Coyote by David L. Foster Page A

and wondering what was going on. Now they were all screaming. As it went on he also heard the sounds of running, and what he called “wet, tearing noises.” It gave me the shivers, listening to him describe it and seeing the look in his eyes as he talked.
    He admitted he was too afraid to leave the basement and look out to see what was happening until a few hours later, when everything was quiet. When he did go out, the people’s cars were there, but the people were gone. He did find things like purses, coats, and even one shoe on the ground. There was a lot of blood smeared on the pavement too. Whatever happened to those people, I guess I can’t blame him for hiding from it. Seems like almost all of us are here now because we did a lot of running and hiding on that day. I bet there aren’t a lot of curious people left around here.
    “Around here.” That’s a loaded phrase. How far is “around here”? If we keep walking, will we find a nice, normal life going on just over the next hill? Or is the whole state going through this same hell? The whole country? The whole world? With no radios, no TV, and no internet, we can’t find out what’s going on farther away than what we can see for ourselves. It’s a really strange feeling, being disconnected like this. It gives a whole new perspective on what life must have been like before the invention of electricity, the car, and so on.
    One thing I have noticed is there haven’t been any airplanes flying over us since the Fall, and that can’t be a good sign. I guess the only way to find out how big this whole thing is would be to go ahead and walk over that next hill, and see what we see. Looks like that’s what we’re doing now, so… time to go.
     

5
     
    In the morning she woke up, ate some cold rations from her pack, and prepared to move on. She rolled the blanket she had slept under, and put it in her pack. She checked her rifle, slinging it over her shoulder, and checked that her knife was snug in its sheath. They had built their small fire on a bare section of the floor last night, and she had left her boots there to air out. As she walked over to retrieve them, she saw Bait and the Mule gathering their things together as well, looking as if they still intended to follow her.
    Soon Mike, the man they had met last night, spoke up. Still sitting in the pile of blankets and straw he had slept in that night, he turned to Bait.
    “What’re you guys doing?”
    Bait slowed, but did not stop his packing. “Oh, moving out, moving on, looks like.”
    He seemed surprised. “Where to?” he asked.
    Now Bait paused, looking perhaps a bit confused himself. “Well, we’re not totally sure about that.” He glanced at the Mule, who shrugged his agreement, and then at Coyote, who was ignoring the whole conversation.
    “Well, if you’re not sure, then what’s the hurry?” asked Mike. He was obviously loathe to be left on his own again.
    “It’s kinda hard to explain,” said Bait. “You see, we’re going with her and, well, she’s moving out, so we are too.” He gave his own sheepish shrug, as if to acknowledge how inadequate his explanation might be.
    Mike was on the verge of asking another question when the Mule spoke up. “You should come with us.” He had stopped packing and was looking at the man.
    “Hey, yeah!” cried Bait, seizing on the idea. “Come with us! Shit, there’s nothing much for you here, so why not move on? Safety in numbers, and all that.”
    Mike looked to Leanne, who had been quietly watching the conversation. “Doesn’t matter to me,” she said. “He’s right that there’s nothing keeping us here.”
    “True,” he replied. “But we’re not really equipped to travel.”
    “What about the house?” asked Bait, now attached to the idea of some extra company. He probably hoped to get somebody to chat with. “Have you looked inside the farmhouse over there yet? I bet it’s got some stuff.”
    The man thought on it for a