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  "I don't think so." Dad shook his head. "Kings Mill is too far off the beaten path. It's just a name on the map, and there was no population center here. If the government still has the resources, then they are expending them to get more resources. Food. Fuel. Survivors. I'm sure there's someone else out there, maybe even fighting back against this whole thing and not just surviving." Pete's face reddened.

  "So that's what we are to you, then? A speck on the map?"

  "No, no, that's not what I'm saying!"

  "You're saying we aren't important enough to come for." Dad ran a hand through his hair.

  "No, I'm not, Pete. I'm just looking at it from a logistics standpoint."

  "We took you in, and patched your boy up." Pete nodded, like he had just learned some solemn secret.

  "Pete, I'm your friend."

  "I know," he said, then his face twisted on the edge of tears.

  "Then why are you being this way?"

  "Just leave," Pete said, waving weakly towards the door. "I said I don't want any company."

  "Pete, I think you need to see Quinton."

  "Just leave!"

  All Dad could do was shake his head as he stood up. He tried to say something comforting, but he couldn't find the words. Dad knew where Pete was. If he hadn't had Kern, he didn't know what would have happened to him. Most likely he wouldn't have made it at all.

  Ruth was looking at him when he came out, her arms crossed. She walked over to him in the middle of the dirt path between the houses.

  "Is he doing any better?" she asked.

  "What do you mean?" She put her hands on her hips.

  "Aaron, you know exactly what I mean. I've known that old coot for years. He won't even let me in when I bring his food, not that the old hoarder needs any."

  "He's pretty bad. I think he's in shock. Drinking, and not at all acting like himself."

  "I know. His wife was a good woman, and he is a good man. I was at her funeral. I expected it to break the poor man, but it didn't. I hope this doesn't."

  She turned and walked away, and Dad suddenly felt helpless. For all of his experiences that should have made him able to help these people cope, he couldn't think of anything that he could do. Pete was drinking himself to death. Quinton and Ruth were working themselves to death. Others were doing the same and grieving themselves to death. Dad thought about things like therapy, counseling, medicine. Those were luxuries of another time, though. How could people learn to cope with mental illness or trauma now, when all the old coping mechanisms which had been handed out like candy were all gone?

  Dad made his way back to his house. Not home but house. His mind was roiling when he noticed Lori running away from it, and heard her crying. No doubt she had been into it with Kern. She had told him he hadn't quite warmed up to her yet, and he didn't blame his son a bit.

  When he opened the door, Kern was sitting on the couch. Immediately he stood, shaking with anger. Dad went to place his hand on Kern's shoulder, and he pulled it back. When Dad opened his mouth, Kern put his hand up.

  "She tried to kill me," Kern said. "Why did you kiss her?"

  xxxxxxxxxx

  Dad blushed, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. As he groped for the words, Kern balled his fists at his sides. He knew better than to try Dad, even now. For all he knew, he could best his father, but he doubted it. Once, before, he thought he could buck up. They had been holed up in a house. The dead weren't surrounding it, but they were close. Spring breezes brought the stench of their decay and the sounds of their moaning. Kern wanted to leave, Dad wanted to wait it out. When Kern tried to go for the door to take their ramshackle barricade down, he learned how quiet and efficient his father could be. Needless to say, they didn't leave that day.

  Were it not for that one moment, they would probably be crashing through the little house now. Dad had betrayed him, and what made it worse was that Lori kept coming around like she was connected to them. One of them.

  "That day at the river? When all of this started? No, it wasn't what you think."

  "I know a kiss when I see one! Why would you do something like that? She tried to kill me! And you are kissing on her like it never happened."

  "Watch your tone, son," Dad said. "She kissed me. Right before we saw the dead. I didn't have time to say or do anything."

  "Then why did you let her lay all over you when we were holed up?"

  "And do what? Cause her to go into one of her tantrums? Where she cries and yells? That would have went over really good, wouldn't it?" Kern pointed his finger at Dad.

  "You didn't try to stop it!"

  "Get your finger out of my face or Quinton will have to fix it, too." Dad smacked Kern's hand away. "I think you're the last person that could criticize me. What about you and Kacie?"

  "What about Kacie?"

  "You think she is going with us, don't you?" Kern straightened.

  "Maybe I do. What does that have to do with anything?"

  "It doesn't," Dad said. "She is a good girl. But even if I was trying to have something with Lori, which I am not, you are not the one to pass judgement."

  "But I saw you kissing her!"

  "Enough!" Dad yelled. Kern shrunk and backed away a step. "You're not going to question me, and you sure aren't going to call me a liar! Is that understood?"

  Scared wasn't the right word. Kern knew that Dad wouldn't hurt him, at least not badly. Dad hadn't ever struck him like a man, but this wouldn't be a spanking for knocking over his aunt's antique vase. Sometimes it's better just to cut one's losses. It was out in the open now.

  Kern wanted to believe what Dad was saying, but he couldn't let it go that he had let her get so close to him. To them. If he had to be honest with himself, Kern wanted her dead. Not only had she tried to kill him, but she had also set them back weeks, and they probably could have talked Quinton out of a vehicle and gas then, before he had to heal.

  Dad waved him away and sat down on the couch, his elbows on the coffee table, his balled fists in front of his mouth. Kern shook his head and rolled his eyes, then turned and went out the door.

  Kacie was sitting on the porch of the house directly across the path, sharpening her knife. He stomped over to her, and she stood up.

  "Want to take a walk?" she asked, sliding her knife back into it's sheath on her leg.

  "Sure," Kern said. "Anything to get me away from him." She took him by the arm and led him down the path.

  "You know, you shouldn't be too hard on your dad. I would give anything for mine to be here, giving me crap over you or going out by myself, or anything."

  "He picked Lori over me."

  "No, he didn't. Listen, I don't know everything that's going on, but Aaron watched over you the whole time we were trapped, and when we broke out he was with you every step of the way, not her. You're one of the lucky ones, Kern. You at least have someone, some family. Half of us here don't have anyone except the people here in the Mill. From what you have told me, I would say that most of the people out there are just like me."

  "I don't need this," Kern said. "Can't we talk about something else?"

  Kacie was fixing to answer him when they heard a gunshot, just up the hill. There were half a dozen people outside, and half of them went running up the hill while the others ran inside. Kern instinctively wanted to run, but Kacie ran up the hill. Then, a new instinct took over. The need to protect. Kern followed her, pulling the .25 from his pocket.

  When they got to where they thought the gunshot had come from, Daniel was there with a few others, guns raised.

  "Where did that come from?" he asked. No one knew. Ruth was standing a few feet away, a solemn look on her face.

  "It came from Pete's place," she said, then turned toward the small gardens between the houses.

  Daniel turned to Pete's door, stepping towards it slowly, his gun raised. He held up his hand briefly to silence the others. He stood there, listening, for what seemed like an eternity. Then he suddenly kicked the door in and r
ushed inside, followed by two others.

  Kern sighed, knowing before Daniel came outside what had happened. He clicked the safety back on his gun and slid it down into his pocket. With his eyes clenched, Daniel stepped out onto porch. There was a look of bafflement on his face, and he shook his head as he tried to find the words to say.

  "Pete's dead," Daniel said, his voice reverting back to the southern drawl he tried so hard to hide.

  "Did one of them get him? Are they back?" someone asked.

  "No, no, nothing like that," Daniel replied to the near-hysterical woman in the back of the small crowd that had formed. "Ya'll just move along, there's nothing to see here. Nora, please go fetch Quinton. Please."

  The crowd dispersed, the low whispers already starting. Kern could tell that everything Daniel had said was scripted, in his mind. What Daniel was doing was swaggering across the stage, regurgitating whatever he had heard some gravel-voiced sheriff say on the television a long time ago. And it had worked. For now.

  "What happened?" Dad said, panting, as he laid his hand on Kern's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

  Kacie gripped Kern's hand, a sob escaping her. Before he knew it, his arm was wrapped around her as she shook with gentle crying.

  "Pete's dead," Kern said, the numbness finally starting to dissipate. Pete was the only person other than Kacie he truly considered a friend, and a good man. A lump caught in his throat, but he beat it back.

  "How?" Dad asked, then looked around. Dad's eyes widened, and then moistened, when the gravity of the situation finally fell on him, crashed down on him. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper.

  "Oh, dear Lord God, no."

  Their argument from just a few moments before was forgotten, at least for the moment. Kern rubbed Kacie's back as she sobbed, and Dad stood there, shaking his head. Kern felt safe, strangely, with his father's hand on his shoulder.

  xxxxxxxxxx

  "It's happening again!" Kacie said, coming back from the window with her shotgun, acquired from one of the dead residents, in her hand.

  Dad moved over to the window. All the lights were out in the house. Light gave away your position. He was sure that anyone that might come calling knew there were people inside, but they didn't have to know how many or where.

  It had been three days since Pete had killed himself, and that had been the feather that broke the balance in the community. A few more people had left, and more were wanting to leave. The issue, though, was the supplies. It was always the supplies, even in Fireside.

  A leader for the group wanting to leave had emerged in the short, quick-talking Jorge Delgado. His family had met Kern and the others when they had first entered Kings Mill. Jorge was a good enough man, but like all fathers, he wanted to look after his family. What he did not have, however, was patience and reasoning.

  But he was legit. A family man in good standing with the community. This gave the few riff-raff that remained in town and some of the opportunist the right banner to rally under. And it was not going to end well.

  The day before, Jorge and some of the others had been caught dividing up the food stores in the large shed they called the pantry. Had it not been for Quinton, Daniel, and a few other armed men, they would have very likely emptied out everything.

  Now, as Dad looked up the hill, he noticed that they were more organized this time, and there were more of them. Quinton had a good stockpile of food and medicine at his house, and a few of the deputies along with Daniel were staying there. They all saw this coming. If Quinton hadn't been the good person that he was, maybe they could have ended this before it started. Now, Dad feared, watching the men with Jorge split into groups to surround the house, it was too late.

  "Time to go," Kern said, his pack already on his shoulders. Kacie was picking hers up and sliding it on as well.

  Dad wanted to stay, to help Quinton. He was a good man, and Kings Mill was an oasis in the terror of the world. All of that was lost now. There were three factions; Kings Mill, those wanting to divvy up the goods and go their separate ways, and those watching from their windows. Quinton's faction was the smallest, yet even if they managed to win the confrontation just minutes away, there wouldn't be enough people left to keep Kings Mill like it once was. Like Kern said, it was time to go.

  They waited for Jorge's men to get out of sight, then left by the front door, heading down the hill towards the tree line. There was a chance that, once the smoke cleared, they would be left to their own devices. Dad had seen what happened when men's blood got up, and then that chance would go out the window. It was best that they made their move now, even if it was getting dark.

  As they passed into the trees, Dad kept his ears open. Even though he strained to listen, in case they had been followed, it was hard to focus on anything but the path ahead. The dead could still be lurking in the shadows, and this part was especially overgrown all the way to the fence.

  They were halfway to the fence when there was a rustle of leaves behind them. Before he knew it, his rifle was up and he had turned. Lori shrieked as she fell to the ground, her hands up in the air.

  "Please, don't shoot!" Dad lowered the rifle, baffled.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked.

  "I was watching for you to leave," she said. "I'm coming with you."

  "No, you're not," Kern said, raising his pistol. Kacie instinctively put her hand on it.

  "I have to!" Lori said. "I have to come. I will be all alone again!"

  "Shut up!" Dad said. "Listen, you shot my son, and I don't think it's the best idea that we travel together." It was harsh, he knew, but he had to show to Kern where he stood. They also didn't need a mentally defunct woman with them. They like to make noises in the night, or think only of themselves at the worst possible times.

  "Please, I have to go! I know what they're planning!"

  "We do, too. They are going to get what they feel is their cut of the food, medicine, and everything else, then they will head off on their way." Lori shook her head fiercely, tears slinging from her cheeks.

  "Jorge is just the front man," Lori said. "Nate and his people are following him for right now, but as soon as Quinton is taken care of, they plan on taking over. And those who don't want him to will be killed."

  Nate Jensen. Dad knew him well enough. The two of them had spent time together mending the fences. Most nights, he was apt to be high on shine or other things, but never a problem for the community. He was young, and one of the original residents of Kings Mill proper. Like most leaders of groups of young men, he had bravado and was the force to back it up. In normal times, he probably would have been a manager at a store, or a construction foreman. At Kings Mill, he was able to cross between both of those roles. He never meant any harm. When things go wrong, though, the young always think they can fix things they have no idea how to fix.

  "She can't go with us, Dad." Kern said, the gun shaking in his hands.

  "We can take the Bronco!" she said. "I promise you, when they find you aren't there, they will think you took some of the supplies and hunt you down. I can help you put miles between us and them before they even realize you're gone."

  Kern started to protest again, but the shooting started. It sounded somewhere between the fourth of July and the beaches of Normandy. Dad didn't have to be there to know that Quinton's people were taking the worst of it.

  "I think we should take her," Kacie said, her hand still on Kern's gun. "We have to get away from here, now." Dad was afraid now. Not only did they have to worry what might happen if they were found, but that much gunfire would draw the dead. What Jorge and the others had in firepower, they lacked in intelligence.

  Dad turned, heading in the general direction of the Bronco. If he didn't, and Kern was allowed to gather his words and build his anger, things could get bad.

  Off in the distance, he could hear screaming, but it wasn't the sound of wounded men. Those were there, yes, but now the sounds of terrified women joined the chorus.

>   xxxxxxxxxx

  Kern pulled the cover closer around him, the heat emanating from Kacie enough to keep them both warm. Early morning sunlight shone through the back glass of the Bronco. He cursed to himself as he watched his breath in front of him. Even though the days were still somewhat warm, the nights had turned cold. The old house they had stayed in for a couple of days to forage was nice enough, with a gas fireplace and a propane tank to heat it. Now, out here on a small mountain road, they all thought it was safer to stay in the truck for the night.

  They were two weeks out from Kings Mill, with little incident. The bridges crossing over toward Canton had all been blown but one, and that one was heavily barricaded and swarming with the dead. Even if they could have drawn them off somehow, there was no way to get their vehicle across it, and from the way things looked on the other side, it would be a necessity. On that side, there was a large town. Jefferson, Kacie had called it. The barricade may have held, but the dead had found their way there regardless.

  From the first rise in the mountain, they had seen the path the Horde from Kings Mill had cut into the wilderness, with fallen trees and trampled grass. Once it hit the river, they followed it south, which was the path of least resistance. There wouldn't be many in the mountains for that very reason. The hard part was finding paths that were passable. In two years, mudslides and general degradation had taken their toll.

  When he finally rose, Dad was laying in the second bench seat ( Kern and Kacie had taken to sleeping in the back, nestled against their supplies ). On his lap was a map, and a broad smile was on his face.

  "Are we close?" Kern asked. He tried to ignore Lori's snoring from the front. Dad tapped the map.

  "We are here. Canton is probably twenty miles west of here."

  "But what about the river?"

  "We crossed it up here. That big bridge, the dam?" Kern remembered it well, one of the few things that seemed like they worked the way they had before.

  "You ready to get going?" Dad asked, glancing up at Kern, his smile mirroring his father's.