Coby Cotton

The Woodlands, TX

April 16, 2032

0845 Hours

The edge of the Woods of Wasting provides some semblance of shelter from the rain, and we huddle under the trees, sitting in a circle and staring at each other. Cory is still trembling, and I press my shoulder against his reassuringly, trying to comfort him with my presence.

"I don't know you two," Tyler says bluntly, pointing two fingers at Cory and his companion, who lies crumpled in a heap on the wet ground. I glare at Tyler, not wanting to disturb either of the guys in such a fragile state.

Tyler jerks his chin toward Cory. "I've definitely heard about you, kid, but it's not the same. So tell me about you."

Maybe he's just trying to take their minds off their grief. Cory swallows hard and manages to say, "I—I'm Cory. I guess Coby told you about me. Thanks for helping stop those zombies."

He falls silent, and worry tugs at me. It's the first time in a while that I've seen Cory at a loss for words.

"C'mon, kid, I'm gonna need a little more than that," Tyler says, scooting toward Cory. "What do you like to do? What's your favorite color? Any food you'd like to have again when this apocalypse is over?"

"I like yellow," Cory whispers, and some of the light comes back into his eyes. "And chicken and waffles. And I found out I'm pretty good at archery. What's your name?"

"Tyler Toney," says Tyler importantly, reaching out to shake Cory's hand. "Call me Ty. I'm from Desolation. Few miles downstream from y'all at RRSC. Any particular reason for yellow?"

Cory shrugs. "It's happy, I guess. And I like it when it's sunny."

"Seems like you would. Are you okay with the rain, then? Or would you prefer it to be sunny?"

"Cobes likes the rain," says Cory, his voice stronger now. "And it's kind of hard to hate something your twin loves. So, yeah, I like the rain, probably just as much as I like the sun. What about you, Ty?"

"I'm all for thunderstorms," Tyler tells him. "That's where I'm in my element. Hey, how good are you at archery, exactly? Could you outshoot, say, me?"

"I just started," Cory replies. "Coby's never even seen me shoot. But I'm good, I promise."

"Let's test you sometime," Tyler decides. "You, me, tree. Been practicing for years; let's see if you can outshoot me. Deal, kid?"

Cory grins, reaching out to shake Tyler's hand. "Deal."

"Any ideas for your bud there?" Tyler whispers. "What's his name?"

"Sparky," Cory says softly. "He—he knew Gar since the beginning of the apocalypse. Definitely gonna be taking this harder than I am. I've only known them for a few days, but they seemed like brothers. Like me and Coby."

"I'll talk to him," Tyler promises. "Nice meeting you, kid. Hey, why don't you go talk to Cody?" At Cory's confused look, he adds, "Tall guy with the backpack over there. He's been dying to meet you."

Cory limps off to go talk to Cody, and I'm left to listen in on both conversations. I can hear Sparky mumbling answers to Tyler's questions and Cory and Cody talking as though they've known each other for years. I'm beginning to feel slightly left out when Cory comes back over to me, flopping down on the ground with a long sigh. I wrap an arm around my twin, pulling him against my chest, and Cory relaxes into the embrace.

"Can you tell me what happened, Cor?" I ask softly. "You don't have to tell me about…about Garrett. I just want to know, well, everything else. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," Cory says, his voice stronger than earlier. "Where should I start?"

"The flood's good."

Cory launches into the story, talking animatedly about the flash flood and the ravine. His voice cracks a little when he mentions how Garrett and Sparky found him, but it smooths out when he gets to the part about the crutches, and by the time I hear about the pie, Cory is beaming. I haven't seen that smile for three days, and it's been too long.

"I thought Gar hated me," Cory whispers, and he looks out into the rain. "I thought he didn't want me there. And, well, maybe he didn't want that, but—he didn't hate me. He—he was proud. At the end. I wish I'd known him for longer. I wish you could've known him, Cobes."

"So do I," I sigh, squeezing my twin's arm gently. "But hey, I will. One day."

Cory's silent for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. He bites his lip, then says, "We always say that."

"Say what?"

"One day." Cory's voice is trembling again. "One day, we'll see Gar again. One day, we won't have to worry about whether we'll survive tomorrow. One day, this apocalypse will be over."

He turns and looks at me with wide, tear-filled dark eyes. "One day is a long time to wait."

"Cor," I whisper, taking his hand and rubbing the pad of my finger over his bandaged knuckles. "I know you've never liked waiting. But you never know—one day could be tomorrow."

"But—" A single tear escapes, running down Cory's cheek and dripping down to his chin. "Cobes, what if something happens, and—and we don't make it? What if tomorrow never comes?"

"Then," I say, my voice cracking as I pull my twin in, "I hope we die together."

Cory's head drops onto my shoulder, and I hold my baby brother close as he struggles to hold back tears, suddenly terrified that, someday soon, I'm going to have to let go.

I blink awake, suddenly aware of yelling and stampeding footsteps, along with gunshots ringing through the air. Tyler and Cody are both standing, firing toward the city, and I realize what must be happening, even though I can't see through the mist. All traces of exhaustion flee from my body, and I glance down at Cory, who's still asleep on my shoulder. "Cor! Get up! Something's wrong!"

Cory's eyes flutter open, and he looks sleepily up at me, his voice slurred with tiredness. "Cobes? What's goin' on?"

"We're being attacked! Get up!"

I have to give Cory credit here. He jams his pith helmet on, pulls his goggles up over his eyes, and is on his feet with crutches set in barely the amount of time it takes me to turn off the safety on my pistol.

"Where are they?" I ask, moving into position beside Tyler. Cory starts trying to coax Sparky upright, talking swiftly and urgently, but Sparky isn't moving.

"Out there on the road," Tyler says, taking aim at the blurry outline of a zombie and firing. "Let's see if your brother can shoot."

He raises his voice. "Kid! Get over here; we need you to shoot!"

"Hang on!" Cory is still trying to get Sparky up, tugging at his arm but having no luck. "Come on, Sparky! Gar would want you to fight!"

"I can't," Sparky mumbles. "Let go, kid."

"Sparky," says Cory firmly, and he lets the crutches fall, crouching beside Sparky with a hand on the young man's shoulder. "I know we haven't known each other for that long. But for the last three days, you've been fighting for me. You were ready to fight your best friend, you were ready to fight an impossibly huge horde of zombies, and because of that, I knew I was gonna be okay. So if you won't do it for Gar, please, please, do it for me."

Pride stirs in my chest as Cory looks Sparky in the eyes. "One more time, Sparky. Please."

Sparky stares at him for a moment, then whispers, "I'll do it for both of you, kid."

He stands and pulls Cory up, helping him prop his crutches under his arms. "Say the word and I'll fight to the undeath."

Cory grins. "Zombies are that way."

"Atta boy, kid!" Tyler bellows, jerking his head toward Cory. "Now get over here and shoot!"

Cory swings himself over to us, pulling his bow over his head and nocking an arrow. "I can barely see! How am I supposed to shoot?"

"Wait until they come closer," I advise, lifting my pistol so I can see through the sight. "It's not ideal, but better that than to waste all your arrows."

A zombie emerges out of the mist, then another, and I take aim, pegging them both in the head. One of the undead breaks away from the approaching group, staggering off to the side, and I watch Cory pull back his bowstring, eyes narrowed as he squints down the length of the arrow. Tyler's gaze flicks to my twin, waiting, watching. "Where are you going for, kid?"

"Shoulder. The left one."

And then Cory lets it go, and the arrow flies true, striking the zombie exactly as intended. It falls, tripping up two others, and Tyler and I both stare with open mouths at Cory, who grins sheepishly and says, "I could probably use some practice."

"I'll give it to you, kid, but I don't think I'll be able to teach you anything," says Tyler. "Hey—more zombies, three o' clock!"

Cory looks at him, bewildered. "It's not three o' clock."

"On your right, kid!"

Realizing I need to be fighting, I spin around and fire on the zombies approaching on the right. With a jolt of horror, I realize that there are more of them than I originally thought—at least thirty are moving in from the right, while the ones ahead of us are even more numerous, with fifty or so stumbling through the mist.

My hands start to tremble, and I stop shooting and step around Cory to his other side. I need my twin to be in the middle of the fighting; that way anything that comes at him from the sides has to go through me and Sparky or Tyler and Cody first. The brawn isn't evenly split, but I'll take what I've got.

"On the left!" Sparky shouts, firing a pistol through the rain. "Might need to back up!"

Cody's shotgun goes off, and I wince, the sound sending a twinge of pain through my still-healing forehead. Cory actually claps his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. When he puts his hands down, he has to shake his head several times before nocking another arrow. Poor kid's never heard a shotgun go off before.

"There's a lot of them!" Cody yells. "What do we do, Ty?"

"Keep fighting!" Tyler shouts back. "If more of 'em come, we'll go, but we've gotta hold the woods!"

All five of us are firing, but we're not getting far. Cory is a fantastic shot, but he can't seem to nock more than one arrow a minute, and he still seems dazed from the shotgun blast. Cody is definitely fast at reloading, but a shotgun can only fire so quickly, and Tyler is running low on arrows. I shoot into the mist, unsure of whether I'm hitting anything but knowing, as I did back in Woodlands, that I'm not letting the zombies get to my little brother.

Then, suddenly, I hear a horrible, wheezing breath behind me, and I whirl around, shooting before I even register the gray skin and pale eyes. The zombie falls, its body an inadequate barrier between me and the other undead stumbling out of the trees.

"They're in the back, too!" I yell. "We've gotta get out of here!"

"Code Z!" Tyler bellows. "Everyone out! Into the woods!"

Cory fits his bow back over his head, dropping several arrows. I scramble to pick them up, shoving them back into his quiver, wondering how we can possibly get away from the zombies with Cory on crutches and Tyler still limping with his broken patella. Cory has so much stuff on him that it's hindering his ability to move quickly, and Tyler can't seem to move faster than a jog as he attempts to sprint into the woods.

But Cody notices too, and he scoops Cory—who squeaks in terror—up into a fireman's lift, exclaiming, "I've got you, kid! Give your crutches to Ty, he'll go faster with them! Come on!"

Cory drops his crutches, and I pick them up, running them to Tyler, who they thankfully seem to fit, as Cody takes off into the woods. Tyler starts swinging away into the trees, dodging the odd zombie, but Sparky is still behind me, firing at the encroaching undead.

"Sparky!" I say urgently, tugging at his sleeve. "We've gotta go!"

"They're still after us!"

"And we're leaving! Come on!"

We take off through the woods, the zombies wailing as they begin to follow their prey. Every so often, another one pops out of the trees, and I fire, wondering how many there can possibly be. Surely we have to run out of zombies at some point, right?

The zombies aren't fast, but they seem to have more stamina than either Sparky or me. I'm starting to worry about what will happen when we run out of steam.

Turns out, that isn't a problem. The ravine in our way is.

Sparky and I skid to a halt in front of the gash in the earth, where Tyler is frantically looking for a suitable way across. "There aren't any good trees! Why aren't there any good trees?"

Cody still has Cory draped over his shoulders, though my twin doesn't seem to mind all that much, since he's busy trying to keep his arrows from falling out of the quiver. Cory reminds me of a kitten that's been picked up by the scruff, and I struggle not to smile at the thought.

I edge closer to the ravine, peering down into it. It's probably a continuation of the same ravine Cory fell into, but a lot farther north. It's twenty feet deep and probably just as wide, with the Ruin River rushing through it so fast that I don't want to think about what might happen if someone falls in.

"Any bright ideas, Cotton?" Tyler asks, looking at me with wild eyes as the zombies start to emerge from the trees, moving faster now. I glance around, analyzing the landscape, picking out possible solutions.

Cutting a tree down is out of the question—we don't have that kind of time, and the zombies could just follow us across. Trying to jump is, of course, impossible, and no one is swimming that river if I can help it. There aren't any branches that go all the way across the ravine, at least not without getting too thin to put weight on.

There's one limb above us that looks thick enough to hold. Not all the way, of course, but it looks okay at the halfway point…

"Anybody got a rope?" I ask.

Sparky is quick on the uptake, pulling a length of thick, coarse rope out of his backpack. "Here!"

I give him a nod of thanks and turn to face the others. "Y'all shoot at the zombies. I'm gonna climb this tree and tie the rope to the branch. We can swing across."

"What if it doesn't hold?" Cody asks nervously. "And this kid—" he shrugs his shoulders, and Cory waves— "can't run! Neither can Ty! How're they gonna swing?"

"You just swing across with Cory," I instruct, starting toward the base of the tree. "I don't know about Ty, but we'll figure something out."

I throw the rope over my shoulder and start climbing, struggling to get a grip, since my hands are still wrapped in gauze. The tree's trunk is tall and smooth, but there are helpful knots and even a hole in the bark, and I manage to pull myself up to the first branch. I can hear swift, dragging footsteps nearby, and I try to tune them out, reminding myself that the others will take care of the zombies. I'm the one trying to make an escape route out of nothing and a rope.

When I reach the branch, I get down on my stomach and start to inch across, trying not to look down. I must be about thirty feet above the raging river, and I think I saw rocks down there. It would be catastrophic if I fell.

The branch seems steady under my weight, which bodes well—if it turned out it couldn't even hold me, it definitely wouldn't support anyone else. Well, probably Cory, but I wouldn't be willing to risk it.

When I get to the halfway point, I take the rope and wind it around the branch, tying it in a square knot and pulling it taut. I tug at the rope, trying to make sure it won't come loose, but there's really no way to test it until someone actually swings across.

I start to inch backwards, clutching the dangling end of the rope, trying to ignore the shots firing through the trees and Cory yelling at Cody to put him down. I can't look—if I take my eyes off this branch for even a second, I think I might pass out and fall into the river.

But when I drop back to the ground, it becomes apparent that I should have looked.

Zombies are streaming toward the ravine, and the others are backed up against the edge. Cody has transferred his backpack to his front, and Cory clings to his shoulders as if getting a piggyback ride. The tall guy and Tyler are both shooting, but the zombies keep coming, and I press myself against the tree, trying to clear a path to the guys. Sparky is going nuts with a frying pan—where did he get that?—and Cory has acquired one of his crutches and is bashing a zombie repeatedly with it, still with a death grip on Cody. It would be comical if it weren't so terrifying.

"I've got the rope!" I yell. "I'm gonna test it!"

"Don't you dare fall!" Cory shouts, whacking a zombie over the head with his crutch. "Cobes, if you fall—"

"I won't!"

I shove my pistol into its holster and clasp the rope in both hands. When a path through the zombies appears, I take a deep breath and break into a run, then push off the earth and soar into the void.

It takes a lot of effort to keep hold of the rope, but I manage it as I crash onto the opposite side of the ravine. The impact sends a twinge through my ankles, and I stumble, but I've made it across.

"I'm good!" I call back. "Does anyone have paracord? We've gotta tie it to the end of the rope so you can pull it back!"

"I've got some!" Cody yells, whacking a zombie over the head with his shotgun. "But I'm kinda busy!"

"I'll get it!" Cory offers, and he starts unzipping Cody's backpack—at least, I think he does, since both their backs are to me. After a few seconds, my twin pulls out a bundle of paracord and chucks it across the ravine. I catch it and start tying furiously, making a large knot at the bottom of the rope and looping one end of the paracord around it. When I'm finished, I throw the bundle as hard as I can across the ravine, and Cory snatches it out of the air, pulling the rope back towards his side.

"You and Cody next!" I instruct. "Is there enough room?"

Sparky whacks a zombie with a loud clang. "They're good, Coby! Coming your way!"

"Hold on, kid!" Cody shouts, and he grabs the rope, taking a running start and pushing off in a massive leap. I hold my breath as Cory yelps in terror, holding onto Cody as if he's a life preserver in a shipwreck.

Cody's knees hit my side of the ravine, and he crashes down hard, rolling over twice as Cory tumbles off his back. Both of them land sprawled at my feet, panting and streaked with mud—well, more mud—and the first thing Cory squeaks is "We're not dead!"

He grins up at me. "That was genius, Coby. I can't believe that worked."

I reach out my hand and pull my twin up, steadying him as his ankle nearly buckles. Cory shifts most of his weight to his uninjured side, managing to stand on his own. "I think that was the scariest thing I've ever done in my life."

"I think I broke my knees!" Cody complains, stumbling to his feet. "But, hey—I think I'd rather break my knees than plummet into the river."

"Would y'all stop socializing and throw the dang rope back over?" Tyler bellows from the other side of the ravine. "We're dying here, idiots!"

His words strike me, and I remember that Tyler and Sparky are still on the other side with a horde of zombies after them. What are we doing?

"Cory!" I exclaim. "Throw the paracord!"

"Gotcha!"

Cory limps forward and chucks the bundle of cord back across the ravine, and Tyler catches it, drawing the rope over to him. Gritting his teeth, he backs up, yells, "See ya, Sparky!" and runs, pushing off in a floundering leap. That definitely isn't going to speed up his knee's healing process.

Tyler lands in a long skid, streaking through the mud and dropping Cory's crutches, and bowls Cody right over. I grab Cory's arm and pull him out of the way of the falling guys, not willing to risk any more abrasions. The kid's gotten beat up enough already.

Cory turns toward the other side of the ravine, and his eyes widen. "Sparky!"

Tyler, Cody, and I all whip around, and my eyes widen in horror. Sparky is perched on the very edge of the ravine, stumbling so close to it that he almost plummets over the side. His eyes are wild as he turns and looks back at us, a fallen zombie reaching out to grab his ankle.

"Throw the rope!" I yell, and Tyler chucks the bundle of paracord as hard as he can. Sparky catches it, reeling the rope desperately toward him as he tries to shake the zombie off his leg. He kicks it in the head, and it lets go with a wail as Sparky pulls the rope over.

"There's no room to run!" Sparky shouts. "I'm just gonna have to jump!"

"That's not how it works!" I call back, heart pounding. "It's not gonna work, Sparky! You have to run!"

"I can't!" Sparky doesn't see the zombie coming up behind him. "See you on the other side!"

He jumps. And for a moment, I think it's going to work. Sparky swings forward, hands wrapped around the rope, but the zombie has hold of his leg again, and it's a big one, dragging him down, the rope slipping from its hold on the branch.

Sparky falls.

I clap my hands over my mouth, unable to tear my gaze away. As Sparky plummets, trailing the rope, he doesn't scream. But there is sheer, unbridled terror in his eyes, the look of a man who knows he's going down and regrets everything.

A splash. A howl of anguish from a zombie. Cory is screaming Sparky's name as the clouds burst, rain coursing down my face along with what might be tears.

The rope. I didn't tie it tightly enough, didn't use a good enough knot, didn't factor in the amount of weight placed on it…

This is my fault. My mistake. My oversight. How could I have failed to consider everything?

Cody is leaning against a slanted tree, shouting over the side of the ravine, peering down into the foaming depths. Tyler is on his knees, holding a sobbing Cory tightly, his lips moving swiftly as he struggles to comfort my brother.

And here I am, standing in the rain, watching the zombies pour over the side of the ravine and down into the river, wondering bleakly how many more people I won't be able to save.