That’s when Allison broke down again. She didn’t hide the fact she was crying. Her lips, pulled down in a frown quivered, and her shoulders rose and deflated with each sob.

Josh put an arm around her, and led her away from the burying, back to the SUV. Dave stayed. His arms at his side. He was silent the whole time I spread the loose earth over Jason’s body.

Dave and I walked back to join the others.

I desperately wanted, needed a cigarette. I forget how long it’s been since my last one. I’d been too preoccupied to think about it. The urge intensified though, didn’t subside. I just didn’t have any. No idea when, or where I’d lost whatever had been left of my pack. Seemed trivial, but I had to get my hands on a pack. No question about it.

It was late.

As busy a day as it had been, we’d gotten off to a late start, and that hurt us. Everything we did kept me away from my kids. From finding them.

And, yet, I was determined to find a gas station store for a pack of smokes. It felt selfish.

I got into the SUV. I put it in drive.

We had nearly a full tank of gas. The heat felt amazing. We left the ball field, and were back on track.

“Notice we haven’t seen many zombies at all?” Josh sat forward, his head between Allison and me.

“It’s got to be the rain,” I said.

Josh’s head nodded up and down, like he was chewing that idea over inside his brain. “It’s possible. Be nice if they were just dying off.”

“I agree.” Allison raised her hand, like she was in school.

“It’s always possible.”

“Just not probable,” Josh added.

“I didn’t say that. But we don’t know. We don’t know much of anything.”

“No,” Josh said. “We absolutely don’t. Except one thing.”

“And what’s that?” I said.

“Your kids. We need to find them.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

When we were walking, it seemed like not many cars clogged the street. Like the roads were navigable. Truth is, they were rough. We were able to snake this way and that. We made good time. I took it easy climbing curbs and driving on the sidewalk, and lawns.

The whole time it rained, we did not see any zombies out and about. This gave me reason to smile. It meant my kids, as long as they were okay, would continue to be okay. Or should be, anyway.

It’s what I allowed myself to believe anyway, was something to hang onto, at least.

“This is the street,” I said. I wasn’t talking to anyone.

No one answered. The houses were big. Donald made a lot of money. My ex must have been drawn to that. Because the squirrelly bastard was creepy looking. Creepy as hell.

Allison had a hand on my forearm. Not sure how long it had been there. Was aware of it now, as she gave me a squeeze.

I maneuvered a self-made path down the street, around several askew abandoned vehicles. I slowed when I came upon his house, saw his Lexus was in the driveway, and her BMW, too.

I pulled in. Left the engine on.

“I’m going in alone,” I said. “Josh, sit up front. I want you ready to get us the hell out of here.”

“You’re not doing this alone,” Allison said. It was the way she said it. I sensed there was more to the words. Wasn’t just about me saving my kids. I think I knew what went through her head. Was hard even to let the thought flow. If my kids were dead, she didn’t want me to find them by myself.

She really was an all right girlfriend. I needed to remember that. I needed to treat her better. Getting this far might not have been possible without her.

I nodded. We got out of the SUV. Josh climbed into the front seat and Dave into the passenger side. My shovel felt heavy in my hands. I held a hand against my stomach. I thought I might get sick. I know I was breathing fast. Hard.

The sky outside was black from both clouds and dusk.

“You okay?”

“Wonderful,” I said.

I peeked into the tiny windows on the garage doors. My daughter had chopped Donald’s arm off inside there. I cupped my hands, but to no avail. I could not see a thing.

Allison was looking all around, making sure nothing was sneaking up on us. I was thankful for the second set of eyes. “Nothing?”

“Not a thing. Let’s go inside,” I said.

The front porch held a swing suspended from chain links. Two wicker rocking chairs sat on either side of a small wicker end table. Fucking cute.

The glass storm door was unlocked, but the main door was not.

“Have a key?”

I shook my head. I’m sure my ex had a spare hidden somewhere. Think the kids even told me about it. Might have said it was under one of the rocks along the landscape on the side of the house. Kicking in the door would feel so much more satisfying.

I held the glass door open. “Hold this,” I said.

Allison stood next to the door, keeping it open, and out of the way.

I backed up a few steps, and then threw my shoulder into the door. Fucker was solid. I tried again. Realized it wasn’t the door that was going to give, but the frame. My third attempt shattered wood inside the house. The fourth time, we were in. The whole door collapsed into their foyer.

It was my first time in the house. Was I bitter? Spiteful? Sure as shit. So when I came for the kids, I waited in the driveway. I honked my horn. I sat waiting for them, swearing and cursing the very foundation of the tiny mansion. Now that I was inside, I hated Donald more. The foyer was huge. Large tiles, antique artifacts on display, and a chandelier. A fucking chandelier.

Money can buy you anything it wants. Even happiness. The old cliché was shit. He bought my family. He bought my happiness from me. Not stole it. Bought it. It made my ex a tramp in my eyes. Worthless. And he bought her with his money as well. Kids might not see it. Might not understand it. Eventually they would. They would know their mom actually walked away from her family because her husband -- me -- was tired, and worn out from working to support everyone. Fuck her.

“Charlene? Cash?” Yeah. I yelled. “Charlene? Cash?”

Something fell over somewhere upstairs. I looked at Allison. She’d heard it too. I took the stairs two at a time. My shovel out in front of me.

The house was dark. I tried the light switch at the top of the stairs. Didn’t expect them to work. Not sure why. The lights came on, felt like sun rays exploding from the ceiling.

Five rooms. Guessed three were bedrooms. One a bathroom. Maybe the fifth a linen closet. That door -- to what I guessed was a linen closet, was closed. The others, open.

“You stay right here,” I said. She could defend the stairs. “Nothing comes up. Nothing goes down.”

She nodded. “Got it.”

The upstairs hallway was wide. Two doors on the right, two on the left. The one straight ahead was the bathroom. I saw the shower curtain.

Way I saw it, three options existed. Two I could handle. It was either Donald or Julie in one of these rooms. I had no problem killing them. The third option was that it was my kids hiding. That one didn’t make sense, Charlene had said they’d fled.

Confident, I strode toward the first door. There was an odor that assaulted my nostrils. Shit, and piss, and decay. My face crinkled, a failed attempt at protecting my nose. I looked back at Allison.

“Wait there.” I just mouthed the words. The element of surprise, and all of that.

I sucked in a deep breath and held it. Entering the room, I tried to be ready. The shovel, what I’ve come to think of as my wide-point bladed spear, set to kill, not stun.

Julie was in the first bedroom. Must have been Charlene’s. Even with her back to me, I knew it was Julie. She sat on the bed. I saw the edge of a picture frame in her hand.

“Julie?” I said. It might as well have been mouthed, too. I didn’t even hear me. Swallowing did nothing. My throat was that dry. I tried again; it was spat out in a loud whisper, “Julie!”