Chapter 3

Hefting the baseball bat, Court approached the vehicle. From the corner of his eye, he saw Adam pick up the hammer—Adams’ weapon of choice—then skirt the back of the car. They had a system worked out, one Ronnie had come up with to deal with the worst cases—the vehicles with all their windows shut, doors locked as if that might keep out the virus, the dead entombed within and festering like old wounds that never seem to heal completely.

Court glanced into the back of the wagon—brown paper grocery bags, a good sign. They might get something out of this little excursion, after all. Then he moved up a few steps and peered into the back seat, the middle section.

Sure enough, there were what had once been two small children, one strapped in a child’s seat and the other in a booster beside it. Between them rested a bright blue animal carrier.

Shit.