While Andy was cooking up his meal Lloyd was purging through the streets, nearly empty-handed save for a knife in each hand, clean of any blood. Tom and Christopher remained at the restaurant. Both of them were terrified, alone and living without direction. Lloyd left some cigarettes with Tom, he’d figured he would need them. Thinking of abandoning them forced him to put a hand to his chest. It hurt a lot similar to those months after the divorce. That feeling of never seeing somebody again ran free. Neither of them could defend themselves. Eventually, the infected would tear through the building and kill the both of them. All signs pointed towards them sitting back, Tom smoking a cigarette while holding his son so tight he can hardly push out a breath and Christopher would be crying, of course he would be crying. Death scares us all. Lloyd was petrified.

He turned down the same street Andy took and ran over several bodies with knifes sticking out of their chests, all their throats were slit and their clothes were almost transparent from the their blood. Glass littered the sidewalk. The store window had been smashed out. One of the bodies had shards of glass covering it and he assumed he’d been crazy (or infected) enough to jump through a plate glass window. Lloyd turned over the bodies that were on their stomach and removed several of the kitchen knives that protruded from them. He filled with jacket and jean pockets with these knives.

Shrill cries came from behind him but felt distant, unwarranted for panic but his pulse quickened anyways. Those things were every where. When they’d first encountered the epidemic he desperately wanted to know why everything happened, what these people were and how it all started. Even knowing almost everything he wanted to know couldn’t help him relax.

Andy was out here, living or dead. If he was dead then that meant Lloyd failed. Penance would be out of reach. God’s eyes would overflow with distain upon seeing Lloyd meet with St. Thomas at the pearly gates. But, if he was alive…

An under thought followed that. The people that were once his family, how were they doing? Were they alive? Dead? They’ve moved to another place but it wasn’t too far away. Did this spread that far? Has the army already failed to prevent an outbreak? The images he’d dreamed still hadn’t left him, that sensation of death still penetrated him. Guilt, repression, anger and hate were all mixed together. He wiped his mouth. He wanted to drink but he knew he couldn’t.

Several figures ran across the street past the next block. Two ran side by side with one trailing. One of the two ahead fired a bullet backwards and the trailing figure fell to the ground and didn’t get back to his feet. Not once had he seen a police car yet, a SWAT team or anything. Everyone in the city was essentially alone. From what he’d heard from the television they weren’t allowing anyone to leave this tomb.

For a few minutes he’d walked up the street, carefully, trying to look at all angles to see through any kind of surprise attack. Why were the streets so empty? Perhaps everyone, things included, were holed up inside buildings. Maybe, once the things realized that most were neglecting going outside that they stormed inside the buildings, one by one assimilating all man inside the city to their vicious cult. He thought back to the teenager in the car accident, the rotund man peacefully talking to him, learning of what he called the man eaters breaking into his house and attacking his family. The rotund man was, from his limited experience with him was a good man and now he was dead too.

Two blocks up, over the hill was Riche street and on that street Andy was, most likely, already getting baked if he’d survived this long. An image of Andy when he’d entered the apartment tonight, sleeping on the couch unable to form coherent sentences infuriated him. It was his first moment of realization that perhaps he couldn’t protect this kid, that he was too far gone, already a prison of the clutches of addiction. Everyone would fall victim to that demon eventually, destroying any semblance of normal life. Lloyd was no different himself and neither was Darren. He supposed even Tom could be a completely different person then how he’d presented himself. For all Lloyd knew Tom could be a wife beating, child neglecting drunk like himself.

He stopped mid step and looked down at the knife he was carrying. There was no blood on it, the nearly noon sun reflected off the shimmering steel casting blinding light into his eyes. It felt nice. As he lowered the blade he noticed movement reflected in it – from behind. He turned to find himself watching several people running up the hill towards him, maybe five or six of them. They were snarling at him.

Lloyd ran up the hill. Each step pushed on his knees and sent bolts of pain throughout the soles of his feet. Sweat dripped down his brow. It was boiling outside today. A great deal of the water from the rain last night had been evaporated or filtered through the sewer drains.

Behind them they shrieked,.

They craved him.

He reached an intersection and a car flew through it, nearly running him down. Several bullets were fired towards him, one ricocheting off the cement several inches from his foot. He wanted to berate them, insult them at how they could try and shoot him but then he recalled the situation. Who was he safe from?

On the other side of the intersection, at the top of the hill was the scene of a war zone. Blood stained the streets. Bodies littered the area, difficult to tell who was infected and who wasn’t. From personal experience he knew how essentially human they all were, especially when it comes to displaying pain. The girl he’d killed that reminded him so much of his dear Frannie had actually cried from the pain before she died. Each person they’d had to kill was more human than thing, they were just blind to it. Thought he knew this killing meant survival and survival was the core of all living creatures it didn’t make the blood on his hands go away. Part of him felt like Lady Macbeth desperately attempting to wash the blood from her hands and it won’t go away no matter how hard she scrubbed. He looked behind him, they were still a block and a half back. It bought him some time.

Resembling a bum looking for a quarter he scourged the battlefield looking for weapons, guns would be preferred but there is a lot that would do. He’d briefly surveyed close to a dozen bodies and found nothing. Then, in all of the chance in the world he found a man in blue. He rushed to the body of the fallen cop, his face frozen in shock, bullets riddled his chest. There was a gun still in it’s holster, hopefully with a full clip. Also, he grabbed his flashlight and his extendable. Knives were all well and good but they’re better for a last ditch effort. He was ecstatic over his find but much less ecstatic when he realized how open he’d left himself.

He was surrounded by corpses in the middle of an intersection. In front of him there were people rushing towards him, behind him as well as long with the original pack that trailed him. All of them cried out, the high pitched squeal that would haunt dreams. He had to find cover, he couldn’t take them all on. Safest way would be returning the way he came, there were only three of them. Lloyd sprinted off, gun cocked in his left and extendable primed in his right. The first of them opened it’s mouth at him and he swung the extendable exploding it’s teeth, knocking it down. It cried out in pain and held it’s face as blood poured out. He fired the gun twice at the next one, shooting it first in the chest then grazing it’s head enough to send it down. The third seemed to stop in it’s path, unsure of how react to Lloyd. Before it could Lloyd cracked it’s skull open with the extendable and entered an alley way to his left. Hopefully the others wouldn’t know where he went.

The alley was thin and desolate. On the other side there was small parking lot, a sign read ‘dry cleaners parking only’. There was a single car parked there. Chances are it wasn’t for dry cleaning. Somebody was sitting in the driver’s seat. Perhaps they could help. Lloyd approached the car slowly. The person inside turned, alerted to his presence and the car door opened. A foot came out first and his attention was drawn to it. The man wore black shoes covered in blood. As he exited the car and Lloyd continue to approach him he wondered what happened.

“Hello. I was wondering if you could help me, I’ve got to get somewhere and there are two many of those things to go on foot. Could you drive me?” he asked.

“What?” the man asked and looked up. Black circles rested under his eyes in heavy contrast to the whiteness of his face. “Who?”

Lloyd was within a few feet of him now, able to see up close just how ragged and distraught this man was. “I need to get a ride, have to protect my friend. Please.”

The man looked into Lloyd’s eyes he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. It looked as if he was choking, his eyes bulged.

“Do you need any help?” but the question was too late. The man suddenly thrashed at him, hitting him in the face and knocking him off balance and eventually to the ground. He slammed his arms against the car windows and kicked and kneed the body causing dents. He screamed so loud anything around would be know where to go. Lloyd back up a few feet, watching in horror as this man lost all control.

Then suddenly, he stopped. Lloyd looked in horror, not wanting to believe what had just happened. The ferocity of it! The man craned his neck to look at Lloyd. No longer was that scared and worried expression his face. It’s eyes seemed to glow. He’d become one of them right in front of his eyes. Lloyd had no choice, he fired a single shot exploding his head in a crimson display. “Jesus Christ!”

Panicking, Lloyd entered the car and turned the ignition. It started. He reversed the car and it bounced up as he ran over the body of the man he’d just killed. He turned out of the parking lot and out onto Gordon Ave. a street that intersects with Riche. The smell of McDonald’s still lingered in the Honda, it tickled his hunger. Now he’d wished he’d ate more of the breakfast at the restaurant, wolfed down the eggs and gobbled up the bacon.

Two people ran in front of his car screaming at him, he’d almost hit them. One of them carried baseball bat speckled in blood and one of them ran with a gun. One was male and one was female, he noticed glint of a sparkle on the hand of the woman. She had been married and, unless the man running with her was her husband was most likely a widow. A black hand touched his spine and it went cold – the touch of death.

At the intersection of Gordon and Riche he looked right and saw a mostly vacant street. All it contained was litter, bodies and a the thickness of death. To the left there was close a mob of people surrounding several apartment buildings. He looked at the building in front of him, it was 156 Riche, the one to the right of it was 162 so he had to go left to find Andy. With his luck he would have to fight with all of those things.

Unless…

He reversed the car so it was out of side hidden behind the shield of an apartment building. Several bodies lay across the sidewalk. He found a shirt that was mostly dryand ripped it from it. “Sorry fella, but I need this more than you do.” The face of the woman grimaced at him. It was probably his imagination running rampant. He walked up to the intersection careful not to be seen by the mob. Last thing he needed was for fifty blood-thirsty humans to rush at him, leaving him with no option but to run and possibly be killed or to fight and definitely get killed. His current plan had much better possibilities.

From down the street he could hear them. Although all they uttered was growls and shrieks they almost seemed to converse with each other, work with each other in order to get what they need. Strength in numbers seemed to remain in their brains.

Lloyd still had to find something in order for this to work. He’d have to look inside a building maybe. The apartment building he was hiding behind looked relatively intact, none of the ground floor windows had been smashed in, as if the things had looked it over completely. Hopefully, that was right. First impulse for him was to smash a window and enter but that would create too much noise. They could be anywhere.

Carefully he hunted around the building, trying every door that was concealed from the main streets. None of them were unlocked. From his pocket he removed his knife and jammed it into one of the door jambs, used his strength to pry it until it popped open. The apartment was clean, untouched and unsoiled. No violence occurred. The apartment looked generic; a white leather (or pleather) couch, a reclining Laz-E-Boy chair and a flat screen television. Lloyd walked over, found the remote on the white coffee table and clicked the television on. Immediately he muted the volume and turned on the closed captioning in the menu. Every precaution. Unlike Andy, Tom and Christopher he hadn’t witnessed anything.

They were interviewing a Sergeant in the armed forces, responsible for the quarantining and detaining any people who wandered into the southern perimeter. As opposed to earlier into the crisis they have much more information to go with. They showed several armed forces personnel detaining people who appeared uninfected. According to them, with the recent knowledge of the cause of the epidemic they are able to check for bites and perform a test to find infection. At this point they were unable to determine whether or not the test would even indicate if someone as positive or negative but it was the best they had. After this initial procedure they would put each person into their own, isolated area until they were deemed clean of the new, now deemed ‘Type-D’ rabies virus.

This viewing experience was drastically different than what his other companions had watched. Unlike them – who witnessed disorganized chaos – he bore witness to the first wave of orderly conduct from the armed forces. For the moment it appeared they were starting to pull it all together. Then again, the Spartans held off the Persians amazingly but they were defeated in the end. However, Lloyd first discovered the possible hope in his dire situation. Maybe as a country – as a species – they would pull up their socks and get the job done. It’s crunch time. Firmly he believe that they were teetering on the edge of the fall of man kind, a calamity so cleverly disguised it would become impossible to combat once it gained momentum. Still, while the big picture was vastly important it would matter not if he was killed.

Forgetting the television (he’d left it on) he squandered the apartment, looking for a baseball bat or a stick of some kind and something flammable, kerosene would be the best. One of the bedrooms was that of a child, a racing theme was predominant. He couldn’t help but think of the last apartment he’d ventured into and the terrible thing he’d had to do to survive. He wiped his mouth, it was over salivating. Thinking of his act made him want a drink but he had to make do. Fight as best as possible. Be the strong man he’d never been before in his life. Act as if the family he once had still loved him.

In the closet there was an assortment of sporting goods; a baseball glove, a hockey stick and a baseball bat. He pulled out the bat (aluminum) to survey it. He supposed it would be proper. Now he needed two ropes, twine anything that could tie down the steering wheel. Very narrow likelihood they would be here.

The hardware store, two blocks down.

Fleeing the safe apartment he ventured out into the random chaos, got back into his car and turned the ignition. He reversed down a whole block, turned left onto Fortuna Drive, stopped and pushed in the opposite direction. In the passenger seat was the extendable and aluminum Louisville Slugger. He drove with his left and held onto the revolver in his right. As he drove the street was miraculously barren. By now most survivors had either tried escape and failed or were quarantined. Whomever remained were most likely in a shelter by now, holed up as safely and securely as possible. Only crazy people would be out now. Even the rabid seemed to mostly disappear – either inside buildings or have pushed out of the area. Neither suited him.

He turned left, swerving around a corpse. To the right he spotted the hardware store. It was a part of a plaza that also hoarded a convenience store (owned by Chinese immigrants), a hair salon (ten bucks for a cut), a fish and chip joint (good halibut) and finally the hardware store. He’d never been inside the store before, never a need. Whatever he needed were sure to be there. He parked in front of it and turned off the car. He grabbed the extendable and exited the car.

Around him was barren, the only sounds distant murmurs of struggle and the content songs from birds. They were all probably laughing at us, watching us tear each other apart – a bird’s eye view of first domino of the fall of civilization. Before entering the department store he studied a pair of crows ominously perched on a telephone wire looking in his direction. After he was gone and his parents and children are long gone, the great empires of man dissolving beneath each footstep, they would still be perched, singing on faceless ruins. Both of the crows cawed, took flight passing over the hardware store.

Something was coming, the pressure in the pit of his stomach told him so. The car probably attracted them and now they were here, coming for him. He entered the hardware store. Inside products were knocked from shelves, liquids bleeding from their broken containers. The cash registers were destroyed, some bills remained around the cashier counter, all small bills. Whomever had raided the store had done so in a hurry. Lloyd leaped over the counter and scooped up whatever bills remained. May as well benefit something for all this. He counted it all, sixty four dollars.

The cashiers desk was mostly empty and he decide to wait their for a minute, peek up towards the street to check to see if the rabid mob had tracked him down, so far, nothing. Besides the corpse hanging off the curb across the road and his stolen car the area was seemingly void of all life.

It pounced on him from behind, soundless.

Panic made him see yellow. His mind couldn’t register the attack. It was so sudden he pissed himself, sending a warm stream down his leg soaking through his jeans. Something warms oozed down his arm. Only thought he could utter was how could I piss from my shoulder. Then he felt the intense grip on his wrist, the nails that were cutting into his skin. He was leaned forward against the cashiers counter, the corner digging into his chest and it had him on the ropes, his left arm held backwards and about to be devoured, the gun in that hand meant nothing. In blind panic he fired it once, missing completely wasting a round in the ceiling panel.

Was this the end? Was school, children and marriage all for not? In these final seconds he first the first time felt the weight of his regrets. All his life he’d been given chance after chance, the dividends already in his pocket yet he continued to walk that line. Now he’d been over it for awhile and he couldn’t – can’t – step back over it. That life was over and he’d already died a horrific death, plowed down by a car while stumbling drunk. Ever since that night Andy saved him, has been a different life.

He stomped out his left foot, pounding against the floor in efforts to step on the things toes. After several attempts he succeeded and it let it’s weight fall back the slightest Lloyd needed to gain some ground. He pushed from the counter and turned in sequence pushing it with every ounce he had. It stumbled back on it’s feet. For the first time he was able to fix his gaze on his attacker. It was a black woman, sort of heavy set with her hair tied into a tight bun at the back. Around it’s mouth was a thick, white froth that oozed from her gaping jaw, dripping down her chin and falling to the ground in messy slops. Her left hand shook violently, she was hunched over. He could see her constantly attempting to swallow, her throat thrusting in and out, she wheezed from her nostrils to breathe.

She moved towards him, quick but shoddy. He flipped out the extendable and swung it hard, striking her in the shoulder. Under the weight of the blow he imagine the bone shattered as she recoiled. A muffled cry escaped her mouth, her face showing intense strain as she tried to exhaust her pain, a stream of saliva drained from her mouth. She slumped to the left, favouring her arm and receded. Displaying zero hesitation he stepped forward and swung the extendable again striking the side of her head, collapsing the skull spraying specks of brains and globs of blood from the hole. Her face went slack, her hand continued to spasm as she fell to the ground, dying.

Dead.

For the past twenty seconds Lloyd hadn’t even been thinking. Reaction was out of his hands. He felt he might have a coronary from the sudden attack. Terror of that calibre wasn’t something he was conditioned for. The actual terror of last night was filtered through shock and confusion. It just didn't register that high on his list of perceptions. He continued to look at corpse, the jagged lines that surrounded the gaping hole unsure of how accomplished it. He lifted up the extendable studying it – bits of bone, flesh and blood were clumped to a mat of long blood-stained-blonde hair. It astounded him. He allowed his muscles to unravel and step out of the cashier area.

Although his journey from the restaurant had been surprising easy he felt this is when the sky fell. Part of him was prepared, the majority of him petrified. There were still things to do.

Lloyd walked towards the aisle in front of him. Every sound registered, all movements noticeable. It was difficult to tell the shadows in the corners of your eyes from them. With each step he was careful not to shift products that littered the floor. Any sound could set them off. Luck was probably already giving them directions. There he is. Aisle two at the hardware store on Riche and Gorden, he’s looking for rope and kerosene, he’s wearing an army green toque and have you seen his dog Andy? He’s burying bones again, naughty boy. Everything on the ground was new but they all looked worn to him – redundant.

Aisle two was full of tools. Screwdrivers, hammers, saws, drills were displayed. He found himself feeling crazy, the sentiments that were surfacing from these generic devices. He stopped. The power drill caught his attention (it cost 129.99, on sale) most of them all. He gestured his head towards the front of the store then leaned forwards towards the drill, then gestured back towards the front of the store, a quixotic grin smeared on his face. He tittered and continued on to aisle three.

Aisle three was nails, screws, bolts and whatever other knick-knacks you collect to go with your contemporary tools. Not much of any value, on to the next aisle.

Aisle four was full of camping equipment. During his stroll he finds tent pegs to go with the tents. It reminded him of camping with his family; mom, dad and his younger brother Steve. Every spring they went somewhere new, wasting away the days fishing, swimming, canoeing and camp-fires with marshmallows. The memory warmed him. Camping trips were the only time he ever felt they came together as a family, work always came before him and his brother. Next to the tent were air mattresses, sleeping bags and bug spray – nothing go fuse. Then, he spied it. Rope, lengths and lengths of it.

He couldn’t just carry it though, leaving himself defenseless. He pulled a sleeping bag from the third shelve, discarded the cardboard sleeve and pulled the vinyl carry case off the bag which fell to the floor and began to unroll itself. It would do. He inserted several metres of rope and went to aisle five.

Aisle five had nothing at all. Most of the product was on the ground, even many of the shelves were knocked out of place. He estimated there were half a dozen bodies down the aisle. Dead for a few hours, that’s what their skin told him. One of the corpses gripped a tire-pump, determined not to let go. They were all shot to death.

Aisle six contained mostly car equipment, most notable jerry cans. Lloyd snatched three that held five litres of gasoline and shoved them into the bag with the rope, followed by two of the ten litre containers. If he had time he would grab more but this would do for now. No more aisles remained. No kerosene.

The back of the store, might be some good steals in there. Leaving the vinyl bag he rushed to the back of the store, opened the ‘employees only’ door and stopped once inside, the extendable held tightly in his right hand, his pistol secure in the belt of his jeans. It like any back room, open, loaded with boxes and filing cabinets. In the far back corner was a miniature workshop. He walked over to it, hoping to find kerosene or anything that burned similar. Various tools covered the work area, including a pneumatic nail gun and glass cutters. On the ground next to the table was a body of a man, holding onto a hammer, shot dead. All the bodies in here were loaded with bullets. He gulped, as if he didn’t have enough to fear for.

The ‘employees only’ door flew open. They were coming for him. There were nine of them. No hesitation on their part. Auto pilot was engaged again. He turned and pulled the nail gun around and began to fire it. Taking no effort to aim he simply swung the gun back and forth spraying nails all over the place. Several of them went down for good, most of those left standing were hit with them.

They all were surprised from the sudden attack and let Lloyd hear it, every noise they uttered reeked of contempt. He continued to fire the gun, taking them down until there were only two left.

A woman was first upon him, dressed for office work. She drooled like a bulldog, tried, spitting every noise she made. Lloyd swung the extendable and exploded her cheekbone, sending her sprawling. Watching her fall reminded him of his darkest times. The last of the group was five feet away from him, gaining ground fast. Lloyd took a second to steady his hand before shooting a nail through it’s eye, ending it’s life. For safe measure he looked down at the woman and nailed her forehead.

So much blood, so much.

Lloyd stepped around the bodies cautious with his steps, precarious precautions for those who might yet be wiggling in the grasp of death – he remained holding the extendable but let the nail gun fall to the ground. Death abound with his hands he found survival, unadulterated and literate. The bodies reflected the human truth. None of them moved.

Nothing of any immediate use was back here. He left the room and pulled the door shut behind him, it popped back open as the frame had been damaged from the barge. The rest of the hardware store appeared to be lifeless. Popping his shoulder he readjusted the vinyl sleeping bag cover full of vital tools and trudged out of the store.

The vehicle he’s stolen appeared untouched since he’d parked it. He opened the lock on the passenger seat and tossed in the bag. With intelligent eyes he surveyed the area and found it relatively quiet, the mob up the street remained, something had them flocking – besides that incredibly vacant. When he returned to the hardware store for more jerry cans he left the car door open to avoid giving away his position.

Lloyd grabbed a shopping cart from the front and headed for the jerry cans. He filled the entire shopping cart with the cans, went aisle to aisle looking for shop towels. When he found them he loaded up the top of the cart with them. He also grabbed barbeque lighters and butane. In one of the aisles he recalled seeing hatchets – he grabbed six – yet nothing else of value. He needed duct tape and there was a bin full by register two. He removed two four-packs and assumed it would be enough. Before he left he one last glance around the hardware store where he’d exchanged survival for sin.

When he arrived at the car he dumped the contents of the cart into the backseat, shut the door then removed the keys from his pocket and walked around to the driver’s side. A terrible sensation invaded his body and he feared the worst for Andy. Hopefully God was babysitting for him. He entered the car, shut and power-locked all the doors and started the engine.

A rabid pack approached him from behind but he didn’t notice them in the passenger mirror because he’d turned the rearview mirror to face himself. In the wide reflection he first noticed his army green toque; it was made of wool, worn with threads displaced all over, holes and tears and blood splatter. For years this toque had shielded his vanity from the world. The colour was once a vibrant green but has since faded to a dreary olive. Memories of his time with Andy the night before, his toque removed and being called ‘ol’ buddy’ had frustrated him at the time but has since grown to be inconsequential. It was true, he had become a soldier in such a short time. He wiped at the blood on his face, it flaked off beneath his touch but much of it felt grafted. At least it covers most of the lines in my face. Can’t have those things thinking they’ve got the advantage on an aging man. He chuckled to himself. I’ve got quite the strategy worked out. Big badda boom.

Knowing what he had to do he readjusted the rearview and buckled his seatbelt just in case, going through the windshield if he crashed would be a humiliating end to his tale. When he’d first headed for the hardware store he was unkempt, scurrying, anxious and worst of all terrified. Fear was recognized as an old acquaintance since the back room. Adrenaline whammed him to invulnerability. Still he had a plan and it was well in motion. Dead ahead the mob appeared to be dispersing yet a core few remained – vultures.

The gas station was his next stop, three blocks away. Fill up the cans. Leave. Create a diversion. Hope Andy can hold on another ten minutes. Rushing in, fists swinging isn’t exactly the keen approach to the building. It’s as if all the victims of the virus who lived in the buildings remained out of familiarity. Or maybe they were just trying to get Andy.

She pounded at the driver’s side window startling him from his trance, an image of Andy sitting with a needle sticking out of his arm, dead. Thumps echoed the car and the roof dipped in under its weight. Her face was that of an angel until she screamed, her features curled back, the noon sun casting a horrid ambiance from the pale skin contrasting to the thick shadow. Again she pounded on the glass and Lloyd pushed the gas the floor. The sudden acceleration sent the attack from room tumbling, the roof popping with every move until he heard the thud of its body against the cement. He turned a one eighty and headed for the gas station leaving them for another sucker.

The roads were a dragster’s dream.

Lloyd took a left.

In the distance he saw sirens, cop cars parked in the middle of the street. He struggled to focus, to determine in the police instituted a road block and if they were even still alive. Nothing, his glasses didn’t help much in that regard. Someone ran around the corner, down the sidewalk and passed him as he drove through the intersection. Rabid or not everyone appeared the same until the interaction point.

Lloyd took a left.

People were frantic running across the street. A woman pounded on the side of his car as he was careful not go too fast and screamed for him to help her. “I’m sorry, darling. This train runs express.” Through the rearview he watched as a rabid person grabbed a hold of her and took her to the ground. No longer could he watch it. A bullet hit the front of his car but the shooter was unseen. Maybe he was the second gunman on the grassy knoll. To his right several children ran after a middle-aged man, dressed in his pajamas and slippers. Foam dripped from one of their mouths, it’s arms flailed as he ran, it’s short legs gaining ground on the man then he’d reached him, thrashed him and bit him; one of it’s pack members startled it and paid the ultimate price.

Havoc was the only word he felt could do justice for what his eyes found.

The car pulled through an intersection he recognized all to well. On the corner was an Italian place, Fazulio’s. Night of the first anniversary of his marriage – he’d bought her a gold teddy bear pin (she loved them) with glistening diamonds for eyes. Yes, she had melted over the sight. With the remembrance he could almost taste the garlic from their breadsticks and the fizz from their champagne dying on the back of tongue. Everything about that night he wished he could have back but it was now as dead as dead as this city.

The gas station was only a few blocks ahead. Every part of hi m hoped that it would be virtually roadblock free and he could just back to that building, rescue his only friend and walk off onto the sunset like a cowboy in the old Westerns, a smoking gun on his hip and a grizzled expression, knowing the fight was over but the sun would yet again rise.

Unspeakable acts continued to unfold about him. An electronics store had been stripped nearly naked, all the glass shattered and the merchandise either stolen or broken, the body of a young man held onto a stereo like kin. A true testament to his species

A body jolted in front of the car and he ran it down. There was no time to react. The only glimpse of the person/thing he’d hit was its face smashing against the hood before being pulled under the tires sending the car rocking as the weight of the vehicle crushed its bones. He gazed at the mangled corpse through the rearview as he passed through the final intersection.

The are in front him had corpses but seemed in flux. He turned left the station and pulled beside a pump. He exited the car careful to have the extendable in his possession. Against plenty the weapon was laughable but a few he might be fine. He circled to the other side of the car, pulled a hose from the pump and inserted it into the fuel tank. Shae it wasn’t automatic. From the backseat he removed a roll of duct tape and taped the hose open, wasting gas if it spilled over wasn’t a concern. He the removed all the jerry cans and left them beside the car. The smell of the gas was pleasant and ordinary. Gunshots rang out, sounding not to distant. Time was of the essence.

He ran into the store at the station and looked for anything useful; he filled his pockets with lighters, grabbed a half dozen packs of smoke, a pocketful of small change and rushed back out to the car. He checked the fuel level and it was just over half a tank. He threw the smokes and lighters into the car and returned to the store. He grabbed several chocolate bars, two packages of beef jerky and shoved them into his pockets until bulged. Next he filled his arms with as many glass bottles of iced tea as he could then ran back to the car where dumped it all.

He could see a flock of people/things run through the park heading in a different direction. He wondered how many people have been killed, how many have been infected and if it had spread outside the city yet. Quarantine seemed unlikely. Albeit the human condition to watch disaster like a mindless twat he was able to shake away contemplation – for that there would be a time and a place – to return to his task.

On the other side of the, shielded mostly from the streets, he removed all the caps to the jerry cans and set them aside. Seven of the eight (saved one for his thirst) bottles of iced tea were emptied of their juice. Next he pulled out his pocketful of change (close to a hundred coins) and dropped several in each jerry can, their impact hollow. Shrapnel, if it would work though he’d like to possibly add more if there was time.

In haste he filled up jerry cans full of gasoline, eighteen in total and filled each of the iced tea bottles just over halfway. Next he grabbed the box of shop towels from the back seat, set the box beside him and grabbed the first bottle. He wound them up tight and dipped the few inches at the end into the gas to saturate them the fed the dry half partly into the bottle and secured it with duct tape. Once all the bottles were prepared he began moving all the jerry cans into the back of the car. Before he could rig the car he needed to find a safe place for the few minutes it would take.

A bird flew by singing.

A minute and a half later he was all packed up and ready to hit the road.

Then there was a scream. By the park several of them sighted him and made tracks, in thirty seconds the would be here. From the passenger seat he grabbed a bottle and a lighter. “Let’s see how well the babies work.” Lloyd struck the lighter and touched the orange flame to the rag which instantaneously ignited. Before throwing he gritted his teeth and thought about his estranged family he wanted back so badly. Like a grenade in Normandy he hurled the bottle towards the attackers, his expression exasperated. When it hit the sound of glass breaking was drowned out by the sound of the orange fireball and its cackling flames. One of the bodies was nearly blown away and the other two howled as they were wrestled to the ground by the fire. “Wow.”

Taking no chances and knowing that more would arrive he drove towards Andy.