After: Whiteout (AFTER post-apocalyptic series, Book 4) by Scott Nicholson

rotting food in the kitchen. The cloying aroma of old
grease even helped mask some of the more offensive smells. Several young
employees were scattered along the tiles in various stages of decomposition,
one of them with her head submerged in the congealed oil of a deep fryer.
    On
the Wilcox farm where Jorge served as a migrant laborer, guns were part of the
culture. Predators like coyotes and bobcats were a constant threat to the livestock,
and hunters sought wild turkey, deer, and rabbits in the wild. Jorge had given Rosa basic instruction in gun safety, and she suspected Jorge wanted her to be able to
defend herself against the other laborers, who were known for alcoholism and
brutality. They had never owned a gun, but she was comfortable enough with them
to check the chamber. Five bullets remained. The man must have had a low
opinion of his marksmanship, or perhaps his nerve.
    The
gun was single action, so she cocked the hammer and carried it back through the
seating area of the restaurant. The silence of the corpses at the tables was so
maddening she fought an urge to let fly with the bullets. If not for Marina, she might have followed the manager’s example, although she would have sought a
more pleasant location to meet the end. As she exited to the parking lot, she
wondered if firing the gun would inspire the Zapheads to use the rifles they
had collected.
    And
the math didn’t work out. There were at least eight Zapheads in Siler Creek,
not counting Joey.
    She’d
have to blast her way back to the thrift store and Marina. But as she turned
the corner, her plans changed yet again.
    Because
the Zapheads were gathered in the intersection, waiting for her.
    The
little boy in underwear was in front, with several others clustered around him.
Behind them was Cathy, holding Joey, who clapped his hands in delight as if a
birthday party was starting.
    The
Zaphead with the reattached hand stood beside Cathy, as well as the teenager Rosa had punched in the face. Two of them held rifles, although they carried them like
walking sticks, their stocks dragging the ground. Then one of them stepped
forward, and Rosa’s heart did a flip and landed on a jagged stack of ribs.
    Marina .
    Her
daughter was among them, penned in and frightened.
    Rosa raised the revolver, her hand shaking. But she didn’t
know which one to shoot. And she couldn’t trust her aim at this distance, not
when she felt like she was riding a tilt-a-whirl at some crazy carnival.
    “No
kill,” Joey said.
    “Marina?” Rosa called.
    Her
daughter looked unharmed, although she was unnaturally pale, as if she were
slipping into shock. Rosa could only imagine the terror the girl must have felt
when the Zapheads discovered her and Rosa was nowhere around. She thought about
aiming the weapon at her daughter and firing and cocking until the chamber was
empty, but murdering out of love had been a stupid plan all along.
    Because
she would never be able to harm her precious daughter.
    Once
again she was trapped in the middle.
    The
Zapheads shuffled forward a few steps, as if waiting for Rosa’s reaction. “No
kill,” Joey repeated.
    Rosa glanced behind her, wondering how many other mutants
were slinking through the ruins of the town. “What do you want?”
    Cathy
gently rocked her strange baby and said, “We’re all supposed to go together.”
    “But
they’re not us,” Rosa said.
    The
Zapheads erupted in a cacophonic echo. “ Not us, not us, not us .”
    “New
people!” Joey squealed.
    “Just
let me and my daughter go, and we won’t hurt you.” Rosa couldn’t believe she
was negotiating with an infant, and her threat sounded silly even to her own
ears. She couldn’t hurt the Zapheads. Even if she shot their heads off, they’d
just plop them back in place, apply a little kissy boo boo, and be good as new.
    Newer people.
    “No,”
Joey shrieked. “You come. Go now go.”
    He
waved his hand down the road. The other Zapheads fell into a chant: “ Go now
go,