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  Kern stared out the window, digging into the dented can of peaches with his pocket knife. He carefully speared a big slice and popped it into his mouth, careful to both keep it over the can, and his face out of the sunlight pouring into the window. Once he finished the peaches, he leaned back and emptied the can of it's sweet, fructose-laden nectar. From behind him came a chuckle as his father watched.

  Kern was thinner than he was before, but not the sickly thin he had been last winter when they hadn't dared both the cold and what laid waiting in the snow drifts and the darkness. Most days when he would get bored, he would do some sit ups and push ups. He was getting lean as he pushed out of the testosterone-filled ravages of the early teens and heading towards manhood. There was still a long way to go, but in the last year and a half he had been forced to grow up a lot faster than he should have.

  The black t-shirt he wore had stains all over it, ranging from the dark grease stains to the light, powder-ringed general stains like mud or anything else would cause if not taken care of. His once khaki-colored cargo pants were a dusty black, dyed with charcoal and lightly washed. A black pair of boots were laced up his shin, the pants legs tucked into them. It was simple attire, but everything had a purpose now, even if Dad had no clue as to what it was. The black, Kern reasoned, was harder to see at night and easier to blend in during the day. The stained cargo pants held all of Kerns little treasures. Pieces of rope, fishing line, pocket knives, dryer lint for starting fires, spoons, alcohol wipes, medicine. All these things and more were stuffed in freezer bags or stashed away individually into the pockets.

  Dad was standing at the sink, washing their clothes with the rain water he had collected a few days before in the blue kiddie pool. They had a few houses in the neighborhood, and had amassed a enough supplies to at least help them live comfortably. Small luxuries like dishwashing liquid and soap made all the difference sometimes. When he was done, he slung the wet clothes over his shoulder and gently opened the door and stepped out into the spring morning.

  Instinctively, he stopped and listened. Nothing out of the ordinary, no movement anywhere nearby that he could tell. His hand groped the air, having to restrain itself from seeking the knife sheathed on his right leg. It smelled outside. Like death. Some days, when the wind blew to the North, one could smell the hint of flowers and pine on the wind as the smell cascaded out of the woods on the other side of the neighborhood. Every other day, it just smelled like death. Not the kind of road kill death, or the stench of decay. No, if that were the case they would have bigger problems. The big death, the one carried on the spring breeze when the wind blew just right, smelled like dull boredom, isolation. It was the smell of civilization gone to rot.

  They had made a clothesline from rope they had scavenged. It was the old nylon rope. Kern had found it in one of the houses they had searched. Finding what was useful was a skill he had honed in the months they had been on the run. His pockets and packs were full of things no one would ever think to pick up or even know what to use them for. Dryer lint for starting fires. A thin extension cord to secure things to his pack. Thumb tacks for securing covers over windows. It made their lives easier.

  After hanging the clothes on the line with binder clips, he grabbed a bottle of water and the leftovers from last night's supper and went back outside, sitting on one of the wicker chairs on the marble patio. Fruit cocktail, a couple of beef sticks, and some stale crackers. It wasn't that they didn't have plenty of food. One of the few things people seemed to grab when they up and left were canned goods or saltines. No, the reason he was saving as much food as he could was because the hunger pangs of the last winter were still fresh in his memory. The food could last them a while, but who knew how long they would have to stay here?

  The neighborhood itself wasn't bad at all. A neighborhood nestled in the woods outside of the city, most of the residents had fled when the first government warnings had been issued. It was far enough away from the city to shield it from the infection. New houses, lined up in rows going up the six roads that branched off Sycamore, the main road. It came to an abrupt end at the back of the neighborhood, opening up too a few hundred yards of cleared, orange dirt. They had counted forty-seven houses. The one they had claimed as their own, however, was special.

  Pictures, old mail, and the other articles of every day life told them that the house had belonged to the Hobarts; Sean, Cathy, and their daughter Elise. Sean was some kind of professional type, Cathy a nurse, and Elise a soccer player. None of this mattered, but what did matter was the fact that they were avid environmentalists. Solar panels and batteries. Only two of the batteries kept a charge, but it was enough to run the heating and air unit ( it was quiet, but they only used it when they had to ), watch the collection of DVDs Kern had collected, and run the water heater. As far as places to hide went, they couldn't have asked for a better one.

  He hated to leave the comfort of the house, with it's courtyard and luxuries. Kern was the exact opposite. What he saw as safety, Kern saw as a prison. They had spent 93 days inside the house, and only been out six times for supplies. They had gotten enough food to last months, if they rationed it well. Later on, they might be eating meals of crackers, potted meat, and chocolate syrup, but at least they had it. They had shampoo, soap, cleaner, and a hundred other odds and ends stashed all over the house. Kern made a map, and systematically marked off the houses they had searched and what was left in case they needed it. They had only looted eleven houses in those six days, and had made multiple trips. The hybrid car in garage couldn't hold much, but it did well enough.

  Where he worried more about food, clothes, and hygiene, Kern looked for other things. Some things he could understand, like the tackle box and collapsible pole, but other things he didn't understand like needles and buttons, can openers, lighter fluid. If they were still holed up in the office building they languished away in for two months, he would have understood, but now they had everything they needed. Why waste time and energy on such things? Still, time was the only thing they had in abundance.

  Kern had become quite the collector of music and movies. Without the daily background noises that they had grown used to and now missed, like the sound of cars passing or the hum of the power lines, they could turn the TV on low and watch the movies. Kern had piles of them he had scavenged. Most of them hadn't even been watched yet. Kern had also scavenged three laptops. Only one of them had any games on them, and Kern had lost interest in them quickly. Every day, he would check in vain to see if the internet was back up. When everything started going down hill, the government ordered all providers to give full service to every device. For a few weeks, phone service was spotty, but WiFi and internet worked. If only they had access to a computer in those first days, maybe they would know more than what they did.

  After they fled the school, they had met other survivors and read the papers. The quarantine had failed, at least in their part of the country. Mass evacuations had begun, whisking bus and plane loads away to safe zones. For those, like Dad and Kern who couldn't make it to the evacuation points in time, the information stopped. They knew the police and first responders had been overrun, and many of the collection points like the school had been as well. For all they knew, there wasn't a government or a military left.

  Reports started popping up first in rural areas. First it was a virus, then the dead were walking, then it was some kind of reaction to a chemical. No one knew for sure what was happening. Dad guessed the same things had been happening in the big cities, but they were covered up by the news of the upcoming election or were just wrote off as business as usual. They both figured now that it was both the virus and the dead, that the virus somehow moved them to a state of preserved death. That was the only thing that could explain what was happening.r />
  They were attracted to smell. Dad remembered one of his coworkers stopped showering, thinking that it would put them off if he ever encountered one. That was when their town was still under "threat level green". Shortly before it went to blue, the man quit coming to work. It wasn't long after that it was reported that showering was one of the easiest ways to decrease one's smell. Bleach and ammonia also worked. For weeks, their block smelled of chemicals as people doused their yards and bleached their patios. It might have helped in the beginning, but all it took was one to hear or see something and then it didn't matter.

  The door opened behind him. He turned and saw Kern sipping on a water bottle. What he called his scavenging pack, a large camping pack, was slung across his back and his knife was strapped to his leg. The small sledge hammer was resting on his shoulder.

  "I'm going out. I can't stand it here any longer."

  ******

  It really bugged Kern that his dad wouldn't let him go out by himself. They hadn't seen a single infected in over a month. Now, they were all probably slow anyway. The TV said they got slower as time went on, and he had seen it. They should all be bumbling around by now. Plus, he had his sledge hammer. It was light, maybe four pounds. Someone had welded the head onto a piece of rebar. If that failed, he had his combat knife. It was amazing what you could find in other people's houses.

  House 1355. Kern had been wanting to check this one for a few weeks now. It was one of the smaller houses, but he had seen through the window that they had some camping gear in the living room. It was strewn out, but still orderly, like someone was going to pack it up for a trip but didn't have room. Dad would probably go for the food and medicine like he always did, but Kern was looking for a few things in particular. First he was looking for super glue, so that they could close wounds. Next, a grill lighter in case they needed to leave the house and some fire starter. Then some leather work gloves, for warmth as well as protection. Finally, he wanted a leather jacket and hopefully some leather to make a hood out of to protect the neck.

  Dad reached up and slowly tried to turn the door knob. It was locked. Kern stepped up and knocked, and they both stood back, raising the sledge and the baseball bat slightly. As they stood there in anticipation, Kern couldn't help but shake his head. Of all the weapons he had amassed at their house, he chose a baseball bat. After deciding there weren't any infected in the house, Kern stepped forward and brought his sledge down on the door knob. It took three tries, but it finally busted loose. The door didn't budge. The deadbolt must have been locked as well.

  The back door was a different story. Once the handle was busted off, it flew open and they stepped inside. They crept through the house. Kern made a mental note of the rooms. Three bedrooms, a den, a kitchen, two bathrooms, and a washroom. Even though nothing had responded to the knocking, it was still possible that there was one crawling or locked in a room. When they had checked the house, Kern and Dad split up.

  As usual, Dad had checked the kitchen first. Kern went through each bedroom, then the den. Judging by what he found, there were three kids in the house. One had to be an adult, because the waste basket in that room was full of beer cans, but he had a lot of CDs and some DVDs. He also had a multi-tool with a belt case that Kern quickly put on. The other kid's rooms didn't yield too much but a handheld game system. Kern thought about taking it, but decided against it. He didn't know how long the solar batteries back at their house would last, but adding more stress with a game system seemed dumb.

  In the parent's room, he found a lot of small things to cram into his bag. Two pocket knives, some bottles of medicine, binder clips, note pads, and other things. In the bathrooms, he took some rubbing alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, and the unopened soap and shampoo. A picture of the family was on the wall, a man and wife with a young man and a boy and girl both on the cusp of puberty. They were an average middle class American family, at least from the picture. The picture struck a chord in his heart for a moment, but he quickly dismissed it and moved on.

  Out in the garage, he wasn't too surprised to find it cluttered with odds and ends and nothing useful, like tools. It seemed the man of the house didn't work on anything. In the corner, next to boxes of Christmas decorations, he found a small toolbox. It didn't contain anything Kern didn't already have three or four of already, until he got to the very bottom. There he found two tubes of super glue, one opened and probably mostly dried out. He quickly tossed those down into his bag, along with a utility knife and a pack of blades. Those things could come in handy. Kern jumped when he heard Dad.

  "Did you get us any new movies?"

  "Don't scare me like that! Yeah, I got a lot actually. There isn't much else, though. I got some more stuff to stash away, though." Kern rummaged through the sack and pulled out the super glue. "This could be useful though."

  "More knick-knacks? Don't you think we have enough already? You have packs and bags scattered all over the house."

  "What if we break something? Or maybe we could trade some of this stuff. We have more than enough." Dad ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

  "Trade with who, Kern? Who have you seen in last few months? Since Autumn? Are you going to try to sell your knick-knacks to this? We might find someone like the guys who laid waste to Fireside. I bet that will go well for us."

  Kern glared at him for a second. Fireside. It was the only place they had found that was totally safe since all this started. He figured it was ashes now, thanks to the "traders" the council of Fireside let inside their gates. It was sheer luck Kern and Dad escaped. Kern knew they were shady the day they let them in.

  "If we meet people like that, we'll kill them."

  "Son, it isn't as easy as that..."

  "Dad, we're out here scavenging for supplies. Did you find anything I need to cram in my bag?" Dad just dropped his shoulders and hung his head, shaking it. His bag was full, but Kern knew he had gotten all he thought was useful.

  "Alright, then," Kern said. "Then I get to keep my knick-knacks!"

  Dad always underestimated him. Dad knew how to keep them alive. He knew what stocks to buy. He knew if the car was throwing a rod. What he did not know was what they might need in the long run. Back at the house, Kern emptied his bags and sorted them. The super glue went in his personal bag. The other items he slipped into other bags or sat them around the house. The CDs and DVDs he found were a welcomed addition. He didn't know how many times he could watch Adam Sandler or Clint Eastwood, no matter how awesome he used to think they were.

  Kern was more ruthless than Dad thought he was. He had watched what was happening when Fireside fell, and the times they had observed survivors fighting in the streets for cans of food. It wasn't hard to tell what kind of person one was. A first impression was all he needed. Back at Fireside, they had weapons. Now all they had was the .22 rifle and the snub nose .38, which Dad always kept in his belt. The rifle always stayed home when they were out. Kern thought Dad was stupid for that. They only had around twenty rounds for the pistol, but several hundred for the rifle.

  Kern thought about popping in one of his new DVDs in, but decided against it. Dad would be downstairs and would want to sit with him. After belittling Kern over what he brought back, the last thing he wanted was to hang out with him. He loved Dad, but sometimes a little distance made the heart grow fonder. Instead, he went out to the courtyard to check on his pet project.

  They had knocked over a small planting store a while back. Dad took a few seeds, but Kern had taken more. He had planted some broccoli and kale. Kern knew it wouldn't be enough to live on, but he planted them anyway. He knew they needed nutrients that they wouldn't get out of the cans. Dad had an impressive array of vitamins, and they took some every morning, but Kern knew there wasn't a substitute for vegetables, no matter how much he hated them. They were growing nicely in the little corner of the yard Dad rarely visited. When they were a little more grown, he would proudly show them to Dad. Maybe then he would be taken a little more seriously
.

  Kern sniffed the air. Nothing but the stale smell of nothingness. The smell in the city was death; decayed corpses and rot. Sometimes he wished he would smell that again. Boredom had set in a long time ago, and after the games on the laptop and the console he had found had gotten old, it was unbearable. Sometimes the movies and music he found gave him a release, but other times he dreamed of the chaos, how the adrenaline tasted like copper when he ran, or when he and Dad took on a group of the infected.

  Infected? No. That was the name Dad gave them, the name that came over the radio when they stood in their kitchen, listening to the reports of what was going on. Them and Mom and Griffon and Lexi. He remembered his mom calling his name, and he quickly pushed it from his mind. That was the deal he had with Dad. It was just the two of them, trying to survive.

  Kern liked the house. He was the one who had discovered there was power by the way the heating unit hummed. Hot water, a way to charge his laptop, movies. This was basically it now. After the months before Fireside, and the months after, this was a paradise. No more lice, no more nasty clothes. Dad kept the clothes clean, and the palmetto bugs were a minor nuisance. All of their food now came from cans, except when they killed a small animal or a deer. Neither of them really knew how to field dress one, but they had done well enough. There was still deer meat in the freezer Dad refused to cook.

  Kern went back into his room ( Dad made him sleep with him in the master bedroom ) and turned on the laptop. He hadn't found anything in the last few months, except pages the previous owner of said laptop had been to. It would land Kern on the web site, but that was it. None of the links worked. Eventually, even those small assurances disappeared, leaving only the error page. Still, day by day, he checked the laptop religiously and kept it charged.

  Today wasn't unlike any other in the last few months. He kicked back in the bed that he was prone to take a nap on when the days were long and boring and opened the laptop, then pushed the power button. Lights flashed on it, and the screen held a minuscule circle which was rarely half lit while a small part of it traveled around the whole, giving the illusion of a snake eating it's own tail. It hummed loudly as it laid on his stomach, not being the newest when everything first went down. Finally, the welcome screen popped up.