earthworms have five hearts, we're going to die on this roof or directly below it.
"But you're right. One day someone might find this journal." She scooted it toward me. "Keep going."
I finished half my can of tuna, handed the rest to Michelle, then I took my journal back. Why stop writing now?
Also, Michelle, if you're reading this, you're still kind of hot. But man, do you need a shower.
44
WE DROVE AWAY FROM FUNUCATION, leaving Evan and what was left of Ben behind. Dad drove and I rode shotgun, Michelle sitting between us with Chuck on her lap.
None of us spoke.
When Dad's truck turned onto Meridian Street, we saw three houses on the left were on fire.
The first house was crumbling, sending up sparks with each chunk that fell.
The middle house was blazing, flames billowing out of every window and licking up its sides.
The third house had just caught and only the upper left corner was burning.
But I knew if left unchecked the third house would incinerate as surely as the first and the fire would spread to a fourth house, a fifth, and on and on.
It might be the fire that burned all of Harrington, consuming it like a horde of dead.
On the right side of Meridian, a woman in a pink housedress wielded a snow shovel against four dead men. She stepped backward into the outstretched arms of a fifth zombie, who brought her down.
They fell on her like hyenas crowding a fresh kill.
We drove toward the town square where I could already see the dome of the Harrington courthouse above smaller buildings.
Ahead of us, two cars were idling in either lane so we couldn't get around. The drivers in each vehicle were looking straight ahead to the town square.
"Hang on," Dad said and drove onto the sidewalk. We went around the cars and saw what the drivers were staring at.
There was a fire engine crashed into the glass front of Le Entre, Harrington's most expensive restaurant. The fire department was catty-corner from that side of the square, so the engine had only traveled half a block before wrecking.
Its emergency lights were whirring and its siren was blaring. Its back end hung out into the street, blocking traffic.
On the opposite intersection, two empty police cruisers were parked, their emergency lights spinning.
"We're going to go slow," Dad said and drove forward.
When we entered the square, we saw the courthouse was enveloped in pandemonium. People, many of them in suits, ran in every direction across the lawn and in the streets.
It was easy to tell the zombies from the living by how slowly they ran.
"Watch out!" Michelle yelled.
Before Dad could turn to look, a silver minivan rammed into the back of our truck, throwing Michelle, Chuck, and me against the passenger door.
I heard a heavy crack I knew was my skull striking the window glass and the world blinked out.
45
A RINGING IN MY EARS that wasn't coming from any siren or alarm blocked out all sound.
There was a crack in the passenger side window. Below it a spot of red I knew was my blood.
I put a hand to my head. My fingers came away wet and sticky.
Beneath the crack in the window I saw a man on the courthouse lawn wearing a blue T-shirt and rubber pants held up by suspenders.
Firefighter gear.
He swung his arms back, his legs in a wide stance.
I didn't realize he had an axe until he lodged it in the chest of a woman in a black business suit.
The woman took two steps back, the axe wedged in her chest, then staggered forward, her arms reaching for him.
The firefighter was dumbstruck. He looked perplexed even as the woman bit into his neck and tore out his throat.
Hands clapped in front of my face.
I turned to see Dad leaning across the driver's seat. He was talking to me. I couldn't hear him over the ringing, but I saw his lips widen on the word "okay."
"I'm fine," I said and opened the truck door.
My mouth hung and I couldn't seem to close it. But I knew we had to get out of the truck.
I stepped onto the street
"But you're right. One day someone might find this journal." She scooted it toward me. "Keep going."
I finished half my can of tuna, handed the rest to Michelle, then I took my journal back. Why stop writing now?
Also, Michelle, if you're reading this, you're still kind of hot. But man, do you need a shower.
44
WE DROVE AWAY FROM FUNUCATION, leaving Evan and what was left of Ben behind. Dad drove and I rode shotgun, Michelle sitting between us with Chuck on her lap.
None of us spoke.
When Dad's truck turned onto Meridian Street, we saw three houses on the left were on fire.
The first house was crumbling, sending up sparks with each chunk that fell.
The middle house was blazing, flames billowing out of every window and licking up its sides.
The third house had just caught and only the upper left corner was burning.
But I knew if left unchecked the third house would incinerate as surely as the first and the fire would spread to a fourth house, a fifth, and on and on.
It might be the fire that burned all of Harrington, consuming it like a horde of dead.
On the right side of Meridian, a woman in a pink housedress wielded a snow shovel against four dead men. She stepped backward into the outstretched arms of a fifth zombie, who brought her down.
They fell on her like hyenas crowding a fresh kill.
We drove toward the town square where I could already see the dome of the Harrington courthouse above smaller buildings.
Ahead of us, two cars were idling in either lane so we couldn't get around. The drivers in each vehicle were looking straight ahead to the town square.
"Hang on," Dad said and drove onto the sidewalk. We went around the cars and saw what the drivers were staring at.
There was a fire engine crashed into the glass front of Le Entre, Harrington's most expensive restaurant. The fire department was catty-corner from that side of the square, so the engine had only traveled half a block before wrecking.
Its emergency lights were whirring and its siren was blaring. Its back end hung out into the street, blocking traffic.
On the opposite intersection, two empty police cruisers were parked, their emergency lights spinning.
"We're going to go slow," Dad said and drove forward.
When we entered the square, we saw the courthouse was enveloped in pandemonium. People, many of them in suits, ran in every direction across the lawn and in the streets.
It was easy to tell the zombies from the living by how slowly they ran.
"Watch out!" Michelle yelled.
Before Dad could turn to look, a silver minivan rammed into the back of our truck, throwing Michelle, Chuck, and me against the passenger door.
I heard a heavy crack I knew was my skull striking the window glass and the world blinked out.
45
A RINGING IN MY EARS that wasn't coming from any siren or alarm blocked out all sound.
There was a crack in the passenger side window. Below it a spot of red I knew was my blood.
I put a hand to my head. My fingers came away wet and sticky.
Beneath the crack in the window I saw a man on the courthouse lawn wearing a blue T-shirt and rubber pants held up by suspenders.
Firefighter gear.
He swung his arms back, his legs in a wide stance.
I didn't realize he had an axe until he lodged it in the chest of a woman in a black business suit.
The woman took two steps back, the axe wedged in her chest, then staggered forward, her arms reaching for him.
The firefighter was dumbstruck. He looked perplexed even as the woman bit into his neck and tore out his throat.
Hands clapped in front of my face.
I turned to see Dad leaning across the driver's seat. He was talking to me. I couldn't hear him over the ringing, but I saw his lips widen on the word "okay."
"I'm fine," I said and opened the truck door.
My mouth hung and I couldn't seem to close it. But I knew we had to get out of the truck.
I stepped onto the street
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