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cket.

The last few weeks had been hard. She had even cried once or twice. She hated not being able to fix her hair and makeup. Worse yet, forced to eat convenience store junk food, she had often been sick to her stomach.

Sticking to back roads, she had slowly found her way back here to Blanche’s mansion.

When she had driven up, she had found the front door open and dried bits of bone and flesh on the doorstep. No zombies had been around and she had stepped inside and shut the door behind her. Quickly searching the house, she found nothing dead and smelly to greet her.

The water had been on, but there had been no electricity. Checking the breaker box, she had seen that the main one had flipped. In a few seconds, the mansion was lit up and the air conditioning switched on.

What had been even nicer, was that on her way to the mansion she had found a car stalled off the side of the road, full of supplies. It looked like someone had been fully stocked and making a run for safety then their car had broken down. Since there was something disgusting and dead on the doorstep, she wondered if that was the driver. Or maybe, Blanche.

Oh, well.

Going over to Blanche’s dresser, she pulled on a nice string of pearls and studied her reflection in another mirror.

Yes, much better.

Frowning as the sound of zombies moaning seemed to grow louder, she walked over and turned up the music. She really had no time to deal with them and they were definitely not getting in past the heavy doors and reinforced glass.

Feeling pleased with herself, she went downstairs and into the kitchen.

Her dinner of rosemary chicken was just about done and she inhaled the rich fragrance. Shooting that little shit’s head off had been fun, but eating it would be so much better. There was quite a few wild chickens now and she didn’t think she’d be starving any time soon. Pouring herself a glass of wine, she leaned against the counter and watched the decaying remains of what looked like a Mexican field worker bang on the kitchen window. She knew there was no way he was getting in, so she lifted her glass and toasted him.

Stupid spics. Even dead they were annoying.

For a moment she missed Raleigh chiding her for her “bias. ” Well, he was gone, that little annoying faggot, and she was still here.

Now that a few days had passed and she was feeling more sure of herself, her thoughts were once more turning to the fort. Slowly, she was making plans. Plans that would restore her to where she needed to be.

Smiling, she turned her back on the moaning zombie and sipped her wine.

4. The March of the Dead

Rune slept in the hunter blind he had discovered off a back road. His parked bike was right next to the trap door and his hand grenades were in the bag next to him. The ramshackle wood blind was sturdy enough for his temporary needs, but the canvas roof was torn and not much protection from the wind and light rain. He was huddled up against the wall, snoring lightly when he was awakened by a simple touch on his knee.

Waking up with a start, he drew his Glock and aimed it at the figure kneeling next to him. The trap door was still shut and how the stranger next to him had entered the blind was a mystery.

“Don’t move,” he ordered.

There was no zombie moan in response. The dark figure didn’t even move.

With his other hand, he lifted his Maglite flashlight and flicked it on.

A pretty face with huge dark eyes was illuminated by the harsh white light.

“Jenni!”

“Hey, Rune. ”

Rune lowered his gun slowly, his hand beginning to tremble. He swallowed hard, then said, “Sorry. ”

She rolled her shoulders under her red sweater. Her dark hair framed her face. “I’m okay with it. ”

“You go out good?”

“Hell, yeah! I went out in style! I saved a bunch of people I love. It was good. I’m proud of how I went out!” Jenni grinned with satisfaction.

“Good for you. You went out a warrior. Good for you,” Rune commended her proudly. It was a damn shame she had crossed over, but he has always thought she was something special.