The Other Life by Susanne Winnacker

houses had been bombed. Some were burned down to the ground, while others were almost intact, with only their windows smashed.
Debris littered the streets, forcing Joshua to steer the car around chunks of concrete in a zigzag.
    I retrieved the gun that I’d put next to my feet and held it in my hands.
    Joshua stopped the car at the kerb. There were other cars in front and behind us, so the Lincoln didn’t stand out too much. Huge warehouses towered above the streets, their faded signs
naming companies that no longer existed. Once this place had bustled with people doing their jobs in order to provide for their families. Now they were all gone. Jobs, people, families.
    Joshua turned round and grabbed his backpack from behind his seat. He took out a hunting knife in a black leather sheath and handed it to me. “Just in case a close-combat situation
arises.”
    Close-combat? The last time I’d fought – and won – had been against Brittany Ferris in junior high. She and her hyenas had laughed at me because I’d stepped on my
floor-length skirt and ended up pulling it off in the process. The mortification of standing in my cotton panties in the school yard had given me the motivation to bust her lip. But Brittany Ferris
wasn’t a Weeper – or at least, she hadn’t been then. Who knew what had happened to her since the rabies? The chances were she hadn’t survived, and the thought made me feel
bad. I shook my head. This wasn’t the moment to get lost in memories. I took the knife and tied the sheath to a belt loop on my jeans. Joshua gave a small nod of approval before handing me
another pistol.
    So many weapons – as if we were going to war. I showed him the gun in my right hand. Surely, I didn’t need another.
    “You’ll need another one,” he said, as if reading my thoughts.
    Going to war indeed. What had he called it? The survival of the fittest. I took it from him and slid it into the back of my jeans. He gave me a handful of bullets next. “Put them in your
pocket. And Sherry—” He stopped me with his hand on my arm. “Use them wisely. We don’t have any to waste.” Before I could consider what his words meant, he continued.
“Do you know how to load a gun?”
    “My dad taught me.” I stuffed the bullets into my pockets, hoping Joshua hadn’t noticed how my voice had cracked. I pasted on a smile.
    His gaze was intense, as if he could see right through me. “Then let’s go.” He got out of the car.
    I followed, scanning our surroundings. The area seemed peaceful. I’d expected Weepers to lurk at every corner, waiting to attack. Weepers that were once people like you, a tiny voice in my
head reminded me.
    “Sherry?”
    I jumped and glanced at Joshua, who’d walked a few steps towards one of the intact warehouses.
    I sprinted after him. “Are they in there?” A part of me wanted them to be, so I could save Dad. The other part was scared witless.
    “No, not in that one. But there’s a smaller warehouse right behind it. They should be there. At least, they were the last time I was here.”
    Goosebumps rose on my skin as we crept past the huge building. It cast shadows on us and our surroundings. Despite the shade, the air was stuffy and I began to sweat. I wiped my right hand on my
jeans, then my left, trying to dry my palms. Joshua was a few steps ahead, his tall frame obstructing my view. He stopped and I almost bumped into him.
    “What is it?” I asked, looking around for a sign of attackers. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He shushed me and scanned our surroundings with narrowed eyes. He pointed his
revolver at the door of the warehouse, which stood open a crack. It was too dark inside to make out if there was someone in there. I squinted against the sun, raised my own gun and aimed it at the
same spot.
    Nothing.
    The wind picked up, giving us some relief from the heat. It also jolted a corrugated sheet roof somewhere, filling the silence with its clattering.
    Joshua