Undead by John Russo

had better gather whatever supplies they would let him keep without interference. Perhaps in the confusion of the moment, he thought, he could snatch up a lot of things without an argument. He moved toward the refrigerator, but Ben stopped him.
    “Don’t you touch any of that food,” Ben warned
    He tightened his grip on the rifle, and though he did not point it at Harry, Harry was well aware of the power it implied.
    Harry allowed his fingers to fall away from the handle of the refrigerator.
    “Now, if I stay up here,” Ben said, “I’m gonna be fighting for what’s up here—and that food and that radio and anything else that’s up here is part of what I’m fighting for. And you are dead wrong—you understand? But if you’re going to the cellar, get your ass moving—go down there and get out of here, man, and don’t mess with me anymore.”
    Harry turned to Tom.
    “This man is crazy, Tom! He’s crazy! We’ve got to have food down there! We’ve got a right!”
    Ben confronted Tom also. “You going down there with him?”
    “No beating around the bush. You going, or ain’t you? This is your last chance.”
    After a long moment of silence, Tom turned and faced Harry Cooper apologetically, for he had decided in favor of Ben.
    “Harry…I think he’s right…”
    “You’re crazy.”
    “I really think we’re better off up here.”
    “You’re crazy. I have a kid down there. She couldn’t possibly take all the racket up here, and those things reaching through the glass. We’ll be lucky if she lives, as it is now.”
    “Okay,” Ben said. “You’re the kid’s father. If you’re dumb enough to go die in that trap, it’s your business. But I’m not dumb enough to go with you. It’s just bad luck for the kid that her old man’s so dumb. Now, you get the hell down the cellar. You can be boss down there. And I’m boss up here. And you ain’t taking any of this food, and you ain’t touching anything that’s up here.”
    “Harry, we can get food to you,” Tom said, “if you want to stay down there and…”
    “You bastards!” Harry said. From the cellar, his wife was still crying out:
    “Harry! Harry! What’s going on, Harry?”
    He moved toward the cellar, but Tom stopped him.
    “Send Judy up here,” Tom said. “She’ll want to stay up here with me.”
    Ben glanced at Tom, with a surprised expression on his face. No one had told him there was anybody in the cellar except for Harry’s wife and daughter.
    “My girlfriend,” Tom explained. “Judy’s my girlfriend.”
    “You should’ve told me she was down there,” Ben said.
    In the meantime, Harry had pivoted and stomped down the cellar stairs, and the sound of lighter footsteps told them the girl was on her way up.
    She hugged Tom and looked sheepishly at Ben. She was about Tom’s age, dressed similarly to him, in blue jeans and denim jacket. She was a pretty girl, blond, scared, and probably—Ben thought—going to be about as much of a problem as Barbara. With Tom, she moved to the closed cellar door, behind which could be heard the sounds of Harry boarding it up.
    “You know I won’t open this door again!” Harry shouted, through it. “I mean it!”
    “We can fix it up here!” Tom shouted back, not giving up. “With your help we could—”
    “Let him go,” Ben said. “His mind is made up. You’d be better off to just forget about him.”
    “We’d be better off up here!” Tom shouted. “There are good places we can run to up here!”
    From behind the cellar door, there was no reply. Just the sound of Harry’s footsteps going down the stairs.
    Ben tied the broken fringe back onto the rifle, then began reloading it, replacing the spent shells. When it was loaded, he strapped it to his shoulder again, then turned and moved toward the upstairs. In passing, his glance fell on Barbara; he stepped backwards off the stairs and looked at her.
    The radio had taken up again with its monotonous recorded message.
    Tom had