Chapter Two

The Neighbor’s House

Mama’s not getting any better! She still feels too hot, and her cough is getting worse.

It was the midday break from her work in the fields, and Sam again returned to the house to check on her mother. Her mother’s cough sounded so rough and rasping, it seemed she was coughing more than breathing. That worried Sam, too.

“Katey, get me some cool water from the well, and bring me some of that clean cloth,” Sam hollered from the back bedroom, knowing her sister was still in the kitchen. However, a response didn’t come as quickly as her anxiety demanded. “Katey! Katey, you hear me?

“Yeah, I heard…I heard,” Katey answered from the other room.

“Well, then…get to it,” Sam replied with an uncharacteristic flash of anger. She knew that her sister’s reply didn’t deserve such a response. Even worse, she also knew that her stress was becoming contagious, infecting the other children with ever-escalating fears—dread about the potential loss of their mother and being on their own.

No more than a minute later, Katey trudged in carrying a bucket of water in one hand and a roll of cloth in her other; however, the look on her face said volumes—depression bordering on fatalism. A facial expression that seemed to accept that their mother was going to die. It was a look that defined death as the loss of all hope for the rest of them.

“Thank you, Katey.” As she took the bucket and cloth, Sam gave Katey her best, warmest smile.

That’s my job, now. I’ve got to be the strength for them.

“Here. Why don’t you help me cool off Mama?” Together, they mopped their mother’s face, shoulders, and chest with cool water for the next hour. Working together like this bred honesty. They spoke about their mother—how they both loved her and wanted to be like her, and about how much they needed her. Ultimately, the conversation finally turned to their mother’s prospects for surviving. Sam wasn’t quite ready for that discussion, so she quickly changed the subject.

Finally, their mother’s temperature abated somewhat, so Sam sent her sister back out to the fields. Sam chose to remain at her mother’s side and gently dab her mother’s forehead with the cool rag. In truth, she chose to remain so she could think.

Mama is not getting better, she thought. No, she’s getting worse! Getting worse each day, and nuthin’ I do seems to help. I gave her that weed, the one that was supposed to make you better, echo…echa…What was it called? Hmmm, I don’t remember. Oh, well. The one that old Indian woman gave us years ago. It don’t seem to help, though. What can I do? There must be something I can do to help Mama?

She repeated that thought over and over, but nothing came to mind. No herbs, no traditional medicine seemed to help, and she couldn’t think of anything else to try.

After several minutes of struggling for a solution, frustration finally overwhelmed her, drawing tears that poured down her face. She cried quietly. It just wasn’t in her character to sob, either loudly or in front of others, but the tears compelled her to prayer. While her parents required the children to both read the Bible and say their daily prayers. Today, her words of prayer came fitfully.

“Oh…Father who…um…art in Heaven…I need your help. Mama’s sick, and I’m ‘fraid she’s a-dyin’. And…and…she just can’t leave us…cuz…cuz…I don’t know what we’d do! I don’t know what I would do! Look…I’ve tried every cure we got, but now, I need your help. Uh…if you could help her…I…I…promise I’ll be a better person. I’ll stop cussin’ and…I’ll be the kinda person you want me to become.”

She shook her head, collecting both her thoughts and her dignity. She wasn’t prone to ask for help from anyone—including God.

“Look, I’ve been thinking that Mama needs medicines, not some healing potions from the land. She needs the stuff from town. Now, I know what’s there…and I know the risk, but I think it’s the only way. And…well, Mama is worth the risk. So, I’ll do my part, if you do yours. I’ll go get the medicines if you watch over Mama, Katey, and the boys. Okay?”

Her eyes looked to Heaven, hoping for some sort of sign that her bargain was agreeable, but none came. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she bowed her head for several seconds, and then looked again to the heavens.

“Okay…fair ‘nuff, but I’ll still do my part.”

* * * *

In the early afternoon, Sam called the boys and Katey in from the fields. This was a welcome surprise, as none of them usually left the fields until much later in the day.

“I want us to do some different chores. Okay? Cal and Billy, we’re going to put all of the animals, including the dogs into the barn tonight, so no stackin’ wood for the bonfires or for the fire pit.”

“What about all them dead stinkers we shot last night? Don’t you want us to burn ‘em? That’s what we always do.” Cal, as always, came right to the point.

“Nah, not this time. I want ya ta leave ‘em where they dropped.”

“Wha’ for?” Billy asked.

“I’m hopin’ their smell’ll keep any others away.”

“Well, I know it will keep me away!” Cal said with a chortle.

Billy was watching his sister closely. He, more than his twin, always had a closer relationship with his older sister. He knew when to joke and when not to. Billy could also tell that there was something else in Sam’s tone and demeanor.

“What else?”

“We’ll secure the house and hunker down at night. If they come a callin’, well…we’ll let ‘em have it, but from the house. Everyone unnerstand?” The children all nodded in agreement.

However, Billy wouldn’t give up. He knew that Sam was holding back on something. Billy could tell by the look in her eyes, and by the way her hands fidgeted at her side. He decided to press for honesty.

“Is something going on with Mama?”

Sam fixed him in a fierce gaze, but he didn’t relent or look away. He knew there was something else—something they deserved to know.

Finally, Sam gave in and answered, “Mama keeps getting worse. If I don’t do somethin’ and do it soon…well, she’s a goner! I just won’t let that happen.”

“Sam…what are you thinkin’ ‘bout doin’?” As always, Billy was straightforward.

“I’m goin’ to town…to get her medicines. I’m goin’ to Doc Green’s.”

The kids were struck silent by her statement, all simultaneously understanding the magnitude of her words. They all knew the danger of town, and because of that danger, none of the three younger children had ever gone there.

It was Katey who spoke first, “Town? You’re goin’ to town? By…by yourself?”

“It’s the only way ‘ta help her. I’m the only one who can go cuz I’m the only one who’s been there. Remember, I went with Papa to Doc Green’s place four years ago, so I know where to go. So, ya see…ain’t got no options but to go there. Ain’t no other place for medicines round here ‘cept for in town.”

Cal spoke next, “What about goin’ to the Adlers? Maybe, they could help.” The Adlers, the only remaining neighbors of the family, had a farm almost twenty miles away, near the edge of the Mesa.

“I’m plannin’ to stop at their place first on the way to town, but I doubt they have much more than we do for medicines. Plus, we ain’t seen hide nor hair of them since last harvest.” Sam chose not to mention that she also hadn’t even seen smoke in the distance coming from their house’s chimney in several months—clearly a bad sign!

“But they might be able to help,” Katey said.

“Yeah, they might…but I gotta plan for the worst. So, I’m plannin’ to go to town.” Sam paused for a moment, knowing they were all processing her decision differently. “Look, Mama needs it, so…I’m a-goin’ in the morning.”

“Okay, then I’m goin’ with you,” Billy said. His face was resolute.

Sam anticipated this response, too. She knew that either boy would insist on going, but she figured it would most likely be Billy. Sam shook her head. “Can’t do that. You’re needed here to defend the house in case them buggers come back, again. Two can’t hold ‘em off and look out for Mama. So, you see…defendin’ our house and Mama is gonna’ take all three of you working together.” She paused again and put her hand on Billy’s shoulder. “I wish you could come…I wish you all could…but Mama needs you here. And I do, too.”

“But—” Billy had no more than begun his reply when Sam cut him off.

“No more. Decision’s made. I’m leavin’ at sun up and need all of you to help out gettin’ me ready for the trail. It’s a long ride to town, so I need your help.”

The kid’s sullen nods signaled their agreement. With one final look at their apprehensive and sour faces, Sam went outside knowing the three of them would soon follow.

I know it’s going to be hard, Sam thought. I know they’re not gonna like this, but they’re just going to have to pitch in and pull together. I know they can. They’re all strong, and they’ll come through this. Come hell or high water, they’ll give it their best shot for Mama…and for me. They’ll get through, regardless of what happens…to Mama…or to me.

Even amidst her external bravado, Sam had considerable apprehension about going to town. That town was a day and a half ride away was the least of her worries. No, her fear was with what she might face in town. More specifically, it was all those town folk who would be walking dead—the leftovers of the town’s occupants. On her last trip to town, Sam and her father had run into only a few zombies. This time, however, an unknown number of creatures could be waiting.

Arrrgh! she thought.

* * * *

The evening and night passed quickly for the children, but it seemed to take a lifetime for Sam. Long after the twins and Katey had gone to sleep, Sam lay awake in her bed. She alternated between staring at the drab, earth tone walls and fitfully tossing back and forth. Meanwhile, across the room, her sister quietly slept, blissfully unaware of her older sister’s turmoil. In the dark of the room, Sam’s mind kept repeating the memory of the night before—zombie after zombie reaching for her. Dead men and women clawing at her, all intent on killing. She tried to force the images from her head, but each time, the memories of her ride to town would come back to mind. Memories of the horror of the zombies and her visit so many years ago.

As the sun rose over the Midland Mesa, Sam pulled herself from bed more mentally exhausted than physically. Unfortunately, her preparations and departure couldn’t wait.

Shortly after sun up, the twins and Katey joined Sam in helping her get ready for the trip. The boys prepared one of the farm’s horses for her ride. Although, calling it ‘preparation’ seemed like a gross overstatement. The horse lacked a saddle and only had a very rudimentary bridle. The boys draped an old blanket over the horse’s back, at least to provide Sam with a slightly more comfortable ride. Meanwhile, Katey helped pack the horse’s saddlebags for the trip.

“Remember, I gotta pack light,” Sam said. “Nothin’ but what I need. Only grub and gear.” A poncho for the rain, a light blanket, some camping gear, two bladders full of water, and a small amount of food stuffs mostly consisting of dried meat. Sam insisted that she take as little food as possible.

Anything I take is food they should be eatin’, she thought.

With the horse and saddlebags ready, all that remained were guns.

Can’t take too many, cuz they’ll be needin’ ‘em. At least I’ll need my rifle…and my good ol’ Colt pistol—the one Papa gave me.

For some reason, the thought of her gun as one of her few cherished items made her smile—more from the absurdity of it than anything else. She grabbed a handful of bullets, again not taking too many, and carefully loaded both guns. Though all of the kids knew how to reload spent shells, the farm never seemed to have enough bullets for their few weapons. As the last bullet slid into the cylinder of the six-shot Colt revolver, Sam smiled to herself and flipped the gun’s cylinder closed.

“Well, Katey. I think I’m ready.” Sam slid the Colt into the holster and strapped it around her waist, making sure it was properly positioned and ready for use. She closed up the saddlebags, grabbed her hat, and her heavy canvas jacket for the cold nights, and with her rifle in hand, Sam joined the boys outside.

“Got ‘er ready to go, Sam.” Cal patted the old, white mare lovingly. “You be sure to take care of her.”

Sam smiled, gave the white mane a loving stroke, and then strapped the saddlebags onto the horse. With no saddle or other niceties, she was going to have to carry the rifle slung over her shoulder.

Not great, but it’ll work, she thought.

As she readied her horse, she noted the three children silently watching her not more than an arm’s length away.

Uh, I gotta say something…and it may be the last words I ever speak to ‘em. So, it has gotta be important. Memorable! But what? Its gotta lift their spirits…give ‘em some hope.

Just as Sam turned to speak, Billy spoke first. “Sam…this is a two person dance! You need someone else. You gotta’ take me with you!”

“No…take me,” Cal pleaded.

“Wish I could. Wish I could take all of ya, but I need you here to take care of each other…and take care of Mama. So, here’s the tale—Billy, you’re in charge. Cal and Katey, you do as he says…no givin’ him lip. Katey, I want you watchin’ out for Mama full time. Don’t worry ‘bout chores in the field. Just keep giving her sips of water. Sit her up, and give her some every hour or so. If she wakes up and wants food, give her some of that good stew of yours.”

Even this little encouragement made Katey smile, but her smile quickly faded.

Sam asked, “What’s got you so sour, buttercup?”

With her eyes cast toward the floor, she shrugged and finally answered, “I gotta know—is Mama gonna die?”

“Mayhap she might, or just as likely not. Only God above knows fur sure. But you…we…gotta think positive. Keep lookin’ out for her. You do, and she’ll pull through. So, you watch over her while I go get her some medicines. We get those in her, and in no time at all, she’ll be right as rain.”

“Sam…if Mama dies…will she…will she turn? Turn into one of them?”

“No, honey. Mama weren’t bit…she’s just sick. If she ain’t been bit, she can’t turn.” This conclusion reassured the girl.

Sam smiled at her brothers and sister one last time, but again, the morbid thoughts burrowed into her mind.

I can’t leave them alone. The dead will get ‘em for sure. She forced herself to hold her mind in check. No. No, I’m not gonna give in to fear. I…I gotta trust them. Trust they’ll be okay.

“Well, time to go,” Sam finally said. Cal offered her a welcomed boost, and she climbed up onto the horse.

“Sam, I want you to take this.” Cal reached into his belt and pulled his beloved Bowie knife from its scabbard. “You take it, cuz…well…blades don’t need to be reloaded.”

She thought about protesting, but knew better. This was a selfless act of the heart. “Thanks, Cal. I’ll bring it back good as new. I promise.” She strapped the blade and its scabbard onto her gun belt. Just before she could lead the horse from the yard, a barking at the door of the farm house brought them all to complete silence.

Can it be zombies? Now, during the day?

Sam instinctively vaulted from the horse and ran toward the door, drawing her pistol as she ran. Just as she reached the doorway, a small brown and white nose protruded—her blind miniature Dachshund.

“Ah, Bailey. It’s just you.” Sam picked the dog up and cuddled her briefly in her arms, feeling the dog’s total and unrepentant love. It provided a momentary respite from the terrors of her world.

“Why don’t you take her along?” Cal suggested. “She’s got the best nose on the farm. She can sniff out them critters long before you see ‘em.” Cal stroked the dog’s neck as Sam held her. “She’ll give you some company. Hey, I got an idea!”

Cal ran into the house and emerged carrying an empty flour sack complete with a rope handle. He demonstrated throwing the rope over his head making the flour sack a functional, albeit plain, shoulder bag. “See! She can ride with you in the sack. So…whatta’ ya think?”

She knew the dog would be a burden but had to admit that some company would be desirable. “Well, girl? Up for an adventure?”

The dog looked up at her, even though her eyes were completely blind—drawn by both the familiar voice and scent. A wag of her tail signaled agreement.

Minutes later, Sam was again on her horse, this time with the flour sack strung over her shoulder complete with a dog’s head protruding. With a tug of the makeshift reins, she turned the horse to the east, toward the Adler’s farm and town. Sam looked at her twin brothers and sister in one last glance of deep-rooted affection.

“I’ll be back in a few days…a week at the most. So…you be good… and I’ll see you all soon.” With a half-hearted smile and a wave, she rode off toward the east and what lay beyond.

The Adler’s ranch, about five hours ride away, was her destination. Though upon her arrival, there would still be several hours of sunlight left in the day, Sam knew that it would be impossible to get to town in less than a day’s ride. This made the Adler’s ranch a logical stopping point. It would give her needed shelter from both the cold and, of course, any terrors in the night that might be lurking about. First, however, was the long, lonely ride, and Sam soon found herself talking aloud to her dog.

“Well, girl. It’s just you and me. Tell ya what. I’ll handle the ridin’ if you sing out if you smell any of them stinkers. Okay…well, maybe bark instead of sing.” The absurdity of her one-sided discussion with her dog brought out her laugh—more like a deep walrus bark then the petite titter of a lady; however, as Sam always liked to say about herself—I ain’t no lady!

Although she rode her horse at somewhere between a slow walk and a trot, the hours still passed slowly for Sam. Not surprisingly, over the hours, she didn’t see another human—alive or undead—as she rode along the drab, brown dirt trail. Nevertheless, occasional stops were necessary, particularly when her dog wanted out of its flour sack cradle. As the whimpers of unrest grew, Sam would climb down from her horse and let the dog walk for a while. While this slowed the ride, the dog’s pleas for attention could not be ignored. After all, her dog was as much family to Sam as her own brothers or sister.

“Okay, girl. You can git down and stroll a spell.” As soon as the dog’s paws touched ground, her tail immediately went up and began wagging like a light brown flag in the wind. As the dog walked, Sam led her horse to one side, giving the blind dog needed space as she moved by using smell and hearing. This, of course, translated into the dog walking in a zigzag movement, which could easily put it in danger of being trampled under the horse’s hooves. There was no chance of this happening with Sam’s love of her dog. She would just adjust the horse’s direction while using herself as a barrier to protect the dog.

“Well, girl. Good day, ain’t it?” The dog, as usual, responded to her voice by slightly lifting her chin to look up. As they walked, Sam looked at the surrounding scenery—green and brown scrub brush that stretched almost a mile on either side of the trail. Sam removed her hat and wiped the sweat from her brow. Though it was early November, it had been unseasonably warm.

Heck, the temperature ain’t even dropped none, she thought. That’ll change soon enough. Them cold winds will come from the North and drop the temperature—and then, the snows will come.

As they walked, Sam looked about at her mesa home, noting the monotony of the landscape. “Midland Mesa sure ain’t much to look at, is it?” The dog responded to her voice with a tail wag. “Don’t hardly ever call it by that name, do we?” Again, a tail wag was the answer.

They continued their walk and “chat”. “Well, girl. Got a bit of a journey here for the two of us. First, we’re goin’ to the Adler’s. ‘Member them? Three of ‘em, there is—the two parents and that boy. Now, don’t you go a-startin’. He was never much interested in me…or me in him, either! Not like there are much in the way of boys out here for me. Certainly nobody anywhere cute as that boy I saw a couple of seasons back. Ah, you gotta remember him—brown hair, dimples, but with lotsa freckles.” The dog made a playful growl in response. “There, I knew you’d remember.”

The one-sided conversation lapsed for a few moments as Sam fought to keep the horse’s hooves away from the dog. “So…we’ll get to their farm. Well, ya know it’s more of a ranch, as they don’t grow much, other than fruit trees and all. They do got some cattle, so Papa use ’ta trade with ‘em—fresh vegetables for meat. I think you had some of their meat in yur supper bowl, ‘member? Anyhow, we’ll hunker down at their ranch for the night, then go to town the next day. We’ll have to get goin’ pretty darn early the next morning, cuz I wanna get to town by noon. Then, it’s straight to Doc Green’s place ta’ get Mama’s medicine. In and out, quick as spit. Then, we’ll head back to the Adler’s ranch. One more night there, then it’s back to home. Okay girl?” Again, the dog faithfully wagged her tail in response.

After the short respite, once again it was time for the trail. Sam scooped up the dog, gave it a quick hug before returning her to the flour sack carrier, and then remounted her horse to continue the ride.

What Sam didn’t share were her fears—what they’d find at the Adler’s ranch and what they would find in town. As to the Adler’s, Sam was worried that no one was home. More specifically, that no one remained there alive. Her evidence was weak—no one from her family had seen the Adler’s in almost a year. Every six months or so, the two families would trade their meager foodstuffs with the Adler’s arriving in their big wagon. Sam’ mother had often commented that it was somewhat ostentatious; however, no visits from these neighbors had occurred in a long time, and their mother didn’t want to risk going to them, so it had remained an unresolved mystery.

* * * *

The miles passed slowly over the ensuing hours as the sun rose to its zenith—midday, noon. Once again, Sam dismounted, but this time for a short break and needed water for both rider and animals—her horse and dog. She poured water from her bladder into a tin cup retrieved from her saddlebags and offered it first to her dog and then her horse. Finally, after the animals both drank, Sam also took a drink from the same tin cup. No hesitation to drink here. Over her whole life, Sam and her siblings had often been required to eat and drink from common plates and cups. Though, usually not with animals. On the trail, common sense prevailed particularly when water had to be shared. With the water dispensed, a lunch meal for her remained—dried pieces of rabbit meat and a few carrots from the field. This wasn’t much food, but then again, there really wasn’t much to share on the farm. Sam certainly wouldn’t take food from her brothers or sisters mouth. After resting a while, it was back to the trail and the last few hours ride to the Adler’s.

Coming over a slight tree-covered hill, the Adler’s ranch house appeared in the distance. As Sam feared, the house showed no signs of life—no smoke emerged from the fireplace, no animals grazed in the yard, and no people were visible.

Could they be inside? she wondered. Maybe, however, on our farm, you’d always see someone out in the fields this time of day. Even at a ranch like this, one ought to see someone carin’ for the animals. Hmmm…except that there ain’t no animals about. Well…only one way to find out.

Sam continued to approach the ranch house but with caution tempered by her ever increasing anxiety. A clear indication of this anxiety was her right hand—it dropped to her gun belt, searching for the comforting feel of her Colt’s handle.

Minutes later, the horse’s hooves finally cleared the trail, emerging into the clearing that surrounded the ranch house. Alert for any danger, Sam slowed the horse’s gait to a standstill and listened—for sounds of humans, zombies, or whatever. No sounds emerged from the yard, barn, or house. No sounds—not an animal or bird—nothing at all. This silence unnerved Sam even more.

Sam leaned in close to her dog and whispered, “Well, girl. You smell anything?” The dog dutifully sniffed the air but didn’t react.

Time to see if anyone’s home, she thought.

Spurring her horse on, Sam rounded the corner of the house and headed toward the front porch. What she saw made her heart sink—the front door was not just wide open but smashed in!

Oh, damn! That ain’t good!

Sam quickly dismounted, leaving the horse free to wander about. A simple decision as she didn’t think it was right to tie a horse’s reins when there could be murderous creatures about. After all, being tied up was just like serving the horse up on a buffet platter for the zombies to consume.

With the horse cared for, Sam unslung her flour sack dog carrier and put it on the ground. She whispered to Bailey to stay, which the dog obediently did. Using the horse’s back as cover, she again scanned the yard, looking left, right and all about for any indication of human-shaped predators. Seeing none, Sam finally advanced toward the house but stopped and dropped to one knee as soon as she saw tracks in the sand.

A man’s footprints heading toward the house. Hmmm…they’re in loose sand…been a little wind scoured, too. I guess they’re old, maybe over a week or two, depending on the wind. Couple of other prints here too, but they look even older. Nope, doesn’t look like anything recent has entered, but…there’s only one way to tell!

Sam retraced her steps, retrieved her dog from its bag, and carried her under her left arm toward the house.

“Need your help, girl,” she whispered.

With the dog under one arm, Sam drew her pistol with her free hand and advanced toward the front door. Through the door’s frame, she couldn’t see much—it was dark inside with the window’s shutters pulled closed. While never taking her eyes off the dark opening to the interior, she stepped onto the wooden planks of the house’s porch and placed the dog down adjacent to the door.

On instinct alone, the dog sniffed the air, but didn’t react—no barking or growling. The dog didn’t back away or do anything to signal any fight or flight response. Just a faint wag of her tail confirmed that the dog did not feel threatened.

Nuthin. Okay, now it’s my turn.

“Good girl,” she whispered. “Stay here a spell.”

Sam stepped over her dog and entered the dark room, moving as quietly as possible. Though the room was dark, cloaked in varied shades of gray, her eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light. Sam scanned the room, checking for anything either alive or undead, but found nothing—just a combination kitchen and sitting room, not unlike her own home. She could tell that the room’s sparse furnishings had been forcefully moved around. Most concerning to Sam was what she saw on the wooden floor—a large, dried bloodstain that stretched almost to the door. Looking closer, she saw the bits of bone and dried ligaments that remained amongst the crimson. Clearly, this was the meager remains of a kill, mostly likely from a zombie attack.

With her gun leading the way, Sam searched the back bedrooms and found them empty of life. The furnishings were still in place and beds made as if ready for an evening’s rest. Similar to the front room, the window shutters were also securely shut. Relaxing slightly, Sam reholstered her pistol and returned to the kitchen. Approaching the kitchen’s large, stone fireplace, she thrust her hand first over the burnt remains of the fire. She even touched the charcoal-covered log itself.

Bone cold, she thought. What ever happened here…happened a while ago!

While Sam searched the house, Bailey had dutifully remained at the front door, her nose constantly twitching, sniffing the air and searching for her master.

“Well, girl,” Sam said upon her return. “Looks like we missed the party. Too bad, as I was all dressed up for a do-si-do.” She chuckled to herself at her attempt at humor. “We’ll come back and see what we can find later. First, we better go check the barn…see if there are any other clues of what happened.”

Again, as Sam spoke, Bailey thrust her nose into the air, finding her master by both scent and sound. A wagging tail signaled her agreement, so Sam picked up the dog and headed for the barn.

As she emerged from the house and walked toward the barn, Sam noted that her own horse had wandered over to a stand of grass to feed.

Good idea. Hopefully, supper’s not too long off for me, too!

The barn’s doors were standing wide open as Sam approached. Different from the one on Sam’s farm, this barn was separated from the house and substantially larger. It was large enough to hold a half dozen horses and several head of cattle in the secure pens inside.

At the barn’s large doors, she paused and listened but heard nothing—no sounds of animals came from the interior. Like she’d done before, Sam again drew her pistol while she let Bailey’s nose check for danger. Just like the house, Bailey did not react, so Sam entered the barn.

Inside Sam’s nose was immediately assaulted with two strong smells—pungent, dried hay and decaying flesh. Searching the barn, she soon found out why—in the third stall were the remains of a cow. It had been firmly tied with a rope to a hook on the barn’s wall; however, this cow hadn’t died of natural causes—it had been devoured. All that remained was the cow’s head dangling at the end of the rope still securely tied to the wall. Though a disgusting sight and smell, years of experience with the pungent odors of both the farm and the dead left her unmoved.

“Sorry, Bessie! Looks like your milkin’ days are truly over.”

Sam finished her search of the barn, finding neither more remains nor any living animals. She did come upon a ladder near the rear of the barn that led to a hayloft above. As she’d always been taught to be thorough when the dead were about, Sam climbed the ladder and checked the loft, finding only large piles of dried hay bales.

At least my horse will have a supper to remember. Emerging from the barn, Sam picked up Bailey and did one more walk around of the ranch house’s yard. Near the house, she found the well’s hand pump. Pumping it a few times drew cool water that streamed from its rusty, gray spout. She took a moment to get a drink herself and then captured a handful that was vigorously consumed by Bailey, her tongue tickling the offered hand.

“Slow down, girl. That tickles.”

Sam pumped the handle several dozen more times, filling the adjacent wooden trough. She then finished her walk around the yard, finding nothing else except for the Adler’s old, wooden wagon.

With the house, barn, and yard secure, Sam went to work. With only three or so hours of daylight remaining, she had plenty to do. She retrieved her horse and led it to the water trough, this time tying the lead to a nearby post. Grabbing the saddlebags, rifle, and blanket off of the horse, Sam carried her belongings plus her dog into the barn. She had already decided that it would be best to bunk down with her horse inside the barn.

If I can secure those barn doors, we’ll be a might bit safer in here than in the house.

Sam dropped her belongings into a pile just inside the door and put Bailey down to wander around the barn.

“If I’m gonna be in here, I’m not gonna be with you,” she said to the dead cow’s head. Unhooking it from the wall, she carried it outside and gave it a good heave, lobbing it into the center of the ranch’s yard, twenty feet away from the barn.

“That’ll give them stinkers something to gnaw on if they come in the night.”

Returning to the barn, she did a quick pass to see if anything would be of use for her. As expected, the barn contained various farm and ranching equipment, but against one wall was a prize beyond expectation—a saddle.

A saddle, she thought, almost giddy with delight. A real horse’s saddle! Not some blanket or half-assed saddle—a real one!

She went over and caressed the saddle’s leather and then inspected it quickly to ensure that it was all there. It was intact with no missing straps or leads.

“Did you see this, girl,” she shouted to Bailey, though the irony of asking her blind dog if she saw something escaped Sam. “We’ve got us a real saddle to ride on. We’ll be practically high society ridin’ into town with this saddle. Why, I haven’t had a saddle to ride on since Papa—”

The sudden thought of her father brought an immediate hush. Quieted by the memory, Sam returned to her pile of belongings, only to find her dog fast asleep on the horse blanket.

“You stay there, girl. I’m gonna go see if there is anything of use in that ‘ol house.” The dog just sighed as she curled into a tight ball, comforted by the blanket’s feel.

Back inside the house, Sam first searched the kitchen and its adjacent shelves. The bottom shelf was askew, and several glass jars lay broken on the floor just below. Even with sharp, glass shards, the broken jar’s contents had been picked clean. Picking up one of the shards, Sam saw animal hairs on it.

Hmmm. Probably some coyotes or maybe wild dogs musta gotten in here and looked for food. Kinda looks like they found some. That’d also explain why the blood remains over there are so spread around. The coyotes musta been lickin’ at whatever was left of the corpse.

Dropping the shard, Sam checked the upper shelves and found several jars of canned peaches and a few jars of canned apples. Finally, she found a large mason jar full of beef jerky.

“Whooee, I’ve hit the mother lode. I’ll be eaten good tonight.”

She suddenly thought of her brothers and sister back at the farm and felt the pangs of both separation and guilt.

“I’ll make sure to bring these back to them. Ol’ Billy boy will do a dance when he gets sight of these peaches.”

Sam finished her search of the kitchen, claiming other treasures such as a box of matches, several candles, and a small campfire cooking skillet. Righting the kitchen table that had been turned on its side, Sam piled her growing plunder upon it and continued her search.

On the opposite side of the kitchen was a sitting area. Sam righted a rocking chair that had been knocked on its side and briefly sat in it.

My, oh my! Katey would love this chair. There ain’t no way to get it back, though. Oh, well!

Getting to her feet again, she checked the room’s other shelves, finding only small, family mementos. This included a grainy black and white photograph of a very serious-looking Mister Adler. The photo of the unpleasant-looking man made her smile, but time was always at a premium, so she put the photo down and continued her search.

Against the far wall was a small, wooden armoire, and opening its doors revealed her greatest find—a double-barrel shotgun with a small box full of buckshot cartridges. The barrel had been shortened for reasons she couldn’t tell at first. That is, until she found the leather holster shoved into a far corner of the cabinet. This shotgun was intended to be worn on the hip like a pistol. That explained both the shotgun’s short barrel and the pistol-style grip.

“I bet this thing kicks like a mule, but the good book says, ‘Waste not, want not’.”

Sam put on the gun belt, having to cinch it extra tight. Obviously, the last person to wear this belt did not have a waist quite as small as hers. She holstered the shotgun and then drew it several times to get a feel for the gun.

It’s kinda heavy…and slow as molasses on the draw. Oh, well. It ain’t for speed, anyway.

With the box of cartridges placed with the rest of her items on the kitchen table, Sam finished her search of the armoire. The only things of interest she found were paper and several pencils, which she also added to her growing pile. With the kitchen and sitting room done, Sam moved on to search the bedrooms.

The bedrooms were not as disheveled as the front room but offered few items of interest other than several blankets. Just as Sam was leaving the bedroom with blankets in hand, a twinkle of gold on the floor caught her eye. She reached down and picked it up, cradling it in her palm—a simple cross hanging from a gold chain. Sam stared at the cross for a few seconds and even considered putting it back down.

This was someone’s cherished cross, she thought. A symbol of their beliefs…of their faith. I don’t know whether it’s right to keep this.

Just before putting it back down on the floor, Sam suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to take it with her. It was a feeling so compelling that she finally gave in and hooked the chain around her neck, letting the cross fall midway down her chest.

Maybe, this’ll help. A little faith…that’s what I need.

Using the blankets as bags, Sam carried all of her collection of items over to the barn. Ultimately, she placed most of them high up on the hayloft.

At least the coyotes won’t get at ‘em up here.

With her search and plundering done, Sam went out to the fruit trees and garden surrounding the house to gather a few items for both her supper and the final ride into town. Using a wooden bucket from the barn, over the next half hour, she collected apples and peaches from the overloaded trees. With quite a bit of fruit rotting on the ground, it was obvious no one had been around to pick the fruit from these trees in quite some time. Moving on to the garden, Sam found little that hadn’t already been eaten—either partially or wholly—by rabbits or birds. Nevertheless, she was able to scavenge a few tomatoes, onions, and cabbage. With a mostly full bucket in hand, she returned to the barn.

As the sun neared the horizon, Sam brought the horse into the barn and tied it up in a stall. By now, Bailey was awake and dutifully following Sam as she did her final chores in the barn. With her small dog accompanying her, Sam finally shut the barn’s large, wooden doors. She secured the doors from the inside using a shovel as a crossbar. Finally, for extra security, she tied a length of rope around the door handles. Pushing on the doors, they only moved an inch and seemed pretty solid.

That’ll hafta do, she thought. It’ll just hafta hold ‘em.

With the barn doors shut, the only light for the interior came from a small hatch far above. The hatch opened from the outside and into the hayloft. The meager light from the hatch was more than enough for Sam to see and prepare supper. That evening, Sam and Bailey both enjoyed a supper of pieces of beef jerky and fruit.

“Well, girl. Not a bad first day.” The dog wagged her tail appreciatively in agreement and then returned to chewing on a thick piece of jerky.

Not a bad day for me, she thought. I sure hope it’s been just as good for Billy, Cal, Katey, and Mama.

In the dregs of the day’s light, Sam retrieved the paper and pencil she’d found in the house and allowed herself one small indulgence—writing. Though, this time, she had a different goal. Notes or thoughts from the day were not memorialized this time. No. This time, she wrote a letter.

Dear Billy, Cal, and Katey:

If you’ve found and are reading this letter, I didn’t make it back. I figure you’ve struck out on your own, looking for me or looking for safety at either the Adler’s or in town. I also know what that meant for Mama. I just hope you took time to give her a proper burial. She deserved that after all. As for me, don’t worry or come lookin’. No matter what happened to me, just know that I’m in a better place.

As for advice, I can’t tell you much more than you already know. After all, the three of you are strong, smart, and sensible. I do want to tell you two things—first, stick together. Your greatest strength is with each other. Stay together, and you’ll tame whatever fate throws at you. Second, on the back of this letter is a map I made from memory on how to get to town. My suggestion is not to go there. If you have to go there for some reason, like getting medicines from Doc Green’s, I want you to at least know the way.

Remember that I love you and that Papa, Mama, and I will be watching out for you from Heaven.

Love,

Sam

With the letter complete, Sam placed it in a glass mason jar with all three of their names written in large print on the side. Her plan, she decided, was to place the jar on one of the shelves in the Adler’s kitchen tomorrow morning; however, as she sealed the letter in the jar, tears came to her eyes. Though she wasn’t prone to emotion or sentimentalism, the thought of what this letter truly meant momentarily overwhelmed her. Though, as fast as the emotion came, it also went.

You don’t survive long in this world by blubbering with tears, she thought.

* * * *

With the hayloft hatch open high up on the front of the barn, both the moonlight and a cool breeze entered. This provided a comfortable place for Sam and her dog to pass the night. Soon, her dog was curled up in a pile of hay next to Sam’s legs and quickly fell asleep. Unfortunately for Sam, even with a cool, comfortable pile of hay, sleep didn’t come. After lying awake for a while, she briefly thought about scratching some thoughts into her journal. In the meager light of a cloud-obscured new moon, Sam knew it would be a futile effort. With nothing to do but lay there, Sam gazed through the hatch into the night sky until a fitful sleep finally overtook her.

As the hours ticked by, Sam kicked and squirmed in her sleep. Every hour or so, she’d wake up to look through the hatch to the yard below. After dutifully looking outside and seeing nothing, she would return to her blanket and listen to the crickets chirp outside until once again sleep took her.

Somewhere after midnight, Sam opened her eyes, sat up, and looked around. After a moment of post-sleep disorientation, she strained her mind to identify what was bothering her. Several more seconds later, it finally struck her—no crickets were chirping!

Huh? That ain’t right, she thought.

As if by cue, Bailey stirred, raised her nose, and then began growling.

“Shush, girl,” Sam whispered.

The dog continued to growl though quieter, now.

“Bailey! Be quiet,” Sam whispered in a more forceful tone that finally quieted the dog; however, there was no ignoring Bailey’s nose, so Sam crawled to the barn’s hayloft hatch to peer into the yard below. In the moon’s meager light, Sam saw the entire yard below cast in drab shadows of gray and black. Into the yard ambled three zombies! Walking in a ragged line, each zombie was separated from the other by five to ten feet, and as they shuffled forward, each would occasionally pause and sniff the air.

They’re huntin’ for food, Sam thought. Food…like me!

Twenty feet overhead, Sam drew her pistol and held her breath, both hoping and praying that these dead would pass on by. The lead walker—a large man whose head was bent to the right at an unnatural angle, passed the barn door without taking any notice. Similarly, the second zombie shuffled by, also taking no notice. The third, a large African-American teen, continued its wobbly walk until it suddenly stopped, directly across from the barn door. It sniffed the air several times, pausing several long seconds as its head wobbled from left to right. Finally, the creature turned and started walking toward the barn door. Even though it was about ten yards away from the door, Sam knew it would reach the barn in a matter of seconds.

A moment of indecision filled her mind. It was not terror that clouded her mind—she was far too conversant with combating the living dead to be paralyzed by anxiety. Rather, her indecision centered on her brothers, sister, and her mother. Her natural instinct was to wait out the zombies and trust that she’d adequately secured the barn door; however, if the door wasn’t adequately secured, and they gained entry, she then had a conundrum. She could deal with the one creature. She was sure of that. Though, any fight would certainly draw the other two. Her experience also suggested that she could readily deal with all three, but that would probably require the use of her gun. A lifetime of experience taught her that gunshots almost always attracted any other zombies that might be nearby. Ultimately, using her gun might draw more of the dead than she could deal with. If the dead prevailed, and she died, it would also almost certainly mean her mother would die.

If I die, then there would be no drugs from Doc Green’s to help Mama get better!

Alternatively, if she let the three zombies pass on by, they might ultimately find their way to her home and hurt the people she dearly loved. The indecision lasted only a second, but even as it did, her hand automatically raised, cocked, and sighted her pistol. All she had to do was pull the trigger. Fortunately, her force of will trumped instinct, and she ‘safed’ her gun by returning the hammer back gently.

No, I can’t afford to confront these critters, she thought. I gotta hope that these things don’t find the farm. If they do, I gotta trust that the boys and Katey can handle ‘em. Nope, I gotta let ‘em pass…unless they break into here. Then, we’ll see…

Twenty feet below, the zombie teen reached the barn door and began weakly pulling at it. While zombies are almost universally weaker than a healthy adult human, her father had always warned her, “You can’t assume that cuz you’re stronger, you’ll always win. They’re weak, but they always travel in packs. While you may be stronger than one, you won’t be stronger than five.” On the ground below, the dead teen continued to pull on the barn door, causing it to strain and creak. As it struggled with the door, the creature let out a low, guttural moan—their only means of communication. Hearing their companion’s call, the other two zombies stopped and then turned toward the barn.

Above them, instinct again took over as Sam raised the pistol, cocked the hammer, and took aim. Fortunately, luck intervened. As if by chance, the second zombie’s foot struck the remains of the cow’s head—the same one Sam threw into the yard hours earlier. The zombie that “kicked” the head moaned and fell to its knees, vigorously and disgustingly devouring the remaining, rancid flesh. This drew the attention of the other two zombies, which converged on the cow’s head and fought to get their share of the remaining flesh. As they did this, all thought of the barn and what could be inside was forgotten.

In less than fifteen minutes, the insatiably hungry creatures consumed the cow’s remaining flesh, eyeballs, and everything else. With their meal complete, the three got back onto their feet and stumbled off into the dark. As they left, Sam returned her gun to her holster and watched them until the black of the night consumed them.

Even though no more visitors approached that night, Sam still stood a lonely vigil while watching from the hatch. Her body was so wired from adrenaline that she was pretty much incapable of sleep, so she sat and watched the night pass. Her faithful dog was not so inclined and soon curled up on Sam’s lap, looking completely content.

“Well, I’m glad one of us can sleep,” she whispered softly as she stroked the dog’s brown and white fur.

* * * *

The next morning, Sam got moving just after the sun rose.

I need to hit the trail early, she said to herself. Gotta get an early start if I want to get to town and back here again before sundown.

Sam packed up her bags, saddled the horse, secured her weapons, filled her water bladders, and last but not least, placed the jar in the house containing her message to her brothers and sister. Finally, with Bailey returned to the flour sack bag, Sam mounted her horse. With the sun barely above the horizon, Sam left the Adler’s house for the final leg of her ride into town.