380

You tried to save him but failed. Whatever becomes of him now shouldn't concern you. Survival should be your focus. You turn away from the dying man and return home.

As you head inside and bar the door, you can't help but wonder if you could have saved the man had you done something differently.

You check the time—4:00 pm.

Loud noises from the road draw your attention to the window, and you look though a hole in the boards to stare across the field at a minivan pulling over at the edge of the path leading to your home. Suitcases and duffel bags are strapped to the roof, and the interior seems full of more bags and boxes. A gray-haired man steps from the front passenger side, though he appears much younger than the color of his hair portrays. A suitcase falls out of the van's open door, and he swears, lifts it, and shoves it inside.

The driver-side door pops open, and a woman steps out. She adjusts a baseball cap over a thick bundle of hair and kicks her boots against a tire one at a time to clear off dirt. She has smooth, mocha-colored skin and bright-red lipstick.

"Where the hell are we?" the man asks.

The woman ignores him and drinks from a thermos while gazing across your yard.

"Lisa!"

She drinks and turns her back to him, and when she finishes, she turns and empties the thermos onto the grass by the side of the road.

"Damn it, Lisa!" the man yells, his voice cracking at the end. "You just want me to come around there. You play this game, and maybe now isn't the time to play. We're in the middle of Podunk, Colorado, fleeing from a lethal virus that turns people into monsters, and you want to give me the cold shoulder because I wouldn't wait for your moron of a sister. If we waited even a minute longer, the city would have been locked down, and we'd still be trapped. Now, I'm not asking for you to be nice to me, hell, I'm not asking for you to be talkative and pleasant, but I do expect you to show me an ounce of common courtesy."

Lisa caps the thermos and turns back to the car. She lifts a finger to her teeth and picks it, and when she's sufficiently cleaned the space between them, she points the same finger at him. "Gary, you're a—"

The heavy roar of an engine cuts off her words, and a pickup truck speeds around a bend down the main road.