Author: Bob

Nancy and her crew sat around their fire in the midmorning sun when they saw the four men carrying Enoch back into the camp. The light activity from all the camp residents slowed as they turned to see Silus’ emissary.

Like before, her four bearers lowered her sedan to the ground and she rose from the top to address those present. “Today is a glorious day for the Chosen of God. Today is the day when you take up your rightful place as a servant of the Lord to do the Lord’s work in the world. Who among you have felt the divine call within your heart and will accompany us on our Holy path?”

Nancy looked around the camp to see who would go. Many still seemed to be discussing it within their groups. Then, just a couple started their walk toward Enoch and her carriers. As the first few made their way, others seemed to make up their minds and head down as well.

Beside her, Oak stood up. He looked down in the direction of Enoch, his face pursed tight in thought. Finally, he took a deep breath and forced it out his nose before sitting back down.

Tom put his hand on Oak’s shoulder. They watched the rest of the camp.

In all, nearly thirty camp members made the choice to join Silus.

Enoch raised her hands to the sky and shouted, “God is great!” Then, looking at the rest of the camp, “I know in my heart that the rest of you will be moved to join us, if not now then soon. Until then, give your prayers to God and ask him for guidance.”

To those gathered around her, she said, “Follow, and we will guide you to your new home, a home of Holiness and God.” Then she sank back into her box.

Her bearers hefted the poles to their shoulders, turned the box around to face the path, and marched away.

The people who chose to join followed them until they all faded into the woods. Within a few minutes, even the sound of them was gone.

Nancy asked Oak, “Are you ok?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I’m ok. It just sounded so good. I don’t know, maybe too good. Besides, you guys would be useless without me.”

Making Plans

The men from New Chicago and Wood Hill got their horses ready and cleaned up their camp. Their leaders gathered with Mike around a table in the middle of the village.

Seth the hunter had joined them. He pointed to a map to describe the situation. “This is Owl Hollow, where the Spotties have their camp. It’s a valley with heavy forest around, but there’s a clearing where they got their tents. They stay close to the bottom of the valley where the old road and the creek go through. They won’t go up any further.”

Boss Henry thought that sounded strange. “Why won’t they go up any further?”

“Well,” Seth explained, “that’s haunted. This ridge to the north is called Dead Herd. I’ve only seen it from a distance, but the old cattle herd still stands there, just skeletons. On the other side, to the south, is Old House Hill. All that’s there is the ruins of an old house, but everybody says it’s haunted too. My guess is that the Spotties picked this valley knowing nobody would ever attack from either of those directions.”

Both Boss Henry and Eric Pree, the leader from Wood Hill, rolled their eyes. Hauntings didn’t make a lot of strategic sense, but if the Spotties believed it, then that was important to know.

“What’s the story of this old road?” Eric asked, pointing to the road through Owl Hollow.

“Oh, that old thing,” Seth said. “It mostly ain’t there anymore. We can follow the road through town here,” he pointed just outside the village, “and it will connect to part of the valley road. By the time we get to the woods, it is so overgrown with forest, it might as well not be there.”

Mike added, “When we go, the fastest way to get to the woods is to take that road as far as we can. Then we’ll need to follow whatever path we can find.”

“Yep,” said Seth. “On the other end of Owl Hollow, the road is more of a path, but it is still passable. If the Spotties know we’re coming and they want to get away in a hurry they can run right out that way.”

Boss Henry leaned in to look more closely at that part of the map. “When we attack, we need to get across their camp as fast as we can to cut off that escape route. That’s going to need horses. Can we get at least some of the horses through the woods without tipping off the Spotties?”

“I don’t think so,” said Mike. “All the forest is really dense. Do you know a path, Seth?”

“Well, sort of,” Seth answered. “It depends on how superstitious your men are. If you ride around and come up the west edge of Dead Herd, you can come down through an area where there aren’t as many trees. You’ll have to be careful to be quiet if we’re going to do a sneak attack. Then it’s just a matter of doing your horse thing at the same time everybody else attacks.”

“I think my boys will be ok with a spooky hill. We can just get there and wait until we hear the first gun shots.”

Eric put his thumbs in his belt buckle and leaned back a bit. “So, that’s the plan then. We sneak up, kill all of them, and come back.”

Mike hung his head and shook it side to side. “I guess so.”

Boss Henry looked at him, raising one eyebrow. “You don’t seem so confident in this.”

Mike sighed. “I don’t like having to kill anybody. Unfortunately, it’s come to this; either us or them. Me and my men will go and do what we got to do, but I’m never going to be happy about it.”

They all stood for a moment, vaguely looking at the map.

Mike finally broke the silence. “Any objection to being ready to ride out in fifteen minutes?”

They exchanged glances. There were no objections.

Each man turned away, headed to his place.

Lunch Interrupted

It had only been a couple of hours since Enoch led her procession from the camp. The overall mood in the camp seemed somber, with no one being particularly loud or energetic.

Juanita had brought out the cooking utensils and Oak built the lunch fire from the ashes of breakfast. Nancy and Tom were still out hunting for something to extend lunch.

Something moved.

Oak only noticed it in the corner of his eye, but it was there. Something in the woods. It was probably just Tom or Nancy, but he decided to look anyway.

They were concealed well. There were men moving along the line of the camp, just beyond the treeline. Not making a noise, they seemed to walk single file, following the edge of the camp.

“Juanita,” he said, “I’m probably just being paranoid, but let’s get our weapons.”

She stopped pulling two pans apart and looked to where Oak looked. She saw the men moving through the woods. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment. They had never been attacked in the camp before.

She reached to the side of the tent and grabbed Oak’s bow, quiver, and machete. She handed them over to him, trying not to make any sudden or large move that might get her noticed. Then she grabbed her own bow, quiver, and knife.

By now, it was obvious that others in the camp had noticed something. Many stood looking around at the woods bordering the camp. Their attention was soon drawn to something else.

A group of men in ragged clothes, like those of Enoch’s servants, came into the camp from the eastern path. In groups of twos, the men carried crates. Four men carried a metal brazier, filled with glowing coals, and with rods of metal protruding. Behind them walked the only one among them without a hood.

His skin color showed that he was a spotted person. Beyond that, he was barely recognizable as a person at all. Both sides of his nose had been slit open from the nostril to bridge, the skin flopping to the side. Scars, as if from branding, covered his cheeks and forehead. The tatters of his ears flopped down the side of his head.

As the group stopped, the scarred one stepped onto one of the crates. He shouted out to the camp, “You have heard the Call of God and you have refused it. You have been marked by Him and must follow His Holy Command but have chosen to turn your back on Him. But worry not, my brothers. We are here to put you back on to the Path of Righteousness.”

With those words, the men in the woods stepped out into the open. They were dressed in the same ragged skins and cloth. No more six or seven feet apart, they completely encircled the camp. They held clubs and weapons of rusty-looking metal.

More of the men entered the camp from the path. They ran past the scarred one and grabbed the nearest camp resident.

Juanita and Oak watched as the invaders grabbed several of the valley dwellers, overpowered them, and dragged them down to the scarred one. There, the scarred one pulled a glowing blade from the brazier and sliced the first one’s nose open.

The scream echoed through the valley.

The scream was also the call to action: escape now or be tortured by Silus’ people.

Juanita and Oak both turned toward the men nearest them and ran for the woods. The men grabbed at them, trying to prevent their escape.

Oak slammed his fist into the jaw of the attacker on his side. The attacker fell, landing on his back. Oak stomped on his head while running by.

Juanita stabbed her attacker and stumbled past him, only to be grabbed by another.

The second attacker dropped to the ground, bleeding from the neck wound left by Nancy’s knife.

“Run!” Nancy hissed to Oak and Juanita.

Together, they ran into the woods, passing Tom who covered them with his bow.

About fifty feet in, they ducked and checked for pursuit. There was none, but they could still hear the chaos back at the camp.

Nancy did a quick visual check of her friends and then asked, “What happened?”

“They were men from that Silus guy,” Juanita said. “They snuck in and had us surrounded before we knew anything. Then they came in and started attacking because we didn’t join them.”

Oak added, “They cut a guy’s nose off. I think it was Jenkins; you know the one who liked marbles.”

Tom caught up with them and knelt with the group.

Nancy asked, “Anybody else coming?”

Tom shook his head no. “I didn’t see anybody. It looks like some of us got out and the creeps are just working on the ones they could catch.”

“How many were there?”

“I couldn’t tell,” said Tom. “There were at least enough to be a threat.”

“Yeah,” said Juanita. “They had us completely surrounded and that was before the torture squad came in.”

Nancy seemed to think of something. “Where’s That Thing? Was she with you?”

Juanita and Oak looked at each other. In the moment, they forgot all about her. “Last I saw,” said Oak, “she was still inside the tent.”

“Damn it,” Nancy spat. “Let’s hope she knows how to hide and those bastards don’t look too hard.”

Tom leaned in, afraid to speak too loudly. “What do we do now?”

Nancy shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t have enough information about what’s going on. I want to save everybody, but if we’re totally outnumbered we’ll probably be lucky to save ourselves.”

Juanita suggested, “We could try to sneak back and have a look. Try not to be seen or do anything until we know what’s going on.”

Nancy thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, that’s probably the best idea. That’s what I’ll do. You guys don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Tom smiled. “Where else would we go?”

As quietly as they could, the four moved back to the edge of camp where they had escaped just minutes before. The men they killed still sat where they fell. The cordon of attackers was gone.

Instead, Silus’ men stood guard over nearly twenty of the camp residents near the crates. All the prisoners wore chains around their wrists. Fifteen of the prisoners stood on one side of the scarred one. Those prisoners showed signs of struggle with bruises and contusions around their heads. Some seemed to nurse damaged arms or favored hurt legs.

It was the other prisoners, on the other side of the scarred one, that looked different. Their faces showed signs of great trauma. Reddened with blood and blisters from burns, contorted with beatings, mangled by their captors. Three lay on the ground, motionless. The other two writhed in agony.

Oak crawled away from the edge of the camp quickly and quietly. Then, as noiselessly as he could, he wretched into the brush behind a tree.

Over in a tent, the tent Nancy had placed That Thing in, something moved.

That Thing had hidden under a sleeping bag when all the commotion started. Her short life taught her to go unnoticed when there was trouble, so she did so without thinking. The attackers hadn’t noticed her at all.

She huddled under the covers through the screams. They reminded her of something, some lost memory from her earliest childhood. Each scream hit a little harder and dug a little deeper.

She made up her mind and crawled from her hiding place. Ducking her head to get out, she stepped out of the tent and into the afternoon sun. She saw it now. It was all true.

The Plainos had always made her life miserable because of her spots. But she had seen them be horrible to each other as well. Now she was with people just like her, people who promised a new, safe life. But that wasn’t true. People with spots and people without spots were just people and they were all cruel. There was no escape in this life. She would never be free from them for as long as she lived.

Nearby sat the board where she helped Juanita prepare food. The pots were where Juanita left them. Next to the pots were the cooking utensils, including the big knife.

That Thing stepped up to the board and wrapped her hand around the handle of the knife.

Nancy watched, not realizing at first.

She saw That Thing pick up the knife. “Good girl,” Nancy thought, “She’s getting ready to defend herself.”

The thought melted when she realized that the girl held the knife the wrong way for fighting. It was completely the wrong way.

That Thing crumpled to the ground, the knife under her ribs. Her torso spasmed once in a soft cough, and that was it.

Nancy’s entire body seized with tension. This person she saved was just unsaved. Another innocent person dead just because they were born with spotted skin. It wasn’t Plainos this time, but those bastards at the bottom of the hill.

Nancy rose up to a crouch and knocked an arrow. There was no plan in her head, only anger and frustration.

Tom stared at her in disbelief. If she loosed that arrow, it would give away their position and they would be overrun.

She let it fly.

The scarred man, holding his hot iron, staggered back as the arrow went through his chest.

The other attackers looked around to see where it came from.

Tom whispered to Nancy, “Let’s get out of here!”

That is when the gunshot rang out.

With the echo in the valley, it was impossible to hear where it came from. It was soon joined by more.

People in the valley, both the attackers and their captives fell, either hit or looking for cover.

To the right of their position, Nancy heard horses running, breaking through the brush. About a dozen of them, each carrying a Plaino wielding a machete or something. They rode through the remains of the camp toward the people down in the valley floor.

From the western side of the valley, more Plainos emerged from the woods. Some had firearms and the others had makeshift weapons, mostly tools. They yelled their excited war cries and ran toward their enemies.

Nancy turned to Tom. “Good idea.”

Getting Away

Less worried about stealth now that there was a full battle, the four ran back into the woods and as far uphill as they could without leaving the protection of the trees. Once near the top, they chose to turn east without discussing it; it just seemed to be the thing to do.

This went on for nearly half an hour, long after the sounds of the battle went away. They ran to get away not only from the danger, but from the thoughts, memories, emotions.

Exhaustion caught up to them and they chose to rest. They dropped down behind a clump of bushes, lying in the grass.

After a few moments, Juanita asked, “What do you think happened”

“If the Plainos showed up with guns and horses, they probably killed everybody,” Nancy said. “That’s what they do.”

“I don’t understand how the Plainos knew where our camp was,” Tom said.

“I have an idea,” Nancy said. “I think it was the people who chased That Thing the other night. We sent one back with a message saying to leave us alone. I don’t think they liked that.”

Juanita sighed. “They don’t seem to like anything.”

Tom chimed in, “That’s one thing that Enoch chick got right. The Plainos are real pissed about the Storm wrecking all their stuff. All they ever do is try to rebuild all that. I don’t know why.”

Oak sat up. ‘I’m glad I didn’t go with them, but now I wonder what happened to the ones that did go.”

“It’s probably best to not think about it,” Nancy told him. “We have enough stuff to think about. Like where we go next and how any spotted person we meet could be an enemy now.”

Oak laid back down.

They rested for another half hour before they heard motion in the woods.

They took up their weapons and rolled into crouching positions.

The sound moved closer toward them, faint footsteps as though someone tried to move quietly.

The sound grew closer until it was coming around the bushes.

“Oh, it’s you,” Nancy said.

The sound had come from a group of spotted people, former residents of Owl Hollow. They included Herman, his wife Mary, their teenaged son Herman Junior, Carlos, and Pedro. Nancy knew them to all be hardworking, as well as good hunters. Like her, they just wanted to live in peace somewhere. Pedro always worried her a little because he liked pranks too much.

The newcomers crouched down to join the four. “Have you seen anybody else?” Herman whispered.

Nancy shook her head. “You guys are the first since we got out. How about you?”

“No, we were out gathering food when everything started,” said Mary. “Then we ran into Carlos and Pedro and they told us what happened. Did you see it? Was it really that bad?”

Tom nodded. “Oh yeah, it was really bad.” He turned to Carlos and Pedro. “When did you guys get out? Was it before or after the Plaino attack?”

Carlos looked puzzled. “Those were Plainos? I thought they were those Silus people.”

Juanita clarified. “The first ones, the ones in rags, those were the Silus people. They had just won their attack when the Plainos showed up with guns and horses. We were hoping you could tell us how that turned out.”

“Sorry, no,” said Carlos.

“So,” asked Herman, “Do you guys have a plan for what to do next?” He raised his eyebrows hopefully.

Nancy shook her head again. “Not really. We were just focused on staying alive. We’ve got to come up with something.”

“I vote against returning to Owl Hollow,” said Mary. “Even if the fighting is over and all the bad guys are gone, that’s just not going to be a happy place. Besides, now everybody knows where it is.”

“Agreed,” said Nancy. Now that she could plan with people, her mind came back into its usual focus. “North and northeast of here, we run into open grasslands. I’d rather stay in the woods. It’s better hunting and better hiding. If we go straight west we run into Plaino farmland and a couple of villages. South would lead us to some woods, but we have to cross the road that Silus’ people used. I do not want to run into them.”

“I may know a place, if we can get there,” Carlos offered. “My uncle Manuel, God rest his soul, told me that there is a dense forest to the southwest. It is at the south end of some mountains, so it is too hilly for farming. The Plainos can’t use it, so it’s just wild. If we could get to that, we could hide all we want.”

“That would be good,” Tom said, “if we could get there. We still have the immediate problem of getting away from this spot.”

“How far away is this place?” Nancy asked. Everybody had seen the tops of the mountains on the western horizon, but they seemed really far away.

“That would be the problem,’ Carlos answered. “It would probably take us a week or two, maybe a little more.”

Nancy nodded while she thought. She still needed a short term plan, but once the immediate danger was done, the long term could take focus. Plainos did like farmland, so land too rough to plow would be excellent. Just the thought of it reignited the fire in her heart.

“Ok,” she said, “I think I might be coming up with a plan. It’s just an idea, so everybody give me your thoughts. First, I like your idea, Carlos. That can be our long term plan. If we survive the next couple of days, we’ll figure out a way to get to that forest.”

Carlos smiled and everyone nodded their approval of this part of the plan.

“Then,” Nancy continued, “we have to deal with our short term situation. With everybody dead or captured in the valley, I expect the Plainos will go back to their homes and Silus’ bastards will head back to wherever they came from. We need to give them time to do that. That’s why I recommend that we stay here tonight. Then, in the morning, we head south, being very quiet and keeping an eye out for trouble. If we see or hear anything, we hunker down and wait it out. I want to avoid any actual conflict.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tom chirped. “I could use more rest. This day has been exhausting.”

Herman Junior held up a back. “I got some berries and bread, if anybody’s hungry.”

“I have venison jerky,” added Oak.

They camped, without fire, that night behind the bushes. During the night, three more of their former neighbors joined them.

With the dawn, they stretched the cold stiffness from their joints and started their stealthy trek southward.

That Thing sat in the tent she had woken in that morning. So far, no one had told her what to do or otherwise bothered her. Around midday, Nancy brought some bread that had been cooked on a stick over a fire. It was good, but not as good as the bread Grandma Grace made. After lunch was when things changed.

The activity level in the camp increased. A large number of people gathered together, facing toward part of the woods where a path disappeared into the trees. That Thing saw the people she had met so far and plenty of strangers, but they were all like her, covered with spots.

Four men, probably men, came from the woods carrying a large box on their shoulders. Each man wore ragged animal skins from head to toe. They limped and stooped as though broken in some way. Over their faces, the skins had eye holes of odd size, not quite in the place eyes should be. A crooked painted line mocked the position of a mouth. A triangle of skin, in a different color, represented the nose, but off center and rotated.

The box was large enough to carry a person comfortably. Skins and furs covered this too, but all in very light colors, some almost white. Two long, sturdy poles ran along the bottom, and these sat on the shoulders of men carrying the box. That Thing remembered seeing something similar in an old book Grandma Grace had shown here. In the book, it was how important people were carried.

The men staggered to a central location where everyone could see them, and then they lowered the box to the ground. Each man, they were probably men, shuffled a couple of steps to the side, surrounding their box. They lowered their heads.

After a brief moment of nothing happening, there was a sound from inside the box. Something emerged from the top, as though walking up steps. As it came out fully, it appeared to be a person, also covered completely in ragged furs and skins. These coverings were similar to the ones on the box, light grays and white, looking very clean and almost gleaming in the afternoon sun.

The figure stood for a moment. Then it reached up to pull back its hood, revealing its face.

It was a woman, in her mid twenties. Her skin was pale, almost white, and her spots were various light shades of gray. That Thing thought she was very pretty, especially for a spotted person.

The more unusual part was the woman’s hair. Many spotted people had spots on their skin, but it only rarely appeared in the hair as well. This woman’s hair fell long and straight, mostly white, but with gray bands that matched her spots. Unlike the dirty, oily hair of everyone else in the camp, hers seemed clean and the sun glinted off as though her hair contained silver.

She spoke in a powerful but pleasant voice. “I am called Enoch. I bring you a message of hope, love, and blessedness from Brother Silus.”

The four men raised up their heads and their hands, bringing their hands up to head level. With fingers splayed, they shook their hands and bowed back down while muttering, “Brother Silus.”

The people of the camp exchanged glances with each other, not sure what to make of the spectacle.

The woman continued, “Silus was a man of God. He served the Lord the best he could. He preached the Holy Word. He preached about the hubris of man and how it would damn everybody. But that was before the Storm.”

The four men performed their splayed hand bow again, this time muttering, “Rum, rum, rum, rum, rum.”

“It was then that Silus learned that the Lord had a plan. The Lord saw what man was doing with science and DNA and space travel, and the Lord knew it was time to start over again. He had done it before with the great flood, but this time it was with a Storm.”

Once again, the four did their part, “Rum, rum, rum, rum, rum.”

“Silus stood in his church, preaching to what he thought were the faithful when a glowing hole opened up beneath him. He was sure he was being cast into the fires of damnation.”

The four did, “Fell, fell, fell, fell, fell.”

“But that is not what happened. The hole deposited him in the sky. Lightning struck his body, cleansing his self righteousness from him. Then he fell again, this time through the trees beneath him, only to land on soft ground below. He was alive, but damaged.”

“He asked himself why the Lord would treat His faithful servant in such a manner. He got his answer when he got back to town. The town was gone but for some rubble. His church was nothing but parts of a foundation. The Lord had saved him to continue to do God’s work.”

The four said, “Saved, saved, saved, saved, saved.”

“For many years, Silus traveled the world, trying to teach the Word of God. Everywhere he went, he found man trying to rebuild, trying to return to the path from before the Storm.”

The four men returned to, “Rum, rum, rum, rum, rum.”

“That’s when he found us. All around, there were people like us, those who were marked by the Storm.”

Another, “Rum, rum, rum, rum, rum.”

“He knew that God had marked His chosen people to be the future of this world. He saw how the old world people treated us, with hatred and evil-filled hearts. He knew his purpose, and it was to take care of us. We are the Damaged Ones, the ones touched by God, the ones to inherit this world.”

She paused to look around.

“Come, brothers and sisters, come and join us. You will be safe and free, and you will be doing God’s work. But it must be your choice.”

“Choose, choose, choose, choose, choose.”

Four more spotted people came out of the woods from the same direction as the caravan. They wore the same type of ragged clothes, but with their faces uncovered.

Enoch motioned to them. “These servants of God are here to answer your questions. Tomorrow, we will return to Silus and those who choose to do so can follow.”

She stepped smoothly back into the box.

The four bent men picked up the box, shouldering the poles, and moved back toward the woods. The new arrivals moved into their place and waited for any who may want to chat.

News from the Wilderness

Mike stood looking over the smoldering remains of Grandma Grace’s house. He knew it was necessary when someone died of the Cough, but it was a waste of materials and all the things that had been inside the house. More importantly, Grandma Grace was smart and whose smarts were going to be missed during the hard times.

“Hey, Mike, I think you want to hear this.”

Mike turned to see Mario with two other guys. He had seen the other two before, but they looked like hunters. Those types usually didn’t like villages.

Mike continued, “This is Seth and Jake. They were hunting east of here and saw something worrisome.”

Mike nodded to the two men. “What did you see?”

Seth started, “It was Spotties, a large camp of them. They had tents, fires, everything. I never seen that many of them before.”

Jake added, “I didn’t even know there were that many!”

Mike took a deep breath through his nose, held for a moment and pushed it out. “This is what I was afraid of. Everybody keeps treating them bad and the next thing you know we got a bunch of them ready to get revenge. You can’t keep slapping a dog without getting bit.” He stared into the distance for a moment. “How many do you think were there?”

Seth seemed to dig into his head for an answer. “There were at least fifty of them, and probably closer to eighty.”

Mario could tell Mike was stressed, but he was stressed too. “So, uh, what do you think we should do about it?”

“Nothing for the moment. We gotta wait till Tyler and Zach get back to see if we are getting any help. In the meantime, I guess we better keep an eye on things. We don’t want a sneak attack catching us.”

All nodded their heads in agreement.

Turning back to Seth, Mike asked, “Do you know exactly where this camp was?”

“Oh yeah, we call it Owl Hollow,” he turned to Jake, “Wouldn’t you say that’s where it was?”

“Definitely,” Jake answered. “It was Owl Hollow. That’s the little valley between the Old House Hill and Dead Herd.”

Mike thought about it a bit. They made repeated efforts to change the names of those hills, but post-Storm names had stuck. That also meant the Spotty camp was fairly close with plenty of woods in between. The Spotties tended to blend in with the trees and brush pretty easily, what with their natural camouflage. Someone was going to have to sneak out there and keep a watch.

Focusing back on Seth and Jake, he said, “Would you boys mind going back out there and keeping an eye on things? Nothing too dangerous or close; just enough to let us know if the Spotties are coming our way. I’m sure we could give you something in trade.”

Jake seemed a little worried, swaying from foot to foot. “Is there going to be a fight?”

“Probably,” Mike answered. “They killed one of our people last night and put a couple arrows in another. They told him to bring a message that they were going to get us. We sent some people over to Wood Hill and New Chicago to get some help. We haven’t heard anything back yet.”

Seth and Jake exchange glances and seem to come to an agreement. “Sure,” Seth said, “we’ll do it. If you got any honey, butter, and bread to eat on the way, it would be appreciated.”

Time to Talk

It was late afternoon in the camp; the sun would set early in the valley. Tom and Oak stacked firewood for cooking. That Thing and Juanita chopped carrots on a board nearby.

Nancy approached with her bow in one hand and a couple of dead rabbits in the other. “We have meat for supper,” she said as she laid the rabbits on the ground. “It’s not a lot of meat, but it will make a stew.”

“What do you think?” Tom asked her.

“About what?”

“We were talking about this Silus and his messenger,” Oak clarified. “We were talking about whether we should go.”

Nancy began cleaning a rabbit. “I was thinking about that too, while I was out. I’m not sure yet, but I’m probably not going.”

“Why not?” Tom asked.

“Well, all the things they promised, I’ve already got. As long as I stay out of the Plaino villages, I’m pretty safe. I can live off the land without any trouble. I don’t really need somebody’s divine mission to do all that.”

Oak asked, “But what if Silus is right? What if we are the chosen of God and we have a mission? Shouldn’t we try to get involved and do our part? As it is, the only purpose we have is to stay alive and to stay away from the Plainos.”

Nancy set the rabbit carcass in a nearby pot and started work on the second. “I figure if God has some mission for me, He is more than capable of putting me in the right place at the right time. I don’t need to go hunting for it. What do you think, Juanita?”

“I don’t know. I was sorting of siding with Oak, but you’ve made some good points too. I probably just need to sleep on it.”

Nancy shrugged. “Yeah, well as long as you don’t sleep on it while on guard duty. We got third shift tonight.”

The rest of dinner passed quietly with no further conversation.

Noone bothered to ask That Thing what she thought. She wasn’t sure what she thought, still getting used to the camp. It was odd that people would just hand her a bowl of rabbit stew. She never belonged anywhere and now two different groups were inviting her to join.

A preacher once came to Grandma Grace’s place. He seemed nice enough at first, but once he was in, everybody was wrong and he was right. When Grandma Grace disagreed with him, he screamed about how women needed to know their place and he slapped her. She nearly crushed his skull with the fireplace poker. The men of the village bound his hands, gagged him, and tied him to his donkey. The donkey carried him out of the village to who knew where.

This Silus sounded like he might be the same kind of preacher. If he was, that was bad. On the other hand, villagers had talked about good preachers from before the Storm. Maybe Silus was one of those. Something just made her uncomfortable about the whole thing.

At least she was exempt from guard duty, whatever that was. They said she hadn’t shown that she could use a bow or move stealthily yet.

New Arrivals

It was late afternoon and the sun would set soon. Mike watched the new activity in town.

Tyler had returned earlier from Wood Hill followed by a dozen men from there. They set up their tents in the center of the village. Each had ridden a horse of his own, and there were a few pack horses, all now tied to a rope stretched between posts. Most of the newcomers carried bows and machetes. Three carried rifles, and two pistols. Firearms weren’t very common anymore, but there were stories of more being made in some village way out east across the grassy plains.

Mike turned away from the tents to watch the next group arrive. Zach made it back from New Chicago with about twenty new men. They also rode horses, pulling up as they approached Mike.

Zach pointed to an older man on the horse next to him. “Mike, this is Boss Henry. He’s the leader over in New Chicago.”

Mike waved to him. “Glad you men could come. I’m Mike Billings, sort of the leader around here.”

Boss Henry looked around at the village and the farms around it, nodding his approval. “It looks like you got a good set up. Probably need to build some fortifications around though. Starting to hear tales of bandits. Afraid of work but more than happy to run in and pick a little village clean.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, “we’ve been thinking about that lately, especially with the new Spotty threat.”

“Spotties,” Boss Henry said. “You know, I’ve never heard of there being more than one or two anywhere. How’d they get an army?”

“Don’t know. Guess they’ve just been slowly collecting the ones run off from anywhere else. Anyway, a couple of hunters found their camp, said there’s about fifty to eighty of them.”

Boss Henry’s face contorted as he did his calculations. He looked back at his men and then stared forward a moment. “They got guns?”

Mike shook his head. “Nobody has seen any, but they all seem to have bows. Based on what they did to two of our guys, they know what to do with an arrow.”

“Alright,” said Boss Henry, “where do you want us to set up? Let us get settled and we can all have a pow-wow about what’s next.”

Within minutes, the New Chicago group were setting up camp next to the Wood Hill group. Boss Henry insisted that his men begin building a dirt wall to act as cover for firing out toward the woods if need be. The villagers, realizing this was a good idea, gathered their shovels to help.

Nancy heard the hunt more than saw it, even with the nearly full moon overhead. Two men, one larger than average, chased a small teenager. It looked like the men had clubs. That was good; it meant they probably didn’t have guns. They headed toward the clearing.

As quietly as possible, Nancy slid from her hiding place and moved toward the clearing herself. The group had decided it was the best place for an ambush if the men could be herded that way.

She got to the clearing and rolled to the center just before the teen broke through the trees. Nancy nocked an arrow to her bow.

The teenager, a girl of about fourteen, stopped and stared with wide eyes, but only for a moment. In the moonlight, the gray spots on her face and arms were clearly visible.

One of Nancy’s people lept from the side, knocking the teen to the ground and out of the way.

The first man, the large one, rushed into the clearing. A flash of confusion crossed his face. It left when the arrow entered his chest. He looked down at the shaft and fell forward.

The smaller man came into the clearing behind his friend. Seeing his friend fall, he ran to him and knelt beside him. “Joe, you okay? Joe?”

Then he noticed he wasn’t alone.

About a dozen small people with bows surrounded him.

“You killed Joe,” he said.

“How many of us have you killed?” Nancy growled. “How many times have you beaten one of us? Well, you aren’t doing it anymore. You’re going to go back and tell everybody that the, what do you call us, ‘Spotties’? Yea, tell them that you ran into a whole pack of Spotties and they killed Joe and they will kill any of you Plainos that give us any trouble.”

The man didn’t move except to look around at the group threatening him.

Nancy stood to her full, short height, bow still in hand. “Didn’t you hear me? I said go. Go now and warn all the rest of your plain-skinned friends that we aren’t taking your abuse anymore. If we catch you hurting one of us, we’ll hurt a bunch of you. If we have to, we’ll burn your whole damned villages down. Now go!”

The man stood, slow and nervous, glancing around at the arrows pointed his way. His eyes were wide and his breath shallow. Finally, his brain caught up to the situation. He turned back the way he came and ran.

Nancy watched him go, then turned to one of her people and nodded in the man’s direction.

Three of the archers disappeared into the woods, the same direction as the running man.

The new girl stood slowly, backing away nervously.

Nancy shouldered her bow then held up her hands, palms forward. “It’s okay; we won’t hurt you. You’re safe now.”

The others lowered their bows and moved toward the girl, smiling to welcome her.

“My name is Nancy. We have all been in your situation. The plain skinned people are angry or frightened or whatever. They chased us, beat us, tried to kill us. We all escaped and are together now. You’re among friends.”

The girl looked around.

The other people had gray spots on their skin too. All the spots were different but the same kind of thing. Everybody was about her height and build. She had never seen other people like her before.

She passed out.

Running Home

The small man ran as best he could back to the village. He and Joe had already run quite a bit trying to catch that Spotty girl, so he was tired. The memory of those arrows pointed at him provided extra energy.

He couldn’t see or hear the three archers behind him. They stayed a safe distance behind him, keeping him in sight.

The man finally made it past the woods and into the cultivated fields. The village was a short distance beyond. He smelled the smoke and saw the glow of the house fire from earlier. Almost everybody should still be there. That’s where he would go; that’s where he could tell everybody about Joe.

Still running, he changed his path to head for the house fire. The furrows of the field made for rough running, threatening to twist his ankle at every step. That didn’t matter; he had to tell everybody about Joe.

His chest heaved, trying to pull in more air. The cold, dry night air tearing at his lungs from the inside. His heavy legs fought with the memory of the arrows; the arrows won.

Finally, at the edge of the field, he could see other villagers. “Hey!” he called, trying to get their attention.

At this point, the exhaustion was enough to slow him down. He needed to catch his breath. He waved his arms over his head to get someone to notice him.

Behind him, at the other edge of the field, the archers watched. “Remember,” said one, “Nancy wants him wounded, not killed. He can’t talk if he’s killed.”

An arrow pierced the man’s left arm as he waved. He let out a shriek of pain.

Another shaft went through his right thigh. Another shriek followed. He collapsed.

Several villagers ran toward him.

The archers disappeared, already on their way back to their own camp.

One of the villagers called out, “It’s Ethan! He’s Hurt!”

A group of about eight gathered around him, some carrying torches.

A man in dirty coveralls knelt beside Ethan and began checking his wounds. “Are you hurt anywhere else? Who did this to you?”

Ethan shook his head no to the first question and then gestured toward the treeline. “It was Spotties, Tyler. There were a bunch of them.”

The other villagers looked nervously toward the trees.

“What’s going on over here?” Mike, the effective leader of the village, pushed his way through the small group to see the issue. “What happened here? Did Joe do this to you?”

“Naw,” said Ethan. “Joe’s dead. The Spotties killed him.”

Mike frowned. “What Spotties?”

Ethan pointed back to the woods again. “There’s an army of them. They killed Joe.”

This made the group more nervous, but Mike didn’t have a lot of confidence in Ethan or Joe. “Alright,” Ethan growled, “start from the beginning.”

“Well, me and Joe was headed over to the fire when we saw That Thing. We was afraid she might have the Cough, so we thought we should catch her for quarantine. She saw us and ran off into the woods. We almost caught her when they ambushed us.

“Joe was in front of me and he just fell down. I figured he tripped until I saw the arrows. That’s when I saw all those Spotties; there must have been a hundred of them. They all had bows pointed at me.” He paused to catch his breath and noticed that the group was paying attention to him.

“There was one, must have been the leader. That one tells me they are letting me go to take a message back. They told me to tell everybody that the Spotties are coming for us.”

This sent a ripple of concern through the group with mutterings and worried expressions.

Ethan continued his tale, “I made it back all the way here when they shot me. I don’t know why they shot me. I didn’t even see them. They could still be in the trees there for all I know.”

A couple of the bystanders who had children present pulled their kids closer. A couple of others began to back away from the group and toward the buildings. The others just stared into the darkness of the treeline for signs of arrows.

Mike turned to a lean fellow in a green jacket. “Zack, get some travel supplies and get over to New Chicago as fast as you can. Tell them we got an army of Spotties threatening us and we should probably all band together to end this before it’s a real problem.”

Zach nodded and ran back to the buildings.

Mike turned to Tyler. “Tyler, as soon as you get Ethan patched up, you take the same message to Wood Hill. Maybe they can send some people too.”

Ethan smiled a little. “That’ll show those freaks. We can get rid of them once and for all. Make them pay for what they did to Joe and me.”

Mike reached down and slapped Ethan hard across the head. “You idiot. If you and Joe had left That Thing alone like we told you, Joe would be alive and we wouldn’t have any of this trouble. But no, you two had to feel important so you harassed the only person in a worse position than you. We should have run you two off a long time ago.”

Mike turned and walked away.

In a Tent

The girl awoke to find that she was in a tent and covered with a blanket. It was still dark out.

There were people moving around outside.

She sat up slowly and looked out through the front of the tent. She could see a couple of fires and other tents around. Some people walked around the camp.

“Feeling better?” asked a voice.

She turned to see that there was someone in the tent with her. It was too dark to know who.

“Like I said back in the woods, my name is Nancy.”

The girl seemed to remember something about that, but it was still a blur.

Nancy continued, “You were being chased by those two men. They can’t hurt you anymore. You are in a safe place now, among your own kind.”

The girl let that settle in. It didn’t make any sense. She didn’t have a kind and there was no such thing as safety.

“What’s your name?” Nancy asked.

“Um,” answered the girl, “they call me That Thing.”

Nancy paused for a moment, not sure how to proceed. Names were delicate matters. “That’s not really a good name. Don’t you have a different name?”

“That’s the only name anybody’s ever called me,” answered the girl.

“Okay,” said Nancy, “Do you want a different name? You can pick any name you want.”

“It’s the name I have,” said That Thing.

The name was settled, at least for the moment.

Someone came in with a bowl and a cup and set them in front of That Thing. Nancy nodded approval.

“We thought you might be hungry or thirsty. Here’s some food and water. Why don’t you eat and tell me your story? Where you from?”

“I lived a little ways from here with Grandma Grace. She always protected me.”

“Is your grandma safe? Do we need to go get her?” asked Nancy.

That Thing stopped eating and slumped over. After a moment, her shoulders shook and it was obvious she was crying.

Nancy moved closer and put her hand on That Thing’s back.

Crying was sometimes healthy, especially for someone who was just rescued. In this case, the long minutes of sobbing showed a need to release a weighty burden carried for years. There was a hint of something more, but Nancy didn’t want to pry; that could wait until the sobbing was done.

“Grandma Grace,” That Thing got out as the crying slowed, “Grandma Grace died of The Cough yesterday.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She, she, she told me to hide in the woods because she couldn’t protect me anymore. So I went to the woods.”

Nancy shook her head in sadness. “It sounds like your grandma was a very good woman.”

That Thing took a couple of deep breaths to try to recover the air. Then she swallowed hard. “Grandma Grace wasn’t my grandma. That’s just what everybody called her. She was there before the village. People came around and she just helped everybody. She found me when I was really little and wandering around in the fields. She was just a good person.”

“Well,” said Nancy, “Those two guys from the village won’t bother you anymore and, if the little one got the message back, none of the others will either.”

That Thing shoved more food in her mouth while nodding.

“You finish eating and then get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning. You will be safe here.” Nancy moved to leave the tent. “I have to go make sure everything is as it should be. I’ll check in on you in a little bit.”

The Morning After

That Thing woke to the sounds of a busy camp. Looking outside her tent, she saw that the camp was much larger than it appeared the night before. Nestled in a steep valley filled with trees, different colored tents extended off quite a ways. The whole thing was almost as big as the village around Grandma Grace’s farm.

People ran around the camp, mostly cooking breakfast. The scent of fires and food drifted across the air. That Thing thought it odd that the smell didn’t make her hungry, and then she remembered the soup from the night before. Grandma Grace always tried to feed her, as long as there was food around.

The people she saw were all like her. They were small and their skin showed spots of different colors. Unspotted people she had always known came in different colors, but generally just one color per person. They had a range of different browns, some so light to almost glow white in the sun. The spotted people of the camp had all those colors, plus the gray spots. It looked like some of them even had spots in the different brown colors.

One of the people near her turned and saw her. “Hey, you’re awake!” the person said.

That Thing recognized the voice as Nancy from the night before. Being shy, or scared, That Thing only waved a little.

“Come on over,” Nancy said. She waved her hand to beckon That Thing over. We’ve got some breakfast almost ready and you can meet some people.”

Despite the urge to hide or run, That Thing crawled out of the tent and went to the fire. Several other people waited there.

Nancy directed That Thing to a stump to sit on, then she started the introductions. “These are my friends. That’s Tom putting more wood on the fire. Juanita’s stirring the eggs. And the last guy is Oak; he’s nice but a bit quiet.”

They all smiled at her.

“Everybody,” Nancy continued, “this is the girl we rescued last night. She goes by the name ‘That Thing’.”

The name seemed to catch everybody off guard, each giving a concerned look. It was known that the Plainos often gave derogatory names to the spotted ones. Some spotted people wore the names as a badge of defiance, owning the name and making it their own. Others, like Oak, got rid of the name as soon as they could and picked a new one. A few though, ones who seemed extra damaged, kept the name because it reminded them that they had no value, just like they had been told all their life.

Nancy saw the reactions and chose to intervene before anyone said something. “She’s just now joined us here and will take some time to get used to the situation. If she chooses to use a different name later, we will go with it at that time. We all got our story.”

The others realized what they had been doing. Tom and Juanita looked away, back at their tasks. Oak looked to That Thing and said, “We’re glad you’re here. If you need anything, just let me know.”

Within a few minutes, breakfast was ready. The four of them sat around the fire and ate from rough metal plates.

Tom motioned toward That Thing and asked Nancy, “Do you think we’ll see any more of her friends?”

Nancy shook her head. “Naw, we sent them a message. By now, they know better than to mess with us.”

Juanita said, “Let’s hope that’s the message they got. Maybe they got the message that we’re a threat and that they need to get some friends of their own to hunt us down.”

“That’s possible,” Nancy responded, “but we’re about to get some friends of our own. That Silus guy’s messenger will hook us up with his big group. If that pans out, we’ll be a big enough army, the Plainos won’t think twice about bothering us.”

Things were changing fast, so the That Thing’s question blurted out before she could stop it. “Who is Silus?”

Nancy perked up at the chance to explain it again. “Silus is the leader of this large group of people like us. He says our spots were caused by Storm and that they are meant to be. He thinks the Plainos are just the leftovers of the people from before the Storm and that they will die out on their own. He says it’s our job to rebuild the world the way the Storm wanted it.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “The Storm was just a big storm; an accident caused by some technology from before. It didn’t ‘intend’ anything, it was just a storm. We have spots because of all the poisons blown around.”

“Of course the Storm didn’t have any intentions of its own,” Nancy rebutted, “It was just an instrument. Silus says it was an act of God; it was God in the Storm and we are the chosen ones.”

That Thing listened. She had heard people argue about the Storm and God and everything else. Her new people seemed to disagree about things just as much as the non-spotted people did. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

Oak and Juanita started gathering the dishes for cleaning. Juanita added, “I guess we will know more when Silus’ messenger gets here.”

The City of Fozia, situated on the western border of the Rama Republic has existed for some time. Now that the war is over, its military importance will lessen but its importance for trade will increase. It is for that reason that we must understand more about its place and origin.

History

At the beginning of the war, 834 years ago, the Enemy situated himself just east of our Lovelo Kingdom, in the foothills of the mountain and not too close to our forests. It is assumed that he chose The Crevasse as his stronghold both because it would be easy to defend and because his Amut creatures considered it sacred.

On his eastern border, the small town of Garcia supported grain farmers from the region. The city had been named for the farmer who founded it, Frederico Garcia. Simple roads led out in four directions to ease access from the regional farmers. The largest road headed northeast toward the Republic’s capital city, Rama Proper.

As the Enemy settled, the Amuts raided farms and settlements around their new boundaries. They killed many of the Rama citizens and burned the crops. The town of Garcia stood as the exception.

The town sat on the eastern bank of the Boundary River, as it is called now. This made it more difficult for the Amuts to approach. The oldest part of the town sat within a wood palisade which was easier to defend. The locals fended off several large attacks and sent for help from the Republic’s army.

The Republic already planned to build a series of defensive forts along the front line. Since Garcia was already well situated, they chose to build a stronger fortification on that site. They called the location Fort Garcia.

They built a tall, hexagonal stone wall all around the town. Great towers stood at the corners. Only two gates allowed access, one to the east and one to the west. The east gate connected to the road leading to Rama Proper. The west gate was for military operations.

Outside of the west gate, they built a series of smaller walls to make it easier for the soldiers to exit safely. There, soldiers could use ranged weapons, mostly bows these days, from behind these walls. The paths from the west gate led to a new stone bridge over the Boundary River. The bridge stood wide enough for cavalry to easily charge across. Towers at each end defended against invaders from the west.

The Name

The earliest writings give the name as Garcia and then Fort Garcia. Writings from only two centuries later showed that the two words had been merged and the “t” had been dropped from “Fort”. This produced a new name as “Forgarcia”. Three centuries later, the middle hard consonants had dropped and the “r” sounds were gone as well. This leaves us with the current name of “Fozia”.

Name shifts like this are expected over time. You can read more about it in the Royal Lovelo Library under the topic “language changes”.

Military Importance

During the centuries of war, Fozia was the Republic fort closest to the Lovelo Kingdom. This meant that we often coordinated with Republic forces there when fighting with the Enemy.

In the earlier days of the fort’s existence, they provided a small set of offices for Lovelo representatives. Relations between the humans of the Republic and the Lovelos were always tense, but we had a common foe. Still, many humans are uncomfortable around us, often calling us “spotties” and believing strange tales. To read more about this, see Royal Lovelo Intelligence, Volume 4: Lovelo-Human Relations.

Now that the war is over, the military importance has diminished, but still exists. There are still occasional raids by roving bands of Amuts. Additionally, there are now attacks by human bandits on trade caravans, so the Republic army provides protective escort services.

The Lovelo Kingdom still maintains a diplomatic presence in Fozia.

Commercial Importance

During the war, the Enemy occupied all the land between the Lovelo Kingdom and Rama. Any trade would need to either go through the mountains and dense forest to the north, or take the southern sea route.

Transport of goods by water was the easiest and safest route. The Amuts did not have a naval presence. Many goods could be shipped around the Enemy’s territory in large quantities. The Rama Republic provided grains and textiles. The Lovelo Kingdom provided tree fruits and lumber.

This monopoly on transportation meant that the human boat handlers could charge large fees. The Republic enacted laws to curb extremely high costs, but with limited effect.

Fozia is not on the coast, so it was not involved in trade between the Lovelos and the Republic at that time. With the war over, some are looking to open overland trade routes between Rama and the Lovelo Kingdom. Given existing land routes on the Republic side, Fozia is the logical connecting point. New roads through former Enemy lands can lead directly to the Kingdom.

It is important to note that the creation of these land routes will be very profitable for those who use them, but will not be welcomed by the seafarers. Royal Lovelo Intelligence is observing to find any potential threats.

Analysis

The peoples of the Rama Republic and the Lovelo Kingdom have been mostly isolated from each other by eight centuries of war. With the peace comes the opportunity for greater intermingling. While some on both sides are excited by this, others are apprehensive.

Humans are physically larger than us and are prone to brash displays. We Lovelos make up for our smaller size by being at one with our surroundings, a trait the humans call, “sneaky”. With our different physiologies and cultures, there is opportunity for conflict to arise.

At the same time, getting better acquainted may help alleviate the discomfort that some feel in the presence of other “kinds”. Our leadership, and that of the Republic, must take steps to assure a healthy integration to an appropriate degree. So far, the information gathered by Royal Lovelo Intelligence suggests that there are upper-level persons on both sides who oppose this.

Regardless of whether we work well together or don’t, the city of Fozia will be a fulcrum on which everything balances.

I arrived at the old store at about half past five. The sun had set completely, leaving everything to rely on street lights. On a chilly November night, those lights seemed cold.

It didn’t help that this part of Wurtemburg Avenue had not been modernized. The sodium lights, with their unnatural yellow color, stood widely apart. Scattered potholes revealed the remains of an earlier brick street from days long gone. Many of the buildings with brick facades and boarded windows sat lightless, unused, the unburied remainders of businesses that died. Faded paint peeled from old signs.

Yep, this was definitely the place for a Zombie Walk office.

I parked in front of the store since there were no designated parking spaces. Doing my traditional zombie investigation precheck of flashlight and notebook, I locked the door of the van and headed to the store.

True to its time period, the store was narrow with a single door in the front middle. Two wooden steps led to a narrow landing before the door itself. On each side, large windows would have shown the insides, if there was enough light. The dust covering the glass kept my flashlight beam from penetrating.

Carefully testing their strength before putting my full weight on them, I slowly climbed the stairs.

So far, so good.

Though the stairs bowed slightly, they held. That would do until I could fish the keys out of my pocket.

The door itself was a wood framed job with two large, glass panels, one on top and one on the bottom. The handle looked like it was bronze, or made to look bronze, at one point. Above it, the keyhole suggested that the lock was much newer than the rest of the door. The brand name on the lock matched the newer of the keys that Muntz had given me.

Time to go in.

The door opened smoothly, which surprised me. I expected some resistance, or at least a menacing squeak.

I panned my flashlight around the room. Someone removed the store fixtures long ago. I had expected an old meat case and maybe a counter where an old-timey clerk would fetch dry goods from the shelves for gingham-clothed customers while the customer’s kids struggled to eye the penny candy. That probably happened at one point.

Instead, the room and its walls stood bare. As best I could tell, plaster covered the walls and ceiling. The white-ish color reflected my flashlight well enough, in the uncracked parts. At least the wood planks of the floor matched my imaginings. Otherwise, it was just a large, empty room with four support pillars from floor to ceiling.

The light fell on a door in the back corner. It looked to be wood, with eight panels and sturdy old hinges. I guessed that it led to the second floor.

Carefully checking each step, I crossed the old wood floor to the door on the other side. Muntz said the upstairs was not really usable, but while I was checking the place, I probably needed to check it thoroughly. Who knew what kind of trouble I had gotten myself into.

This door also opened easily, revealing a small hallway, or more of a landing. One set of steps led up, another set led down, presumably to the basement, and then there was a door. The single window in the door showed that it went outside into the alley behind the building.

The worrisome part of the stairs going up was the light.

The stairs went upward about half the height of the first floor, and then turned. From around that turn there was a light. It may have been green or yellow; it was faint.

My brain did the strange thing where it argued with itself. Part said that some street light had made it through a window. Another part pointed out that the windows were boarded up. But old wood on the windows could easily peel, allowing a small crack. But if it’s not the street light, then it is probably something bad and running away is the best course of action.

The problem with these arguments is that they don’t stop another part of my brain that then decides that I’m the fearless zombie hunter and that I should do something. Before I really knew what I was doing, my flashlight was off and I was carefully crawling up the stairs.

Everybody knows that you need to put your weight on the sides of stairs to avoid making noise. Distributing your weight on hands and feet can make even less noise and keep you low to avoid being seen. Why I knew that and thought that everybody else did will be a forever mystery, just like the reason why I went up the stairs.

As I started around the turn to the second half of the stairs, I thought I heard some sort of noise. How I heard it over the pounding of my heart, I don’t know. That sound should have stopped me then and there.

It didn’t.

A little further and I could see that the light was a mix of small lights in different colors, like Christmas lights. Someone was using Christmas lights to light up the second floor. At least I knew the electricity worked up there. Why wasn’t I running away?

Within moments, I was high enough on the stairs that I could see into the room. It was the same size as the store below, but with two-by-fours standing where the framed interior walls should be. The bricks of the exterior walls showed clearly. None of that was an issue.

Three men sat, leaning against the frame studs. They appeared to be in their late teens to early twenties. They wore jeans and winter work coats but looked messy. Beer bottles and snack food wrappers littered the floor around them. One seemed to be dozing or trying to.

As much as I hated to see those guys, the other people were worse. Three old, decaying corpses hung to the studs, held in place by Christmas lights.

Oh crap.

Judging by the clothes, I assumed that the corpses were the ones recently stolen. If those were the corpses, then the three men were probably Johnny Franks’ friends.

Oh crap.

Finally, good sense kicked in and I started my careful descent down the stairs.

I needed to get down, get outside, and then call the police. Maybe drive away and then call the police. Either way, getting down the stairs without alerting the bad guys was step one.

The creaking noise blared through the stairwell.

Oops.

I froze.

“Did you guys hear something?” asked one of the men.

“What?”

“I said I thought I heard something,” said the first man.

“Who cares?”

“There may be somebody down there.”

“Well,” said the second man, “go look.”

“I don’t want to go look,” said the first.

“Then shut up about it,” said the second.

There was a brief pause.

“What if it’s the cops?” asked the first.

“Crap,” said the second.

Another pause.

“We better all go,” said the first. “If it is the cops, then we can all get out the back.”

“Screw it,” said the second, “You get Sleeping Beauty here and we’ll go.”

They started moving.

Hoping that the noise of their movement would cover my own sounds, I sped my climb down the stairs. Once low enough, I stood instead of crawling so I could go faster.

The sounds of the three suggested that the sleeping one was moving but not easily. I guessed that he was either high or drunk. Either way, it slowed their pursuit and that gave me an advantage.

Or so I thought.

I made it to the store and was trying to move to the front door when the door to the stairs opened.

One of the men came through, saw me and pointed his flashlight at me. “Got you!”

Almost immediately after his cry, the second man came in and stood next to the first. The second was half a head taller than the first, and much wider at the shoulder.

The third man stumbled down the stairs while the rest of us stood still, not knowing what to do.

When the third one came in, he blinked as he looked around before his eyes finally settled on me. He seemed to stare as his brain did some sort of work. Finally, it accomplished its goal and spat out, “That’s the zombie guy!”

I froze and prepared to run, possibly through one of the front windows until I noticed something. When the wasted one identified me, all three of them pulled back as though recoiling in horror.

Some instinct raised my hand in front of me as though showing them some talisman to ward off evil. It took a moment to realize that I had the coral amulet in my hand.

The men looked at each other and then at me. It was obvious they weren’t sure what to do, but it wouldn’t take long to realize that my trinket wasn’t doing anything to them.

The third man started shaking his head from side to side. “Oh no, man. Oh no, man. I ain’t messing with this.” He turned and ran back through the door. Then we heard the back door of the building slam shut. He was gone.

That left me with just the two, but they were the more rational two.

As though practiced, they both stepped toward me.

I think some sound escaped my lips, but I’m not sure.

I stepped back and then again.

The men rushed me.

I turned to run toward the door.

Somehow, I tripped over my own feet, wheeling around and crashing back-first into one of the support columns.

The column gave way under the force. The ceiling fell in, dropping plaster, two-by-fours, and three old corpses wrapped in Christmas lights.

As I fell backwards, I watched the thugs stop in their tracks, staring at the dangling bodies swinging between them and the zombie guy. As the dead swayed, the garish lights flashed around in the falling dust and debris.

They turned to run, fighting to get the door open.

In the front of the store, my fall landed me near the window. Something hit my head. I was out.

Afterward

I awoke in the hospital.

Between Hannah and Hargrave, I got most of the story of what happened.

The scared thug ran out of the building and into the street and just kept running. Eventually, he ran into the path of one of the sheriff’s department vehicles, almost getting hit in the process. Through his babbling, the deputy figured out that he was in bad shape and that his buddies were in danger in a building somewhere.

At the same time, an ambulance was already on its way to the storefront. A jogger with his dog had to stop by the store window because the dog would not budge, instead choosing to stand and bark at the window. The jogger eventually noticed the hand of a person holding a pendant of some sort. The person seemed to be buried under a bunch of fallen stuff.

Between the sheriff’s office, fire department, and ambulance, the bad guys were arrested, the corpses recovered, and I was rescued. When I didn’t come home, Hannah contacted the police and reported me missing and said that I was headed to the store. That brought everyone together.

My injuries were minor, but there were plenty of them. Mostly scratches from broken boards and stuff. Since the boards were very dirty and since I had a head injury, the hospital kept me for a couple of days.

In the long run, the bad guys went to prison. The corpses returned to their graves. The story of swinging corpses defending the zombie guy went viral, which helped the Zombie Walk be a huge success. It became an annual part of the Founders Day celebration every June, the Walk, not the swinging corpses.

Stan and Mrs. Sweigert married and moved in together. They got the apartment building up to code and fully rented. Then they built two more.

Rick advised me to buy Stan’s farm as a real estate investment, handled by Ed Muntz. While working on the careful demolition of the burnt house, we were able to salvage a few heirlooms for Stan. The best being a dresser that, though scorched, was mostly in one piece and had a drawer full of old photos.

The Revenant Rangers started selling merchandise and memberships, which would put all three of them through college. They coordinated it with the Abish County Museum of Pioneers and Zombies, run by the newly married Mrs. Hannah Hunt.

My life has been pretty good, though I still haven’t found any zombies.

Nobody knows why the coral amulet makes dogs bark.