January 9

Harlan shivered as he inhaled, the taste of tobacco smoke still on his tongue.

"How much longer is this gonna take?" He asked Meg, who was crouched next to him as she fixed a fuel hose to the tanker truck. The shotgun in his hands felt like a dumbbell straight out of the meat locker.

"The more you bitch the longer it'll take, Harley." Meg spat back, taking a sip from her water bottle and grimacing. Harlan held out his hand and she obliged. He took a swig, it burned on the way down. "Aren't you driving?"

"I'm driving." A third voice called from the truck cab. Dennis was a young guy, short, with shockingly bright blond hair contrasting with his dark skin. Harlan wondered if it was dye or genetics. "Knowing you two, we'd end up in the Ohio River."

Harlan and Meg chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Meg waved her free hand as she secured the hose to the truck. "Start pumpin' baby!"

Dennis flicked a switch and the truck roared to life. A rhythmic clunking began and the hose visibly bulged as gasoline was sucked out of the gas station's underground tanks. No one knew how much was left, but it hasn't run dry yet.

Meg stood and swung her rifle around and bumped it into Harlan's. "Watch this." She inhaled. "SPRINTERS!"

"WHERE!" Dennis clambered out of the truck and fell to the icy asphalt, dropping his gun and eliciting a roar of laughter from Meg. Harlan smiled, half enjoying it, half wondering how he got stuck on the Z-Team. "Listen up bitch-" Dennis was upright and stomping over with his gun trained on Meg, "Do that one more time and I'll tell the Governor you got bit. Get it?!"

Meg dropped her gun and let it hang from its sling. "Whoa! Calm down Denny it was a joke!"

"You think dying is a joke?"

"No I don't! But someone's gotta lighten the mood between this turd," she pointed a thumb at Harlan, "and your grumpy ass." Her thumb turned to Dennis. The two carried on arguing as the truck pumped. Harlan kept his eyes trained on the highway that ran past West Point.

This was the fourth gas run he'd gone on since him and Anthony landed at the mall. Most of them were routine.

Most of them.

"Will you two cram it? I think I see something." Harlan felt the vodka swirling in his head, but he could make out several figures to the north, deeper in town."

"Where?!" Dennis swirled around, his pistol flying past Meg and Harlan who ducked under the barrel.

"Can you be more careful for Christ's sake? I saw them up the road." Harlan gestured to the figures as they walked towards them.

Not shambled, walked.

"What do we do?" Meg turned to Dennis, who turned to Harlan, who looked at both of them.

"We uh, we-"

"We what?"

"We stop fucking yelling for starters." He said. "Get behind the truck, keep the pump going. I'll… I'll see what's up." Meg and Dennis locked eyes before scurrying around the vehicle. Harlan began to walk towards the trio, praying his liver processed the other "water" bottle he had before leaving.

Soon he could see their faces. There was an older man with gray hair and a long beard, a younger girl carrying a garbage bag, and a third person he couldn't quite place. They were covered from head to toe. He slung his gun onto his back and held his hand up to wave.

"Y'all don't look dead!" Great icebreaker.

The trio split, with the old man in the middle, flanked by his compatriots. Harlan felt exposed as they were finally within talking distance.

"You don't look dead yourself, kid." He stuck out his hand and Harlan grabbed it, the two shared a brief shake.

"I'm flattered, truly." Harlan bowed slightly with a hand placed on his chest. "How have you folks been holding up?" Behind him, Meg and Dennis scurried around the truck as the fuel pump continued to make noise. The older man-

"Just fine. The name's Martin."

Martin couldn't keep his eyes off the truck.

"Harlan."

"What's going on over there?"

"That?" Harlan twisted around. "Our generator's thirsty."

"I'm thirsty too." The girl with the garbage bag said as she took a swig from a canteen.

"That's… Misty. And to my right is Tex." They nodded. "That generator must be awful thirsty for you to be taking so much of our fuel."

"Your fuel?" Harlan raised his eyebrows.

"Well, we assumed as much. But we don't have much use for it. We're well-stocked for the winter, and the next few winters."

"That's good to know." Harlan paused. "Where are y'all holed up?"

"That depends, where do you and your people call home?" Tex slowly slung their rifle back around into their hands.

"That also depends, should I call my friends over?" Harlan held one hand up, but let the other fall near the TEC-9 in his holster.

"No need for any of that." Martin nodded at Tex, who let their rifle fall in their sling. Misty just watched. "We're in town. I'll say that much."

"And we're out of town. A ways out of town."

"Where the roads cross?" He smirked. Harlan frowned.

"We're out of town." Harlan said curtly.

"Is that what your friend would say?" Martin gestured behind Harlan.

"What's goin' on here?" Meg began. "Everything alright?" She held her rifle tightly in her hands, causing the other group to tense up.

"Everything's just peachy Meg, just peachy." He looked at her gun. "You can put that thing away, I'm trying to make friends over here."

"Denny says the truck's just about full, so you can say goodbye to your… friends."

"Just leave some for the rest of us." Martin chuckled. Meg sneered ever so slightly.

"Goodbye… friends." Harlan waved as he and Meg left, cautiously looking over their shoulders to confirm the other group was also walking away. When they were out of earshot of both the group and Dennis, Harlan whispered.

"We should really leave some for the others, who knows who else is struggling out in the cold?"

"We are struggling, Harley. Survival of the fittest." Meg took a big swig from her water bottle, Harlan followed suit. "Now c'mon, I'm sure your girl Laureen is dyin' to see you get back safe and sound."

On the way home, Harlan mulled over his conversation.

There was a warm welcome back at the mall, helped in no small part by Harlan and Meg cleaning off the rest of the vodka before pulling into the garage.

"Glad you folks made it back!" George gave Harlan a hearty slap on the back, he awkwardly returned the favor, making George cough.

"And it's great to be back!" Tone it down, Harley. "Great… to be back."

"C'mon," Meg slapped his back now, "We've gotta celebrate! With drinks!"

"More?" Harlan said under his breath as the two stumbled through the back halls and into the main hall. Some people turned their heads at the small commotion, but most didn't bat an eye. Through the crowd, Harlan spotted Laureen with Junior and a gaggle of other kids in tow.

He waved, Laureen smiled and waved back. He watched her point him out to Junior, who started to run over.

"Harley get back here!" Laureen called, but he ignored her and clasped his arms around his uncle's legs.

"Where were you?" Junior asked.

"Out, like, out out." Meg cut in. Harlan knelt down and gave Junior a proper hug.

"You smell like outside." Junior scrunched his nose.

"Is that a bad thing?" Harlan laughed. "We were on another fuel run to keep the lights on."

"And the 'puter?"

"Yes, and your computer."

"Jus' don't let him stay on that thing too much," Meg cut in again, "kid's gotta experience the real world!"

"You smell like medicine." Junior's face soured.

"Adult medicine." Meg chuckled uncomfortably. "You'll learn about it soon enough."

"Have you seen uncle Tony around, boyo?"

"No, he smells." Harlan barked up a laugh.

"Don't be mean, Junior. He helps keep this place clean."

"I'm not being mean, it's true!"

"Sometimes the truth can be mean." Harlan paused. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't tell it. Just, just uh."

"Hey!" Anthony shouted from across the hall as he jogged over, his boilersuit draped loosely over him. "Can we talk?" He eyed Meg. "Alone?"

"Y-yeah, yeah." Harlan knelt down to Junior. "Tio's gotta talk to uncle Tony, I'll see you later kid." Junior sped back off to Laureen with a smile. Before Harlan stood all the way up, Anthony snatched him by the arm and dragged him into a back room and locked the door.

"We need to leave, now." Anthony looked all around the room. It was as beige as any room could be, lined with shelf after shelf of folded clothing.

"Why now?"

"Because," Anthony got in Harlan's face, "Jerry disappeared."

"Jerry? The cook?"

"Yeah, Jerry the cook!"

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know! He just, he wasn't at Pizza Whirled like he usually is. And when I asked around, no one knew where he was either."

"Did you see him after or-"

"No! He disappeared Harlan. He's gone and no one knows where he went!" Anthony's whispers bordered on shouting.

"How can someone just vanish?"

"He isn't the first." Anthony clasped his hands and paced around the back room. "Do you remember Carlito?"

"Carl? Kind of, he's the guys with the-"

"With the eyepatch, yeah. When did you last see him?"

"I dunno, a few days ago? The mall isn't that big of a place."

"Exactly, so why haven't you seen him in a few days?" Anthony crossed his arms.

"Because he works dayside and I'm nightside?"

"No, no, you're not hearing me. No one has seen him today."

"Why are you so keen on him?" Harlan crossed his arms now.

"Because he was hearing things, seeing things, he was talking to me about it." Anthony lowered his voice. "Fairweather is disappearing people he doesn't like."

Harlan blinked.

"No he isn't."

"Yes, he is." Anthony's face went blank. "Think about it, Carlito knew everything coming in and going out of this place. Jerry was in the prime position to eavesdrop as people ate. He had a direct line to Fairweather when he served him food."

"I know you don't like it here Tony, but please, he can't be killing people like that."

"No, he isn't getting his hands dirty. He uses his little grunts to-"

"Oh his little grunts? Like me?"

"No, not you Harley. But-"

"But what? Where's your proof? You sound like a crackpot!"

"The proof is the absence of proof! No comment is still a comment."

"Oh did you learn that at journalism school?"

"You know what," Anthony threw his hands in the air, "maybe I did. But I also learned to tell when someone doesn't like my pitch." He walked to the door and turned. "I also learned how to spot an alcoholic. Get some help." He slammed the door.

"What's his fucking problem." Harlan shoved his hands in his pocket. His face felt hot and wet. "What's his fucking problem." Tears welled up in his eyes. Harlan spent the next few minutes sitting down trying to calm himself down, breathing deep, pushing the past five minutes out of his head.

When he felt himself cool down, he shook his head and stood up. Meg was waiting for him in the hall.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. He just uh, he wanted a debrief on today's scav run."

"Speaking of debriefs, the Governor wants to see us."

"Ah shit."

Upstairs, Fairweather paced around his desk.

"Now as I understand it from Dennis, y'all came into contact with… others?"

"Yes." Harlan answered. Him and Meg sat in his large office chairs while Dennis stood by Fairweather.

"Who were they?"

"They were-" Harlan still felt a little woozy from the alcohol. Briefly, he felt a hot flash of shame from Anthony's words. "They uh-"

"We only saw three of 'em," Meg cut him off. "An old guy, some girl, and this dude wearing a full mask."

"It was only three?" Fairweather probed.

"Only three that we could see." Harlan answered. "They didn't take kindly to us using the gas station." He paused. "And uh, I think they know where we're located."

Fairweather stopped in his tracks.

"They know our location?"

"I think so, he was real coy about it, asking if we lived 'where the roads cross' or something."

"Well," Fairweather rubbed his graying beard, "That could be many places, but it's awfully on the nose. Do we know where they're located?"

"Someplace in West Point," Harlan could sense Fairweather's concern, "but it's not a big town, we can find 'em again."

"I'm more concerned about them finding us. We're sitting awful pretty."

"We should find them first," Dennis suggested, but Fairweather waved his hand.

"We could, but we should extend an olive branch first. A peace offering. Sounds like they need gasoline more than anything."

"Well, he said they were set for the winter, but-" Harlan was cut off by Fairweather.

"But that could be a lie." He grabbed his beard again. "Meghan, Dennis, thank you for your time. Harlan, can you stay?"

Without a word, the other two left the room, leaving Harlan alone with the Governor.

"What else did they say?" Fairweather sat at his desk.

"Not much. The girl's name was Misty and the other guy… I think his name was Texas?"

"Probably an alias."

"Most likely."

"Texas is an unusual name." Fairweather stood and walked around his desk to sit across from Harlan. "But unusual is the new usual these days."

"It sure is."

"I'll be frank, Harlan. I've noticed something unusual about you and the man you came in with."

Harlan felt his heart skip a beat.

"You two… have unusual tendencies, don't you?"

"I uh- I don't know what you mean?"

"I think you know what I mean. You people are intuitive."

"You people?"

"Homosexuals, Harlan."

"I-"

"Don't pretend."

"I just-"

"He told me, you know."

"What?"

"Your friend, Anthony. He confessed."

"That sounds very, very unlike him."

"We're all unlike our past selves these days." He took a breath. "And I don't mind it, you two are productive members of our little society, and you haven't been… disruptive."

Harlan crossed his arms. His cheeks were red hot. First a grilling from Tony, now Fairweather was breathing down his neck.

"But Anthony, he's a nosy sort. Comes with the territory, I suppose."

"I… I can't rightly speak to that." Harlan muttered.

"But you can speak to your own actions. I need you to stay focused. I've spoken to him already, and I would greatly, greatly appreciate it if you would keep things between you two... under wraps."

"We," he sighed," we have been."

"Laureen is a nice woman, Harley. Good with kids, especially your nephew."

"She is nice, but we're just friends. You understand why that-"

"I've heard through the grapevine that she's sweet on you. She's an understanding woman, too."

"Are you trying to set me up with her?" Harlan was incredulous. "Because it wont work."

"Anything can work with the right level of commitment, Harley."

"Please, Governor, just call me Harlan."

"Fine, Harlan." The Governor's eye twitched imperceptibly. "You should rest up, you're on the schedule for another scav run tomorrow. Bright and early."

"Sure." Harlan stood and left the Governor's office.

He didn't make a face, he didn't say a word, he walked silently to his quarters and laid down.