"Winry! Granny! Winry!"

Ed beats on the door till it opens. Winry stands there, Den pressed close against her legs. Pulling the brothers inside, she folds to her knees like a collapsing deck chair. Al grabs her shoulders, Ed her hands. "Are you okay?" he demands. "What's wrong?"

"Everything!" she wails. "And Granny went outside to tell off Mr. Carter for being a n-nuisance, and she hasn't come back!"

They help her to the sofa. "You stay here," Ed says. "We'll find Granny." He hesitates, then adds, "Don't open the door to anybody but us."

Eyes wide, she nods.

oOo

The backyard blurs in the heat. Ed blinks and squints, shading his eyes with his unbladed wrist. Nothing moves but the wind in the yellow grass. Den whines, scratching at the screen door.

"We should check the windbreak," Al says reluctantly.

Which means leaving only the dog to guard the house, which is stupid, but so is scouting alone for something that grinds human beings into hamburger and bone meal. Sometimes you have no good choices. "I'll go," Ed says, equally reluctant. "You can -- "

"No," Al replies, and that's the end of that.

Den barks incessantly at their departing backs.

oOo

Some things you see coming: the ambush erupting out of the brush, for instance; and the enemy, hunting in a gray-skinned, malodorous pack, clawing with black nails, groaning with lipless mouths full of brown teeth, diseased and maddened and insatiable.

(And still recognizably human.)

You don't expect the dog to tear through the screen and rush growling to your aid, though. She hamstrings one, but it twists to fall on her; the shriek could have come from either throat, but the blood is all Den's.

(You won't forgive yourself for not seeing that one coming. Not for a while.)

oOo

Retreating into the yard, the brothers take their opponents' measure. Like berserkers, they ignore wounds and don't quit until knocked senseless, but they move slowly and attack wildly, as likely to strike friend as foe. At close quarters they can overwhelm their prey; given fighting room, their advantage lessens exponentially. Ed harasses them from in front while Al thumps heads from behind, and the battle is soon over.

"What the hell's up?" Ed asks, bending unwillingly to examine a fallen enemy.

"No!" shouts Al, pointing, and Ed whirls in time to see a shambling figure disappear through the cellar door.