Lettie bargains with God until she hears the truck engine. Outside, the zeds take notice.

Thank you, Lord. Thank you, sweet, sweet God.

She can't believe it worked.

The idling stops and a door closes. Lettie closes her eyes. A weapon fires. The rounds are silenced, succinct. The zeds make a noise as they fall. Dead weight. Other noises start. Hacking. Flesh being pummeled. She winces as if she were the one being filleted.

"You can come out now."

Lettie shakes when she stands. She clutches the bat with two hands, knees weak. She turns the handle on the closet door, it's mercifully silent when she opens it. The floor is cluttered with the supplies she'd dropped when she'd fled the horde. She gives the room a once over, just in case one of them was still there but they weren't. Outside, the man begins to whistle.

"Your Uber is here."

He stands in fatigues and a baseball cap. A rifle hangs from his chest. He swings a bloodied machete lazily in front of him.

"Y-You heard me?"

Lettie can't help but shake as she walks. She hangs onto the radio tight. Thank you, God. The dispatched bodies of the dead are everywhere. On the stairs, in the field, some are headless, still clutching at the siding of the house. She watches them wearily, as if one were to suddenly leap and rip her heart from her chest.

"It's okay," the man insists. He slides the blade into his belt and pulls the door open to the truck. "They bite you?"

"No," Lettie insists. No death sentences.

"Good."

She takes time to load her stuff into the back. When she sits in the passenger seat, the man is on the radio.

~ Where you headed? ~

He slouches an arm over the steering wheel. Lettie pulls her knees to her chest.

"Well?" He asks.

Lettie snaps to attention, not realizing the question is for her.

"Uh-umm," she thinks, her mind turning back on in waves. "You know that gun store on the corner in Squelones."

"Squelones, wey?" He frowns. "I know it, yeah. Ain't nothing left there but a bunch of muertos."

"I-I'm supposed to meet somebody there." Her mind turns to Kurt and Danielle. It had been clear enough when she left. No zeds. They'd be sitting there now, worried, waiting.

"For what?" He reaches down and pushes a chiclet into his mouth then offers her the pack. She takes one and bites down on it. Banana flavored.

"Looking for somewhere to settle down."

"Settle down." The man smirks. Amused. "You got something to protect yourself with?"

Lettie realizes she's still clutching the Louisville Slugger between sweaty palms. She eases up, letting the blow flow back into her forearms.

"That it?" He grimaces, sucking the air through his teeth. "Alright then, lets go find your friends."

~ Headed to Squelones, don't wait up ~

Alice in Chains blares through a pair of computer speakers hooked up to a CD player. Lettie knows the brand. Harmon-Kadron. They're old, maybe early 2000's. There's no bass but it fills the silence. The man taps his fingers against the steering wheel. Rooster comes on and Lettie smiles. She remembers riding the school bus alone, Metallica shirt, studded jacket. The other black girls made fun of her. Why you trying to be so white? She wasn't, but it didn't matter. She liked listening to metal and building computers, so that made her white. Like having hobbies have to line up with your demographic. Lettie cried a lot then. Those bitches won the day but now they were all zeds… Probably. The only justice left in the world.

They turn a corner and promptly plow a zed. The truck is military issue. It feels hardy, tanky. The man doesn't hesitate as he lines up more.

"Watch this."

He opens the driver side door and leans out. Lettie's eyes are wide. What the fuck?

The zed buckles beneath the door, skull comically squishing as it bounces off the pavement.

"Armored doors."

He looks pleased. Lettie wants to laugh at the absurdly weird situation but the pit in her stomach remains.

They navigate a road block. The truck rocks violently as they traverse a downed telephone pole. Lettie thinks about Kurt and Danielle and wonders if they've had any luck. Her run yielded some food and not much else. It would be enough to get them through a few days. Enough time to make a plan, figure things out. One thing was for sure, they'd never run a generator all night again.

"What's your name?" He asks.

"Leticia," she doesn't know why she offers her proper name but it's there. "I go by Lettie."

"Alright Lettie," He chomps his gum and extends a gloved hand. "Sergeant Israel Herran, 2nd Infantry… People call me Izzy."

Her mind whirls at that.

"The Army?"

"The big green machine itself."

"The Army's in Meagher Valley?"

"The Army ain't the Army no more, Chica." He glowers at her for a moment. "There ain't many of us left."

She doesn't know why, but disappointment pulls at the edge of her mind. She's seen the checkpoints and the zeds in camo, but she'd always held out hope that somewhere, somehow the military was rebuilding. It wasn't, she knew. Nobody is.

"I got a crew," he says. "Mostly military, up the road. Might be we could help each other."

"We have nothing."

"I ain't trying to rob you."

Lettie blushes. She's careful, but he's just saved her ass. If he'd wanted to rob her he could've already.

"Sorry, I didn't mean," she says. "I-I just… Haven't been lucky, you know. Finding people… Trusting people."

"I get it," he clenches his jaw. "It's funny, these fuckin' muertos are slow, you know? Manageable. You get used to their cadence. Makes it easy to aim for the head. That's what they told us when this all started. Destroy the brain, destroy the virus, right? Well, it ain't the muertos I worry about… You're right to be careful. Smart."

Lettie looks down at her hands. She's tired. So fucking tired.

"Thanks," she manages.

"Like I said, you need anything, just call."

The truck has a steady rumble to it. Hypnotic, almost. Alice in Chains continue their impromptu post-apocalyptic concert from the dash. Lettie fights the heaviness of her eyelids as they pull into Squelones. Steady drip of adrenaline gets her going again. I'd kill for a cup of coffee. She was one of those people that downed lattes with extra shots and energy drinks like they were going out of style. She missed pizza, weed, booze and all the other shit people talked about, but coffee was the king of her heart.

"Coming up on the spot." Izzy squints into the distance. Lettie looks at the empty street. Clear as she'd left it. She breathes deep and glances back at her haul.

"I can spare some insta-mac," she says looking at the package. "As a thank you for, you know, saving my life."

He laughs. "Ay dios mios, I ain't taking that."

"Umm." She rifles through the rest of it. Mostly boring. A can of beans, some yeast (ew), and there's no way she's giving up the Twizzlers.

"How about you don't get dead, wey? That's how you can thank me."

"Deal."

"And leave me five stars, those other reviews are total bullshit."

The parking lot is empty save for the old rusted out sedan that'd been there from the beginning. Clark Brothers Guns & Ammo sits empty, plate glass shattered. Lettie jumps out when the truck stops. Izzy squints at the building.

"They in there?" He asks. Lettie's too busy bundling her things to look.

"They're in there," she assures him. They have to be.

"How come they ain't coming out? They hear the truck?"

"I don't know," she freezes. She thinks about calling out but zeds are close. "Could be sleeping, or…"

A horn rips through the air. Lettie leaps backwards.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" She screams, he doesn't care.

Izzy leans a forearm into the steering wheel. The truck blares. Sound bounces between the buildings.

"Fucking stop!"

He looks past her at the building. It goes and goes, five then ten seconds. Lettie's heart flutters. She turns, expectantly.

The horn stops and the shuffling takes its place. Lord, please no.

Izzy opens the door. Lettie takes a step back, the truck trips her up and she falls back into the passenger seat.

"They're comin'," he says. Lettie freezes as he climbs onto the hood. Brass begins to fall between her legs.

The zeds come in from all directions. Izzy squeezes off rounds. Lettie watches the skulls split. She trains her eyes on the ammo store, watching for movement. Looking for them. Please Danielle... Kurt... anyone?

It seems like hours, but it's over in minutes. Izzy jumps down and collects spent magazines from the ground. He looks proud of himself as he loads another and chambers a round.

"Lets have a look," he says. Lettie's frozen. She doesn't want to know. It can't be happening to her again. Not again, God, please. Izzy pauses in front of her. "Come on, chica." He's lifting her out on dead legs. Lettie remembers her bat and reaches for it. "Stay close."

Izzy uses the door. Bells ring as they enter.

"Anyone in here?" His voice is stern.

"Dani? It's okay," Lettie adds. Her throat is dry and suddenly she wants water more than anything. She looks over her shoulder, just in case. Even if Izzy'd just murked all of Squelones. The front counter is clear. Empty gun cases, spent shells, a few rounds here and there. There's a poster of a woman in daisy dukes holding onto an automatic shotgun that lines the wall. Izzy pauses to admire it.

The smell is wretched in the back. Lettie catches a glimpse of the sleeping bags. Izzy flicks a flashlight on. There are bodies. Lettie jolts. Like all the nerve endings in her body light up at once. One of them moves and moans. It turns. It... Kurt. She knows. God damnit, she knows. He looks at them beneath shaggy hair, face smeared in blood. Dani lays beneath, half eaten.

"Aw fuck, no, no." Lettie just says words. It's all her brain allows her. Her legs nearly give out. They said they could take care of themselves. "Not again," she starts to cry. "Why, God, why? Not again, not again."

Izzy doesn't hesitate. She's thankful for it.

"Come on," he grabs her by the arm. Lettie fights him. "Stop it, chica."

"I-I have to bury them." She fights loose and runs to the back. The floor is slippery. Viscous. She loses her footing. Tears flow harder.

Izzy kills the light. He's just a silhouette in the door jam. Lettie looks up at him, soaked in her friend's blood.

"I have to bury them," she insists.

"Why?"

"So the monsters can't get to them."

Lettie cries most of the way. The tears come easy. Not just for Kurt and Danielle, but for Josh and Carrie and Beck and Mom and Dad… She talks to God. Why? It's all she ever asks. Why, why, why? Kurt found her holed up in the old law offices by the bridge. Starving. Nearly dead. It was all she knew how to do. Lay there and die.

Kurt and Danielle lived in the country. Beautiful old house with a screened in. Seemed like the zeds would never find them. An oasis. It was a simple life, a world without electric, plumbing. They'd clean up the random zed or two that straggled in and made runs into town together. She learned how to hunt and butcher whitetail. At night, they'd sit in the dark of the screened in and look up at the stars. Danielle would talk about starting a family. They felt they had a duty. The earth would need repopulating.

She'd found the X-Box at the end of a cul de sac hidden beneath a dresser. Kurt laughed at her as she clutched it, but Lettie had plans. The generator came later. A few weeks had passed, but the thought of playing Halo again, even for a minute, was enough to drive her mad. More ideas flowed. What if she could get the old laptop working? Charge it up and drive near one of those military checkpoints that might still have active subnets. It was far fetched, but Kurt placated her, and one night after the fuel had been siphoned and the wiring done according to the manual, they fired up the homestead for the first time.

Halo was, in fact, amazing. Kurt sucked, and Danielle didn't even pretend to try, but Lettie was Master Chief for a moment. The laptop charged. Danielle dimmed the recessed lighting and they spent the wee hours listening to some of Kurt's old records and sipping on scotch. Then, it happened. Lettie fell asleep on the couch. The next thing she remembers the zeds punched through the door. The generator had pulled them in. Panic and chaos and bullets. It was a miracle they all made it out alive. God had answered. God had shown her the error of her ways. He'd sent her a caution. Now he chose to punish her further.

Izzy hops on the radio.

~ 2 minutes ~

Lettie doesn't ask where they're going. She doesn't care. Her soul bleeds in a thousand little pieces.

The house is lit up. The only one on the block.

A brick fence lines the perimeter, fake little gas lamps that are actually electric sit atop fence posts and beam into the night. A tower stands in the front yard. Pallets and plywood and 2x4's. Two of them stand atop, their eyes follow the truck as it pulls into the driveway. She doesn't ask how the power works, or where they found the barbed wire. Lettie just follows.

Izzy stops her at the tailgate.

"If you're gonna stay, you gotta work."

Lettie looks at him blankly. The words don't register. She doesn't care to stay or go, doesn't care to work or not. He could drive her back to that law office and she would happily lay there and wait for God to finally take her.

Izzy clears his throat expectantly. Lettie waits. The wind nips at her neck. He nods.

"We'll work on that," he says. She follows, not knowing what else to do.

"Come on," he says, "let me show you where you'll sleep."