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Brian and Daylon had come around the other side and were already in the cab. No question about who would stay behind to light the oil trail. All we had to worry about was outrunning the fire. I didn’t know what it took to cause a tank truck to explode with the gas line sealed off, but I wasn’t about to stick around and find out.

I bore down on the gas pedal and the gears ground as I shifted too soon. I glanced in the mirror and saw the trail of fire spreading along the route we’d just turned from. As I pulled the truck forward, the flames burned over the crossroads and followed behind us like a glowing tail, growing closer by the second. Once the fire caught up with us, the tail would
wag
the dog.

I drove too fast for a narrow country road at night and when I steered around a bend in the road, the trailer began to fishtail. The liquid in the tank sloshed, putting it more off balance. I took my foot off the gas and held my breath until the tank steadied and moved back into place behind the cab.

“
Take it easy,” Daylon said and I felt like smacking him for the warning, but I needed both hands on the wheel.

I risked another look backward and breathed easier. I’d driven well past the end of our trail and the fire seemed to have guttered and faded there. Flames still spread weakly over the grass and weeds but not with the feverish intensity of the fire devouring
fuel.

Up ahead, I saw our van, red taillights shining like beacons in the snow. My arms were sore from gripping the wheel so hard and I was glad to pull the truck to a stop.
We got out of the
semi
and headed for the van, but Carl wasn’t waiting there to greet us and when we called his name, he didn’t answer. A large bloody patch on the pavement near the van and a smear leading off the road into broken stalks of corn told the story of what had happened to him.

My joy at succeeding in our task deflated. Sorrow swept through me for Carl, for Lainie and Jeff, for Denny and all of the others we’d lost along the way. My life had always been full of change, moves to new places, goodbyes to friends I’d barely begun to know. People in my life had never lasted so you’d think it would make it easier for me to cope with loss. But each one struck deep.

My eyes blurred with tears and I sniffled, on the verge of losing my shit. Brian put an arm around me and guided me to the other side of the van. We climbed inside and Daylon drove. He did a U-turn in the road and headed back in the direction we’d come from.

There was a dividing line between scorched earth and flames on one side and untouched fields on the other. Brian’s plan seemed to be working. The wind drove the fire away from Durbinville. Occasionally we passed crews of people putting out any sparks that landed on the opposite side of the road and killing any zombies that came out of the fire.

I leaned forward between the two front seats and nudged Brian in the shoulder. “You did good.”

“
Let's s
ee how it works out before you say that,” he cautioned with his typical pessimism. Or maybe it was Midwestern, aw-shucks humility.

Either way, it made me punch his arm. “Think positive.”

We were nearly to town when Brian’s
negativity
proved right. We came upon a roadblock of vehicles and people fighting to push back zombies
. A
ll I could think was “How much more of this can we take?” The fire had died out in that area without really catching hold and zombies were wandering over the scorched earth while people tried to drive them back. If
enough of
the undead
discovered
this breach in the line, there’d be no option but to retreat into the walled town.

As Daylon parked the van and we got out, I saw a flamethrower spray a few of the trudging zombies
before
its fire died, the tank emptied. The lack of gunfire suggested the people were out of ammo, too. They fought hand-to-hand with knives, axes and swords and were losing ground.
Protecting the
town with a wall of fire wasn’t going to work if the
creatures
found a way through.

A haze of smoke hung in the air, searing my throat. I coughed and pulled my scarf over my nose and mouth, then took a breath and drew my knife. I was ready to wade into the mayhem when I heard the unexpected sound of chopper blades beating the air. I squinted to look up into the sky. A helicopter flew so low overhead I could feel the breeze of its passing.

I turned to Brian. “Who’s that?”

“
Bill Burnham. He took me on a reconnaissance flight earlier today. What the hell is he doing?”

The helicopter flew beneath the cloud of smoke hanging over the fields and a fine mist came from the spray bar
beneath the copter's body
. Immediately the fire on the land below flared and the field where the flames had nearly died out reignited. The copter laid a steady swathe
of fire
across the field, filling in the breach and burning whatever walked there. The
copter
emerged from smoke, turned and took another pass.

“
There could be people out there,” Brian worried. “He shouldn’t have done this without telling anybody.”

“
Maybe he cleared it with Myers. Let’s go find out,” I suggested. Now that the
hole
was plugged, eliminating a fresh wave of zombies, the fighters seemed to have the situation under control. I thought they could handle it without our help and I was anxious to get inside the wall and relax my guard at last.

As
I turned to go back to the van
, I
noticed Brian was swaying on his feet, his face paler than the skim of snow that now covered the ground. “Hey, are you all right?”

He looked at me with unfocused, glassy eyes. “Yeah. Fine. Just a little dizzy.” He took a step toward the vehicle, stumbled and started to collapse. I caught his arm.

“
Daylon, help,” I called.

Daylon took Brian’s other arm and together we half-carried him to the van and pushed him inside.

“
What happened?” Daylon asked as he closed the door.

“
He’s been sick all day, feverish and achy,” I admitted.

“
Has he been bit?”

I hesitated. “It didn’t even break the skin. It’s just a mark really, not like it tore a hunk of flesh out or anything.”

“
Jesus,” Daylon said. “You should’ve told me.”

I felt sick myself, terrified and trembling as I climbed into the back of the van and we drove toward town.

* * * * *

Chapter Twenty-One

My head felt like a cement block and my mouth was full of sand as I peeled open one heavy eyelid then the other. I was lying on a bed, not mine. A cot. And there were bars cutting the world into strips. I was in a jail cell. Quarantined. I turned my head on the pillow and the ache behind my eyes intensified. I was so congested I had to breathe through my mouth, which made me happy. Congestion wasn’t a symptom connected with the A7 virus so it was likely I was sick in the good old-fashioned miserable way. A sinus infection maybe.

“
You’re awake.”

I turned my head the other way and there was Ashleigh sitting in a folding chair reading a paperback. She put the book on the floor and offered me a cup of water. I sipped from a straw and the water bathed my swollen throat. It was heavenly. When she took the cup away, I croaked, “What happened?”

“
You passed out, Superman. Daylon and I had to carry you here. We would’ve taken you home but figured we’d better play by the town’s rules this time. But I think you’re going to have to give up your deluxe accommodations here soon. The vet’s diagnosing this as a head cold and there’ll be worse cases coming in.”

“
How long was I out? What’s happening?” I pushed up onto my elbows and looked around. In the other cell there were a couple of people lying on the cots. One of them was Jim Lewis. His eyes were closed and his face bandaged. “Bitten?”

“
Yeah. The doc told me to give you cold medicine for your symptoms but says she’s saving antibiotics for worse cases.” Ashleigh put her hand on my forehead. “Daylon’s taken over for you. He’s got things under control so you don’t need to worry. You’ve been asleep for a few hours and it’s almost morning.”

“
What about the zombies?” God, sometimes I still felt ridiculous saying that word and the surrealism of it struck me all over again.

“
It seems like the worst is past. The fire wiped out dozens of them. That Burnham guy was a real hero.”

“
Was?”

“
The helicopter crashed and exploded in the fire.”

I thought about what how Burnham had encouraged me yesterday to have faith and stick to my plan.
A man doesn’t get anywhere second guessing himself
.
That’s what’s wrong with the world today, too much namby-pamby waffling back and forth. Well, that and the goddamn zombies.

“
I think he was glad to die in action, getting the job done. Better than fading away in a nursing home.”

“
Speaking of which...” Ashleigh rummaged in her bag and pulled out a long, knitted scarf. “You’re going to cry when you hear this. Some of the old ladies wanted to do something to help so they started making scarves. I was supposed to give you this yesterday but I forgot.” She wrapped the length of yarn around my neck.

I fingered the bumpy blue and gold scarf and she was right, I got choked up. Or maybe it was the sinus infection thickening my throat. “That’s sweet.”

In the next cell, Jim coughed and the other bed creaked as the person in it rolled over. Ashleigh lowered her voice so as not to disturb them. “You need to sleep more, but take this first.” She handed me a pair of tablets and put the straw to my lips again.

The door of the room opened and several people bearing stretchers came in. Mary Burgess, the lone surviving member of our police force now serving as jailor, unlocked my cell. “We’re going to need these cots and you’ve got permission to leave. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if they bring more. I don’t have any place to put them,” she complained like a hostess with unexpected guests arriving at her party.

“
Get someone to bring folding cots for some of the other rooms that can be locked,” I suggested. “You don’t have to do it all alone, Mary. Ask for some help.”

Ashleigh handed my shoes to me. “Come on, hero. Let’s take you home.”

I sat up, head spinning, and got ready. I was surprised by how weak my legs felt when I tried to stand. Ashleigh slung an arm around me and helped me out of the cell. I looked at the bloodied bodies of the wounded as the bearers carried them past and felt stupid to be stumbling along, felled by a common infection.

“
This is ridiculous. I’m not that sick.”

“
You wouldn’t be but you wore yourself out by not sleeping or eating enough. Now you have to rest. Your body’s forcing you.”

Ashleigh was right. I wanted nothing more than to lie in my own bed and sleep for about a hundred years—no fighting, no zombies, just peace. As we walked out of the administration building, snow crunched underfoot, only a little but enough to powder the ground. The sun was rising and I realized I couldn’t rest easy until I’d taken a look outside the walls. I tugged on Ashleigh’s arm. “Let’s go up to the roof.”

“
Later. I don’t even know if you could climb the stairs right now and etting chilled is the last thing you need,” Ashleigh protested.

“
I can make it,” I insisted and headed for the fire escape. The handrail was freezing beneath my bare hand— I’d lost my gloves somewhere along the way— and the steps were slippery with ice, but I climbed doggedly to the roof. The hood of my sweatshirt covered my head but the stiff breeze froze my face and made my eyes tear up. I walked across roof, leaving fresh tracks in the snow, and stared at the eastern horizon. Smoke hung thick in the air but the sun struggled to shine through it. Most of the land in that direction was scorched bare. No more corn and a couple of burned out farmhouses and outbuildings jutting up here and there. I thought of those A-bomb test sites in the New Mexican desert.

Nothing moved in the landscape except birds flying low beneath the haze of smoke. They landed, pecked at the ground and flew up again as if there was nothing out of the ordinary in their routine. I spotted a couple of pickup trucks and a black van driving toward town.