H1Z1- Chapter 8

I reached in to the pocket of my shooting vest and began shoving shells into my twelve gauge. Bill watched intently and nodded his approval when I chambered a round and replaced it with an extra shot in the tube.

"Should we wear earplugs, Dad?" he asked, ever mindful of the safety training we had taken together and which I reenforced with him regularly.

"I am not sure. I know we need to take care of our ears, but I think we also need to be able to hear if one of those people try to come toward us."

"That's true," was his reply. His young mind grasped the logic immediately.

"Now, here's what we need to remember - these people were infected with the flu. We don't want to breathe the same air they exhale and we don't want any contact with their bodily fluid."

"I understand, Dad, but what do I do if one of them gets too close to me?"

"Do your best to keep that from hapenning, Son. The dogs will help. But try to keep them from getting too close, too."

This was almost an impossible task - the two mutts together weighed more than 120 lbs, and they could each pull at least that individually. But they were obedient, to a degree, and they were definitely fiercely protective of their boy. I knew they would do their best to keep one of the ... creatures from touching their charge.

"Ok, lets go Son. We'll go in the doors, then you grab a cart and I'll grab a cart. We go straight to outdoors first, get the keys to the gun cabinet and get you a shotgun." Bills eyes got rounder and rounder as I spelled out my plan, but I could tell he was tracking. "Then we get shells. As many as are on the shelf. Twelve and twenty gauge only, got it?"

"Yes. Do you think maybe we should get more than one gun, Dad?"

"I like the way you think, Son. Once we're in there, I'll decide, but I think a pistol or two, and maybe a .300 Winchester Magnum would be a good idea. We're not going to have a lot of time, but we should probably arm ourselves for bear, huh?"

Bill solemnely nodded his agreement, eyes never leaving mine.

"Son, this is not going to be fun. Or easy. Just think about getting home to our family and getting them all to the cabin safely."

"I know, Dad, but its still scary."

My heart felt like it was coated in lead. A voice in the back of my head kept up a steady stream of niggling doubt. How could I lead my son back into a building which had to be completely infested with undead people? How could I risk exposing him and myself to something so horrible? How could I go back in there? Especially after I'd seen a woman die, then get back up and try to chase me? Was I insane? Was I stupid?

I mustered enough courage to shove the voice deeper into the back of my mind before it could wedge its constant doubt and fear into the depths of my heart where what courage I had was bound. I had to think beyond the terror which waited for me on the other side of the automatic door. I had to think of my wife, of Bill, of the other four children back at home, hell, even of our two cats. We had to survive this, and we had to get ourselves to the safety of the mountain. That was my goal. That was my only goal. In. Out. Home. Mountain.

"Ok, Son, we have to do this, so let's do this."

Bill only nodded and wrapped the dogs' leashes around his gloved hand once more.

H1Z1 - Chapter 7

It felt as though a huge black cloud was drifting over me as I pulled my cell phone back out of my pocket and dialled 9-1-1. We had seen the fire truck earlier, lights but no sirens, but we hadn't seen anything else - no sign of the police, no helicopters, nothing. I wasn't sure what, if anything, the police could do for me, but I had to make the call - not just to reassure Bill, but to reassure myself, too.

"9-1-1 operator, please state your emergency."

"I'm at the Wad-Mart and there seems to be ... All the people are either dead or they're sort of not dead."

"What is your emergency, sir?" Great. This bodiless voice wasn't going to make things easy.

"They're dying here! They have the flu, and then they ..." I couldn't help but hesitate, even though I'd seen it, even though it had happened before my eyes, I struggled to say the words aloud because they were simply too terrible. "They die, then they come back to life and the lady tried to attack us."

There. Confused, jumbled, scared and scary, but I was able to spit it out.

"You were attacked at the Wad-Mart?"

"Yes."

"By a dead woman?"

"Yes. A zombie, I guess. H1Z1 - the flu - everyone in the store seems to have it."

"Sir, we're getting similar reports all over town. I have no police officers to dispatch. Please stay calm and remain indoors. There's nothing further I can do to help you," said the bodiless voice.

"Stay indoors? No police? Lady, there's something terrible going on here! What are the police doing about it?"

"Sir, we're doing everything we can, but I don't have a car to dispatch to your location. I can't send you any help."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" I was becoming more and more frustrated by this disembodied voice. How could she be so calm when it was obvious that the whole city seemed to be going to hell?

"According to the latest instruction from the mayor's office and the governor, the National Guard has been called in and all uninfected citizens are to remain in their homes until help arrives. That's all I can tell you, Sir."

Well, there it was. Sit and wait and pray you're not infected. Lot of help the National Guard was going to be if the whole town was suffering from this. I hung up the call and put my phone back in my pocket.

"I guess we're going to have to do this on our own, Son," I said to Bill as I turned back the tailgate and began loading the pocket of my shooting vest with shells.

"Dad, I'm scared." He looked at me intently, young eyes seeing through any bravado I may have tried to muster. I could do nothing but be honest with him, especially since I was taking him back in to the hellish experience we had just escaped inside the store behind us.

"Me, too, Son. Me too."

H1Z1 - Chapter 6

As I headed for the truck, I called the boy over, watching the dogs carefully as they turned toward me and we all met.

"How long has Mom known I'm teaching you to shoot, Son?" I asked, pulling the drop down tailgate of the SUV open.

"It's no big deal Dad, I promise!"

"No, no. You're not in trouble. I was just wondering." As I talked with him, I was methodically pulling out the objects I felt I would need to use on the trip back in to the store. My shooting vest, which had a pocket that held more than 30 shells. A pair of leather gloves, I didn't want to touch someone affected and catch the virus that way. The box of 12 gauge shells we had just left the store with.

"Take these," I handed Bill a pair of gloves, too. "We have to go back in. You keep the dogs with you because they'll protect you."

"Why are we going in again, Dad?"

"Mom wants me to get you a gun. I think we may need some other things, too."

"Mom said that? Really?"

"Yes. And I think we need to pack for the cabin."

I was forming a plan in the back of my mind. We had a cabin up in a pass in the mountains. We had canned food and supplies there all the time, so that all we'd need for a quick weekend away was a few fresh supplies and to load all the kids into our two cars. It was almost a hundren miles from any large concentration of people, so there would be much less possibility of infection. There was wood nearby for fires and there was wildlife should we have to stay so long that hunting became necessary. Yes, I thought, this would work.

But it meant that we needed to bring about two cart-loads of supplies out of the store with us, not just a second shotgun.

I began explaining my plan to my son.

"OK, Dad, but what do we do for the dogs?" Another large, bulky object. Dog food. We'd have to grab some.

"What about paying?" I had worked hard to ingrain a sense of responsibility to all the children, and he knew I was talking about a high-speed raid through the store, filling the cart with what we thought we needed as quickly as possibly, then simply taking it, not trying to stop and pay a clerk who would most likely be trying to attack us, not assist us.

"I don't think we need to worry about paying, Bill. I don't think anyone in there really cares."

"That still doesn't make it right, Dad."

"No, Son, it doesn't."

Finally, I realized I had forgotten something.

"Bill, have you heard any sirens? Have you heard any police?"

"No, Dad. We should call."

"Yes, we should."

I could see our escape to the mountains becoming more complex, but I could also see that, if we were to do things right, we had to try to make sure we followed through with every option, and the next civilized option we had was to call the police and see if there was any hope of not only some help, but some kind of official word on what was really going on.

H1Z1 - Chapter 5

Although he didn't want to, I pulled Bill to a stop just outside the automatic doors to the store. For a moment, the two of us just stood there, nothing but the sound of our own gasps for air and the thundering of our hearts in our ears.

"Dad," Bill managed between gulps of air, "She was, sh-she was ..."

"Yes, Son," I replied, myself struggling to fill my lungs with clean, cool early-morning air. "She was dead. And then she was standing up again."

Bill just stared at me. I could only respond by staring at him. I think we each could see the gears in each others' minds turning and turning, trying to fit the sentence I had just managed to spit out into our conception of How the World Works.

Bill, being ten, and therefore much more resilient than I was at my almost-mid-life age, straightened up and with a deep breath asked, "Well, what do we do about that?"

It's amazing how quickly and easily my young son can assimilate new facts or situations. It seems to me as though his little mind, so eager for growth and knowledge, just raced through new concepts, filing them neatly under real or not real, fact or fiction, fun or hard work like a computer parsing its next set of instructions. For me, even as my amazement at his rapid acceptance of this terrifying fact, this realization, that a dead woman, a woman who had died from an obviously horrible and most likely highly communicable disease, had risen and ... attacked us - the realization wasn't as easy. It had attacked us. This fact snapped me out of it and back to the here and now.

"What are we going to do ...?" I mused back at him. "First, we call for help, because I think everyone in that store is either just as sick as that lady was or will be very soon, how's that sound?"

Having Daddy announce a definitive action seemed to bolster the boy, who stood a little straighter at the thought of some kind of positive action in the face of this horrible thing he had just seen.

"Why don't you go put the dogs on their leashes and walk them around a little, Son?"

"OK Dad, but I am not letting you out of my sight. That lady scared me bad!"

"Good, I think that's smart." With a mission to perform, the lad was able to settle down some. Besides, the dogs were not small, and Bill always felt safer with his furry friends by his side.

I dug my cell phone out of my pocket and realized it had been off all morning. Although my wife had merely rolled over and mumbled when I kissed her cheek and headed out for the morning's activities, as soon as the phone's operating system booted up, the message alert popped on. You Have Voicemail, it chimed in an artificially cheerful voice. I nearly lost myself in a befuddled rage at that - how could this stupid device be cheery after what I had just seen? I caught myself and instead hit play.

"Honey, did you see the news this morning? Call me now!" Liz was a little high-strung on occasion, but this was real fear in her voice and I wasn't used to hearing that. I dialed immediately.

"There you are!" She yelled into the phone.

"You'll never believe what just happened to us," I gushed at the same moment, relieved to hear her voice and know that she and the rest of our five children were safe.

"You first," We both said at the same time. This was usually my cue to remain silent, but it seemed that she wanted to hear my news because the silence on the line stretched out for a few seconds before I began. "The lady at the outdoor counter in Wad-Mart just died right there in front of us!"

"You have Bill with you? Did he see that?" Ever the protective Mom, she immediately asked after our youngest son.

"Yes dear, and yes, he was with me when it happened, but that wasn't the worst of it - I'm still trying to wrap my head around it all."

"She came back to life, didn't she?" Liz preempted.

"How did you know?" I asked, mystified at her seeming clairvoyance.

"It's all over the news - it's this flu! They're calling it the Zombie flu!"

"I've been hearing about it, but Zombies? I mean, come on!" I replied, my incredulity spilling through the phone and out onto her shoulder.

"No honey, the governor was just on TV - it's what woke me up," I always turned the TV on for her when I left in the morning, usually on the Discovery Channel, as I had this morning, to help her, not much of a morning person, to wake up.

"How'd you hear the governor? I left the TV on Discovery!"

"I know - he came on so I changed the channel. He was on every channel - it was an emergency broadcast. He said that the Zombie flu is here. It's killing people here! You need to come home now! And get Bill a shotgun, too!"

That last part brought me up short. "What do you mean?" I tried to deflect, but my heart sunk as I realized I'd been caught.

"Go back to the gun counter and get Bill a 20 gauge. You know he can't keep a secret."

Damn that motherly instinct. I'd been an idiot to think that she'd not realize I was teaching our son to shoot.

"Get home as fast as you can, honey. I think we all need to get somewhere else - somewhere safe."

"All right. I'll grab another gun, and be there as soon as I can."

I looked toward my son as he wandered around the parking lot following the dogs' noses. Should I bring him back in with me? Into there? I noticed that both of the dogs' hackles were raised and that they weren't sniffing for sign of other animals to cover with their own scent. Quite the opposite, the were both fully on guard, one on either side of the young boy, and were warily searching for the source of the danger they clearly sensed. Yup. Better bring all three of them in - it would be useful, because in the back of my mind I had already accepted that everyone in Wad-Mart today was infected, and every one of them was after one thing and one thing only ... living flesh.

Damn. This today wasn't going to be much fun after all.

H1Z1 - Interlude

What to Do If You Get Flu-Like Symptoms
May 7, 2009 7:15 PM ET

The novel H1N1 flu virus is causing illness in infected persons in the United States and countries around the world. CDC expects that illnesses may continue for some time. As a result, you or people around you may become ill. If so, you need to recognize the symptoms and know what to do.

Symptoms
The symptoms of this new H1N1 flu virus in people are similar to the symptoms of seasonal flu and include fever, cough, sore throat, runny or stuffy nose, body aches, headache, chills and fatigue. A significant number of people who have been infected with this new H1N1 virus also have reported diarrhea and vomiting. The high risk groups for novel H1N1 flu are not known at this time but it’s possible that they may be the same as for seasonal influenza. People at higher risk of serious complications from seasonal flu include people age 65 years and older, children younger than 5 years old, pregnant women, people of any age with chronic medical conditions (such as asthma, diabetes, or heart disease), and people who are immunosuppressed (e.g., taking immunosuppressive medications, infected with HIV).

Avoid Contact With Others
If you are sick, you may be ill for a week or longer. You should stay home and avoid contact with other persons, except to seek medical care. If you leave the house to seek medical care, wear a mask or cover your coughs and sneezes with a tissue. In general you should avoid contact with other people as much as possible to keep from spreading your illness. At the current time, CDC believes that this virus has the same properties in terms of spread as seasonal flu viruses. With seasonal flu, studies have shown that people may be contagious from one day before they develop symptoms to up to 7 days after they get sick. Children, especially younger children, might potentially be contagious for longer periods.

Treatment is Available for Those Who Are Seriously III

It is expected that most people will recover without needing medical care.

If you have severe illness or you are at high risk for flu complications, contact your health care provider or seek medical care. Your health care provider will determine whether flu testing or treatment is needed. Be aware that if the flu becomes wide spread, there will be little need to continue testing people, so your health care provider may decide not to test for the flu virus.

Antiviral drugs can be given to treat those who become severely ill with influenza. These antiviral drugs are prescription medicines (pills, liquid or an inhaler) with activity against influenza viruses, including H1N1 flu virus. These medications must be prescribed by a health care professional.

There are two influenza antiviral medications that are recommended for use against H1N1 flu. The drugs that are used for treating H1N1 flu are called oseltamivir (trade name Tamiflu ®) and zanamivir (Relenza ®). As the H1N1 flu spreads, these antiviral drugs may become in short supply. Therefore, the drugs will be given first to those people who have been hospitalized or are at high risk of complications. The drugs work best if given within 2 days of becoming ill, but may be given later if illness is severe or for those at a high risk for complications.

Aspirin or aspirin-containing products (e.g. bismuth subsalicylate – Pepto Bismol) should not be administered to any confirmed or suspected ill case of novel influenza A (H1N1) virus infection aged 18 years old and younger due to the risk of Reye syndrome. For relief of fever, other anti-pyretic medications are recommended such as acetaminophen or non steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs. For more information about Reye’s syndrome, visit the National Institute of Health website.

Check ingredient labels on over-the-counter cold and flu medications to see if they contain aspirin.

Teenagers with the flu can take medicines without aspirin, such as acetaminophen (Tylenol®) and ibuprofen (Advil®, Motrin®, Nuprin®), to relieve symptoms.
Children younger than 4 years of age should not be given over-the-counter cold medications without first speaking with a healthcare provider.

Emergency Warning Signs

If you become ill and experience any of the following warning signs, seek emergency medical care.

In children emergency warning signs that need urgent medical attention include:

• Fast breathing or trouble breathing
  
• Bluish or gray skin color
  
• Not drinking enough fluids
  
• Severe or persistent vomiting
  
• Not waking up or not interacting
  
• Being so irritable that the child does not want to be held
  
• Flu-like symptoms improve but then return with fever and worse cough
  

In adults, emergency warning signs that need urgent medical attention include:

• Difficulty breathing or shortness of breath
  
• Pain or pressure in the chest or abdomen
  
• Sudden dizziness
  
• Confusion
  
• Severe or persistent vomiting
  
• Flu-like symptoms improve but then return with fever and worse cough
  

Protect Yourself, Your Family, and Community

• Stay informed. Health officials will provide additional information as it becomes available. Visit the CDC H1N1 Flu website.
  
• Cover your nose and mouth with a tissue when you cough or sneeze. Throw the tissue in the trash after you use it.
  
• Wash your hands often with soap and water, especially after you cough or sneeze. Alcohol-based hand cleaners are also effective.
  
• Avoid touching your eyes, nose or mouth. Germs spread this way.
  
• Try to avoid close contact with sick people.
  

If you are sick with a flu-like illness, stay home for 7 days after your symptoms begin or until you have been symptom-free for 24 hours, whichever is longer. Keep away from other household members as much as possible. This is to keep you from infecting others and spreading the virus further.

Learn more about how to take care of someone who is ill in "Taking Care of a Sick Person in Your Home"

Follow public health advice regarding school closures, avoiding crowds, and other social distancing measures.

If you don’t have one yet, consider developing a family emergency plan as a precaution. This should include storing a supply of extra food, medicines, and other essential supplies. Further information can be found in the "Flu Planning Checklist"

Source: Centers For Disease Control article, "What do I do if I get flu-like symptoms" http://www.cdc.gov/h1n1flu/sick.htm

H1Z1 - Chapter 4

Perhaps it was that sweet remainder of the little boy in Bill that snapped me out of my terror-induced funk; he grabbed my hand, and the feel of his fingers inside of mine brought me back from the black brink of terror, the edge of which my mind had been teetering once I realized that Marie had died. I had to be calm right now, and I had to be rational right now, if not for my own sake, then for the sake of my son, who wasn't even old enough to understand the horrific memories which had begun to play across the view screen of my inner mind.

"It-it's going to be okay, Son," I managed. I could still feel terror clawing, raging, trying to escape from deep inside me, trying to make its way out of my mouth and take over my actions, like some bizarre alien whose gestation lead to an oral-ejection and which, once born, would jump onto my head and sink ganglion through my skull, becoming an alien "driver" controlling my every action.

"Let's pick up these shotgun shells, OK?" In spite of my fear, some part of me tried to maintain an illusion of normalcy, even though this situation was anything but normal.

"Dad," he hesitated, but seeing the look I shot him, Bill bent and began to scoop up hands full of errant shotgun shells.

As he scurried about the tile and shoved different gauges into their appropriate boxes, I surveyed the aisles surrounding us. I could hear the strange moaning, and I saw a person who appeared to be suffering from the same illness Marie had been suffering - he was lurching around in the hardware aisle two over from the beginning of the sporting goods. That way his body moved was unnatural. He wasn't walking, wasn't limping; I couldn't even label what he was doing as a shuffle. He was lurching. Unnaturally. He was lurching this way.

"How you doing with those shells, Son?" I prodded.

"Just a few left," Bill grunted, down on his hands and knees, stretching to reach under a rack of rain jackets.

"Hurry up then," I said, just barely keeping the raw edge of fear from seeping out the sides of my mouth.

The man lurched closer. Slow, but shortening the distance between his aisle and me and my son, who grunted with satisfaction as he slid the last 20 gauge shell into its box. "Got 'em. Let's go now, Dad. Now!"

"Alright. All we have to do is pay and we're out of here," I assured him, taking the proffered hand and turning toward the check-out stands.

Marie stood right in front of us, spittle and blood flecked lips curling back and her, no, not her any more, it's, I think might be more appropriate, teeth, made to look all the sharper because of the bloody-spittle in the creases between them, bared in a death's head grimace. An unearthly growl from deep inside her chest managed to writhe itself free of it's lips, but when it had finished, it's chest didn't rise again to refill it's lungs. it shuffled toward us with that same blank stare, barely seeming to register that we were there, yet coming after us as though we were it's goal.

"Dad!" Bill shouted as I leaped backward, nearly yanking his arm from its socket.

"We need to run, Son," I said as I continued my backward scramble, pulling him back and up in order to keep him on his uncooperative feet.

Finally, he managed to get his feet under him and together, hand-in-hand, Bill and I ran, me a step-and-a-half ahead as we made for the exit doors and the safety of anywhere but here.

H1Z1 - Chapter 3

As I caught up with my son, who, in his haste to get away from the woman, hadn't waited for me, I heard a sound I hadn't noticed before. All through the store, there seemed to be a low keening sound, like a cross between a growl and a moan. There had to be at least 50 people in the store at any given time, and it seemed like every single one of them was making the same noises as the lady behind the gun counter.

Her name was Marie.

The realization stopped me cold in my tracks. Not because I had just remembered what her little blue name tag said in friendly white lettering, but because, in my mind, I had thought 'was'.

Was.

"Bill, wait," I managed, turning back toward the outdoors section.

"No, Dad. We can't go back there! Something is wrong with that lady and I'm scared!"

"I know, Son," I said as calmly as I knew how, trying to disguise the terror that kept trying to claw its way up the back of my throat. "You just wait right here while I go back."

"No!" This, he yelled, in spite of his usual amenable attitude. "I'm not leaving you! And I am NOT going back there!"

With that, Bill dug his heels in to the floor and my momentum pulled him over, both of us cancelling one another out with single-minded determination as the shotgun shells under his arm broke free of their boxes and spilled across the tile.

I wanted, no needed, absolutely had to go back and find out what was wrong with this lady; Bill was equally compelled to flee the store as rapidly as his little legs would allow. Althouh his flight instinct held sway over him almost completely, I couldn't help but feel pride in the fact that even though he was ready to run for his life, he would not leave my side - he'd run, all right, but not without my permission.

"Here," I said, dangling the keys to the truck in front of him. "Why don't you go wait in the car?"

"Uh-uh," he said, flatly determined that the two of us would not separate. "I am not going anywhere without you, Dad. Something is wrong here. Very wrong, and I want to get out!"

"Yes, Son, I know something's wrong." I could tell there was not going to be a happy medium here, so I let the steel of my "Daddy voice" temper my words. "We need to find out what it is and whether or not we can help."

"No Dad," Bill pleaded, his eyes gone dark with fear. "Please no."

He knew I had made up my mind, though, and his shoulders rounded with acceptance as I pulled him back to his feet.

"We'll just be a minute, Son," I promised, turning back toward the gun counter.

The lady, Marie, was gone. My steps faltered as I saw the empty corral.

"Look, under there!" Bill hissed, squatting down and pointing under the bottom edge of the swinging corral door.

"Why are you whispering, Son?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper itsself.

"I don't know," he whispered back.

"Ma'am," I continued, this time at regular volume, voice cracking a little. I didn't want Bill to hear how scared I actually was.

"Ma'am, are you ok?"

I leaned over the gate to the gun counter and looked down at her - she seemed to have passed out, and was lying flat on her back with a trail of blood-flecked foam dribbling down the side of her face.

"Stay here," I told Bill as I reached inside the counter to undo the catch on the swinging door.

This time he didn't resist, simply standing there, eyes as wide as ever I'd seen them and every muscle in his body as taut as a bow string. At a nod, he'd run; I could tell it was everything he could do not to take off down the aisle we'd just come up

I looked Marie's body over again. I could tell it was a body: she wasn't wheezing any more. In fact, her chest didn't move at all. Feeling for a pulse in her wrist as I bent down, I couldn't help but flinch at the slightly rotten smell I'd noticed before. It reminded me of the scent of a mass grave I'd ridden by in the back of a military truck in Sumatra after the tsunami hit in December of '04. It was all I could do to keep my racing mind from following that memory; I'd been dealing with the nightmares of that experience ever since, and the smell was something that would never, ever leave me.

Death. She smelled like death. She had smelled that way while she was still standing, while she was still moving.

"Dad, is she ..." Bill couldn't bring himself to end his question as I dropped her lifeless arm back to the ground.

"Yes, I'm afraid so, Son." Never had a phrase rung so truly. I was afraid. Very afraid.

H1Z1 - Chapter 2

As we stepped through the door, it seemed as through eerie was the word for the day - Wad-Mart is usually a zoo on a Saturday morning, even if it was this early. Obviously, with the flu scare, no one was venturing too far from their hovels, but I don't remember the store ever seeming this empty.

Doors automatically sliding closed behind us, Bill and I immediately aimed ourselves to the back right of the store and the outdoors section. We rarely shopped anywhere but the outdoors section, unless one or the other of us needed a new shirt or my wife dragged me, kicking and screaming like a distruptive two-year-old through the store on a shopping expedition.

"Dad," he asked, and the tone in his voice made the hair on the back of my neck stand up even further, if that is even possible. "Where is everybody?"

"I'm not sure, Son," I replied, shaking my hand free of his so he didn't notice how sweaty my palms had suddenly become. "Let's just go get some shells and get out of here."

As we strode with purpose down the aisle between the electronics and toys, I scanned the cashier stands at the front of the store. This place was huge - a warehouse, more than anything, but I could usually see a cashier at one of the 30 or so check out stands. I thought I might have seen someone's head way down at the other end of the store (it seemed like it was half-a-mile away), but I couldn't be sure. One of the reasons I loathe this stupid store so much is that they have so many check-out stands, but it seems like no more than three are manned at any given time.

'Great,' I thought. 'Only one line open. Good thing we seem to be the only people in the store.'

"Why are we the only people in the store?" my mini-doppelganger echoed.

"We're not the only people in the store, Son," was my automatic, thoughtless reply. "At least, I don't think we are.

We rounded the corner to the outdoor aisle and went directly to the shelf of brightly colored boxes designed to entice us to "Buy this ammo! None is better than ours!"

"Grab two boxes of the skeet-load," I instructed, watching as Bill scanned the labels, diligently trying to find the right kind of shells. He hesitated at the middle shelf of boxes, which were not the right ones, before his hand darted one shelf down to the correct loads just before I reminded him of what he was looking for.

"Wow, these are heavy, Dad," he grunted, hoisting the boxes under his arm.

"I know, but when you think about what's in there, you understand why.

"Did you check the box to make sure it was steel shot, not lead?" Bill was envirenmentally minded, and I had explained the differences between lead and steel shot to him, and the repercussions of all that lead in the ground at the range.

"They're all steel now, Dad, you know that!" was his reply. I never could trip him up when it came to things like this - the child had a mind like a bear trap.

"Why don't you grab a box of 20 gauge, too, Son?"

His eyes almost glowed as he nearly whooped out, "Really?"

I'd only let him shoot a few times, but he was a natural at it, remained calm and focused on the range and we had taken the range safety course together. I knew he was not only able, but that he really enjoyed shooting with me on the occasion I could smuggle him out from under his mother's watchful eye.

As he addded the box of 20 gauge shells to his pile, I turned to look at the gun counter and froze. Staring back at me was a woman in a Wad-Mart uniform. She wasn't moving, just staring, except she seemed to be staring through me - her eyes were glazed looking and didn't move around. She just stared. I noticed something else, but it didn't quite register at the time - she was drooling. In fact, a thin line of slaver ran almost all the way down her chest to the bottom of her blue vest. Her mouth was open and there was a kind of wheeze coming from her throat - not exactly breathing, not exactly coughing. But her chest barely moved - she sort of shuffled toward us. Lurched might more be the word.

"Dad? ..." I could hear the raw edge of terror in Bill's voice.

"It's ok, Son. Just be calm.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" I asked, taking a step toward the corral behind the gun counter where she was standing.

She wheezed. She didn't talk, didn't answer - it seemed like my voice registered in her head, but she didn't seem to understand what I had asked.

"Ma,am?" I asked, beginning to feel that edge of fear in my own mind.

"Dad, let's go," Bill urged, tucking the boxes of shells under his arm and tugging on my shirt sleeve.

"Just a minute, Son. I think this lady needs our help."

I took another step toward her and she lurched toward me again - spittle bubbling in her mouth and a froth beginning to spill from her lips. A bloody froth.

"Lady! Can you hear me?" I shouted, torn between getting closer and turning tail and running.

My spine felt like a rod of ice - my blood, however, burned as it raced through my limbs. I could not only see that there was something terribly, terribly wrong with this woman, but, and my mind balked at this realization, I could smell something wrong with her.

"Dad! No!" Bill spurted as I reached out to touch her. She was burning up - I could feel heat through the sleeve of her blouse as I gently shook her shoulder. Her eyes were still looking through me, but she seemed to recognized my touch and lurched toward me again, hitting the little swinging door of the corral and stumbling.

It took me a minute to understand that I was hearing a feral growl from deep in the back of her throat, but by this time, instinct had taken over and I jerked my hand away, subconsciously wiping it clean on my shirt as I took a step back from her.

"Dad, we need to go!" Bill said, pulling harder at my sleeve.

"Yeah, Son. Yes. I think we do," I said, backing away, eyes not leaving the slavering, lurching woman as she bumped against the corral door over and over, not seeming to realize she had to unlatch it to get out from behind the counter.

H1Z1 - Chapter 1

It started innocently enough, I guess. I mean, it's a flu virus, right? How bad can that be?

Yes, I remember the Spanish flu outbreak of 1918, yes, there have been several outbreaks since then and a lot of people have died, but it's 2009 for goodness' sake! We've made such huge medical advances since then - and we can't handle a little outbreak of some new flu virus?

I took it in stride. Went to work. Washed my hands. Went "tch tch" at news reports coming from Mexico about the spread of the virus. Now big deal, right? It's just the flu - I had my flu mist this year, I am good to go!

Then the reports started changing. At first the chatter all seemed to point to it being a myth - I mean, really? Zombies? You're kidding, right?

I kept living my life. Kept going to work. Washed my hands like the news said to do. Stayed clear of large public venues where snot-nosed children put their hands on everything - you know, Wad-Mart. I thought I was safe.

I was wrong. I couldn't have been more wrong.

Ironically, it was a trip to Wad-Mart that brought the reality of the new and very different viral strain, H1Z1, to light for me - that one fateful trip.

As usual, I climbed into my SUV on a sunny but somewhat wind-swept Saturday morning with the intent of hitting the store for some shells and heading out to the skeet range. I brought my son with me just to give the wife a break - besides, I could rent him a 20-gauge at the range and let him shoot with me (she didn't know I would do this and I wanted to keep things that way, but the boy needs to learn to hunt!).

Our neighborhood is quiet on an a Saturday at 8:00 a.m. no matter what, but this morning I didn't even hear dogs barking, which seemed fine with my two furry knuckleheads, who piled into the back of the truck like it was Christmas morning and they could smell a huge pile of dog treats wrapped in a present. I absolutely love the enthusiasm of my silly dogs, but sometimes, I wonder how much actual brain action is going on in those furry skulls.

The four of us, me, the boy and the doggy doggy headed out - my thoughts were not on what I was doing, but I really couldn't tell you now what it was that was whispering in the back of my mind and making all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

There was almost no traffic - a fire engine whipped by me at the stop light - lights on but no siren, but beyond that, I only saw a few other early morning adventurers out on the road. Again, not that unusual, it is, after all, a fairly small city.

The closer we got to the store, the more the dogs seemed to be picking up on whatever it was that had my hackles raised, because theirs began to raise, too. The bitch, Sarah, started to whine as I turned into the Wad-Mart parking lot.

"What's a matter, baby?" I crooned, using that sweet, soft voice every dog owner uses with their pet when it seems nervous or scared. Funny, that voice - you could be the toughest, meanest, baddest-assed biker punk on the planet, but you talk in that funny, sweet voice when your dog is upset. Go figure.

Sasha looked at me with her head cocked as Steve, our male, started whining, too.

"It's OK, babies," I crooned, looking at my son, who was petting Sasha and crooning to her as well. He just shrugged and kept trying to soother her.

Not too busy here this morning, thank goodness. I am never a fan of the huge super-we-have-it-all stores in the first place, but I sincerely loathe Wad-Mart. There's something about the parade of skinny idiots in wife-beaters with mullets and overweight, frazzled mommies with 27 1/2 kids that simply puts my teeth on edge. My strategy? Get in, go straight to what I want and get out.

As I made sure my son had cracked his window for the dogs, I noticed that it was eerily quiet here, too. I mean quiet. 'You know, this is that moment in the cheesy horror movie where the sacrificial (your fave here - bimbo, minority, dumb jock, etc ...) whoever goes, "Yeah, too quiet ...", I thought to myself as I locked the door. I almost said the same to my son, but refrained.

At ten, Bill is my spitting image. It's like me-redux but with lighter hair. Same eyes, same chin, same bit of paunch and tendency toward love handles when we don't get out enough. The only thing that marks us apart when you look at photos of my tenth year and him, today, is a scar on my chin just below the lip. I got that one when I was three or four - I fell on my face and shoved my bottom teeth through my lip. I can still remember having stitches sewn into it; not a favorite memory of mine.

This morning, we were both dressed for the range - jeans, light shooting jackets with shoulder pads, he in a favorite, smelly beat-up ball cap, me in my empire Stetson. My shotgun was dutifully racked in the driver's side window in the back of the SUV - barrel NOT pointed at my head as I drove. I was thinking about picking up a 20-gauge of his own for Bill this morning, but still wasn't sure how I'd get that idea through to my pacifist wife, who only rolled over and mumbled when I got up at 6:00 a.m. to shower, shave and throw some bacon and eggs on the stove for the boy and I.

We, "The Bobsy Twins" as my Mother called us, walked toward the entrance of this disgusting, over commercialized, price-cutting, wage raping establishment, alone. Utterly alone. One of the dogs gave us a single bark as we walked off from the truck, as if to say, "Wait! You don't know what you're getting in to!"

'I know," I thought. 'I've gone through this before. I can handle the idiots at Wad-Mart."

Bill looked back at the truck, biting his lip like he does when some thing's bothering him.

"Dad?" He asked. "Can we bring the dogs in? They look lonely."

"Son, you know we can't bring them in here," I replied. "But we'll stop at the Pet-Mart on the way out-of-town and we can take them in to buy them treats, okay?"

This seemed to mollify him and he reached out to grab my hand as we walked through the automatic doors. I love the fact that, even though he's ten now, and a Big Boy, he'll still reach out to hold me hand in a crowded place, or when we're all alone.