AN: Thanks so much for the reviews, guys. Here comes another chapter!

Chapter 6

One-hundred fifty miles south of Chicago, near Danville, Illinois...

Corn.

There was nothing to be seen for miles and miles in every direction except for corn. Six-foot-tall stalks, turning beige-colored in the late fall sun, waved back and forth in the Southern Illinois breeze. Derek had never been much of a fan of the sweet yellow kernels before—he could take it or leave it—but now, he loved corn. Corn helped save his life and the lives of his family.

He'd entered Chicago, fighting his way through the hungry zombies and equally hungry remaining humans who had lost their humanity. He'd searched, trying desperately to make contact with his mother, but he hadn't found her anywhere in the first three days. Garcia had helped him every step of the way, checking for any areas of increased cellular or internet service and reporting back with her info.

Just talking to her had kept some semblance of normalcy for him.

After nearly a week, he'd found his way to Our Lady of Peace Catholic Church. There, he'd found his sister Desiree, ministering to the abandoned and desperate. She was gaunt and tired and hadn't slept in days, which was no different than any of the other volunteers at the church. Derek had found out from her that his mother had been at the hospital, working with the ill and the afflicted. He'd also learned some very interesting news. There had been many patients that had been bitten by a zombie, but hadn't changed to one. The doctors that had remained on staff were working diligently to keep the survivors from changing, but with very limited success.

He'd also found out that his sister Sarah had departed the city with her husband and his nephew, Ty, about a week before he'd arrived. She'd met up with his aunt and cousins, who had left long before and were in a remote location in the middle of Texas. It warmed his heart to know that at least some of his family were safe.

The next day, telephone service had ceased to be functional. He'd lost contact with Penelope, but he'd found his mother. The situation in the city had become uncontrollable. The influx of ill and wounded had far outnumbered the workers, and it would have been only a matter of time before they were causalities, too. Only a few extremely brave or extremely risky doctors and nurses remained.

It had taken everything in him to talk his mother into coming with him. He'd almost lost the battle, if it wasn't for one particular doctor intervening...

"Derek, I can't go," Fran said. Her hair, almost always vibrant red, had grown out and was nearly white. She wore stained and torn scrubs, and she looked gaunt and exhausted, and it broke Derek's heart.

"Momma, you have to come. It's not safe here," he argued. "I found a place for us—you, me, Desi."

She smiled benevolently at him, like she did when he was a child and she was going to tell him no, anyway. "I am not leaving my home or my work here."

He huffed. "Mom, if I have to drag you out of here, I will."

As tired as she was, her Irish green eyes flashed with fire. "Derek, I can't go."

"Go, Fran." Derek recognized the man as Dr. Kincaid, an elderly physician who had worked with Derek's mother since Derek was a little boy. Over the years, he'd been like a father to Fran, a kind, vibrant man who was full of energy and wisdom. He extended a hand to Derek, who readily took it. "Hello, Derek."

"Hello, sir." Talking to the wise, older man, Derek felt about ten years old again. Very few people had that ability to do that to him.

Although he looked tired too, Dr. Kincaid mustered a smile for Derek. Derek knew it was a losing battle at the hospital—no one that stayed was going to make it out alive. From years of reading people, Derek knew Dr. Kincaid understood that, too. A look passed between the two men, of resolution of what needed to be done.

Ever observant, Derek's mom frowned. "What is cooking between you two?"

"I agree with your son," Dr. Kincaid said. "I think it would be best for you to go to a community and be with your family."

"You know I'm needed here," Fran argued.

Dr. Kincaid wasn't swayed. "You'll be needed there even more."

Fran frowned. "But Dr. Kincaid—"

"That's an order, Francine." His voice was brusque, but his eyes were gentle and resigned.

Tears filled his mother's eyes as she hugged Dr. Kincaid. Derek had rarely seen his mother cry. She'd always been strong for the family.

"Find a good place for her, son," Dr. Kincaid said, handing Fran off to Derek. He winked at the two of them and teased, "And send a Christmas card!"

Derek sighed. They'd all made it safely to Southern Illinois. Some survivors along the way had found other survivors that seemed to know a little more about zombie activities. They were selective, but they'd welcomed a nurse, a volunteer rescuer, and a law enforcement agent to the community with open arms.

All in all, they'd found a home in the fields of corn in Illinois. They had plenty to eat, and they were relatively safe. One of the oddities that was picked up by the survivors was that zombies didn't want to cross cornfields. Since they were surrounded by corn, there shouldn't have been a problem, but they still had patrols every evening on the perimeter. Derek had done his duty the night before, the graveyard shift.

They were pretty happy there...except for one thing.

Before he could think too much and become maudlin, a pair of warm arms snaked around his middle and a mug of coffee appeared before him.

Derek took the mug with a chuckle. "Thanks, Momma."

He felt a soft kiss between his shoulder blades before she stole around to his side. "It's decaf, son. You should be sleeping."

He wrapped an arm around her. "Not right now."

Fran frowned at him. "You got patrol tonight again, Derek. I don't want you wearing yourself down."

"I'm fine, mother mine."

"Incoming east wall!" one of the patrols called out over the hand held megaphone they used. The clanging of a bell started next, signaling an unknown breech of the walls they'd built around their compound.

Fran's wide blue eyes met Derek's narrowed, focused gaze. "Do you think it's an attack?"

"Momma, go in the house." Derek climbed the hunting stand by his home to see what was happening. He narrowed his eyes and focused through the perimeter, trying to scout more information. He reached for his gun and crouched down, watching the dust rising at the gates and then settling.

It was a car that stopped right at the entry way...A luxury car?

There was something familiar about that automobile. Tingles rose on the back of Derek's neck as he took binoculars out of his pocket and checked for plates.

Virginia.

"I'll be damned." He shook his head in disbelief, and then a grin he couldn't hold back spread across his face as he shouted out, "Rossi!"