Those Lazy Sundays: A Novel of the Undead by Thomas North Page A

to pick you up. When things like this happen, people have to help each other, you know?”
    “It’s no problem Phil,” Kate replied. “You let us into your house now, and that’s more than we could ask.”
    “Well, that’s no problem,” Phil said, and smiled. “You heard from your friends yet?”
    Jack shook his head.
    “No. We mostly get busy signals, or just no connection at all. We got through once, but it went straight to voice mail.”
    “Look…” Phil began, and then hesitated. “I hate to tell you, but if your friends went into Allentown, they might be in some trouble.”
     Phil grunted in pain, and then resumed talking.
    “I came from there an hour ago. It was pretty bad. Seemed like the whole damned town was catching that virus… or whatever it is. And the ones who didn’t have it were getting attacked by the ones who did.”
    He shook his head.
    “Kids attacking their parents, neighbors attacking other neighbors. Really nasty, really brutal stuff. I was just at my office catching up on some work. I almost never work on Sundays, you know, but my wife and kids are gone this weekend so I figured it was a good chance to get some things done. I just ran to the store to grab a soda when one of those SOBs bit me. Right on the ass, if you pardon my language. I looked around and saw them all over the place. I mean everywhere. I was going to drive to see the doctor, but I figured it would be too dangerous.”
    Kate and Jack exchanged worried glances. Phil paused and shifted in his chair with a pain-filled groan.
    “We have a family friend… she’s a nurse practitioner, lives over near that store you came from. Figured she might be able to stitch me up, but she wasn’t home. God knows if she’s safe or not. So I came back here by myself and patched myself up as best as I could.”
    “Is there anything we can do to help you?” Kate asked. “I’m sorry, neither of us are EMTs or anything like that, but maybe…”
    “I’m okay now. Just hurts like hell. But that’s not surprising.”
    “Would it be possible to use your phone?” Jack asked.
    “You’re welcome to try it,” Phil said. “I’ve tried it a bunch of times too. No luck. Lines are all busy.”
    Phil sighed. “My wife’s visiting her mother in Montpelier. Haven’t even been able to call up there. Both my kids are in school, one’s at BU, the other at UVM. No luck with that either. But maybe you’ll have luck again. Phone’s in the kitchen.” He pointed at the entranceway.
    Jack went into the kitchen, and returned a few seconds later with a black phone in his hand. He dialed Andy’s number, and listened. He was greeted with a recording informing him that all circuits were busy, and he should try again later. He pressed the “Off” button and set the phone down on the arm of the love seat.
    “You’re welcome to try as much as you like.”
    “Thanks,” Jack replied. “And again, we really appreciate your helping us.”
    “No problem. I could probably use the company anyway.” He stood up, bracing himself hands on the arms of the chair, then grabbed the pistol and tucked it into his pocket so just the grip was showing.
    “We should probably move upstairs,” he said. “If we’re lucky, the ones that were following you will give up. If not, we’ll be safest up there. Even if they somehow manage to get in, there is only one way for them to get upstairs, and there’s a pretty thick door they’ll have to get through. It’s a choke point, too. A great place to defend ourselves. If it came to that.” He paused. "Hopefully it won't."
    “Sounds good to me,” Jack said. “I’ll take the phone up as well, if you don’t mind.”
    “Sure,” Phil replied. “ By the way, do either of you know how to fire a gun?”
    “Not really,” Jack said. “Never fired one.”
    “I’m pretty good,” Kate spoke up. “My dad and I used to shoot all the time in our backyard. I’ve been to quite a few shooting ranges too. And