The dark, drafty old house was lopsided and decrepit, leaning in on itself, the way an aging possum carrying a very heavy, overcooked drumstick in his mouth might list to one side if he were also favoring a torn Achilles tendon, assuming possums have them.

But it was all we had as we sprinted down the darkened lane. The Zekes were out there, moaning as they do when they smell the blood of the uninfected. Steve and I had run for miles since we crossed into Fairfax county. Our new-found companions were not quite so aerobically inclined and lagged behind.

“Come on, hurry up, run like your life depends on it.” I shouted over my shoulder.

“Because it fucking does!” Added Steve while rolling eyes at me.

He had refrained from debating me out loud when I originally accepted the fate of the two running behind us. I knew when we were next alone he would lobby to ditch them, like all the others.

“We have to travel light and fast, isn’t that our way Andy?”

“But those girls are hot as hell. Could be worse.”