I turned my attention to mom and dad, raising a weapon toward each, but as I did I realized the crowd I’d run from had caught up to me. Suddenly, I was surrounded. Normally I’d take a dive and bring them down at the knees, but these were flesh-eaters. You don’t want to be stuck at the bottom of a pile with these motherfuckers. Instead I fired off some shots and then used the shotgun like a bat and cleared a path.

But nothing I did shook them. No matter how fast I moved, they were there, relentless and hungry. I was probably the only fresh meat on the streets so within a few minutes I was the pied piper of the dead, leading a parade of slobbering zombies in a circle around the block. Every couple of feet, when I felt like I had some distance, I’d turn and blast the ones at the head of the procession to shorten the line a bit.

After about an hour of running, stopping, turning, and blasting, I had made a significant dent in the ranks of the living dead of Mendez. I reduced the small army of transformed townsfolk into a scattered mess of headless bodies.

There were still a few wandering here and there when I spotted the thin trail of smoke rising from the trees. My best guess was that it was the next block over. I reloaded all the guns and then followed the trail. It wasn’t much smoke, probably a kitchen fire started when the cook got eaten or turned, but with a pause in the living dead onslaught it was the next best thing to a lead.

The trail led me to the next residential block. It looked exactly like the previous—mid-range family homes, mostly Spanish style—except this was block wasn’t covered with bodies and brains.

But it was still early.

The smoke trail seemed to be coming from the roof of one of the few two-story homes on the street. I couldn’t tell from where I stood so I climbed up a car parked in the street. From the roof of the car I could see the house across the street, the smoke, and the hole in the tile it was rising from.

Bingo.

I double-checked my weapons and then called Mo’Lock to get an update. It took a couple of rings but he eventually picked up.

“Mo’,” I said, “It’s Cal. What’s the report?

“Um . . . not much.”

“How’s the perimeter holding up?”

“Fine.”

I took a deep breath. “How about some details? Have you and your buddies run into any zombies?”

“No.”

“Not one?” I asked.

“Not one.”

I gripped the cell hard in my hand. “So, while I’ve been in here fighting for my goddamn life, you guys have been—”

“Securing the perimeter.”