I heard clicking. At first it was distant, as I forced my way through the darkness. I came to, slowly opening my eyes to see..well, not much. Dim light off to my left, and various pieces of defunct machinery in front of me. I rolled over, sat up, and just about vomited. I felt horrible, sore all over and nauseous. Red was sitting there, loading pistol magazines. I guessed we were in his garage or something, with all the tools and stuff on the walls.

"So, you're up."

"Yeah, I guess."

The only light was clamped to his workbench, lighting a mess of bullets and shells. There were some full speedloaders, some full magazines, and a few trays of ammo just sitting there. He sat on a stool, probably one he brought home from his diner. Red was just staring at me, and all I could think was, damn this is awkward. I didn't know what had happened- had I imagined everything?

"Sooo..."

"Tell me right now, son...do you remember that thing at work?"

"Thing?"

"The zombie."

"You saw it too?"

"Yeah. Scared me shitless, but I saw worse in '73."

"'73?"

"Nam."

"Oh."

He turned around, slipped a magazine into an old-looking Colt 1911. He pressed the trigger, and the slide shot forward with a snap. He shoved it out of sight, and I head a snap click into place. He shifted his weight, trying to make a holster comfortable. Red looked back up at me.

"The police are going to want to explain that shit, son. A half-rotted corpse, a dead hooker, and a restaurant full of witnesses won't just disappear, you know."

"The police?"

The thought of police involvement provided a new, terrifying aspect to the night. How would we explain a blown-apart corpse that's half rotted? We couldn't, really. The local law wouldn't want to hear any of it, and the prospect of jail really didn't appeal to me.

"So...what do we do?"

"Well, the obvious answer is that we can't stay here. I don't know, somehow it seems...evil here. Wrong. Dangerous."

"So, we go. Then what?"

He sighed.

"While we were driving here, I saw a man change into a wolf. I saw another dead person on this street. It's not safe here, I know that much. I figure, I gots some friends from the war, they can keep us alive. Not for long, though. Just for a little bit, until we find others who can see this shit. Mack, he lives in Atlanta, so I want to get going right away."

"So what do I do?"

I Was flat out panicking. Sure, my dad owned some guns. Maybe I was crazy, I don't know. I didn't want to hurt any innocent people, but I didn't want those...things to, either.

"You can come, or you can stay. If you come, we leave tonight once you grab your shit. And it's total war, then. No halfways. I'm going to kill every one of those god damn things I can."

I can't say I can blame him. He probably knew Sandy for years and years- I was just a summer worker. I nodded.

"I'm coming. What should I grab?"

"Clothes, first of all. After that, cash, weapons, and maybe some food. Travel light, we've got a ways to go."

He reached over his worktable, picked up a revolver and handed it to me. It felt so heavy.