The Walking Dead Collection by Robert Kirkman, Jay Bonansinga

threadbare, and it breaks Brian’s heart.
    “Bad dreams?”
    Penny nods.
    Brian looks at her and thinks it over. “Got an idea,” he whispers. “Why don’t you come up and keep me company for a while.”
    The little girl nods.
    He helps her up, and then, draping a blanket around her and taking her hand, he silently leads her back up to the cab. He flips down a little jump seat next to the driver’s perch, and says, “There ya go.” He pats the worn upholstery. “You can be my copilot.”
    Penny settles into the seat with her blanket pulled tightly around her and the penguin.
    “See that?” Brian points to a filthy little video monitor above the dash, about the size of a paperback book, on which a grainy black-and-white image reveals the highway behind them. The wind rustles through the trees, the sodium lights gleaming off the roofs of wrecked cars. “That’s a security camera, for backing up, see?”
    The girl sees it.
    “We’re safe here, kiddo,” Brian says as convincingly as possible. Earlier in his shift he had figured out a way to turn the ignition key to the accessory position, lighting up the dash like an old pinball machine coming to life. “Everything’s under control.”
    The girl nods.
    “You want to tell me about it?” Brian says softly a moment later.
    Penny looks confused. “Tell you about what?”
    “The bad dream. Sometimes it helps to like … tell someone … you know? Makes it go away … poof .”
    Penny gives him a feeble little shrug. “I dreamed I got sick.”
    “Sick like … those people out there?”
    “Yes.”
    Brian takes a long, anguished, deep breath. “Listen to me, kiddo. Whatever these people have, you are not going to catch it. Do you understand? Your daddy will not let that happen, never in a million years. I will not let that happen.”
    She nods.
    “You are very important to your daddy. You are very important to me .” Brian feels an unexpected hitch in his chest, a catching of his words, a burning sensation in his eyes. For the first time since he departed his parents’ place over a week and half ago, he realizes how deeply his feelings go for this little girl.
    “I got an idea,” he says after getting his emotions in check. “Do you know what a code word is?”
    Penny looks at him. “Like a secret code?”
    “Exactly.” Brian licks his finger, and then wipes a stain of dirt from her cheek. “You and I are going to have this secret code word.”
    “Okay.”
    “This is a very special code. Okay? From now on, whenever I say this secret word, I want you to do something for me. Can you do that? Can you, like, always remember to do something for me whenever I give you the secret code word?”
    “Sure … I guess.”
    “Whenever I say the code word, I want you to hide your eyes.”
    “Hide my eyes?”
    “Yeah. And cover your ears. Until I tell you it’s okay to look. All right? And there’s one more thing.”
    “Okay.”
    “Whenever I give you the secret code … I want you to remember something.”
    “What?”
    “I want you to remember that there’s gonna come a day when you won’t have to hide your eyes anymore. There’s gonna come a day when everything’s all better, and there won’t be any more sick people. Got that?”
    She nods. “Got it.”
    “Now what’s the word gonna be?”
    “You want me to pick it?”
    “You bet … it’s your secret code … you should pick it.”
    The little girl wrinkles up her nose as she ponders a suitable word. The sight of her contemplating—so intently that she looks as though she’s calculating the Pythagorean theorem—presses down on Brian’s heart.
    Finally the child looks up at Brian, and for the first time since the plague had begun, a glimmer of hope kindles in her enormous eyes. “I got it.” She whispers the word to her stuffed animal, then looks up. “Penguin likes it.”
    “Great … don’t keep me in suspense.”
    “Away,” she says. “The secret code word’s gonna