CHAPTER 4: ELECTRIC AVENUE

July 28, 1993

After the encounter with Mrs. Pray, Harlan and Anthony quickly finished the northern fence and had enough left over to start work on the eastern portion before nightfall. They clambered up the sheet rope and retired to the living room with some canned food absconded from the supermarket. Harlan didn't speak much, and the two men ate in silence.

"So," Anthony began, "you grew up here?" Harlan looked up from his can of beans.

"Yeah, yeah, born here in '66, then I moved out." He returned to his beans.

"Yeah I've gathered," Anthony picked at the canned corned beef Harlan gave him, "Are you alright?" Harlan didn't look up.

"Yeah, yeah." He piled in another mouthful of beans, "Just another fuckin' day in paradise." Anthony wasn't convinced, but returned to his meal and finished it in a few more bites.

"What's the plan for tomorrow?" Harlan looked up this time.

"We'll finish as much of the east wall as we can, find more wood to finish what we can't, and keep killing those bastards as they come." He said, through a mouthful of beans.

"Right." Anthony looked at his hands, his right one still stained with blood after washing it several times, "I think I'll call it a night." Anthony slapped a hand on Harlan's shoulder as he retreated upstairs and into one of the bedrooms. He laid awake for almost an hour processing what he saw, and Harlan's reaction, before falling asleep.

He was rudely awoken the morning after.

"Hey man, sleep well?" Anthony flipped over to see Harlan standing over him.

"Well I was," Anthony began, "but… whatever." He swung himself out of the bed and exited the room, Harlan followed him downstairs.

"I made breakfast," Harlan began, "Found some eggs in the neighbor's fridge, almost like the world didn't end, right?" Anthony was in no mood, but partook in this facsimile of a traditional breakfast. Honestly, it wasn't half bad.

Harlan and Anthony made their way back upstairs and down the sheet rope to resume work on the wall. They made it halfway to the fence against the old fire station when they ran out of nails.

"And there's none in the house?" Anthony asked as Harlan paced around the backyard.

"No, no, I checked." He paused for a moment, "But there are a couple garages I haven't checked yet. Think you're ready to go back out in the world?" Anthony scoffed.

"Yeah," Anthony gripped the hammer in his belt, "yeah I think I'm good to go."

Harlan nodded and grabbed his axe. The two stepped around the unfinished wall and peered a few backyards down the road. No undead to be seen.

Harlan marched forward passing the first house, hopping the fence, and passing the second home. Anthony followed, keenly aware of any threats that could come up behind them. Harlan hopped to the third lot and tried the garage's window, locked. Anthony watched as he moved to the house's windows and tried in vain to get inside. All of them were locked. Before Anthony could suggest trying another house, Harlan swung his axe into the garage's lone window.

"The fuck was that?" He asked, Harlan shrugged.

"It's worked before." He picked some pieces of glass from the frame, then hopped through. Anthony kept watch outside. "And voila! Nails!" Harlan's head popped out of the window alongside his hand, which held an orange box, "We can head back."

"Anything else in there?" Harlan ducked back inside.

"Uhhh," he began, "I see a gas can, some closet with… shovels, and what's this thing?" Anthony heard a metal clang, "Holy shit it's a generator."

"Great, great, I'll jot that down," He scribbled for a moment before Harlan opened the garage's large metal door. At the end of the driveway was a small cluster of the undead.

"FUCK!" Harlan slammed it shut. "Fuck they're out front!" Anthony turned to see four of them begin shambling over. Harlan dived through the window and onto the grass.

"As subtle as a house fire," Anthony muttered, raising his hammer. Harlan brandished his axe next to him. " I'll take two, you take two?"

"Yeah, sure," Harlan spat as the two men backed into the yard behind them. Three of them were in street clothes, but the fourth was decked out in firefighter gear.

"Is she one of your friends?" Anthony asked.

"Nah, but she sold me this shirt." Harlan backed up in lockstep with Anthony as the zombies marched forward. Harlan swung his axe as the fire-zombie stepped up, cleaving her head clean off. Her body collapsed, head still gnawing with her helmet attached. Anthony stepped up to the next zombie, bashed his head in once, again, and again, but he kept coming.

"Fucking hell does he have a plate in his head?"

"Yeah!I know him!" Harlan yelled as his axe connected with the zombie's jaw, sending him spinning to the ground. "Viet-Carl, he took a bullet in Saigon and made it his personality."

Anthony's hammer connected with the next zombie, who went down almost immediately.

"Fuck yeah, man!" Anthony danced ahead and hit the next zombie, who didn't go down quite as easily. He hit him again, and again, when he fell on the ground. "FUCK!"

Harlan swung his axe up and connected it with the last zombie's skull, eliciting a disgusting crack as his face cleaved in two. Anthony was on the ground, kicking what used to be George as he clawed his way towards him.

"No no no no NO NO NO," Anthony cried.

"Fucking ASSHOLE," Harlan shouted as he hoisted George up and off of Anthony, tossing his zombified remains against the garage wall. "CREEP!" Harlan's boot connected with Georgie's head again and again. He went limp, but Harlan kept kicking his skull in. "FUCK OFF!" He spat on the man's remains before turning to Anthony and holding his hand out.

"Jesus Christ Harlan, issues much?" He quipped as Harlan hoisted him up.

"Ha, yeah, issues," Harland sneered at George's corpse, "Nah, this guy was uh… handsy with Jenny."

"Oh, ew." Anthony replied, "Well, looks like he didn't die peacefully." Anthony gestured his hammer to the man's corpse. Upon closer inspection, Harlan saw his neck had been ripped open.

"Well, ashes to ashes, or whatever." Harlan stepped over the small corpse pile and opened the garage door again. "C'mere, we got loot to collect."

The duo grabbed as much as they could carry, including the generator, and returned to the relative safety of the barricaded home as the sun slunk behind the trees. Harlan hooked the generator up to the home's fuse box before climbing inside. "I saw it on TV once," he assured Anthony, "we just need gas."