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“
Welcome everyone and thank you for coming.” Her strident voice took me back to long ago school assemblies. “We have cause for both celebration and mourning today. I’d like to begin by offering congratulations to everyone here for his or her part in helping destroy the most recent wave of the undead. Some performed smaller tasks but their importance was just as great. This was truly a joint effort.”

Applause followed her words, whistles and shouts ringing out from the more vocal members of the crowd. Janice paused and allowed the excitement to die down. The woman knew how to work a crowd.

“
But I’d be remiss if I didn’t offer special thanks to the people who spearheaded the efforts yesterday. Brian Pasman, Daylon Brice, Jim Lewis, Ashleigh—I’m afraid I don’t know your last name, dear, Kevin Wording and the many others who served in the field. Please stand and be recognized.”

As she called out names, I continued to sit, surprised by her recognition and wondering where she was going with this. She usually had an ulterior motive for most things she did.

Ashleigh tapped my shoulder. “Stand up.”

I reluctantly rose and another wave of applause and cheering swept through the room. When the noise didn’t ebb soon enough to satisfy Janice, she raised her hands for silence again.

“
But there were also many lost in last night’s battle. This meeting serves as a memorial service for them. Pastor Charles, Pastor Zwicki, would you lead us in prayer?”

The two remaining ministers in town, Evan Charles from the Christian Reformed Church and Oscar Zwicki from a small evangelical congregation called Spirit of Christ, joined Myers at the podium.

Zwicki lifted his hands in benediction and offered thanks to God for seeing us through this latest crisis in overblown words that went on far too long. But people seemed to like it. I looked around at the heads bowed in prayer and wondered how they could have any faith in a higher power left after what they’d been through. But then, I realized I still did. Who did I call to for help whenever hope seemed to be lost or my life hung in the balance? Begging for God’s help had become a pretty standard part of my zombie-killing ritual.

Pastor Charles began to recite the names of the dead, leaving a pause between names to give us time to reflect on the people we’d lost. When he named Mike Fessenden, my chest contracted so tight I could hardly breathe. Nancy Piznowski burst into tears and sobbed so uncontrollably the minister had to wait to resume his litany until Barry took her out of the room.

I held Ashleigh’s hand as her friends were named—Carl, Lainie, Joe and the others. I was impressed Janice had bothered to find out all their names and add them to the roll of the town’s dead.

After he’d read the last name, Pastor Charles asked everyone to rise to sing
America the Beautiful.
“It seems we’ve experienced hell on earth over these past months. But let us not forget what makes us strong as a people, our faith in God and each other and in this once great country which shall rise again.”

Even I, who used to scoff at patriotic bullshit, fought tears as everyone began to sing. Beside me, Ashleigh voice rose strong and clear. When others gave way to tears, she led the tune and carried on. By the end of the second verse, she was pretty much singing alone, her powerful voice conveying hope and promise.
From sea to shining sea.

I wiped my eyes and swallowed past the tightness in my throat. Another few moments of silence followed the song then the ministers sat down and Janice took the stand again.

“
I’d like to conclude this evening’s gathering with an announcement. For too long, we’ve waited for the outside world to see our need, for our government to send aid. It’s become clear this help may be a long time coming and we must act on our own behalf. After leading us to victory last night, Brian Pasman has heroically volunteered to go in search of vaccine for our community. He and others are making it their mission to bring back supplies and medical aid. Anyone interested in joining this expedition may contact Brian after the meeting. Thank you for coming tonight and God bless you all.” Before she could be bombarded with questions, Janice stepped away from the podium.

I was surprised and taken aback, not having expected her to turn the spotlight on me. I wasn’t sure what her game was or if she was playing a game any longer. Perhaps she was merely trying to help me get volunteers, but suddenly people began to gather around me and ask questions I wasn’t prepared to answer.

Luckily, Daylon and Ashleigh helped field questions and invent answers on the fly: No, we weren’t heading toward Topeka again. The next closest city was Wichita. If we didn’t find what we needed there, we’d keep going south to Oklahoma City. Hearing my idea rapidly turning into reality was frightening but it was way too late to put the brakes on. Several people volunteered to go with us. I tried to feel hopeful and enthusiastic but my head was clouding again and all I really wanted was sleep some more.

Ashleigh met my gaze and slipped through the group to get to my side. She looped her arm through mine. “If we’re leaving in the next couple of days, we need to rest up. Let’s all go home and have another meeting tomorrow.”

“
Thanks,” I said as we walked out of the hall. “I wasn’t quite ready for all that.”

“
Myers set you up. She wants to make sure you can’t change your mind about leaving. If you come back with vaccine, it’s a bonus and if you don’t, she’s rid of you for good. I can read that bitch’s agenda like a book.”

I thought she was judging Janice a little harshly, but I didn’t say anything. I was tired of talking and happy just to walk down the street with Ashleigh. It was evening and everything was hushed and still. It was a pleasure to simply breathe and hold hands. Peaceful.

“
I like your little town,” she said after we’d walked a few blocks. “I can imagine how it was before. A really nice place to live. I hope we make it back here.”

“
We will,” I promised because sometimes you have to say things like that even if you don’t know if they’re true. “We’ll come back and live…” I couldn’t add happily ever after because that was too much of a fairytale. “We’ll be happy.”

Three days later, I was balancing heavy metal between my legs. The motorcycle rumbled like a caged beast ready to leap free. I couldn’t resist giving a twist to the throttle to hear the engine roar louder. I glanced around at the rest our group, gathered on Main Street, ready to ride out of town with Daylon in the lead. Ashleigh was beside me wearing that candy apple helmet which had first drawn my attention to her.

She glanced over at me. “How’s it feel? Are you ready for this?”

I nodded. Even though I’d only ridden short, practice distances on my new motorcycle, I felt ready. The morning air was sharp and clean and scented with exhaust. My saddle bags were filled with supplies and a bedroll was strapped to the seat behind me. Change was coming
in
a big wave and I was ready to be swept away however dark or dangerous the adventure got.

“
Let’s go.”

About the author: Bonnie Dee began telling stories as a child. Whenever there was a sleepover, she was the designated ghost tale teller, guaranteed to frighten and thrill with macabre stories. She still has a story printed in second grade on yellow legal paper about a ghost, a witch and a talking cat. Writing childish stories later led to majoring in English at college. Like most English majors, she dreamed of writing a novel, but didn
’
t have the necessary focus and follow through at that time in her life. It was only in 2000 that she began writing again and became a multi-published erotic romance author. You may see her backlist of books at
http://bonniedee.com
. Join her Yahoo group for updates on new releases at
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bonniedee/
. Bonnie Dee is also on Facebook and Twitter.