..." he tried to correct himself.
"Okay," she said.
Lee glanced at her. "Okay .”
“I just don’t wanna sleep alone,” she said quietly.
“Yeah. Me neither.”
“You have any extra blankets?”
“Yes.”
Before rolling out his bed, he switched the radio back to the main channel and took the lantern from the desk. T hen he pulled the extra blankets from his pack and gave them to Julia. He extended his own bedroll and lay the blankets across, and Julia situated herself to his left. In an odd, and yet somehow comfortable silence, they laid down on the bedroll, not touching, but close enough if one were to reach out. Lee turned off the LED lantern that glowed brightly and the two of them, exhausted and secure in the comfort of human company, fell asleep almost instantly.
***
He was with his father in this dream, as he was in many other dreams of late. A presence that imparted quiet encouragement in the face of a deep and paralyzing dread that Lee could only feel when he was asleep, lost in the twists and turns of his subconscious. Gene Harden had always been a quiet man, and in these dreams he never spoke a word.
They were on the front porch of a house that Lee had never lived in, some house drawn from memories of his father’s old western movies. They stared out at a barren, windswept landscape and it filled Lee’s soul with an empty fear, like the howling of wind in a canyon. When he looked to his right, he could see his father , as young as he’d looked when Lee was a boy, perhaps seven or eight years old, and his father in his late thirties. His father stared out at the wasteland before them and he smiled and nodded.
Lee turned away from the scene , hoping to escape into the house, but instead found himself in Lillington, or some poor facsimile of it, manufactured from disjointed bits and pieces from his subconscious. He was standing outside, in the middle of the street, and all around him were the corpses of the dead infected he had killed. Across from him he could see Father Jim, and the man wept violently and beat at his chest.
"What's wrong?" Lee asked.
And Father Jim gestured all around them, at the bodies that littered the streets, and his tears ran bitter down his face. "Where are the females, Lee? Where are all the females?"
Lee looked down at the bodies all around him, pale flesh smeared with dirt and dried blood and shit. All of them were naked, and they were all females, and they all bore Lee’s old girlfriend Deanna's face, in all the different grotesque attitudes of death. In some of them Deanna's tongue lolled out, others her eyes were open, gazing at the sky, or at some invisible fixed point beyond reckoning. In the dream, the sight of Deanna's face had very little e ffect on him. It was a face from another life, another time.
Someone he could barely remember.
He tried to comfort Jim by pointing to all the dead bodies. "No, Jim! We got 'em all! They're right here!"
But Jim was inconsolable, and he only continued to ask, "Where are all the females?"
***
"Lee."
He opened his eyes to darkness, staring at the ceiling above his head.
"Lee."
He leaned forward and could see the dark shape of Julia, wrapped in a blanket, and standing at the door to the office. The Camp Ryder building had grown cold in the night and Lee could see her breath, fogging in the black air. Julia looked at him and made a little waving motion from underneath her blanket.
"There's someone at the gate," she whispered.
Lee leaned up onto his elbows, sweeping a layer of dust from his slumbering mind and trying to remind himself why he should care if someone was at the gate. The sound of it was faint when he heard it. Someone was yelling outside, and another was raising his voice. Two men in disagreement.
Lee threw his blanket off of himself and the cold air bit at him mercilessly. He grabbed his jacket and his rifle and fumbled them on as he headed for the door. Julia had dropped her blanket and
"Okay," she said.
Lee glanced at her. "Okay .”
“I just don’t wanna sleep alone,” she said quietly.
“Yeah. Me neither.”
“You have any extra blankets?”
“Yes.”
Before rolling out his bed, he switched the radio back to the main channel and took the lantern from the desk. T hen he pulled the extra blankets from his pack and gave them to Julia. He extended his own bedroll and lay the blankets across, and Julia situated herself to his left. In an odd, and yet somehow comfortable silence, they laid down on the bedroll, not touching, but close enough if one were to reach out. Lee turned off the LED lantern that glowed brightly and the two of them, exhausted and secure in the comfort of human company, fell asleep almost instantly.
***
He was with his father in this dream, as he was in many other dreams of late. A presence that imparted quiet encouragement in the face of a deep and paralyzing dread that Lee could only feel when he was asleep, lost in the twists and turns of his subconscious. Gene Harden had always been a quiet man, and in these dreams he never spoke a word.
They were on the front porch of a house that Lee had never lived in, some house drawn from memories of his father’s old western movies. They stared out at a barren, windswept landscape and it filled Lee’s soul with an empty fear, like the howling of wind in a canyon. When he looked to his right, he could see his father , as young as he’d looked when Lee was a boy, perhaps seven or eight years old, and his father in his late thirties. His father stared out at the wasteland before them and he smiled and nodded.
Lee turned away from the scene , hoping to escape into the house, but instead found himself in Lillington, or some poor facsimile of it, manufactured from disjointed bits and pieces from his subconscious. He was standing outside, in the middle of the street, and all around him were the corpses of the dead infected he had killed. Across from him he could see Father Jim, and the man wept violently and beat at his chest.
"What's wrong?" Lee asked.
And Father Jim gestured all around them, at the bodies that littered the streets, and his tears ran bitter down his face. "Where are the females, Lee? Where are all the females?"
Lee looked down at the bodies all around him, pale flesh smeared with dirt and dried blood and shit. All of them were naked, and they were all females, and they all bore Lee’s old girlfriend Deanna's face, in all the different grotesque attitudes of death. In some of them Deanna's tongue lolled out, others her eyes were open, gazing at the sky, or at some invisible fixed point beyond reckoning. In the dream, the sight of Deanna's face had very little e ffect on him. It was a face from another life, another time.
Someone he could barely remember.
He tried to comfort Jim by pointing to all the dead bodies. "No, Jim! We got 'em all! They're right here!"
But Jim was inconsolable, and he only continued to ask, "Where are all the females?"
***
"Lee."
He opened his eyes to darkness, staring at the ceiling above his head.
"Lee."
He leaned forward and could see the dark shape of Julia, wrapped in a blanket, and standing at the door to the office. The Camp Ryder building had grown cold in the night and Lee could see her breath, fogging in the black air. Julia looked at him and made a little waving motion from underneath her blanket.
"There's someone at the gate," she whispered.
Lee leaned up onto his elbows, sweeping a layer of dust from his slumbering mind and trying to remind himself why he should care if someone was at the gate. The sound of it was faint when he heard it. Someone was yelling outside, and another was raising his voice. Two men in disagreement.
Lee threw his blanket off of himself and the cold air bit at him mercilessly. He grabbed his jacket and his rifle and fumbled them on as he headed for the door. Julia had dropped her blanket and
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