29 hours and 35 minutes before...

It was hard to see with Jeri still blocking the view. Over the top of her head I could make out the tiniest bit of mop like hair. I never thought that messy hair could make me so excited.

“I can’t see him,” I said. “Is he still a zombie?” I grunted and rose out of my squat. “Why is he still a zombie?”

“Get down,” Daniel hissed and yanked me down.

“We have to help--”

The sound of an all too familiar snarl came from somewhere.

“Shh,” Daniel said, pressing his finger to his lip.

We pressed our backs against the garbage truck. My heart pounded against my chest so hard it ached. Somehow, despite the fact that I was sweating, I was cold. It was the kind of gross, cold sweat that stank like onions. Or was that the garbage truck?

Daniel put his finger to his lip, “Shh.” Then he made a series of wild gestures, jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointed at me, and raised his eyebrows as if to indicate, “Do you get it?”

“What?” I asked. How the hell was I supposed to follow any of that?

He rolled his eyes. Before he could say anything, Jeri did the oddest thing: she ran past us.

“What the…” I muttered.

Jeri didn’t stop. Stunned, we watched as she merged into the screaming crowd of panicked people.

“Did she just run away?” I asked.

Daniel nodded.

Something chased the group of people. It snarled after them, its fingers curled in, like claws, but its movements were choppy.

It looked somehow wrong.

When Karen was a zombie, she moved like a snake, fluid and fast. She was so fast. Like blinking: there and then gone. This thing moved like it was having a seizure. Maybe the sunlight did affect them after all.

“What’s wrong with them?” I sputtered and coughed as a wave of rot hit me. I covered my nose and mouth and looked at Daniel.

“Don’t know,” he said and peaked around the corner. “But we can’t stay here.”

The zombie stumbled after the crowd and then another zombie joined and then another. All their movements were stilted and stiff and wrong.

“Either way, we were pinned,” Daniel whispered.

He was right. On one side was a mob being herded like sheep, or cattle, whatever gets herded. On the other side of us was the drop from the bridge. I peered over the rail and regretted it.

“Yup,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. “Can’t go that way.” I really shouldn’t have looked over the side. It was at least a sixty foot drop.

“Where the hell are they coming from?” Daniel hissed. He leaned his back and shuddered.

I gave Daniel a thoughtful pat on the shoulder. He trembled beneath my hand. I’d almost forgotten that if any of us were scared, it was him. At least I’d never been bitten by a zombie, never risen.

“Let me think,” I said. Daniel didn’t say anything, which was good; I hadn’t expected an answer from him.

I took a deep breath and stared at the possibilities right in front of me.

We could fight them off, but we were not only outnumbered, we had no real weapons. That was a no win scenario.

We could make a run for the car, but then we’d be trapped and in most movies, the zombies break the glass through sheer numbers. Another no win scenario.

We could stay here and hope no one noticed us, but that was dumb. They would eventually notice us and we’d lose that fight.

We could crawl underneath the garbage truck, but that was similar to being trapped in the car. Another no win scenario.

We needed a structure that could hide us. Something strong. Something that gave us a chance...a tank would be nice...

I looked at the garbage truck, then back at Daniel, then at the truck.

He mouthed, “What?”

“I have an idea that even I don’t like.”

There were many ways today could’ve been different. I could’ve stayed behind to work on the presentation for the board, looked over the specialized unit’s footage, helped Karen gather the intelligence we needed to make a tight plan. I could’ve practiced going over my answers for the press conference, given that I’m a zombie expert and all…when was that conference again?

Instead, I climbed into the back of a garbage truck.

The soft bags gave away beneath my weight, pulling me further into the pile of forgotten bananas, takeout containers, diapers, and onion peels. Calling it gagging would not give credit to what happened next. I heaved with such force I was sure my lungs would come flying out!

“This is your idea?” Daniel said and gagged. “I’m not climbing in there.”

“Oh yes, you are,” I said.

Something snarled, an inhuman sound. Jack must still be a zombie.

Daniel leapt into the garbage truck headfirst.

Another growl.

I ducked down, burrowing like some rodent into the plastic bags that could save me. I clung onto the plastic bag in front of me, dug my fingers into the fibers. It released a scent that could only be described as a combination of chemical florals and grease. But I will forever be grateful to whoever spent the extra dollar for the reinforced, stretch resistant brand. In fact, I should start buying those too. Maybe I’ll buy stock in the company, write them a letter thanking them for saving my life that time a zombie plague broke out on the bridge during peak rush hour traffic!

The top of the garbage truck trembled, as if something was on top.

Daniel pointed to the roof and mouthed, “Jack.”

The heavy footfalls thumped across the roof of the truck.

Fumbling, I managed to pull a bag on top of my head. Something cold splattered against the plastic. Something wet and oily pressed against my back.

But the thing on top of the truck slowed its pacing, so I held my breath, pinched my nose closed, and begged my heart to stop beating.

A dog barked!

The thing on top of the truck came to a stop.

Daniel narrowed his eyes, as if noticing something.

“What? What is it?” I hissed. “Please tell me that dog is not some weird zombie thing with bright blue eyes and saliva.”

He shook his head.

“Shoo,” someone said. “Go boy, shoo!”

Daniel and I both looked up, but since we didn’t have super powers we could only guess that the thing on top of the truck was not Jack, wasn’t even a zombie, not if it could talk.

Did I climb out?

No, that would’ve been brave. Instead I sank back against those bundles of discarded vegetable peels, meat scraps, and plastic packaging. I felt pressure build against my chest and using my fist, beat against it.

“Sandy?” Daniel said. “I’m going to check it out.”

I grabbed his wrist and shook my head. “Could be infected. You know how quick they rise.”

“Yeah, but that dog isn’t turned, and it scared whoever is up there,” he said and brushed my hold on him. “Besides, I think I get what’s going on now.”

“You do?” I said and sat a bit straighter.

He nodded.

“Easy boy,” Daniel said and moved with deliberateness, easing himself out of the truck.

The dog stared at him and then wagged its tail.

Daniel, pleased with his confirmation, dug out his phone and raised it, aiming at whoever was on top of the truck.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

“Look man,” said the voice. “I’m just doing a job for a friend. Could you help me out?”

I clamored out of the truck.

“What the hell are you supposed to be?” I said.

On top was a man dressed like it was Halloween. He wore a shirt that was torn. It looked fake, like someone had taken a pair of scissors to it. There were handprint markings where someone had smeared dirt and fake blood onto the shirt. Trust me, when you’ve seen real blood, the fake stuff will never scare you again. Never.

His face was greasy from the white makeup. He had accentuated dark circles beneath his eyes and reddish lips. His hair stuck up in hairspray tufts. That wasn’t the oddest part.

The oddest part was that he wore some kind of bandelier across his chest and instead of grenades or weapons, he had water bottles in them. All different types of brands and sizes. Some of them looked unopened, some looked to be in different stages of consumption. One of them was even empty and had little droplets of condensation gathering inside. Another one was slightly crushed as if the owner had manhandled it. Was he gathering the bottles? Or distributing them? What for?

“What the hell are you supposed to be?” I asked. “Zombie Chewbacca?”

“Did you get it?” Daniel said into his phone. Pat’s voice was almost audible. Daniel looked at me and said, “Pat says we have to get her the hell out of here. It’s going to be a media zoo any minute.

”To the side of us, a man whistled. He had his own collection of water bottles. From this distance he resembled Jack, but it was clear now that he wasn’t him.

“So not Jack,” I said. “Why would anyone do this?”

“We gotta go,” Daniel said.

We watched as the guy on top of the garbage truck shrugged off his water bottle collection and tossed it down. The other guy ran toward it, snatched it up, and left, heading further into the construction area.

“Bail me out later,” yelled the guy from on top of the garbage truck. He plopped down and gazed out at things we could only hear: people screaming, people calling for help, and every now and then an inhuman snarl.

“Where were the snarls coming from? Who are you?” I called up.

“Me?” the guy said. “I worked for E.O.W. Prep, same as you.”

“We’re leaving,” Daniel said, “Now.” He grabbed me by the upper arm and tugged me toward the construction area, away from the screaming crowd.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Some kind of setup,” Daniel grunted. “We have to get you out of here. If the media finds you here, no one will ever believe us about the outbreak. Don’t you get it?”

Daniel’s words buzzed around in my head. I couldn’t make sense of it. Why would anyone dress up like they were zombies? Why would they create this kind of panic? What’s wrong with people? I looked down at my glass bottle. Fumbling, I flipped it back right side up. Had I really been willing to use it like a weapon? I could’ve hurt someone...I tried to rub it clean, but smudged it with grease.

“You still have that thing?” Daniel scoffed.

I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to hit Daniel upside the head with my water bottle. It’s just that murder is frowned upon.

“I could’ve hurt somebody,” I whispered.

“But you didn’t,” he said.