Matsuda rightly pointed out they couldn’t stand in the middle of the road and gawk at the moon all night. With what felt like a monumental effort, Wil pulled his gaze away from a ruined sky and to the terrestrial gas station. Even then, it was difficult to pull his mind away from the sight of the moon: a moon that had been the same chunk of pale gray rock in the sky since…before the dinosaurs, surely.

He was sure its surface had seen numerous new craters over the ages, but nothing like what had happened to it now. Nothing that had scoured a chunk out of it and sent the debris circling like a miniature Saturn.

“Lots of cars,” Matsuda said as they approached the station, and Wil snapped his eyes forward and focused on what was ahead. There were seven of various makes and models. He needed to concentrate, at least try to think about something else. He could finally rest inside the station, put some doors and walls between him and the outside, take his shoes off, maybe steal some food from the station shelves…

“Most of them wrecked,” O’Donnell said. At least four of the cars were beyond driving, either on their sides or with their front ends smashed. It appeared as though they had been trying to flee something and get away from the gas station but instead rammed into each other, the railing along the highway, or the sign for the gas station.

The other three cars appeared banged up, but possibly drivable. Some dents in the paneling, a shattered window or two, but nothing more obvious than that.

Though that makes me wonder why the owners would abandon them, Wil thought. He drew his reloaded pistol as they all came closer to the station, but kept it pointed at the ground. Wil glanced down and saw circular impact marks in the hard asphalt. They were about the right size for something like a bowling ball. There were two rows of them, at roughly regular intervals, and they headed toward the gas station.

“What’re these?” Wil whispered and glanced down.

“Huh,” Gutierrez said, “Looks like somebody kept hitting the street with a hammer or something.”

“Looks like somebody hit the front of the station, too,” O’Donnell said. The front of the gas station had been caved in, the roof, glass, and part of the wall smashed in and then dragged into the street, like something had just scooped it out.

“These look like tracks,” Matsuda said as he looked at the impact dents in the road. Wil looked between the impacts and the ruined front of the store and thought of Ralph’s video: the giant arachnid-like legs that had destroyed the front of his house, the locust/cicada-like buzzing, and the eerie phone call after.

Wil no longer wanted to go in the gas station.

“We should keep moving,” Wil said.

“Why?” Gutierrez asked. Wil explained to everybody what he had seen and heard on Ralph’s video.

“Sounds about as normal as everything else that’s happened today,” Matsuda said. “But we don’t have much choice. I’m not as young as I used to be, and my battery’s running low. I need a rest or I’m going to start getting sloppy. Besides, whatever happened here happened a while ago. I’m not thrilled that the front of the station’s been caved in, but we could still hole up in the bathrooms or the storage area or something.”

“Agreed. At least for a few hours,” O’Donnell said. Gutierrez sighed and nodded. Wil gulped.

“All right, just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said.

O’Donnell was the first to approach the gas station. The pumps had couple cars at them, both with only minor dings: a VW Beetle and an old BMW. Neither of the cars looked like great options even if they were in tip-top shape. There was the possibility of rough terrain if the road ahead was damaged, and neither car looked up to anything more rugged than a gravel driveway.

O’Donnell approached the collapsed entrance of the gas station and peered in. It was darker inside than out, and he withdrew a large flashlight from his belt with one hand while the other raised his pistol. The broken brick and mortar of the smashed wall clattered under his boots and Wil winced at the sound. Matsuda had turned to face the road behind them, rifle raised, while Gutierrez kept her shotgun pointed to O’Donnell’s left while he checked his right.

O’Donnell clicked on the flashlight, but kept it aimed at the floor. The walls of the station would keep the beam from traveling far, but Wil winced again as it clicked on. O’Donnell checked with quick, precise movements between each of the few aisles that held snacks and basic goods a driver might need. He checked behind the check-out counter next, and then each of the bathrooms. He gave Gutierrez a thumbs up, then pointed at the remaining door leading into the storage area.

“Move up,” Gutierrez whispered over her shoulder. Matsuda edged backward in an easy, deliberate shuffle so he didn’t trip over anything while he kept his focus on the road, and didn’t turn around until his feet touched the edge of the rubble. Wil just hurried forward and into the store. He crept over to behind the check-out counter where there was the best cover. Gutierrez and Matsuda positioned themselves near the storage room door while O’Donnell grabbed the handle, then pulled.

It was locked.

The handle didn’t budge and O’Donnell sighed.

Wil glanced down and saw a series of hooks underneath the counter, each with a key on it. The hooks each each paper labels that had been taped over and read “MEN RR,” “WMEN RR,” “STRG,” and “GATE.” Wil grabbed the one labeled “STRG” for what he assumed was “Storage,” and held it up so the others could see.

This time O’Donnell gave him a thumbs up and Wil smiled. The ranger holstered his pistol and Wil tossed him the keys, which unlocked the door. O’Donnell withdrew his pistol, then looked at Gutierrez and nodded. She grabbed the door handle and O’Donnell stepped back, pistol at the ready. Gutierrez twisted the handle and yanked the door open and O’Donnell stepped in, light and gun up and ready.

Matsuda came in behind, apparently quite familiar with this sort of tactic, and Gutierrez stayed outside, but holding the door open. Wil craned up to see anything, but only caught glimpses of the bouncing flashlight behind tall shelves and boxes.

“Whoa,” O’Donnell said and then whispered. “Got a guy here, passed out or something.”

Wil crept out from behind the counter and towards the storage room, then took position on the other side of the door opposite Gutierrez.

“Keep the door clear,” she said and looked at Wil, who nodded, then leaned forward just enough to peer into the room.

It was about half the size of the main gas station store, with the center of the back wall taken up by a sliding metal gate that rolled up into the ceiling. Several tall shelves lined the walls with a few more arranged in the center of the room to from aisles. All of the shelves were piled with boxes, some of which had been opened but many remained closed. O’Donnell and Matsuda were in the back corner, both with their lights on now and both pointed at the body of a man beneath a small pile of boxes.

He did not have the ashen skin of the Stewart family, nor any of the obviously bulging veins any of the black-eyed things had had. He looked like a man who’d had some boxes fall on him and get knocked out.

“He’s breathing,” Matsuda said.

“Shit, some of these are really heavy,” O’Donnell said as he tried to move a box.

“Do you need help?” Wil asked.

“Yeah,” O’Donnell grunted again. Wil hurried forward as Matsuda stepped back, flashlight still focused on the fallen man since O’Donnell had put his away. Will saw that some of the boxes were actually plastic crates that had been over-filled with small kegs of beer. It was a wonder the wide-bodied man beneath was still breathing. One of these on anybody’s head would be a one-way ticket to a snapped neck or a crushed skull.

But the man’s skin was a healthy pink, and he looked fine apart from a knot on the side of his bald head. Wil grunted as he and O’Donnell moved on of the heavier crates aside. The rest was easy, if still somewhat cumbersome. Wil lifted the last box off as O’Donnell bent down.

“Hey buddy, you okay?” he asked and gently patted the man’s cheek. Nothing. “Shit, he might be——”

That was when the stout, middle-aged man opened his eyes.

They glowed a bright, toxic green.

The man lunged up and grabbed O’Donnell by the throat with both hands as he darted his head forward and sank his teeth into the side of the Ranger’s face. O’Donnell hurled himself backward as he screamed, bumping into Matsuda and sending the old man tripping backward.

“Shit!” Wil said and leapt back in surprise.

“Agh!” O’Donnell screamed as blood welled up from his cheek and beside his ear. He punched at the man with the green eyes, struggled beneath as he threw his bulk on top of the ranger and pinned him.

“Get outta the way!” Gutierrez snapped at Matsuda. Wil dove behind one of the shelves, not wanting to be anywhere nearby if she was going to fire that shotgun. Matsuda grabbed the green-eyed man by the shoulder and yanked back. O’Donnell cursed in fury and pain as he kicked out and shoved, his voice cut off by the hands at his throat.

“Dammit!” Matsuda said and withdrew a knife from his belt, then plunged it into the green-eyed man’s neck once before yanking it out.

An arterial spray of red blood gouted from the wound and soaked O’Donnell and Matsuda both. Wil screamed in surprise at the sudden fountain of gore. There was a pause in the spray, and then it spurted again, in rhythm with a heartbeat.

“Huuuggghhh,” the green-eyed man said as he released his hands and mouth from O’Donnell, then turned toward Matsuda. His movements were clumsy and obvious now that they knew he could move. The old man dodged, then stabbed him in the throat again. Another spurt of blood and the man fell forward into a puddle of his own making. He flopped weakly, scratched at Matsuda’s boots with his fingers, then twitched and went still.

“Holy shit, aaaaah,” O’Donnell said and touched the side of his face. The skin on his left cheek and near his ear was bloody and ragged.

“Roger!” Gutierrez ran forward to O’Donnell and fell to her knees beside him. He winced and nodded at her.

“I’m okay,” he said.

“Hmm,” Matsuda said and looked at him and the man on the ground as the last of his blood seeped onto the concrete floor.

“I’ll get you patched up,” Gutierrez said and started to rummage through her pack. Wil hurried to close the storage room door to not let any more light or sound out, and so nothing could sneak up on them. He locked it for good measure and Matsuda gave him a silent nod of thanks.

“What the hell was that?” O’Donnell and hissed as Gutierrez started dabbing disinfectant on the bite marks.

“Not like the others,” Matsuda said, then leaned down to grab the man’s hands and pulled him forward. “You, Wil. Help me move him and strip him.”

“Excuse me? No,” Wil said. “Why?”

“I want to examine him. He’s not like the others. Knowing why could save us trouble later one. I mostly want to make sure there are no injuries or bite marks.”

“Ah. Still going by zombie rules, huh? Fine,” he sighed and got the man’s feet, grimacing as he sloshed through the widening puddle of blood. There was a table on one side of the storage room with clipboards, folders, and other office supplies, and Matsuda cleared it off and hoisted the dead man up onto the table with Wil’s help while Gutierrez continued to tend to O’Donnell.

“Notice anything?” Matsuda asked as he started to cut the man’s clothes off.

“He had glowing green eyes and tried to eat Ranger O’Donnell’s face?” Wil asked.

“Aside from that.”

“He didn’t seem to care much when you shanked him in the neck, aside from trying to go after you rather than O’Donnell.”

“Mm. The blood,” Matsuda said. He removed the man’s shirt, then rummaged around in some nearby boxes until he found a bottle of clear cleaning fluid and dumped it over the man, washing the blood off him and providing a more unobstructed view of his pale flesh. Wil looked away.

“Yeah there’s a shitload of it.”

“It sprayed,” Matsuda said.

“It’ll do that.”

“Only when you’re alive.”

“Yeah, so——” Wil paused. He thought of the buck, how he had seen into its chest at its still lungs and unbeating heart. “So this guy was alive, not like the black-eyed things.”

“Mm. And looking at his body, I don’t see any signs of injury, apart from what I did, and maybe some bruising when the boxes fell.”

“So does that mean I’m not gonna be a zombie?” O’Donnell asked and hissed again.

“Can’t say. He could ingested something and passed it on orally, but whatever changed him, it wasn’t the same way those veiny things changed Birkin and the Stewarts.”

“Or he could just be something else entirely,” Wil said.

“Great, the list of shit we don’t know keeps getting bigger,” Gutierrez grumbled.

“I don’t think it’ll be getting shorter anytime soon,” Wil replied as he looked at the dead man.

“Figure it out after we’ve had some shut-eye. I vote we just stay in here: locked door, no windows, concrete walls and metal doors,” O’Donnell said as he finished patching up the side of his face with Gutierrez’s help.

“Works for me,” Matsuda said. “I’ll take first watch, finish examining this guy. Think we should stay here until dawn?”

“I’d like to leave as soon as possible,” Gutierrez said.

“Same here,” Wil agreed.

“Six hours okay?” O’Donnell asked and everybody nodded. “I’ll take the next shift in three hours then. Rosa and Wil, you guys get to sleep but next time we rest, you’re on duty.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Gutierrez said, then rolled her jacket into a pillow and laid on her side. Wil did the same and closed his eyes, trying not to let his mind spin away and latch onto the memories of the black-eyed things, the gore, the blood, the moon.

And again, he failed.

It was the end of the first day of the end of the world.