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Chapter One

"Hunter?" A soft familiar voice sounded behind him. Hunter turned, and saw the speaker. Gods above. His breath caught as he recognized her.

"Alaina?" Hunter asked when she'd gotten closer, finally able to breath again. Alaina wore a long sleeved black nondescript shirt, with holes all throughout. Under it was a white lace shirt. Both had a deep V neck, not inappropriate, but enough to draw the eye.

"It's been like 4 years." Alaina laughed, hugging Hunter. "What have you been up to?"

The pair, and a hundred other people, were at the third high school reunion of the Madison high school. Alaina's embrace was warm, and she stood with her head on Hunter's chest, arms wrapped around him. I could get used to this. Hunter and Alaina had been a couple before she moved, though neither would admit it.

"I got a good job at Eli's. Been working their since the summer after you moved. A good 3 years. I missed you, Alaina."

"I missed you too."

"What have you been up to?" Hunter asked the girl, after she broke her long hug.

"Sad didn't let me talk to anyone after we moved. That asshole. I was 16. He moved me to a damn private school." Alaina's brown eyes were dark at the mention of the school. Hunter was curious but was not about to pry.

"Ah. Well you made out alright, it seems."

"I did. I moved out last year. Haven't spoken with my father since."

"Your Mama alright?"

"Nah, she died 2 years ago. Some sort of cancer my dad wouldn't pay for."

"I'm sorry to hear that. She was a good woman." Hunter said solemnly.

"She was." Alaina grabbed Hunter’s hand, and the pair walked into the gymnasium.

They talked most of the night, until Alaina got held up with other old friends. Hunter relaxed alone against the back wall, contraband alcohol in hand.

After another few hours, Hunter stood, and approached his old companion who swayed along to the music. She was alone now, other friends either leaving or comgregating elsewhere.

Alaina's eyes sparkled when she saw Hunter approach. "What're you looking at, Graves?"

"You dance like nobody else is here." Hunter smiled.

"You watch like I don't notice." Alaina tilted her head. “And you still talk like you’re trying not to feel anything.” For a second, neither of them moved. Then, she held out her hand. “Come on.”

He took it. Her fingers were warm. An unfamiliar sensation flew through Hunter’s head and chest. Warmth. They drifted to the center of the floor, where only a few other couples swayed gently. The world dimmed around them as the music wrapped them in its slow, steady pulse.

Hunter placed one hand on her waist, tentative, cautious. She stepped closer, easing his hand a little further in. Their other hands stayed joined between them, like a tether to something old and still unfinished.

“You’ve changed,” she whispered.

“So have you.”

They moved together, just barely brushing. The rhythm didn’t matter. He couldn’t even hear the lyrics anymore. Just the beat of her heart where their chests almost touched.

And for a few slow minutes, the years between them melted away.

---

Hunter got out of the truck to inspect the damage. Blood covered the front grill and glass, which was now cracked. The limbs were strewn every direction, for the last 30 yards or so.

"Lainey," Hunter said quietly, "it's just a walker."

Alaina was crying in the passenger seat, not bawling, but enough for Hunter to just let her get over it. "I thought, but. Fuck."

Hunter got the squeegee from the back of the large truck, and wiped away the blood from the windshield best he could. He started the diesel engine up again, and continued driving, slower now, toward the prize of the day. They'd been moving north the past weekend, trying to find a good place to set up a camp for survivors.

---

Several people dropped dead at the dance, but before EMS arrived, they got back up. Hunter and Alaina had gotten a hotel room, just for safety, rather than go their separate ways. Hunter had read and watched enough zombie content to know separation and isolation were very bad ideas. The following morning Hunter had checked the news. Every channel, including the children's cartoons, were all taken over, all tuned to Dixie News Network.

"Hundreds dead and dying from this new sickness, they are calling it the Northern Slackjaw illness. Reports are saying that some who have died, have gotten back up. The Dixie disease control center says they are just rumors, but ti shelter in place until it is under control."

"It's bullshit and they know it. This feels lile Lisa Feldman's statements before the splinter war dammit." Hunter said, turning the television off. He looked over to Alaina, on her own bed, reading a book.

"Yeah. It really does."

"What're you reading?"

Alaina closed the book, without a bookmark, and tossed it to Hunter. The cover read "Operation Rising Tide." It was a military manual, a thick one, labeled with the insignia of the US Department of War. A pre war military manual. "I've never heard of this one."

"Just before the splinter war the DOW wrote it. It's kinda like what we see now."

Hunter flipped through it, it read like a non fiction zombie story. Safe locations, how to build shelter, important supplies. "This is like the shit Papa always worried about."

"Same with my granddad. He was a prepper before he died." Alaina said, looking down. "Wish I could go get his stores."

"I do to. The bad thing is they're an hour south."

"Yeah."

---

The school had a lock on the front doors, so Hunter had Alaina get the pry bar and bolt cutters from the bed of the truck. They'd raided a hardware store that morning, narrowly evading death by walker bite.

Hunter cut the lock and busted the doors open, for some odd reason they opened in rather than out. That wasn't very promising for safety from the corpses.

The hall was empty, the lights were off, and papers were strewn across the floor. Alaina entered the first room on the right, pistol in hand, flashlight in the other. She gripped it like she'd been in the military, pistol resting on the light hand, holding the flashlight pointed forward.

Hunter took the room opposite, apparently a nurses station. He found a backpack in the room, sitting on top of a table, half filled with random medications. Hunter shrugged internally, and took the bag to the med room. The glass door was already shattered, so he had no problem raiding the meds.

When he'd finished he walked across the hell. Alaina sat cross legged in a chair, reading a stapled pamphlet. She tossed it to Hunter. "Slackjaw Memorandum A5113-a"

"This is a northern document," he said, shifting through the pages. He sat the pamphlet down. "They knew. They fucking knew."

"I know." One couldn't such make such detailed study and print out a pamphlet in 3 days. For all they knew, the northern government knew for a year. The document had detailed studies and information about the walkers, as well as ways of combating them, protection and more such information.

"There isn't a cure," Alaina said, resting her chin on her palm.

"All the more reason to get the hell out of the area."

Alaina followed Hunter out of the office, and into the medical area. "I dont know what else you would want."

Hunter had all sorts of antibiotics in his bag, even some steroids that had been prescribed for different children. Antidepressants, ADHD meds, and every 'cilin he could find.

"You forgot pain meds." Alina smiled, gesturing for the bag.

"Shit." Hunter passed the bag to Alaina, flush with embarrassment.

The pair walked down the hallway, clearing every classroom as they went. After a half an hour, they'd reached the far side of the building, and went up the stairs to the top floor. Immediately alarm bells went off in Hunter's head. Blood was splattered across the floor and door to his right, a shotgun shell casing was on the opposite side. Drag marks were clear across the floor and Hunter could see several dozen from other classrooms, all leading to one in particular.

Hunter went in first, but stopped in the doorway. Alaina bumped into him, but didn't go to move him out of her way. "Lainey, this is really bad."

"I know it is."

"Alright." Hunter stepped out of the way. Several dozen bodies lay strewn across the floor. Some were older people, some just babies. They all appeared to be survivors.

"Fuck." Alaina said, fist between her teeth. "Hunter, they are fresh."

Hunter's brow furrowed. How the hell?

A gunshot sounded down the hall, Hunter pulled Alaina behind him, and unslung the rifle from his shoulder. He ducked down, Alaina pressed herself against the wall behind him. Hunter heard the sounds of dragging in the distance, slowly making its way down to them.

After several minutes a man entered the room, dragging the battered body of a small boy behind him. Without question Hunter shot the man in his head. Alaina flinched, but Hunter stood and approached the man. He'd been in his 40s, wearing a bloodstained white uniform.

He had a name tag, which read "Principal Stern."

"Dear god." Alaina said, reading over his shoulder. "What the hell was he doing?"

"I don't think I want to know." Hunter said, standing up straight. He took the shotgun from the body, and handed it to Alaina.

The fresh drag marks went all the way to the end of the hall. Hunter could presume that was the last of the survivors. Not one of the bodies had a bite mark or other sign of death.

"We should get out of here with what we have." Hunter said calmly, Alaina followed him down the stairs, and out of the building.

Hunter took a right out of the parking lot, continuing the path they'd started on. Hunter then took a right down the next road they'd come across. There were speedbumps all around, with signs such as "drive like your kids live here," or "SLOW DOWN." Alaina chuckled at each one in turn.

"Bunch of old people lived here i'll bet."

"I don't doubt it." Hunter smiled, pulling his diesel truck into a Volunteer fire department.

Aliana got out of the truck first, bolt cutters in hand, and broke open the front door. Hunter thought about that school, but the more he did, the more confusing it was. There was no sign of life in the lower floors, the door was locked and chained shut from the outside, and the principal had been hunting suvivors. The hell is going on?

The VFD was abandoned, two trucks and the fire engine remained inside the building. Hunter went straight for the kitchen, and was rewarded with the smell of long spoiled coffee. In the cabinets were a litany of canned food. "Gods who eats canned bread?" Hunter laughed.

"Keep it," Alaina popped her head into the kitchen, "We'll surely need it eventually."

"Hopefully not." Hunter put the canned bread in a duffel Alaina stole from the equipment room.

"We need a small trailer," Alaina commented, wheeling a handtruck with several large oxygen tanks toward the truck.

"I'll check the house across the street. You keep getting shit for us." Hunter slung his rifle over his shoulder, and took a knife from Alaina. The house immediately across the street was a good size, with a detached garage and a fenced in back yard.

"Oh hello," Hunter chuckled, setting his rifle aside, and unlatching the gate. A large breed of dog, perhaps a pit, sat in the corner by its house. A hole was dug slightly underneath the corner of the house, and that's where the dog lay. He was handsome, white with large brown patches.

Hunter sat his rifle aside, cross legged on the ground. Hunter didn't approach the dog, rather waited for the boy to approach him. It took some time, but he did. Slowly at first, then went a little hyper. Hunter read the tag, Otis. "That's a good name for a dog."

Hunter cleared the house, taking most of the med supply, aside from large bottles of acetaminophen, ibuprofen, and naproxen sodium. Hunter held amoxicillin, but ultimately put it back in the med cabinet.

The master closet looked like it used to be an arsenal. It had gun racks on all 3 walls, but it was completely empty, bar a small ammunution box in the corner. Hunter pulled it out, while Otis roamed the bedroom.

The ammo tin had no labels, and was made of a cheap plastic. Hunter opened it, revealing a shit ton of .22 ammunition. "Couldn't have room for the small calibers." Hunter chuckled. He ransacked the closet, and found the gun to match the .22 bullets. It was a large assault style weapon, well loved by the ware in the black plastic grip and underbarrel.

Hunter stood, racking the slide, then exited the room, ammo in hand. The bedroom let out into the dining room, and across the way were some bedrooms of the kids. Hunter left that hallway, walking down the 3 stairs, and turned left. The wall held some cabinets, which served the former occupants as a pantry. Odd spot, considering the back hall. Hunter looked through it anyway.

"How was it?" Alaina asked as Hunter walked back into the fire station. She dropped into a squat and met the dog when he bounded ahead.

"Whoever lived here was smart enough to take all the guns, but forgot the dog. His name is Otis."

"Any canned goods?" Alaina asked, rubbing the big dog behind his spotted ears.

"Nah they got those too. Dont know how they forgot Otis after all that."

"I mean imminent death may be more pressing," Alaina shrugged, standing.

The lights were on above, and Hunter could hear a generator running in the distance. He started the kitchen stove, and got out a frying pan from a cabinet.