Goo oozes from the skull of the collapsed undead at your feet. Tentatively, you step over it and across the threshold. The diner is dusky for the most part. A light blinks above in a quick succession of strobes. Tables are over turned. Chairs strewn across the floor. Salt, pepper, and ketchup are scattered in messes. Just beyond the counter where you've ordered many milkshakes and fries, an undead stands in neutral suspension at the deep fryer. She wears the diner colors, her hair still pulled back in a tight ponytail, save the few singed hairs sticking out randomly. A name tag on her left breast says Virginia.

Virginia's face is melted. No lips, eyelashes, or eyelids for that matter, are visible. Instead of features, there is red, runny mush. Some pieces of the same mush have landed on the front of her shirt. Her visor is burned and some of it is fused into her damaged skin. She looks like a female Freddy Krueger, or at least as if someone shoved her face into the deep fryer.

Of all the things you witnessed today, this is by far the most disturbing. You feel the sudden contraction of your stomach and double over, spilling stomach bile into the salt strewn floor. Virginia grunts. Once aware of your close proximity, she's come alive. A slit where her mouth should be parts and she stumbles to your side, where you smack her hard with the crowbar. She makes a nasty gurgling sound. You squint your eyes and hit her again, ignoring the crunching bone.

As you look away, you spot the glass door. It's been barricaded from the outside. Your heart leaps. If it's been blocked, that means there are likely living people on the other side.

"Yuck. Smells like deep fried death in here," Mack says behind you.

"Look," you say, pointing to the door.

"Let's try it," she says.

When you press on the cold glass, you know it's not moving. The pile they've created on the other side is sufficient, even though it appears to be mall odds and ends. You stop pushing, and peek through cracks instead. There isn't a soul in sight on the other side, but there has to be. . . .

Mack's voice sounds weary. "Alright. Well, when the fellas make their way in here, we'll work our way through that."

Tension laces the silence that follows. Her brother or cousin or something just died back there. Had you not talked them into leaving, he'd still be alive now - it's untelling how much longer, but for now. . . .

Mustering up courage, you speak. "I'm sorry...about Roge." You're not very good at these things.

"He was brave," she says blankly. "Not the smartest, bless his soul, but brave."

"Yeah, he was," you agree, even though you didn't really know him. You can just imagine how it would feel to lose a family member and your heart is heavy for her. "I'm sorry. If there's anything I could have...should have. . ."

"We all knew it was a risk," she interrupts. "It's a zombie attack. Most people wouldn't last that long, right?" She doesn't wait for an answer. "We're tough, but we ain't invincible. Things are gonna hurt us. Things are gonna make us wish we was dead. But we gotta keep on fighting, 'cause we're survivors."

You know exactly what she means, as you look at that barricade. If your family isn't there, you're going to feel like hell. You're going to feel torn and destroyed. But you'll still be here, and other people will be here. Somehow, you'll have to fight onward...even if they're not there.

The others clamber in, jarring you from your deep thoughts. They look a mess. Dark congealed blood is splattered all over them, smeared across Po's glasses where he's hastily wiped it away with his filthy shirt. All of them look unharmed. Roge was the only unlucky one in the group. It could have been worse, you suppose, trying not too get too down again.

"We gotta get inside," Mack explains. " We recon there's some livin' folks in there."

"We hope there is," you add.

All humor has vanished from Paul's face. "Let's see here," he says seriously, walking over to the barricade. He studies the pile. A few benches, some large potted plants, a trash bin. It isn't much, but it's sturdy from this side. It takes Paul a few moments, but he does barge through with help from Buster.

From the second you step through the door along with the group, a spooky feeling overcomes you. As if the quiet weren't enough, there's the sort of foreboding sense of walking through a haunted house on Halloween. You're just waiting for something to jump out. The bad thing is, the things that may be hiding here aren't paid actors.

The further you walk, the more the tension grows. But nothing jumps out. Some of the other stores are blocked from the outside as well. Most likely, they're holding in the undead. Could my family be in one of these stores? You fear.

Frantically, you try to peek through the glass of the shops. There are some undead wandering around Victoria's Secret, but none of them look familiar. One of them is wearing one high heel and a underwear set, which you find unsettling, but thankfully, it isn't your mother. You dash to the next shop. It's a kid's toy store. You don't really expect them to be there, but you're dreading seeing them none-the-less. There are a lot of kids, but no women with your moms build or hair. No men are inside wearing one of your dad's ugly shirts. You run to run to the next one, now fully tuned into finding your loved ones. Everything else has faded, blurred into the background of reality. All you want is to see them, but at the same time, you don't because to see them in one of these rooms would mean-

You start to look in the door of the Dollar Hut, when you slip and cause a trash bin to clatter to the floor noisily.

"Hold it right there!" a rough, angry voice says.

Into the mall cont. - SKIP TO CHAPTER 40