Fortunes & Failures - 03 by T. W. Brown

corrected his search a little to the left, following Heather’s pointing finger. “There!” he announced.
    “I don’t think it’s a zombie,” Kevin muttered, heading for the door. “And I’m willing to bet that they know that we are here.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Heather scooted out from the breakfast nook.
    “ I am going out there to find out who our visitor is and what they intend,” Kevin stated. “And you are gonna stay here with Peter and cover me. Peter,” he looked over at the man, finished with any debate Heather might have had in mind, “I need you upstairs on a window with a view keeping me in sight with that 30.06 we have. The scope is sighted and ready for action so just keep me in your sights and adjust on this stranger when we get close.” The man nodded and headed for the stairs. “As for you,” he returned his attention to Heather, “I want you at the door with the .45. If they are meaning us harm and I have to run for it, you just start shooting. Aim for the body if you see anybody. These aren’t zombies so a headshot isn’t necessary. We’ve been aiming for the head for so long, you might try to do so on instinct. A body shot is all you need.”
    “Okay,” Heather said with a sullen nod. She felt a new fear spike up inside her. She wasn’t sure if she could actually shoot a living, breathing person.
    With that, Kevin headed out the door. He made his way across the overgrown back yard towards the fence and the tree line beyond. He made a big demonstration of holstering his weapon as he walked across the open ground between the house and the trees. Halfway there, he stopped.
    After several nerve-wracking seconds, a lone figure stepped out of the shadows. It was dressed in head-to-toe camo, including a wide-brimmed bush hat equipped with a mesh camo veil. The figure held a shotgun—also camo—high above its head. Slowly and deliberately it slung the weapon over one shoulder and, with hands raised, began crossing the distance left to reach Kevin. At one point, the figure had to duck through some fencing and deliberately showed its back. About ten yards away, the figure stopped and pulled off the veiled hat. Kevin’s eyes widened just a bit.
    “How many inside with you besides the one tracking me upstairs with the scoped rifle and the scared girl in the doorway?” the most beautiful girl Kevin believed he had ever seen—in person anyways—asked.
    “Umm…” Kevin actually felt the saliva in his mouth dry up. He blinked his eyes, unable to look away or even attempt to disguise his staring. Her blonde hair hung in several pencil-thin braids and her blue eyes reminded him of a clear sky on a crisp autumn day. Her face was bronzed from the sun and, with absolutely no make-up, looked more radiant than even the most airbrushed centerfold model.
    “Hey…you!” The woman snapped her fingers in front of Kevin’s face.
    “Sorry.” Kevin shook his head and gathered himself. “You’re just so—”
    “Yeah,” the blonde pressed her lips together in obvious disdain, “I’m pretty. Can we get past that and maybe you answer my question.”
    “Two,” Kevin blurted, and instantly regretted it. If somebody were probing them for weakness, he’d just given away crucial information. She could be part of a large group and sent to act as a distraction for a possible attack. “What about you?” he asked hurriedly. “How many you got lurking out in the woods?”
    “None.”
    The word hung in the air and seemed as if the woman’s facial expression changed to one that dared him to challenge her response. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other in discomfort at the growing silence, he did his best to try and maintain eye contact without looking like he was gawking.
    “You gonna invite me in or,” she paused, and for the first time, Kevin noticed a hint of vulnerability, “are you gonna turn me away?”
    “Excuse me?” Kevin asked, unaware that there had