Cameron was Marge's brother—or at least that was the story they fed to the Harrison's (the elderly local couple that took in Marge and Jack), so that Cameron could stay too. He had a look at the community center, and didn't fancy crashing on a cot or air mattress. Sympathetic, Marge agreed and even instructed Jack to call him "Uncle Cam."

When Cameron first entered the house, he found to his immense surprise a computer—with Internet access no less! He wasted no time asking for permission to use it, and log on to his Facebook account. He almost wished he hadn't.

Just about every status update was some variation of "Help me!" or "Is anyone out there?" Not only that, but Cameron had fourteen wall posts and twenty-three messages in his inbox all asking the same thing. "Dude what's going on?" "You know what's happening?" "Please I need some help!" "Are you there? Please respond!" and so on.

Suddenly his chat box sprang to life:

"Cam?"

"Jules? Shit what's going on with you?" Cameron immediately typed down.

"I'm stuck at my house. Where r u? can u help?"

He hesitated before responding. "I'm in Wisconsin right now. Sorry."

"Wisconsin? Wtf r u doing there?"

"To get the fuck away from the city!"

He and Jules chatted along those lines for a little while longer. Cameron could barely take it. Not wanting to lose another friend, he desperately wished he could help, but there was nothing he could do. It would've been foolhardy to even think about going all the way back for her.

"Just hold on. I'm sure the army will come at any time."

"You really believe that?" He almost felt the skepticism in that sentence.

"Sure I do," Cameron lied.

"No u don't…but thanks." She paused. "any news on anybody else?"

Cameron hesitated again. "Mike's gone."

"…oh."

He then felt a hand on his shoulder. "Mike?" Marge said, reading his conversation. "You mean Carol's kid? Does that mean she's…you know?"

"Yeah," Cameron confirmed. "He called me a while back to tell me what happened."

She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Listen, do you mind if I…" Marge nodded at the computer.

"Sure, just a sec." He typed to Jules, "Look, someone else needs the comp. I'll be back on asap. Promise."

"Make sure you do. Please."

And Cameron logged out, handing over the computer.

About two hours later, Cameron got a call from his parents. They were relieved to hear that he had found a safe place to stay (he didn't say that "safe" was being used loosely). On their side, all the guests on the island attended a meeting about the situation. If things didn't get better soon they would no longer be guests, and they had to start pulling their own weight. Not too many people were happy about that.

When dinner was served Cameron wolfed down everything in front of him with gusto. Seeing as his lunch the previous day consisted of a burger, he hadn't eaten a proper meal in two days. It would've killed him to live on nothing but junk food for more than a week.

After dinner was over the Harrison's went to bed. Marge went to tuck Jack into the guest bed before returning. It was then that Cameron decided it was safe to ask Marge about her own family. She told him later that the only people that she was able to reach were her parents in Florida. They were in a tight situation, what with their house being surrounded by howling, rabid people desperate to get inside.

The family talk suddenly got Cameron got curious about something. "Whatever happened to Jack's dad?"

Marge shook her head sadly. "His appendix burst two years ago, and he died of sepsis."

That came as a surprise to Cameron. Yes, the fact that Jack's dad died at all sucks, but Cameron expected a more compelling story behind it. "Sorry," was all he said.

She just smiled. "Don't be, it's not your fault."

They stayed up to talk for the next half hour before she went back to Jack to sleep herself. Before going to the pull out sofa bed made for Cameron, he went on Facebook one more time to check up on Jules. She was thankfully still alive.

The sounds outside made it difficult for Cameron to get to sleep. What with people walking around, trucks still being positioned around the town, and light constantly flashing through the window it was a miracle he dozed off at all.

The next morning it was a good ol' helping of bacon and eggs for breakfast.

"I wonder how long we'll be able to eat like this," Mrs. Harrison said over the breakfast table.

Cameron barely heard her. He was too busy mulling over the fact that if all hell had never broke loose, he'd be sitting at school right now taking a math test. I wonder if Ms. Driscoll made it, he thought with as wry smile, recalling various memories of her lecturing in that snug pink sweater.

There was a knock at the door, and Mr. Harrison answered it. "Yes, how can I help you?" he answered.

"May I speak with the occupants for a moment?" said the man at the door.

Cameron looked up to see a gruff looking National Guardsmen walking up to the table. He was tall, elderly looking, and gave off this aura of strict discipline.

"Good morning," he said with a strong voice, his focus going primarily to Cameron and Marge. "My name is Major Kyle, and I'm going door-to-door looking for some volunteers."

"Not many doors to knock on around here," Cameron observed.

The Major gave him a pointed look that made Cameron squirm a bit. "Anyway, we lost all contact with our command last night, so basically we're on our own. And that means that we need everybody's that willing and able to help."

"Sure," Marge agreed, smiling.

"I'm not done," he continued. Cameron could tell that the real reason why the Major was here was coming up. "Our CO thinks that we're gonna be stuck here a long time—and I mean a long time. So, he's asked me to form a…militia of sorts."

"You already have one," Cameron said pointedly. "It's called the National Guard." From the look on the Major's face he must have gotten that response a dozen times over.

"Here's thing," he said bluntly. "We don't know how long we'll be here. And initial estimates are that the supplies brought in by my unit, those trucks, and what this town already had to offer, will run dry within the next couple of weeks—shorter if we keep on finding refugees."

"So what do you mean to do about it?" Marge asked carefully.

"Supply runs," the Major answered. "We're planning on giving everyone that volunteers rifle training, so that we can send people out there to gather food and other supplies."

"That's crazy! You intend to give civilians guns and send them out into the open?" Marge raged. "Well I can't I have a child to think about."

"But I don't," Cameron said thoughtfully. "I'll do it."

Marge looked at him. "Cam, you can't. It's a huge risk."

"We either starve in here, or die out there," Cameron told her, with an approving nod from Kyle. "And I didn't drive all the way here from Chicago just to sit on my ass."

"But—"

"Sign me up," Cameron told the Major.