Free Hollow Men by Sommer Marsden Page B

worse, not better. The brief, swelling pleasure was instantly swallowed by a dull, thrumming loneliness.
    I finished my shower and got out. That plan had backfired.
    I dressed, packed a duffel and went down to find Evan. He was sitting at the kitchen table looking at a photo album. He glanced up, looking a wee bit guilty when I came in.
    “What do you have there?” I considered a second beer, grabbed a bottle of water instead.
    “Found it on the shelf. Just a photo album.”
    I looked over his shoulder to see me and him dressed for Senior Prom. My dress was black and white. His tux obviously the same, but Evan being Evan had to mess with it. So his tie was a bright aqua blue. The same shade as my eyes, he’d told me. I’d laughed at him; I’d loved him even more for it.
    I swallowed hard. “Look at us. What a pair.”
    He nodded, shut the book. “Yep. What a pair.” He straightened up and visibly shook off whatever he was feeling. It was basically watching a dog shake off pond water. “You good? I can go?”
    “Yep. I put a towel on the hamper for you. I’ll make sure all is well.”
    He touched my hair, smiled at me and was gone.
    The rest of the night was quiet, but for the sounds of me and Evan trying hard to get comfortable on sleeping bags in the kitchen. At some point in the early hours when he began to snore, and I gave up on sleep all together, I tucked the photo album in the bag of supplies.
    When morning came I’d have to say goodbye to my home. For some reason, that realization brought sleep. Nature’s best defense mechanism.

 
    Chapter Eight
     
     
     
    The worst part of getting on the road was having to weave through the stalled cars and obvious carnage on the residential streets. The military and the local government kept crews out as often as possible to keep roads clear, but shit happens and sources were limited. So there were always things to see.
    Trucks waylaid either by opportunists or hollows, cars simply broken down and abandoned. Always something.
    The good news, they said, was that this was finite. This was not some zombie apocalypse where the illness would spread from bites or contact. The folks infected would be the only ones infected. They were limited, and they were being…dealt with. Once they were gone, they were gone.
    Problem was no one had one-hundred percent pinpointed what happened. Beef had been taken off the market. People were encouraged— ordered —to dispose of canned or frozen beef in their stockpile or turn it over to military officers at collection points.
    The question was, as time went by and hunger increased…would they? Food was touch and go at times, severely limited at others. People were prone to panic and disobeying rules.
    We’d immediately dumped all canned beef, frozen beef, burgers and anything that included beef the moment they’d narrowed the outbreak down to processed beef. But as my father had reminded me, people, especially those who were stretching every dollar to make ends meet, were hesitant to throw out ‘good’ food. So some of the tainted stuff was probably simply tucked away hoping the news would change, and we’d find out beef was indeed safe.
    A cluster of vehicles came into view. The way they were parked bringing to mind the phrase “circle the wagons”. “What’s that?” I asked, ripping my mind from the worrying.
    “That’s an impromptu camp,” Evan said, piloting the bus down the narrow residential street. Heads poked out of trailers and vans. We raised a hand to show we were human and meant no harm. Two people raised a hand in response, a few watched us roll through and the rest just went back to what they were doing.
    Hostility and fear were the overriding emotions these days.
    It took us over an hour to drive the usual fifteen minute drive to the interstate. The closer we got the clearer the roads were. The interstate was needed for personal travel, military and government travel, and as always our commerce. But it was