A low branch allowed me to pull myself up the tree so I could wait the night out. My knee ached and I was exhausted. I highly doubted zombies could climb. Could they? Suddenly all the zombie lore gleaned from movies and video games lay like a tumor in the back of my brain. This was real.

I pushed out these thoughts and closed my eyes. I dropped into a fitful sleep, startling myself awake on occasions with my mother’s name on my lips.

Twin shafts of light stabbed the night and spilled over the hill. A car! It swerved to and fro. I figured the driver was hurt. I climbed down the branches as fast as I could, dropping to the ground with a grunt as my knee flared white hot.

I barely had time to leap out of the way as the car punched into the tree, crumpling. The impact shuddered through my bones. “Oh, my God, are you all right?” I cried, pulling open the driver’s door.

He stank, undead, thrashing against the seatbelt. Unable to escape, on the wide open plains near the cottage, he probably drove for hours.