The next morning Jason woke up to the sound of gunshot. He nearly jumped out of the couch, bracing himself from the impending attack. There was none.
He craned his neck to see Joe kneeling by the window, his long rifle propped up next to him, like a hunter stalking his game.
The boy came to sit next to him. Nothing had changed since last night. The cars were still where they were, and not a single life was seen on the street. The day looked completely normal, a bright, cloudless morning. He wanted to see people on the street, to see cars drove past and people on their feet jogging, tapping on their ipods.
"Someone's shooting." Joe pointed to the left, behind the opposite row of houses, facing them in serene calmness. "Probably from Angler Street."
"You think he's okay?"
"That's really strange. They don't come out in the day." Jason turned to look at him.
"How do you know that?"
"I watched them." Joe stood up, the hunting rifle strapped on his shoulder.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm gonna check on our neighbor."
Jason wanted to stop him. But then he remembered how he and Ashley were saved yesterday. Had his neighbor been selfish, they wouldn't be alive, someone should have the same benefit. He has his wife, what if something happens to him? I can't take care of Gianna.
The door slammed shut. He sat and listened to Joe's receding footstep.
A few minutes later, Ashley waddled out of the room, rubbing her eyes.
"Did you hear the gunshot?" He asked.
She shook her head.
"Jason." He turned toward her. Her arms were held stiffly by her side. "I saw a man last night."
"Where?" Jason felt goosebumps running up his body.
"At the window. He was crazy."
"Did you look at him?"
"Yeah. He looked like that woman yesterday." He tried to control his breath. They don't come out in the day. He hoped Joe was right.
Gianna managed to get herself onto her wheelchair and came into the kitchen to make breakfast. The wheelchair was set up a little low, so she had to reach up constantly to the counter to grab her ingredients. It looked like she was making pancakes. He offered to help, taking the flour from the cabinets and the tools from the drawers, although at his lackluster height, he wasn't much help.
"Joe went to check on the neighbor. There was a gunshot this morning." He informed her, surprised she never asked.
"He's good like that." She smiled, stirring the egg-flour mixture in a nesting bowl, which she pressed against her bosom.
"Aren't you worried?"
"No. We've been living here for twenty years, it's really a nice neighborhoodI really think he'd be okay." She looked up from her work, which now looked like a yellowish paste. "I know you worry about your mother. I'm sure she'll be okay."
"You think so?"
"I know so." She resumed her stirring, which was probably a bit excessive since the mixture was already looking well blended together.
There was something about Gianna that he liked, some motherly quality emanating from the woman, especially when she spoke to him with that soft voice and the way she looked at him and Ashley, as if they are so fragile that a mean look could shatter them, coupled with the trust and comfort she found in her husband and other people around her, staying near her made him believe that everything was not as bad as it seemed. She was so... normal. He had to wonder if she knew what was going.
"Anytime now the authority will roll in and sort out this mess." Her optimism brought back his sense of dread. He remembered the what Joe told him yesterday. Never trust the authority.
"My sister said she saw a man last night. At the window." Her hand instantly stopped moving.
"The man... oh, I saw him too. But I'm sure he was just lost." There was a shakiness in her voice, she was visibly scared, and she wasn't too good at hiding it. She's denying.
"She told me he looked... wrong." He said. She inhaled sharply.
"Maybe he was a burglar, trying to break in." She resumed her work, hand stirring, she was suddenly getting clumsy, he noticed. The whisk moved in unplanned directions, clanging loudly against the side of the bowl. He regretted forcing the memory on her.
"You know, come to think of it, he's probably some homeless guy trying to steal some cigarette." He finally said.
"Hmmm." She kept on stirring, acknowledging his answer. He left the kitchen shortly.
The house was small, and unlike his, there was only one story, so it didn't take long for him to find his sister sleeping soundly on the couch when he wandered into the living room. He sat down on the couch opposite of her, considering taking a nap when the front door opened and Joe stepped in, he looked tired.
"Well, that was interesting." He said to Jason, although his voice spared no evidence of any interest.
Gianna rolled herself from the kitchen, the wheelchair's metallic axles squeaked. He kissed his wife on her forehead.
"What happened?" She asked.
"Ah. Some guy was firing warning shots 'cause apparently some teenagers were trying to break into his house. When I walk up he thought I was one of 'em kids, almost shot me too."
"Oh my god. You guys and your guns." She scolded. He laughed apologetically, crow's feet folded at the corners of his eyes.
"Hopefully the someone didn't call the police on him, poor guy." Joe said.
"I hope that didn't scare Leah so badly. The poor girl's pregnant. If she breaks her water and her husband's not here..." She said. Leah was one of their neighbors, her husband was almost always on the road, traveling for work.
"She's fine. I just said good morning to her on my way back. The girl was scared out of her mind, but she's okay."
"Poor girl. Well, breakfast's almost ready." She wheeled her wheelchair around.
"Tell me we're having pancakes." He said.
"That's it." Her voice now came the kitchen.
The two of them stood in the living room. The neighbor looked over to his couch, where Ashley was sleeping, oblivious.
"Did my wife snore last night or something?" He asked, humor was probably still on his mind.
"She told me she saw someone at the window, last night." Jason informed him. Tension suddenly built on his already tired face.
"Who?"
"She didn't know. She saw him looking into the room, scared her so bad she couldn't go to the bathroom."
"Did he seem..." He looked over to make sure his wife wasn't there, she was in the kitchen, working and humming some song Jason didn't recognize. "... normal?"
Jason shook his head.
The old man sighed and looked out the window, the brightness causes him to squint. He went to the door.
"Where are you going?" The boy asked.
"I'm gonna go take a look around."
"I want to come too." Joe paused, then nodded.
They stepped out onto the sunlit day. Despite the brightness, it was chilling him to the bone. The neighborhood was like a graveyard, its many houses, like tombstones, staring at him with empty eyes. He felt like he was being watched.
"The guy was probably infected. If he was here last night, he couldn't have gone far. We gotta find him, it's too dangerous to live that close to one of 'em."
They stepped into the yard of the house to their left. They walked past the well-maintained grass and into the front porch. Instead of knocking on the door, Joe twisted the knob. It was locked. Jason followed him to the side of the house. They traced the narrow pathway into the backyard.
Shit. We're intruders. He imagined the house's owner, looking at them from inside the house, loading his gun, taking aim. The backyard was wide and empty, except for a pile of chopped woods, cut into small logs for the fireplace. They stepped to the back porch, where a plastic table was surrounded by two chairs, and stopped in front of the sliding patio door. Joe peered inside before giving the door a tug, which remained unmoved.
"We're good here." Joe said as they walked back to the front.
"What are we looking for?" The boy asked.
"Broken doors, windows, shacks, things like that. From what I see, the crazies... infected, they don't like the sun too much. Sensitive to it somehow, so during the day they'd probably stay somewhere with shade."
"What will you do when you find him?"
"I think you know the answer to that." Jason felt his stomach churning with anxiety, regretting his request to accompany, praying silently that this search be fruitless.
"Can't we just like... call the police?"
Joe looked back at him, looking a bit annoyed.
"Gianna doesn't know this, but something very bad is going on. She takes meds for pain, so she's asleep most of the time, which was why she couldn't hear my shooting yesterday. When I saw that thing dragging Leah screaming from her car, I went to get my gun but he beat her to death and was gone by the time I got there. I tried calling emergency, no one was on the line. No one. I called again and again, getting the same message. That could mean they're either too busying fixing this whole mess or they had abandoned us altogether. If the first idea is the case, great, but I have a feeling that it's not. So we have to do whatever it take to survive this, at least until it flies over."
Jason nodded.
"Leah? Did you say Leah was dragged from the car?"
Joe stopped in his track. "Yeah."
"But you told Gianna you saw her this morning."
He sighed. "I want to keep it from her."
"Why?"
"That guy I went to check on." He lifted his shirt, revealing the handgun strapped roughly to his belt. "It was no warning shot. He shot himself. He put this gun to his mouth and pulled the trigger."
"But... why?" asked Jason, it was too mature, too adult for him to handle, but he felt he needed to learn, to know everything.
"I don't know. Some people cannot handle it, I guess. I'm sure my wife can't, and I'm afraid when she knew, she'll take the easy way out." His voice was almost a whisper. ""God, I can't believe I'm telling you all this, you're just a boy."
"I'm okay, Joe." He lied. "The more I know the better, like you said, I might have to protect my sister later, so I guess I don't have a choice."
The man looked at him. Then he reached under his shirt and pulled out the handgun, holding it out to him.
It looked just like in the movies, black, small, and lethal. Jason felt himself trembling. He felt like he was looking at a snake that could strike at any moment. His eyes poured over the the muzzle, the barrel, the trigger, he didn't know if it was a gift or a curse.
"We have to do what it takes to survive, remember?" Joe said.
The boy reluctantly reached out and took the gun, it was heavier than he thought, he held it like his video game characters did, his index finger curled away from the trigger area.
Joe nodded and resumed their patrol.
They walked for several yards before his neighbor turned sharply and ran across the street, where a newly painted two story house stood, its yard nicely mowed, its porch decorated with webs of metallic wind bells.
Its beautiful arching window was broken
Jason looked at the building, sucked in a deep breath, trying to conjure all the courage from his body, and followed Joe across the street.