SAYING GOODBYE TO MY friends was incredibly hard, but I knew Ginger’s heart was broken, and I worried that his distraction could get him killed. He promised to report everything back to Wally and do his best to help him.

Trip drew a map in the dirt to show me how to keep heading south, but as Ginger and I explained, cats always know which way to go. It’s like landing on our feet even when we jump from a very high spot. Cats have perfect directional sense. But I did take a moment to ask Trip to watch out for Ginger until I got back.

We set out at the same time, me towards the railway tracks and them back towards home, above ground along the streets as long as they could.

I watched them until they were out of sight, skirting between vehicles. I wished them the very best. I also sent up a silent prayer to the Saber that Trip would not get them killed. Really, with those two, it could go either way.

Part of me wanted to follow them so badly that I had to sit down to stop my knees from shaking. I had never been on my own before. Not completely alone. Not like this. I’d lost Connor’s scent from the horse stuffy, the plunge into the sewer waters denying me even that. But if I concentrated, I could see his broad smile, feel his pudgy fingers, hear the sound of his heartbeat as he slept beside me.

In front of me was a long road of tracks, but at least I would be able to see aggressors from far away. I set out, walking between the tracks. Trip said that if that really was the last train, I would be safe, but if I felt any vibration along the metal I was to get off the tracks like a coyote was chasing me. The midday sun had risen over my left shoulder, so I knew I was traveling south, hopefully to find Connor and the rest of the humans who had escaped the zombies.

I spent my first night alone in pouring rain, shivering under a bridge. Rain is horrible, and much worse than the warm baths Wally’s pets sometimes subjected us to. I don’t think I slept more than a half hour for worry I would wake to the growling sounds of a zombie pack. I argued with myself all night about giving up and going home or continuing on this mission to find Connor. Somehow, the mission won out. But only by a little, and probably because I dreamed of Connor’s smiling face.

The second day I witnessed a Shih-Tzu being chased by some slow-moving zombies. I tipped over a metal garbage can to distract the pack of zombies, and then ungracefully scrambled up on top of a car, dropping low so no one (alive or dead) could see me. I was too scared to move for an hour, but I was glad to see the dog escape.

But it was on the fifth day of my lonely trek that my life changed forever.