I held a portrait of Mannequin and her husband. They were a cute old couple. I’d put them in their late 70’s. The way they sat close posing, and the natural smiles they wore, spoke volumes. They were side-by-side on a wood swing bench with an umbrella awning. Behind them was a body of water. Could be Lake Ontario. Didn’t have to be. The sun set on the horizon. The colors were spectacular. The entire photograph made the viewer feel warm and serene. I was half-tempted to go through their things, not just pull the framed photo off the mantel. I wanted to know who they were. Their names, at the very least.

But I also didn’t want to know shit about them.

I set the frame down, the photo facing the table.

I’d seen and learned enough. They were gone. Dead. Together.

“So,” I said, if only to break the silence between us. “You and Dave, you guys from Rochester?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Family?”

“No. Parents died. Our mother battled cancer most of her life. Lost to it when Dave was around thirteen. Hit our father pretty hard. He sank into a depression. Five years later, to the day--a massive heart attack took him. It’s been Dave and me since then.”

“No aunts, uncles.”

“Couple of each. They were cool to us. Wanted us to visit, and stuff. No one offered to take us in. We were old enough to be on our own and everything. But, with Dave--it hasn’t been easy. He struggles keeping a job. You might not have noticed, but he’s an adult, and he’s a handful.” Josh snickered. I did too.

“Tell me more about Mexico,” Josh said.

We sat in darkness, across from each other. My eyes were so adjusted to the darkness I felt like a cat.

“The government put up that huge wall to keep aliens out of our country,” I said.

“Right, sure.”

“Now the Mexican government is using it to keep us out of their country. The infected anyway. I’m guessing they got guards watching it. Making sure none of us sneak in.”

“You know all of this how?”

“There was something on the radio. Late yesterday. Said something like, the Mexicans couldn’t afford to vaccinate their residents. Or there wasn’t enough vaccination to go around. Something like that. So it’s an uninfected country with an amazing border wall that we installed. Like a fucking fortress, their country,” I said.

Even in darkness, I saw it. His head nodded. But he was looking down at his folded hands on the table.

“What?”

“I mean, theoretically it sounds good.”

“What does that mean? I heard it. It’s what they said.”

“What channel? Who said it?”

“Why is it so hard to believe, Josh?” I said.

“Why is it so easy to believe?”

“I don’t know what your issue is. Yeah, okay. Mexico is a few thousand miles away. Roads are shit. But we’re going there. We’re not infected. We’re going to cross the border, and start a new life.”

“We are?”

This time I shook my head. “My kids and I. You guys can come.”

“The bulk of the outbreak seems to have occurred today, well, yesterday now -- since the sun’s about to rise.”

“Seems that way. Yeah.”

“But I don’t think yesterday was the very first day. I’ve watched the news. All kinds of weird shit was happening across the country the day before. Remember there was that guy on the expressway, was naked, eating some cab drivers face … right out on the road, stopped traffic up for hours.”

“So?”

“That happened in Dallas.”

“Okay, Dallas. Josh, either you have a fucking point, or you don’t.”

“No point.” He stood up.

I slammed my fists on the table. “What was the point, Josh?”

“We’re starting a third day here,” he pointed toward the front of the house. As if he could see a rising sun, or something. I knew what he meant. He was indicating a new day was dawning.

“Yeah, and?”

“And, just think about it. Planes. Cars passing through the border.  Thousands of cars pass through that border every day. There’s no way the country doesn’t have infected people in it. Just, there isn’t. This is clearly an epidemic. I’d say turn the TV on, let’s hear what they’re saying, but right now might not be the best time.” Josh walked out of the kitchen. End of conversation.

I sat there. Thinking.

Shit if he didn’t actually have a point.

#  #  #

Hands on my shoulders woke me. I jumped up. I’d fallen asleep at the table.

“We’re going to move.” Allison knelt beside me.

“They’re gone?” I said.

“All of them. Not sure when, or how long, but they’ve moved on.”

“What time is it?”

“Noon.” I looked around the kitchen. Sunlight filled the house, even with curtains pulled closed. “Why’d you let me sleep so long?”

“You needed it,” Josh said.

“We all did.” Allison stood. “There’s coffee.”

A cup of coffee and a cigarette sounded amazing. Sounded normal. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. No missed anything. I dialed my daughter’s number. Fast busy signal. “Everyone’s ready?”

“We are,” Josh said. “Want to take a fast shower?”

I looked up at the kitchen ceiling. Remembered what was upstairs. A shower sounded better than coffee and a cigarette. “I’m going to pass,” I said.

Josh said, “How far, exactly, to your kids?”

I looked at Allison. Knew what she was thinking. They weren’t there last time I talked to Charlene. They’d had to flee. My daughter was using an ax. “Near the lake. Big house, at the end of Dewey.”

Josh looked like he’d swallowed his tongue. “That’s still a few miles.”

“We should try and get another car.”

“Bet the people that lived here have one.” Dave started opening drawers.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Car keys. They must be around here.”

By the phone on the wall near the back door was a key chain rack. I walked over, lifted a set off the hook. “Like here?”

Dave beamed. “Exactly.”

I shook my head. Was going to be a long day.

We stopped at the garage door. I pressed an ear to the wood. Behind me, they were all ready with their garden tool weapons. “On three,” I said.

As slowly as possible, I disengaged the deadbolt. I turned the lock on the knob, and then pulled open the door.

Dark, but clearly empty. Where was the car?

“The driveway?” Allison said.

Made sense. They had car keys. There must be a car. If not in the garage, then in the driveway. We left the kitchen. Walked in a line.

Allison smelled like Pert Shampoo. She’d showered. I must smell like shit.

Three of us huddled between the front door and staircase. Josh stood by the picture window. With the back of one hand, he parted the curtain and chanced a look outside.

“Well?” I said.

“Still looks clear.”

“We should go, then. While we have the chance,” Dave said. He looked at me and nodded. His tongue might as well be dangling out of the corner of his mouth, and his nose wet. That’s how much he reminded me of a giant sheep dog.

“I agree, but maybe now is the best time to try the television. See what the news is saying.” Josh let the curtain fall closed.

He also stared at me. Got the feeling if I said, No, that would be the end of it. And we’d venture outdoors, blind.

“Good idea. Keep it low. Very, very low,” I said.

Dave walked toward the couch.

“Uh-huh, Dave. We’re staying right here. By the door. Away from the windows,” I said. “We can see the set fine from here.”

Josh stayed low. He squatted in front of the television and turned it on.

We all stared as he flipped through channels of nothing but white-snow-static.

Until he stopped on what seemed to be the only channel still . . . alive and working.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Fox News Reporter, Jeremy Thomas sat in front of a green screen. A helicopter’s view of Washington was displayed behind him. Chaos ensued on the White House grounds. Secret Service used automatic rifles to fire strings of shots at zombies.