am? Of course I am..", Dirty gently lowered Hakima to the ground, but he kept her hidden in his hands, "I'm just so happy that I found you. I was hoping I would. It's stupid. I just drove to Georgia in the faint hope that I would. What are the odds, right? I-"

"-And now you're blabbering.", Hakima mocked. She gave Dirty a girly punch to the chest, "You really drove around Georgia hoping you would find me?"

"Yes, I did. Come on, let me have it, tell me I'm a sucker for arab ass."

"You're a sucker for arab ass."

Dirty laughed in delight, "Yeah, you're Whisper alright."

Hakima wrestled herself free from Dirty's grasp, "I'm sorry I didn't rebook to LA... Crazy stuff happened in the last two months since the outbreak that wouldn't have happened if I had gone with you."

"Tell me all about it in the car, Whisper. You're coming along and no protests. I finally found you and unless God calls me, I'll have your back from now on."

3

Conchita found herself in the backseat of the car. She had protested against it, feeling she had oldest rights, but Dirty was several times more stronger than the girl was. Demoted to the back, she sat their sulking. Dirty and his girlfriend were not even acknowledging her anymore and that stung the hardest.

"So, you killed Jake?", Dirty asked after Hakima had told him about the first weeks after the outbreak.

"Not really... He turned and as he's still tied to the tree. I burried Emily afterall, I felt bad for not doing that earlier."

"And Audrey.., you think you and her could have had a future? It sounds to me that no matter how much proof of walkers you had collected, they would have squinted at it just to see it different from you."

"Yeah... for a moment I thought we could do it. I was thinking that I should place my trust in strangers every once in a while, you know. It gets to be pretty lonely out there. And she was a fresh girl. Open and honest. And smaller than me, which doesn't hurt."

"Man, Whisper, I can't believe you kept on seeing Jake. After that embarrassing scene behind the latrines I'd thought that would've been the end of it."

"It's complicated.", Hakima defended.

"Sure. Complicated enough for me to not get it.", Dirty chuckled, "It's not my business anyway. So, just so I can hear you say it again, you're sorry you didn't rebook to LA?"

Hakima sighed, she knew she would never stop hearing about that confession, "Yes. When I arrived in Atlanta I had already made my mind up. Father would have told me to stay on anyway and after I had seen Jake... three weeks of hanging around in Atlanta with the gang... We could've gotten into some shit together instead. Always wanted to test the LAPD."

"Yeah, they would've loved to chase down two errant Marines looking to ruin their careers, trust me. I can see the headlines, 'Criminal couple taunt the LAPD' or 'Hispanic gang-violence fueled by muslim fundmentalist idealism', Dirty mused with a frown.

"I was thinking along the lines of throwing down some dollars in a booby-bar.", Hakima said, "And then rob a bank."

"You think that you can walk into a LA booby-bar without getting hoisted on stage yourself?"

"Even better, people throwing dollars at me.", Hakima laughed, "Eyes front, boyo."

Dirty automatically looked forward. Just like old times, even though those old times were only less than two months ago. He slowed the car down to a crawl. They were coming up on a small town, but on the road in were two cars and people with kids were standing by them, "Families, afraid to check out the town, maybe.", Dirty guessed.

"Stop here. Let's test the weather.", Hakima spoke while she got her bayonet and pistol, "The diva stays in the car."

"I'm Conchita, thank you."

"Whatever, stay.", Hakima answered and got out of the car as soon as Dirty had brought it to full stop. He turned to Conchita and shrugged, "Just listen to Whisper. That has saved lifes in the past.", and got out of the car himself.

Hakima walked slowly towards the group and glanced aside when Dirty joined up, "Akimbo? Really?", she scoffed.

"It's bad-ass.", Dirty said checking his pistols, "My face and holding two guns... shuts any motherfucker up."

"It's a good thing I know that you're a teddybear.", Hakima mocked, " -snif- -snif- Don't make me kill you -waah-"

"Very funny.", Dirty grunted, "Pay attention, one of them is coming towards us.

The man that was coming over from the cars was tall and lean, sporting black hair that hung almost over his shoulders and a droopy moustache. He was in contrast to his image as a biker, well dressed, yet casually so. As he came closer, both Hakima and Dirty rose their guns.

The man didn't know what to make of the duo. The big hispanic man was terrifyingly musclebound and kept his eyes on the well dressed biker at all times. The woman next to him, exotic... arabic maybe, was so lean trained that her BMI was probably dangerously low. She barely reached her companion's shoulder in height, even with the hat she wore. None of them had the slightest tremble in their guns.

"Don't shoot!", the well dressed biker spoke, "I'm a family-man! I have a wife and a seven year old daughter. You're free to take our things..."

"That's sweet of you.", the woman spoke with a melodious voice, "But how are you going to survive without your things? We have to kill you, it's the right thing to do."

In the car, Conchita's eyes widened in shock, "I don't believe this shit!", she whispered.

"No! Look, the people by the other car are a family too... we just got here ourselves and we want to sleep in one of those houses. But we're just family-men, him and I, we're no criminals like you. There might be biters!"

"Can you believe this guy?", Dirty asked.

"Go with the criminal thing, if we tell him we're Marines, the next thing we know he'll ask us to go and clear a building for them.", Hakima whispered, "Now we can still walk away and-"

"Don't listen to them! They're joking! They're Marines!", Conchita yelled. She had gotten out of the car and was now running towards the man, "They're Marines!"

"Fuck.", was all Hakima had to say about that.

"Fuck.", Dirty agreed.

The man smiled, "That changes everything. Maybe we can strike a deal?