"Come again?" Maybe he hadn't heard right.

"Well, I don't expect you to raise them yourself."

"Why not?" he said, simultaneously irritated and insulted. She didn't have to say it so scornfully.

"But I'd consider it a great personal favor if you see to it that they have loving homes." She sniffed. "This would be easier if you were married instead of living in sin, but these are difficult times. You're their best chance of survival."

He struggled to find words to dissuade her or attempt to explain that, technically, there hadn't really been any sinning yet, which was even more impossible, and at last he heaved a heavy sigh. "Minion will look after them, too."

She blinked, startled, and then a warm smile spread across her face. "Oh, Mister Minion, of course! That will be fine. Just fine." Her customary frown returned and she waggled her finger at him. "But don't let them join any gangs. Or teach them to steal cars and pick pockets."

"Gosh, I'll try."

They walked in silence across the Lair, surrounded by the sleepy conversations and crashing pans of morning.

She stopped by her grandkids, who were, amazingly, sitting all together on the floor by the beds. Megamind hadn't seen them so quiet since they first arrived.

Irina and Gil had agreed to keep an eye on them. Doris reminded the children to behave themselves, and left special instructions to the two oldest ones to be useful and help Irina as much as possible, as she was expecting the baby any day now...

Not too soon, Megamind hoped fervently. He looked at the children's somber faces. Keshawn's face wavering between teenage nonchalance and nervousness, and then there was April, Leean, Billy, Timmy, and Chloe. Cousins and siblings jumbled together. They weren't orphans yet, technically. Doris would be rehydrated in the future, once he got this medicine business figured out, and who knew? Maybe he'd discover what had happened to their parents.

Nonetheless there was a heavy cloud over Megamind and Doris as they continued on to the clinic. There had been real fear and even a hint of accusation in the faces of the younger kids. Doris had done her best, but to them it felt as if she were abandoning them.

Chloe hid under one of the beds and refused to come out to say good-bye to her grandmother, despite coaxing from Irina and promises from her cousin Timmy that she'd get extra playtime with Taffy the cat.

Doris kept her face carefully neutral as they walked to the clinic, but Megamind could tell she was hurting from Chloe's rejection.

"You're doing the right thing," Megamind said. "The chance of you dropping dead from your heart condition is too great."

"I'll thank you not to tell me something I don't already know," she said peevishly.

Doris wiped her nose, stuffed the tissue into her sleeve, and announced that she was ready.

Dr. Plant shot her with the little de-gun and put the cube into a plastic baggie. "We're out of tupperware," she said.

He sighed, dragged a folding chair closer with his foot, and dropped into it.

Dr. Plant sat down, too, cradling a plastic glass with what smelled like the last dregs of the coffee pot. Megamind never touched the stuff himself, as it tended to fling him into uncontrollable mental activity and frenzied note writing, notes that were unintelligible to anyone but beings from another dimension.

Wendell lay sweating and pale on a cot, blood staining the bandage.

Dr. Plant winced. "My back," she said. "I think I was better off sleeping on the floor instead of that lumpy mattress." She glanced at her patient and leaned closer to Megamind. "He's in a lot of pain. Groaned all night. Are there any other buildings we can use as a clinic?"

"You want to leave the Lair?"

"The... noise he makes is disturbing to other people. And Wendell feels like a burden. Besides, the mechanics always make such a racket." She nodded towards the bay, where the agonized squeal of metal getting cut briefly overwhelmed all other sound.

After the noise died away, she continued. "Housing patients with the healthy contributes to overall stress levels in everybody."

"Wouldn't isolation be demoralizing for him?"

"There'll be other patients, sooner or later." She was lost in thought for a moment. "If I had a budget," she said, speaking carefully and trying not to sound too hopeful, "then I could possibly hire some staff. People to serve as helpers, orderlies. Julie could give them training in patient transfer, basic care."

Julie, Julie, who was... The name clicked into place. The medic. "I'll send people to check the safe zone for a place," he said. He drummed his fingers on his knees. Buildings for a clinic, and for more housing. And maybe for an orphanage.

Doris's grandkids were the tip of the iceberg. Technically they weren't really orphans, not yet, not until he figured out what had happened to their parents. But they were as good as.

More would be coming.

They'd be deep in hiding. Of course, everyone had learned to hide as a matter of survival, but frightened children would really burrow in, especially with so many more dangers from which to hide, and not just zombies.

All the groups that had come to the safe zone consisted of adults, or mixed groups of adults and children. Children by themselves were unlikely to make a such perilous trek, with safety so uncertain and no idea what to expect from the adults to whom they'd be going for help.

His fists clenched and he half got up from his seat before settling again. He wanted to leap up right now and scour every nook and cranny, every building down to the last cubby hole.

He'd make it a good place for orphans, too, an actual home, with warm and loving caretakers, not some damn great building with locks and grey dorms.

There was the sound of men's voices approaching and Bernard came around the white sheet that served as a curtain. He stopped chuckling at the sight of Megamind.

Tony limped into view next, holding a plastic cup from which steam rose. "Hey, doc, I found some that's fresh. It's instant, I hope that's..." He also stopped short at the sight of Megamind, and squeezed his eyes shut. "Boss, I swear I was gonna sit down again right away, right after this, and the doc looked at my leg, she said another day or two and I could have light exercise, Mister Minion, he got the glue off."

Megamind said, "All right."

Tony, his eyes still squeezed shut, cautiously opened one a crack. "All right?"

"Yes, it's all right."

"You're not gonna beat me up?"

Bernard's eyes widened. "What?"

"S'okay, Bernard." Tony shrugged stoically. "Goes with the territory."

"Goes with the...oh, come on," Bernard cried. "You can't have seriously expected him to sit in that chair all night. And now you're going to punish him?"

Megamind propped his chin in his hand. "No."

Bernard blinked and seemed to deflate. "Oh. Okay."

Tony's eyes were wary. "Not even a little?"

"No," Megamind said. Pushing himself to his feet, he nodded at the doctor. "I'll survey possible sites."

Megamind headed toward the monitors, threading his way between the beds, refugees, and piles of clothes, toys, and other mysterious personal belongings. His heart lifted at the sight of Roxanne, surrounded by a group of her friends. Feminine laughter rang out.

Small children ran in circles around people's legs, the closest anyone would get to a perpetual motion machine.

Someone spotted him, there was a flurry of people scattering, and somehow he was alone with Roxanne, except for Bernard, who was engrossed in his laptop.

Megamind glanced around at the sudden space, perplexed by the speed with which people had scurried away. He'd thought they were getting used to him. "I frightened everyone away, didn't I?"

Roxanne pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Oh, no, it's okay. They're... they're really busy."

He rubbed his neck. "Um. Sleep okay?"

"Yeah. I did." She cleared her throat. "You?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did." Wow, her eyes sure did sparkle. She'd put on makeup, mascara, lipstick, the works, though the foundation hid her freckles, which was a shame.

She said, "Did you have...?"

At the same time he asked, "So you got the...oh, sorry."

"It's all right." She chuckled. "We both started at the same...you go first."

He plucked at his cape. "Oh, I...I just wondered if... you got your makeup from your apartment. But. Obviously you...you did, so... but you look lovely without it. I mean, the natural look is...is..."

She ran her fingers through her hair. "You like me better without it?"

"No. It's just different," he said quickly. "You know. Um. Both ways are..." He began to sweat, feeling his stomach clench into a knot. "Either way is fine. Makeup, or, or, or, no makeup."

"So I didn't fool you?" Her eyes crinkled as she smiled.

"No-o-o," he said cautiously. "Fool me?"

She flapped her hand. "It's this idea that some guys have about women. That women wear make-up to 'fool' them into...hell, I'm not even sure. Into thinking a woman isn't really as beautiful without make-up, so she's 'tricked' them into being attracted to her."

"Seriously? Tricked?" He rolled his eyes. "Well, I, for one, was so disappointed to find out your eyelids weren't really 'Crystal Blue,' and your lips weren't really 'Dusky Rose.' Whoever thinks that must be a moron." He chuckled.

Roxanne laughed too, and cocked her head, and her smile became mischievous, though with a hint of dagger. "You know a lot about my make-up. Been through my purse?"

He waved his hands in a mea culpa sort of way. "I've seen those items on your table. Read the labels, that's all."

Which was true enough, but...

He felt compelled to confess. "I think...in some of the earlier kidnappings, I might have, you know, rummaged around a little. Just in case you had a wire or a tracking device."

He fingered his cape, feeling unaccustomed, sudden guilt about the countless times he'd invaded her privacy. He straightened up. "I'll never do it again," he announced.

Roxanne nodded and her gaze softened. "Thanks. I appreciate that. Haven't seen you in eyeliner for a long time. I always thought that was pretty striking."

He snapped his fingers. "That's right, it's been ages! I should have been made up yesterday! Perfect opportunity for the cameras."

"Eh. You look pretty good without make-up, too."

Megamind felt a foolish grin stretch out his lips and he barely stopped from giggling.

Bernard muttered, "Oh my God, get a room."

Megamind shot a glare at him, but Bernard stared steadily at his keyboard. Roxanne choked back a strained laugh and shoved her hair out of her eyes.

How he wished he could take her out to breakfast at a quaint little coffee shop! Offering her a bowl of mush and a stroll around the zombie-infested beach was about the best he could do at the moment.

"Do you know if Minion took a crew out?"

"Mm-hm. He said they should be able to get the rest of the pumps started. As long as nobody else shot them down."

"Heh. Precisely." He nodded vigorously, and had to force himself to stop. Geez, calm down. Don't get all spazzy. He drew himself up. "Well, I guess it's..."

"...time to get back to work," Roxanne said. She nodded past his shoulder. "I think some people are waiting. There's a line."

A group of assorted denizens had accumulated behind him. When he made eye contact, they shuffled closer with airs of hopeful expectation.

"Megamind," Roxanne called.

He bounded back to her. "Yeah! I'm here."

"Can we get that official announcement recorded? Should only take five minutes."

It took about three times as long, as such things usually did, mainly because he kept getting lost in Roxanne's eyes and losing his place on the cue cards.

But at last it was done, and he went off to deal with the host of supplicants.


A huge map of the city hung from a wall in the Lair. The little spur of land that signified Megamind's safe zone was outlined in green, indicating it was zombie-free, barring the occasional rogue zombie that might wander in through a hole in the wall that Megamind was erecting around the shoreline. The entire peninsula would be encompassed, including the tip, which had been closed off since the zombie dragged little Billy into the lake.

A larger, ragged shape, outlined in yellow, indicated the adjacent area which was more or less under his control, with far fewer zombies than the rest of the city owing to his irregular patrols, but by no means zombie free. Hell, there could be dozens of zombie nests. That was the trouble with zombies. You could kill all the ones that shuffled into the light, think you were in the clear, and then weeks later, sometimes even months, another batch of them would come lurching out of a nest from some abandoned basement you didn't even know about.

Which was why the rescue and recovery efforts were concentrating on sweeping every single building in the yellow zone, every apartment complex and office block, every skyscraper and mom n' pop corner store. They'd find more survivors, undoubtedly. If they wanted to come to the safe zone, they were to be given transportation. If they wanted to stay put, more power to them. No garage, basement, attic, shed, or doghouse would be left unsearched, and rescuers would make a special effort to locate children who were fending for themselves.

The rest of the city, by far the largest chunk of the map, was in red. No electricity, zombies roaming at will, pockets of humanity barricading themselves against threats both living and dead.

He designated three people to coordinate rescue efforts, a police lieutenant, a veteran firefighter, and a city hall administrator.

He assigned another set of people to canvas the safe zone for buildings that would be suitable for housing, for a clinic, and for a children's home. He sent a team of brainbots off to find supplies to fence off the waterline, including, but not limited to, dismantling abandoned buildings.

Two more zombies staggered out onto the shoreline, but were stopped by the brainbots.

After he dehydrated the dead zombies and sent them to the morgue, he took a stroll around the safe zone to see what else was happening, trailed by one of his new henchmen, Rupert.

More refugees had arrived, and were looking around at the housing options. The Lair with its high walls was the favored destination, but one new little group was cautiously checking out the old fireworks factory, where the surveyors were inspecting it for habitation.

"Lucky for you, you'll get first pick of the floor space," he said. "Come to the Lair and we'll scrounge up some beds for you."

They stared at him, then fumbled in their pockets, pulling out flyers. "Got one for everybody," a woman said anxiously, shoving a flyer at him.

"Uh, okay," he said, frowning a little.

"For the kids, too." She tugged at a little girl's hand. "Emmy, show him your ticket."

"Wait, wait." He held up his hands. "Hold on there. These are just maps and information. That's it. They're not tickets. You picked them up off the street, yes?" He looked around at their confused faces. "It's all right, that's exactly what I intended when I distributed them."

"So, they really are free?" one man asked.

"Yes, really."

"Because this one guy said he'd sell us some, twenty metros each. Only we said no, thanks, we already had 'em, and then he said we needed a stamp, to authenticate them. Five metros for each stamp, or dollars, if we had any." The man showed his flyer.

A red stamp was smeared across one corner, and that hadn't been part of the original design. The words 'Admit One' were just visible.

He handed it back, feeling his jaw tighten. "Getting it stamped isn't necessary, either."

The man frowned. "That jerk! We paid him..." He huffed out a breath. "Can you believe this, Trudy?"

"Son of a..." She stared at the flyer in disbelief.

Megamind asked, "Where was this man located?"

"In back of a grocery. There were two or three guys. Was it the Red Owl store? Yeah, think it was." Heads nodded in agreement. "Over on Kendall and 50th."

Megamind pressed his lips together and stalked away. Several blocks from the safe zone's border, but well within the semi-safe yellow zone.

As he came out into the sunshine, the three rescue coordinators were having a vigorous argument, but they broke off as he came out of the building and rushed him en masse. "Overlord! Mister Overlord!"

He tensed. Oh evil gods, what now?

Rupert straightened up from where he'd been slouching by an outer wall and stepped in front of them. "Shaddup!" he shouted.

They skidded to a halt and shut up.

Rupert scowled around as if to make sure they'd behave themselves, then looked over his shoulder. "You want I should disperse 'em, Overlord?"

Megamind raised an appreciative eyebrow. "No, I'll talk with them. But one at a time," he said, as they all looked like they were about to start talking at once.

Rupert stepped aside and Megamind pointed at the cop. "You. Hinkley. Go."

Lieutenant Mary Hinkley took a deep breath, visibly growing taller at getting picked first, and ripped off a salute that almost put out the administrator's eye. "Sir, I really don't know if it's a good idea to let civilians conduct their own rescue operations. I thought we'd decided on focused, methodical sweeps, starting with the neighborhoods in the yellow zone and working our way outward."

Megamind clasped his hands behind his back. "People need to feel like they're doing something, not sitting idle. In addition, they'll scavenge as they go along, and they'll report on stores that still have goods, as well as locating pockets of other survivors."

"But they'll get into trouble and have to get rescued themselves," the firefighter captain said, adjusting his cap. "It'll disrupt our operations."

"Your concern is noted. More refugees are arriving every day. I can either expend the limited energies of my brainbots, police officers, and henchmen on keeping them from leaving, effectively turning the safe zone into a growing powder keg of resentment and frustration, or I can allow for some freedom of movement. How many denizens would you say have gathered the courage to arm themselves and brave the city?"

Hinkley frowned in thought. "About five, I think."

"Out of how many?"

"Uh..."

"By my last count, there are nine hundred and seventeen refugees in the safe zone. Even the ones who were recently reconstituted from cubes no longer show much eagerness in leaving. Usually I've had to force people to go on expeditions. Fortunately, with the growing number of officers and other first responders, I don't have to do that anymore."

"But there are other safety concerns," she said. "How will we know who's really a refugee and who's an opportunist looking for victims to rob?"

"What do you suggest? That we interrogate everyone about their criminal background before they enter? My brainbots take photographs of every person who comes and goes. No system is perfect, but if someone commits a crime there's a pretty good chance I'll identify them."

Her jaw fell open. "But...but isn't that kind of...invasive? Taking photos without their knowledge?"

He tilted his head. "Why, yes. Yes, it is."

The administrator, who had been seething, exploded, "These two locked me in a closet for two hours!"

Do you think was that long enough? Megamind thought uncontrollably. For a brief, undignified moment, he nearly burst out laughing. The man looked so much like an angry, puffed up bluebird, the sort of fussy paper-pusher that he himself might have wanted to prank, once upon a time. He bit his lip and fought down the hysteria, and pressed his fist to his mouth before he tried to speak. "Dare I ask why?" he asked, voice quivering only slightly.

Hinkley and the firefighter looked indignant. "Well, we didn't have much choice," Hinkley said defensively.

"Driving us crazy," the firefighter protested. "Keeps wanting all these forms, in triplicate."

The administrator crossed his arms. "How else can we keep track?"

"We are keeping track!" Hinkley snapped. "We have to keep it simple, not waste time filling out all these..."

"Waste of time!" yelled the administrator. "I've been assistant planning director for ten years! You'll change your tune when..."

"Even driving your secretary nuts, Overlord," the firefighter cried. "He was..."

"Silence!" Megamind shouted. They subsided, grumbling.

Megamind pointed at the administrator. "You're off the rescue triage. You're now assistant secretary. Oh, don't gape like that, Bernard could use the help. Report to him at once." He lifted his hand in a questioning gesture at the other two. "Simple enough?"

They nodded, mollified.

Megamind turned to go, and almost bumped into an anxious Luke.

Luke blurted, "Can I be a henchman?"

Megamind looked him up and down. At first glance, Luke's tall, gangly demeanor said 'goofball' more than 'fearsome thug.' Still, he was biddable, an ex-con, and generally sprang to help wherever help was needed, so he was no slouch. What's more, he had helped carry the Overlord to the lake that awful day of the fainting spell and had joined the mob against Hal, though that didn't prove much. It didn't take hardly any effort at all to let yourself get sucked into a mob.

Nonetheless, Megamind felt inclined to give him a chance. "All right, I'll give you a trial run. So long as Minion approves. Oh, hold on." He'd almost forgotten. "Rupert, get Hinkley back here. I want you, Luke, and two cops to go to the Red Owl store on Kendall and 50th. Someone's selling bogus tickets to the safe zone. Capture them and bring them round back of the Lair."

When he found these profiteers, he'd make them eat those so-called tickets.


He saw to it that the gardeners had what they needed to start up some more garden boxes. They got to work with enthusiasm, trekking out to the open hillside that led up to the abandoned observatory, but Megamind knew there was no way they'd get enough plants started. They'd started too late, food was getting eaten faster than they could replace it.

Unless the thrice-damned army suddenly grew a conscience and showered them with canned goods, he would have to breach the quarantine and get some food himself. Now, should he do it by air or by water?

There would also be a... and he could hardly believe he was even considering it... a police station in the safe zone. Another police station on the mainland was close enough to revitalize, once the zombies and other human remains were cleared out of it.

He painted a squad of brainbots orange and primed them on rescue protocol.

In a few short hours, he cobbled together a mobile energy fence, with light pilings easy to handle and set up anywhere that rescuers needed to cordone off in order to evacuate citizens trapped in buildings, and demonstrated its features to the rescue team.

Zombies, it turned out, could be temporarily paralyzed by electric shock. The energy fence kept them at bay. He captured a real zombie to demonstrate. Zombies could also be briefly stopped by tasers, interestingly enough. Tasers were much safer to hand out to the denizens and the citizens of the rest of the city, once he got hold of enough of them, leaving the guns and laser rifles for those trained in their use.

He met with Roxanne, and together they went into the yellow zone to a railroad crossing and erected a large shed large enough to hold the transmitter, a table and a couple of chairs. The shed would offer protection from the weather, bored vandalizers, and rampaging zombies.

He hooked up the transmitter to the tracks, and put protective flaps over the cables running along the ground. Roxanne flipped the switch.

"Okay," she said, inspecting the dials. "That's it. We're broadcasting on FM radio, and channels 8 and 16. For a good two hundred miles around, I imagine. I'm still not sure it's a good idea to hijack channel 8."

"It's your channel. Well, KMCP's."

"Yeah, but a national chain probably took over. They're not going to like it. The TV people as well as the public."

"We stole back what is rightfully ours."

They looked at the dials and the monitor, showing footage of Roxanne introducing her first interview. Megamind had wanted to show a horrific battle against zombies right away to grab people's attention, but Roxanne argued for a quieter start. As people tuned in, they'd see plenty of action anyway. She'd edited out as much gore as possible, and included warnings about viewer discretion.

They stared at the quietly humming machinery. "Kind of anti-climactic, isn't it?" Megamind said.

"I hope we get the right response," she said, her voice grim.


Back at the Lair he got a call from an agitated Hot Flash. "Remember that little baby zombie from yesterday? Remember?"

"How can I forget? Your point?"

"Now the dad's sick with a fever, and one of his other kids, too. We don't know what's wrong with 'em. Everyone's freaking out, they want the whole family kicked out."

Megamind cursed, and went to see Dr. Plant.

She dragged a hand through her hair. "Damn it, damn it, damn it, I should have asked more questions. Better quarantine them. There're plenty of other diseases to worry about."

"Any idea what it could be?"

"Influenza, a norovirus, hell, could be cholera for all I know. Which can be transmitted through water. Get them out of the water treatment plant. Better yet, remove everyone from the plant who isn't essential personnel."

There were over a hundred people taking refuge in the plant. It would take time to transfer them. First off, he corralled a few denizens to assist Dr. Plant in setting up a decent quarantine house for the unfortunate family, in a little office by one of the piers, and saw to it that she had a hovercraft to go collect them when it was ready.


He procured a street cleaning machine from the city's maintenance yard and several barrels of bleach, and left it to the mechanics to find someone who knew how to operate it safely.

The family of the baby zombie hadn't been in the water treatment plant for very long. Whatever illness they'd picked up had come from outside the plant, most likely. With the amount of garbage and human remains lying around the streets, it was only a matter of time before some other disease broke out.

Step one, clear a city block of trash and collect the body parts. Step two, scrub the street with bleach. It would help cut down on at least some diseases. San Diego had dealt with an outbreak of hepatitis among its homeless population in this way.

He inspected the nets of the fishing 'bots, but their most significant catches were, so far, a Seabring convertible, a rusty toilet, and another water-logged zombie.

Minion returned, reporting that all sewer pumps were successfully reactivated, and another colony of refugees was living at the sewage plant, which wasn't so surprising. The sewage treatment compound was enormous and had a high fence around most of it to discourage trespassers.

The henchmen and the cops returned from the Red Owl empty-handed.

"We found it easy enough, there was a line outside. And somebody said we were cuttin' in line, and they started shoutin' at us, and..." Rupert cast a helpless look at the police officers.

One of them cleared his throat. "The perpetrators escaped out the back, sir."

"Did you see how many? See their faces? Anything?" Megamind asked.

They shook their heads.

"Might have helped if you'd given us some of your robots," the other cop said, staring straight at him. "Sir."

Megamind stared back, feeling his hackles rise. A reasonable request, but not when issued in that tone. This was the trigger-happy officer, the one who was so keen on seeing the alligators fed. "I didn't realize a few mangy ticket-scalpers were too much for you to handle, Officer Langer. No wonder you never made sergeant."

Langer flushed and lowered his eyes.

Megamind clasped his hands behind his back. "They'll set up shop somewhere else. Just have to wait for them to resurface. Talk to the new refugees, maybe they..." He paused at the looks on their faces. "You brought back the people who were waiting in line, didn't you?"

The four men were busy inspecting the floor and ceiling. Luke rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, when we came out of the store, there were a couple of zombies comin' up the..." He stammered to halt under Megamind''s astonished glare.

"And you left them there?" Megamind snapped. "With zombies starting to gather?"

Rupert raised his hands. "They took off, boss. They scattered." He shrugged, and glanced at his cohorts for moral support. "I dunno, they looked like they could take care of themselves."

Megamind sighed heavily. He hadn't sent his troops to rescue anyone, but he'd assumed it went without saying that they'd offer to help any citizens who happened to be around.

Well, anyone who'd survived this long would probably survive a little longer. "Go back anyway. See if anyone's still hanging about, offer them a ride to the safe zone. Talk to the people in the fireworks factory, too. They might have more information."

Megamind summoned Bernard and had him make more copies of the flyers. Many more copies, with "FREE ADMISSION" displayed prominently across the top. He'd flood the market and ruin the monetary potential.


One thing that couldn't wait any longer was a hospital run. A few more medical personnel had wandered into the safe zone, and they were going to need whatever supplies they could scrounge up from the overrun hospitals.

He couldn't leave this chore to the denizens alone.

He just. He could not.

That small, rock-like determination inside him, the thing that drove him to defy whatever the universe threw at him, that driving force sneered at the horror. This all you got? You won't deter me.

He would face his opponent, he knew there was an opponent somewhere. He could feel it in his bones, though he didn't know who it was. Not yet.

It was whoever had created this virus and unleashed it on his city. Whoever they were, they would pay.

Roxanne had shown him that he mustn't push himself too hard, so he would conserve his energy, but push forward he must. He would use his fear and despair, and he would turn it into anger when the time was right. He would witness the horror and avenge his citizens.

There would be a reckoning. There would be rev-ahnge.

The hospital was worse than the prison. They didn't even finish a sweep through one wing of the place, but hurried through, making brief stops at several floors, avoiding zombies when they could, shooting them when they had to. Despite his determination, there were limits to his psychological strength, and he hadn't the heart to force the crew to investigate too far into the darkened hallways. They wanted to do their part, but he could feel their muted terror, and knew he mustn't push them beyond their limits, either.

The empty, stained cribs and incubators in the maternity ward shook him, and he could see it taking a similar toll on the others, some of whom were seasoned firefighters and cops, veterans of tragedy.

Babies got devoured entirely, their soft bones offering no resistance. What remained of the adults did not bear close inspection, or else you got to wondering who were the nurses or the doctors or the unfortunate mothers.

They needed supplies, and weren't in a position to be picky. The incubators, hospital beds, sheets, and a number of other things could be sanitized with bleach. If they weren't too ripped up, he dehydrated them, along with supplies locked away in cabinets, syringes, IV bags, plastic-wrapped needles, a treasure-trove of pills. Maybe he'd find the right medications for Doris.

It was with great relief that he and the crew returned to the Lair and unloaded the dehydrated cargo for the medical people to sort out. The medication, especially, would take a long time to examine and organize. It'd be a damn tragedy for the wrong medicines or dosages to get distributed.

As he went to take a shower, he stopped short at the sound of a brief scream, followed by what sounded suspiciously like someone getting their head smacked repeatedly against a metal cabinet.

It came from the mechanic's bay.

He strode across the Lair on wings of darkness and flung back the door. It crashed against the wall.

Everyone looked around, shocked into stillness, the crowd that inevitably gathered whenever there was a disturbance, and the people within the semi-circle, presumably the cause of the ruckus.

They'd frozen into a tableau.

Hank in the act of crouching next to his lover Jessica, who was holding her head, next to a metal cabinet with, yes, a brand new dent in it.

A furious Noelle, Hank's wife, almost against the wall next to Bernard, who had a hand on her shoulder as if to hold her back.