But I learned something on that hellish afternoon when the flames roared high, and the smoke choked the air, and the sky turned black, and a great empty maw of nothingness swallowed the sun. When I saw people being torn apart, eaten alive, screaming for help. When I saw a panicked mother abandon her child, and watched that child disappear beneath a swarm of hungry infected, her piercing screams tearing at my heart and my sanity. When I saw the limp body of a toddler and his father lying side by side, ghouls burying bloody faces in their guts, snapping at the entrails in their teeth, sucking them down like errant pasta noodles. When I saw a man in a suit and tie standing on top of his car firing a pistol at the ghouls who crawled up the hood and trunk, not killing them fast enough to stop their advance.

He emptied a mag, reloaded, and counted down from fifteen in a grim, strident voice. When he got to one, he squeezed his eyes shut, put the gun to his temple, and pulled the trigger. He left a wide, bloody smear on the roof of his Mercedes as the undead dragged him to the ground.

I learned something that day, all right.

Television doesn’t prepare you for shit.

FIFTEEN

Near San Marcos, Texas

When I had seen enough, I quietly handed my rifle to my father, took a few steps away, and was violently sick. When the dry heaves subsided enough so I could stand again, I felt my Dad’s hand on my shoulder.

“You all right, son?”

“Do I look all right?” I snapped, shrugging him off and snatching my carbine out of his hand. “And why does everyone keep asking me that? I think the answer should be pretty fucking obvious at this point.”

My father’s palm cracked across the side of my head so loud the others heard it and snapped their heads to look. I stumbled back, stars dancing across my vision. Dad had hit me plenty of times in training, but never in anger, and never full-force. Oddly, I didn’t mind. The pain and stun of it was a welcome distraction from the hellish scenes burning themselves into my memory. When the cobwebs cleared, I looked at my father, expecting to find him angry. Instead, he simply looked worried.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Your breathing was rapid and your pupils were dilated. Your hand shook when you took your rifle from me. Did you even notice?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You were showing signs of panic, Caleb. You can’t go into shock or hysterics. Not now. Not until we get to safety.”

I rubbed my head where he had struck me, the hot skin raising into welts under my close-cropped hair. “Okay. Sorry, Dad.”

His hand squeezed my arm. “You got your head screwed on straight now?”

I nodded, forcing the images of the carnage on the interstate to the back of my mind. “Yeah. I think so.”

Dad watched me for a second, then grunted in satisfaction. He turned to the others. “We’ve seen enough. It’s time to get moving.”

The other men muttered agreements and dispersed to their vehicles. I turned to head for the rear Humvee, but Dad grabbed my elbow. “Wait,” he said. “I want you to take over for Sophia. You’re close to her age, so she’ll probably listen to you better than the rest of us. I want you to look after her, all right?”

My heart sped up at the thought. I swallowed dryly and nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

Dad took a step closer, whispering. “I know you like her, Caleb. It’s natural; she’s a pretty girl. But you need to clear that shit out of your head right now, understand? We’re in survival mode. Act like it.”

Survival mode. That I can do. “Yes sir.”

He patted me on the arm, hesitated a moment, and then pulled me into a tight hug. I hugged him back, squeezing hard.

“I love you, son,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

I had to blink a few times and clear my throat before I could speak. “I love you too, Dad.”

“We’re going to get through this. We’ll do it together, just like we always have.”

For a moment, I wondered who he was trying to convince. Pushing the thought aside, I said, “Damn right we will.”

Dad stepped back, and although I could not see his mouth under the respirator, I could see his eyes. He was not smiling. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

*****

Sophia gratefully surrendered the wheel.

I tried unsuccessfully not to stare at her ass while she scrambled over the center console and plopped down in the passenger’s seat.

“I can’t see shit out there,” she said, looking at me as we drove away from the overpass. “How can you drive in this?”

“Your dad is wearing NVGs in the lead Humvee,” I replied. “He can see the way ahead. I’m just following tail lights.”

We were silent for a few miles as we headed south, bypassing San Marcos and eventually merging onto Highway 12. The wind-blown dust and ash gradually lessened the farther west we drove, but nightfall prevented an improvement in visibility.

Sophia sat curled in her seat next to me, knees under her chin, chewing nervously at her fingernails. I thought about asking her to put her seatbelt on, but being that we were driving less than twenty miles an hour, I didn’t figure it would make much of a difference. Under other circumstances, I would have had a hard time not staring at her eyes, or hair, or the graceful curvature of her legs. But right then, just staying on the road and maintaining visual on the lights ahead of me consumed all my concentration. Nevertheless, from the corner of me eye, I noticed Sophia shooting curious glances at me as she shifted and fidgeted in her seat, broadcasting a sense of growing agitation.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” she asked finally.

I thought for a moment, eyes narrowed. “You know what? That’s a damn good question.”

Our radio was in a cup holder in the center console. I picked it up and keyed the mike. “Blake, this is Caleb. Got a question for you. Over.”

Static. “Roger. Go ahead.”

“Where the hell are we going? Over.”

It took him nearly a full minute to respond. “Well, we have a few options …”

“We’re going to Canyon Lake,” Dad interrupted. “An old friend of mine owns a cabin there. He gave me a key years ago, told me to use it whenever I wanted. We’ll be safe there for a while.”

Mike keyed in. “What about the fires? What if they catch up to us?”

Dad said, “Dale owns a cabin cruiser big enough to fit all of us. If need be, we can take it out on the lake and wait the fire out. I doubt it’ll be a problem, though. There’s not much to burn around this place; it’s mostly sand and rocks. A few trees, but none too close to the cabin. We should be all right.”

Blake spoke up. “Any objections?”

No one responded.

“All right then,” he said. “Canyon Lake it is.”

*****

We followed Highway 12 northwest until we came to a side road marked as Cascade Trail and took it south until it terminated at a narrow two-lane labeled Hugo Road. From there, Mike spotted a dirt two-track headed southwest, which later gave way to an open patch of bare field that ended near a small pond. Dad said we should stop and rest a few minutes, and asked Blake to find a route to the lake that avoided the main highways. We could see the lights of the cars on those roadways in the distance, and it did not look as if anything was moving.

“If we go off road for about a mile eastward,” Blake said over the radio, “we can pick up Estrellita Ranch Road. That’ll take us to the access roads around the lake. Joe, where’s this cabin we’re looking for? Over.”

“Look for Colleen Drive,” Dad replied. “It’s on the point of the first peninsula south of Comal Park.”

Sophia and I waited, exchanging a quick glance in the darkness. The moon was full that night, but the soot-filled sky allowed only a fraction of silvery blue to sift down and light upon her face. I could see the curve of her cheek and a faint glimmer of red where the tail lights of my father’s truck floated in her eyes.