They emerged from the house and walked down the steps onto a quiet neighborhood street, Lady trotting behind them. The grass in all the yards was overgrown, but the sidewalks had been cleared of weeds by hand. Birds chirped in the late afternoon sunset and squirrels chased each other around trees. Flak and another man walked behind them with rifles, keeping guard.
They passed a house with a chicken coop. Hens clucked and pecked in the yard. The yard next to it had been converted into a small garden with beans and tomatoes growing.
"Looks like you've got quite a few of those little plots around," said Keats. "About how many folks you got to feed here?"
"Ha! Nice try. Let's just say: Enough to feel safe."
"Then what do you need us for? Why keep us prisoner?"
Marco grimaced. "Those aren't the words I'd use, but you're forgiven for seeing things from that perspective. We just want to make sure your stories check out and you're not going to do us any harm."
"So if we check out," said Keats, "we can go?"
"Of course. You have my word." Then Marco stopped and turned towards Keats. He grabbed him by the shoulders. "But if you want to stay, you can do that, too. We need all the help we can in this fight."
Keats didn't say anything. There was nothing he could say. Like it or not, using whatever vocabulary you want, they were prisoners. And when it came to bats and spears versus rifles, the rifles always won.
Marco smiled before they made their way to the house where Keats' group would be staying. It was a two-story brick town home with a makeshift wooden fence and an ancient, rusted Chevrolet in the driveway.
"This used to be what they called 'affordable housing,'" said Marco as they entered the yard. "But believe it or not, they make the best castles. Minimal windows. Fireproof. Door's made of solid steel."
Keats had made up his mind about what tact he wanted to take with Marco. He smiled for the first time and said: "Could be a lot worse. It's been - God, months since I've slept inside."
"Tonight won't be easy," said Marco. "You'll still wake up in the middle of the night. Force of habit. But who knows. Maybe you'll get used to it."
He turned to the men who'd been following them. "You've met Flak. This gentleman here is Cochise. They'll be taking care of your immediate needs. Get some rest, and we'll see you tomorrow." He walked away quickly like he still had lots of business he had to attend to in whatever daylight remained.
The rest of Keats' group joined him in the yard. Flak walked up and put his hands on his hips. He looked to be about 25 years old and had slate blue eyes. Like all survivors, he was rail thin, but his frame suggested an athletic past.
"Howdy," he said. "You want to know why we let you keep your weapons?" He looked at Jamie, who smiled at him. Jamie was a teenager who'd grown up in a post-outbreak shelter. She had long brown hair and was very pretty, but slouched forward a bit with the awkwardness that came with being her age.
No one in the group answered Flak. Besides Jamie, they either eyed him suspiciously or looked at the ground.
"Well, if there's one thing I've learned since the world ended," he said, "it's that you should never rely on a fence. So just in case you guys get a knock in the middle of the night from Mr. Walker, we know you can at least hold your own. Because when it comes to the undead, we're all on the same team, right?"
"Sure we're not just a front line?" said Hemingway. "Keep us out on the periphery, close to the fence, while you guys stay in the middle?"
"Now that doesn't sound like gratitude," said Flak. "You know we're feeding you, too, right? I'm coming back this evening with dinner. Now, why don't you all go inside, get yourselves settled in."
"Maybe we like it out here. Fresh air."
Flak stared at him, still with his sparkling smile. "You ask yourself how you'd treat a bunch of folks you'd never met before, with things the way they are nowadays."
Hemingway flexed his arms, straining the brown leather armor on his forearms. Keats stepped in. "We had a good talk," he said to Hemingway. Then to Flak: "We'll go in."
"Good," said Flak. "Be sure to clear the rooms first. You can never be too careful. And don't spoil dinner! It's a stew tonight."