Disclaimer: See chapter one. This is for enjoyment, not profit. English was never my strong point in school.

Note: I'm a sporadic reader, meaning I read anything that gets my attention. Unlike most people here, I haven't read a lot of King's works. So far my list consists of Salem's Lot, Pet Cemetery, Misery, The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon (an instant favorite) and Cell. I read the first three books listed years and years ago. Please excuse me if I don't read and review much here in the SK section since I would be lost in fics based on books I haven't read or don't remember well. Sure, I've seen almost every movie of his but I know that the books are always 100 percent better.

-2-

When we had gotten home, I fed my dog and set to packing. The neighborhood was quiet, as always; and added an eerie feel on top of my apprehension. Things seemed so normal for the moment I was almost sure I was dreaming.

Everything around me moved at a snail's pace. Mickey had not questioned me when I told him to pack a few toys in his backpack. He was a trouper; that was for sure.

The dream state continued as I stared at the bag I had packed. An old hiking backpack, given to me years ago, was full nearly to the rim. In the bottom was an extra change of cloths for the two of us. Following that I had packed a first aid kit (survival 101 for any mother), the necessary hygiene products, a bag of chips, a box of crackers and a six pack of Mountain Dew. I was about to add the last detail when the lights blinked.

I double checked the space I had left. Not really giving it much thought, I sprinted to the kitchen and snatched the two flashlights I had. Being ever cautious, I also added a fresh pack of batteries to my load. After stashing them in the bag, I was relieved I still had room for the last item on my list.

I plucked the revolver gently out of my dresser drawer; scattering the laundry that hid it on the floor. Snatching up the two boxes of ammo, I crammed them into the bag while I inspected the gun.

I had never shot a gun. I owned one, but never had a reason or the want to use it. Living on my own, I had taken precautions. Well, almost. If I had taken all the caution I could have, I would have learned to shot the dang thing first. It was a Taurus revolver, hammerless, with a rubber grip. I had chosen a revolver since they had less trouble with jamming. I never wanted to use the thing, but if it was necessary I didn't want the thing to jam.

I nearly crammed the gun into the bag before logic entered my thought process. I dug a box of ammo out and proceeded to load the weapon. Having a small child in the house had me scared enough to think of safety, but not willing to have it loaded.

I could see it now. A burglar/rapist/murder – or whatever – breaks into my home and threatens us. As he does so I raise my hand in protest and speak so calmly, "Excuse me for just a moment. I need to load my gun so I can shoot you."

I chuckled at my own strange humor as I loaded five of the six possible slots. I made sure that the empty chamber was read to fire. I intended to pack the weapon into my pocket and being paranoid wanted to be sure an accident wouldn't get me shot. The gun had a safety switch, but I left it off. If I had never shot a gun I knew myself enough to know that if I needed to, the safety switch would be the last thing I would consider.

It would be faster for me to fire a dry round first than to fumble with the switch.

Mickey's timing was perfect. The gun was tucked into my front pocket and I was pulling my shirt over it when he appeared in the doorway. Setting the bag on my shoulders prompted him to do the same with his own bag. In his small arms he hugged a very limp and very loved stuffed panda I had gotten him on his third birthday. Wherever Mickey went, Panda went too.

On the way across my front yard and back to mom's house, I checked my dog again. I had always been told that animals would act strangely when provoked. Cherokee greeted us from her side of the chain link fence was she always had; her brown eyes full of longing and her tail going a thousand miles a minute. She was a good dog. We adopted her two years ago as a puppy and she lived up to the standards of any chocolate lab I had known. Trustworthy, protective and loyal.

Before entering the house, I loaded both bags into the back seat of my SUV. The police and fire sirens I had heard earlier had died down but not completely. They were further away.

The power waited until I had entered the house to die completely. Since it was the house I had spent most my life in, it was easy for me to maneuver enough to reach the back bed room and retrieve my father's flashlight. The sun was hanging low and I didn't need the flashlight immediately, but I did feel better keeping it close.

Being a typical four year old, Mickey stayed close to me the whole time. I had tried on numerous occasions to purge his fear of the dark. So far I hadn't struck gold so he was literally glued to me.

Once back in my mom's office, I picked up Scrap Face and inspected it. It had half a charge. Using the only logical train of thought I could muster, I opened it up and preceded to text message my brother. I knew that I would probably never see my parents again, but there was still hope for Shawn.

I entered a short text, cursing as I fumbled with the small buttons.

'Text me! No call! Do not make call on cell. Cell make you crazy. No joke. No use cell phone.'

I pushed the send button as I grimaced at my message. Text messaging was so frustrating for me that all my messages came out as if Mickey had edited them. I pushed Scrap Face into my jacket pocket; not expecting a call back. But if there was one thing I never had a short supply of it was hope.

Shawn had said he was going fishing today. He did that frequently and he did it alone. It was a ploy of his to get away from his wife for a while and take a break.

I tried my best not to think about his wife. She was crazy enough. How he ended up with someone like her was beyond all reasoning. She was, in short, a gold digger and my brother was far from rich. Regardless, she did suck him for everything she could.

If she had been hit by this pulse thing, I couldn't care less. Yeah, for someone who tried to be a good Christian, I could have some evil thoughts. Her welfare didn't concern me. What worried me was the thought of my niece and nephew who were with her. Both of them were younger than Mickey and defenseless if she had used her phone.

I took a long look at my left wrist and smiled ironically at the Mickey Mouse watch. Having been such a big Disney fan I had obviously named my own son after a cartoon mouse. Smiling like an idiot, despite the turmoil in me, I watched in a trance as the second hand twitched around the face. It was shortly after six. I had spent longer at home than I intended. Time only seemed to move slowly, when it was me working at a snail's pace instead.

My cell beeped and brought me from limbo. I seemed to be frequently zoning out and it was beginning to bother me. I dug Scrap Face out of my pocket and flipped it open. I nearly cried when I had a return message from Shawn.

'I know. Kirk is w/me. Can't find Judy. My kids… I think they are… We'r going to EA in Raleigh. Tell who you can to meet there.'

Shawn was alive. I could gather from his message that my niece and nephew hadn't been so lucky. He wouldn't say, but I knew. He was too dedicated a father to leave without them. He also had made the point not to ask about anyone else. He didn't want to get his hopes up. Knowing I was alive would be enough to persuade him to travel with his neighbor, Kirk.

He was in Grandville County. Closer to the Virginia line, it would take longer for him to make it to Raleigh. I also had enough wit to understand that the roads wouldn't be clear. I was sure the accident I had witnessed was small compared to many of the roadways.

Locking every door in the house, I set up the living room for our stay. Early October in North Carolina left the nights cool and the days warm. Because of the job I had I was accustomed to getting up around 3 in the morning. That is when I planed to leave with Mickey. We would get an early start and see if there was any truth to meeting at the EA in Raleigh.

I don't know if it was a premonition or just paranoia, but I didn't want to stay cramped up in one spot for too long. Being a mother, I knew that leaving the house would mean taking my son out into the newly remodeled world; but I also knew there was no running away from this. No where in the world was safe and even the smallest hope of not having to go through it alone was enough to push me into action.

After tucking Mickey in on one couch, I set up on the other one. Despite the amount of convincing I had done on myself, I was disheartened that mom and dad hadn't returned. Memories of my parents and my brother's kids played endless loops in my head. Lying on the couch I cried myself to sleep.

-3-

Like clockwork, I was up and moving at three in the morning. A dreamless night was welcomed after everything that had happened. I checked on Mickey before I went to the bathroom. After I was done I moved back to the living room and retrieved one of the flashlights.

First thing on my to-do list was to load Mickey's stroller. We hadn't used it in a while since we rarely made trips that required a lot of walking. If I was correct about the roads, I would definitely need it. Once that was done I left a note taped to the front door behind the screen to announce my where-a-bouts in the small hopes that someone would actually read it.

The weather was mild and not bad. Making this assessment was necessary since I didn't want Mickey sick. Yeah, I'm a real protective mother but that wasn't going to change any time soon.

Both my bag and Mickey's bag made a temporary home on the back floorboard. With Mickey loaded in his car seat and Cherokee in the passenger seat, I set to leave the neighborhood.

The quickest way to Raleigh was to travel back the way I had come from work. If nothing much had changed then the roads that way would be clear for the part of the way. I would have to avoid the truck and school bus, but I really wanted to drive as much as possible.

Mickey was fast asleep behind me, which I was thankful for. I was sure to pass my dad's truck and my mom's car. Part of me didn't want to go that way, but another part did – and for just that. It all came down to closure. I knew I would go on with the smallest amount of belief that they were still alive if it wasn't confirmed.

The SUV moved at a creeping speed as I approached the school bus. Night crowded around my windows as my headlights illuminated the road ahead of me. I was constantly darting my eyes around; checking for anyone who might approach my car.

The yellow bus was an easy target to find. I slowed even further as I scanned the area. It was quiet. The silence only added to the eeriness around me. The whole world seemed to be under a blanket. If not for the moon, which hid mostly under clouds, and my headlights, I would have felt both deaf and blind.

I moaned softly as I spied my mom's car parked on the right shoulder. The front door was opened. I stopped beside it and shifted into park. Lowering the window, I swept the flashlight across the driver's seat. It was empty.

Cherokee regarded me with a brief look of knowing before she hung her head out the window. The dog was smart and I wasn't worried about her jumping ship. She was bonded to Mickey and I knew she wouldn't abandon him; or me for that matter.

I also knew that mom wouldn't have left her door open unless there had been trouble. This was evidence enough, but I shifted back into drive and crept along anyway. Only a few feet in front of mom's car sat dad's truck. It was closed and deserted.

I moved along and stopped beside the back of the bus. What I needed now was another touch with reality. I had to be sure my overactive imagination hadn't run off and dragged me along. Rolling down my window, I used the flashlight to inspect the ground behind the bus.

With both windows down, a soft breezy drifted around me. The smell of night was tainted with an odor not yet unpleasing but very unsettling. I wasn't an expert but my instincts told me I was smelling death. Cherokee groaned lightly as if she were confirming my thoughts.

My flashlight found the young kid still sprawled on the asphalt. In morbid curiosity I violated his corpse with my eyes. His mouth was hung open in an infinite scream. Eye robbed of life stared off into the night. Blood caked his dark hair and his body was twisted uncomfortably.

I leaned out the window and regurgitated everything my stomach had to offer. The boy was less than a decade older than my own son. He was a child. He hadn't even lived his life before it had been stripped from him. I was sick not just for him, but for every child that had suffered. And for any child who would still suffer.

Once I was done, I quickly extinguished the flashlight and sat back in the car. A few napkins from the glove box, with the help of the baby wipes I kept stashed between the seats did a good clean-up job. Before I continued, I grabbed one of the warm cans of Mountain Dew. Warm sodas had never been to my liking, but the taste was welcomed anyway. I needed something to keep myself from throwing up again and the warm sting from the soda did the trick.

As I continued to push the car forward, the only thing that kept me from losing all my wit was the very thing sitting behind me. Four years ago I became a mother. I was engaged, but that didn't last to see Mickey's second birthday. Patrick had left to find himself, leaving me in charge of the life we had brought into this world. As screwed up as life had been, I never backed down from my responsibility to my child; and I wasn't about to start now. If my son was going to live, it was up to me to see to it.

But I didn't want to do it alone. I might not have been much of a social animal, sticking mostly to myself, but I wasn't a loner either. I knew I could be strong, but I wasn't sure how long I had until I broke down.

Steadily I made it to the site of the eighteen wheeler. So far I hadn't encountered any traffic I couldn't maneuver around. Besides the bus scene, I had only passed a couple of cars. One had crashed into a tree and the other appeared to have been abandoned.

I had also seen no people. At night it was easy to imagine that no one was left on earth aside from one's self. Tonight that feeling was dominating.

Though the eighteen wheeler covered most of the road, I was still able to use the shoulder to get around it. The car that had hit it earlier was still there, but the cop cars were gone. I couldn't see a lot, but I was sure the driver had died on impact. As for the truck driver, I had no clue – nor did I want to know.

The traffic was sparse and I was able to pass the Raleigh line with hardly any trouble. It helped that I lived only a few miles from the Raleigh-Durham border. It wasn't until I was mostly down highway 70 before cars began to really litter the roads.

For half a mile, I was able to either squeeze around the wrecks or use the median. Highway 70 would have plenty of open space until it changed to Glenwood Avenue. This, unfortunately, didn't help me as I approached the bridge crossing over Westgate Road. The road was blocked with no way around it.

Having visited Raleigh frequently, I knew of several ways to reach the EAC (Entertainment Arena Center) in Raleigh. I was sure that even those ways would be blocked worse than this way. I had half a tank of gas left, but didn't see the point in trying to find another way around.

I parked the SUV on the shoulder and rolled the windows up.

"Alright, Chickie-do, you stay here for just a minute and keep an eye on the boy. We're going for a walk."

Cherokee simply regarded me with big brown eyes as I got out. Around the back, I unfolded Mickey's stroller. First I loaded Mickey's toys into the storage area under the stroller. On top of that I crammed our sweaters, which had taken up residence in my back seat. A sleeping Mickey was added after I had secured my own pack on my back.

I wrapped a blanket around him, mostly for the wind and not for the weather. It was very comfortable out and perfect for an early morning stroll. Conveniently, Cherokee jumped over the front seats and waited for me to gather her lease before jumping out of the car.

I looped her lease around my wrist and held the flashlight with my other hand. Gripping the flashlight and stroller at one time was awkward, but doable. I started out at a steady pace, determined to explore my surroundings as little as possible. The site I had witnessed of the kid earlier had been enough to last a life time. Still, curiosity led me to divert my attention anyway.

I must have gone numb, because when I reached the first body I didn't react. The woman was frozen in the same terror the boy had been in. Her shirt was torn open and blood decorated her whole frame.

I didn't stop to inspect her as I had the boy. I continued to sweep my flashlight around despite my better judgment. By the time I had walked perhaps a fourth of a mile, I had counted ten bodies. Each included a fair share of blood.

"Where's the blood drive when you need it?" I mumbled to myself. I knew making smart remarks like that were a defensive mechanism, but I couldn't and wouldn't stop.

I wasn't an athlete by any stretch of the imagination, but one thing I could do was walk for miles without stopping. The only thing that posed a problem for me was the hills highway 70 was paved over. Inadvertently I kept a steady pace.

I never kept up with how many miles I had gone through the numerous times I had driven the stretch of road. By the time I reached Lenard Road, I was tired and my legs ached. The body count had reached a grand total of twenty-five and I was sure it exceeded that. I had yet to encounter anyone, crazy or not, still alive.

According to my watch, it was five in the morning when I turned on Lenard. I needed to stop for a while and wanted to get inside somewhere. I knew a grocery store was close and given the current state of things was the best place for a break. Mickey would wake up hungry and Cherokee was always up for a good meal. The chips in my bag wouldn't last long.

I paid the parking lot little attention as I crossed to the front doors. Since the power was out, the doors were frozen shut. Prying them open wasn't easy, but I managed the task with little frustration. Once I was inside, I pushed them back the best I could and scanned the area.

Hanging over the first cash register I came to was another corpse. A young girl, probably in her late teens, had been mauled to death on the conveyer line.

"Well, I'm sure that violates code," I whispered. With stubborn determination I stepped further into the store. I wasn't going to let one dead body force me to leave. Still, I had to be sure that a few dead bodies would be all I found before I felt safe enough to stay.

-4-

Like it or not, my bouncing baby boy of innocence would soon be getting a lesson about the other side of life. Death. After what I had seen, it was evident I wouldn't be able to censer him from this. I only prayed he was young enough to be more emotionally capable of handling it than I was. Kids had a way of bouncing back quicker. He would be looking to me for guidance. All I had to do was keep my wits about me.

Investigating the store further revealed a huge mess. Food products of all kinds littered the floors. The sun would be coming up in less than 2 hours. At that time I could make a better assessment.

I pushed the stroller into a checkout lane that had been closed during business hours; leaving it mostly free from clutter. I wanted to investigate the store more thoroughly. The thought had crossed my mind that just because I had been lucky so far, I might still encounter trouble.

"Should have waited until it was day, Helen," I scolded myself. I had wanted to start the journey while Mickey was asleep so to shield him. No amount of shielding would hide the truth from him. I knew that now.

I left Mickey under the watchful eye of Mother Cherokee and stepped further into the store. Heaps of canned, bagged and boxed groceries were scattered everywhere. It seemed half the inventory had been attacked. Some food still remained untouched on the shelves.

I never walked out of site from Mickey. I flashed my light on him frequently as I turned in a full circle. My limited scope produced three more bodies. Two were faced down in a pool of drying blood. The third was a man in his mid forties.

Something about the man struck me as odd. His face was stained in patches with blood. The collar of his shirt was torn. Putting all that aside, he was in far better condition than the other three corpses in the store. I moved three steps closer; kicking the wasted food out of my way.

Kneeling, I leaned in for a closer look. His eyes were wide open and vacant; but moist. His mouth was ajar slightly and not in the scream I had come to expect. I leaned in even closer. My eyes traveled from his face to his chest. His chest was moving. He was alive!

Setting the flashlight on the floor, I drew the gun from my pocket. He was alive, but I couldn't be sure what state he was in. He could have been zapped or maybe he wasn't. Perhaps he had witnessed something he couldn't quite get over and had simply lied down in mental exhaustion.

I reached out a shaking hand. My fingers were mere centimeters from his shoulder when the first sound outside any I had made intruded.

"Don't! He's one of them."

I jumped; grabbing the flashlight as I twisted toward the voice. Reflexively my hand squeezed the gun, firing the dry round. Straight on my left, huddled defensively against the racks, was another man. Blonde hair waved in disarray around his pale face. His brown haunted eyes seemed to meet my apprehensive blue eyes before he blinked furiously at the beam of my flashlight. I could see tale tell bags under his eyes announcing sleep deprivation.

"Who are you?" I demanded. I had wanted to sound forceful, but only managed to portray my own fear.

"Simon. I'm not on of them, I swear." He shifted, holding a hand up to shield his eyes. "Please, can ya get that thing outta my face?"

"Oh," I replied, lowering the flashlight to the floor between us. "Sorry."

The white tile floor did a decent job at reflecting the light. Behind me the sun had started to peek out. A faint orange glow from the windows did little to help with the light, but the sun would be up before long.

"Hey. Look. I." Simon seemed to trip over his words. "I see ya got a gun."

"Yeah. The world's coming to an end and I'm packing." My tone was sarcastic but soft. "Sunday school taught us to be ready for the Apocalypse, but they never said we couldn't fight back."

Clearly he had mistaken my sarcasm for a trigger happy attitude. He scooted back slightly. "N-no, that's not what I meant. That guy right there might wake up."

Hours of no contact with anyone alive had disoriented my senses. I had forgotten about the man I sat so close to. Falling way from him, I snatched up the flashlight and aimed it at him. He hadn't changed.

"He was zapped, wasn't he?"

"Zapped?" Simon responded. "I guess he was if that's what ya callin' it. When it all happened I was just picking up a few things for dinner. It all happened so damn fast. Several people just went berserk."

"Let me guess," I intruded. "The ones that went berserk were on their cell phones?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess. The ones I saw go mental were."

I nodded. Simon, I knew, wasn't a threat. Terror laced his voice though I wasn't sure who scared him the most: a zappy in a sleep state or a sarcastic chick carrying a gun.

"When they started attacking the sane ones, and themselves, I managed to dodge somehow. I guess they had their share of the daily food special – including a side of human flesh – and left the store. That guy didn't make it out before the power died."

I had to commend his sarcastic streak. It was a good chance that we would get along just fine; unless he freaked on me. I was almost sure he hadn't left the store himself because he was too scared. Being a chick, I did expect a man to be stronger than me, but I found that wasn't always the case. Still, I liked Simon so far and his company was very much welcomed.

"You sure he's the only one here?"

"Positive," he answered immediately. "When the power died I was in the back of the store. I searched for survivors and found him. I thought about making a run for it, but no telling what I'd find outside. I kept track of him while he wondered the store. At one time I tried to call for help, but all lines were busy."

"There's no way to call for help." My voice was flat. It made me wince to hear my usual up beat self so emotionless. But hey, twenty-five plus bodies could do that to a person.

I explained briefly to Simon what I had encountered starting with the truck wreck on Alexander Drive. When I had finished I stood and took a few steps back to check on Mickey. As I had left him, he was still snoozing. Cherokee had curled up beside the strolled and helped herself to a nap.

The sun was making a steady upward journey. The line of light inched slowly across the floor. The store was filled with pockets of shadows. When I glanced to check on Mickey again, I noticed that Cherokee was awake. Her chocolate fir was standing on end. A deep seated growl vibrated in her throat.

I didn't wait for her to tell me what was wrong. I knew.

I turned back to the zappy. He was no longer lying on the floor. He was standing. From the waist up he was shrouded in the early morning light. His arms hung limply at his side as he stared out the window. He moved to take a step toward the front of the store and stopped. His head swung slightly in my direction as his blank eyes seemed to target me.

"Oh shit!" I dropped the flashlight and raised the gun with both hands.

His feet, one shoed and the other bare, scrapped the floor as he twitched his body around to face me. "Shew noy feshy!" he screeched.

I had no idea what he had said, but I was sure he wasn't asking me out for breakfast. He wasn't my type anyway. I preferred men with half a brain – at least.

Like a child learning to walk, he shuffled toward me. A dull ache radiated from both shoulders and elbows as I held the gun up. Finger on trigger, I was ready to shoot. But I didn't. I froze.

"Stop!" I yelled in a whisper. My voice had failed me.

Could I kill? I could, and would, if it meant protecting my son.

He stepped closer. There was a foot left between the barrel of my gun and his chest. I lifted the revolver and aimed for his head. "Please stop."

A can of peas made a sudden impact with his skull. His balance faltered only slightly. Lines of anger formed in his brow. From the same direction a can of lima beans followed the same path of the peas; nailing him above his ear.

In my frozen state of wonderment, I began to ponder where the cans had come from. I started to tread toward the idea of poltergeists when Simon yelled at me.

"Shoot him! For God's sake shoot him!"

As if his command controlled me, I pulled the trigger. The gun kicked and I feared I had missed. Deafened by the shot, I watched as the man fell backwards. Pain echoed through both of my arms. I couldn't move. I had just shot a man.

The first sound to reach my ears was from Mickey. The gun shot had startled him out of sleep. He was crying and calling me frantically. I didn't wait to see if the man was down for good. I left that task to Simon as I hastily sat the revolver under the stroller. Shaking hands worked fast to loosen Mickey from the stroller's safety harnesses and into my arms.

Cherokee let out one bark and startled Mickey again. His small hands reached around my neck and held fast to my hair. I had pulled the top of my hair back, leaving Mickey to grab at what trailed down my back.

"It's okay, buddy boy, Mama's gottcha." I rocked him until his tears subsided.

Through all of this, Simon had followed me into the casher's lane. "Well, you got him. He aint getting' up from that. What kind of person carries a gun and don't use it?"

A small light of anger ignited in me. I extinguished it quickly. Now was a time for people to come together, not fight. That, and Simon had saved my life back there. If he hadn't decided to throw those cans at the zappy and yell at me I don't think I would have done more than just stand there.

I answered his question in pure honesty. "A pacifist, that's who."

edited 9/3/07