Free Stopping the Dead by Cy Gunther

“that looks pretty damned fantastic.  Any luck on the spears?”
    “Yeah, I was digging through some of the metal you have stored – and can I say again what a crazy fucker you are?”
    “Of course,” Ernst laughed.  “That’s what I am, and that’s what happens when you get bored with your money.”
    “Wouldn’t know,” Lee smiled.  “I’ve never had that much money to be bored with.  Anyway, I found aluminum.  You have seven foot rolled poles, one inch diameter, and I used one of those,” she gestured to the pole on the table, “cut a head for it from a bar, and put a slight edge on it.  I’ve got it bolted in, so they should last a while, but we’re definitely going to need to practice with the damned things before we take them into the streets.”
    Ernst nodded, picking up the prototype spear off of the table.  “We should put some sort of tape on these for a better grip.”
    “Yeah,” Lee agreed.  “That’s why I want to practice first, try to fine tune them, you know?”
    “I know.”   Ernst looked at the items on the table.  “Do you think that you could figure out a way to manufacture bullets and gunpowder?  You know, just in case?”
    “Well,” she said, scratching the back of her head, “I can start doing some research.  You probably have something on it in that library of yours.  Then it would be trying to figure out where we can get the materials, and whether or not it would be easier to use the old brass from spent rounds, or simply build new weapons that have rifled barrels, but are black-powder.  You know, muzzle loaders?”
    “That sounds great to me,” Ernst said.  He cleared his throat and asked, “Hey, do you want to go and grab a bite to eat before the twins get back from their patrol?”
    “Take a spin downtown and grab a bite?” she smiled.
    Ernst laughed.  “I think downtown might take a bite out us if we do that.”
    “That sounds good to me,” Lee grinned.  “Just let me wash up and we’ll raid that magic pantry of yours.  I’m still just shocked at the number of things that they can freeze dry and vacuum seal.   MREs are great and everything, but they do get kind of old, even if they’re pumping you full of calories.”
    “Well,” Ernst said, “we’ll skip the MREs right now, and try to find something nice and tasty.  Maybe a beef stroganoff?”
    “That,” she said, “actually sounds pretty fantastic.”  She walked over to the sink, lathered up, and washed off her hands.  Drying them she said, “Do you have other clothes than BDUs?”
    Ernst hesitated for a moment before saying, “I do.  Do you want them now?”
    “Yeah,” she said, “I’ve been wearing these for days now and I’m starting to smell myself, so I know that it’s bad.”
    Ernst gave her a small smile, nodding.  “Okay, come on with me.  After I get you the clothes I’ll go and dig out some food and bring it up stairs.”
    “That sounds like a plan,” Lee said, and followed Ernst as he started towards the stairs.

Ernst
     
    Ernst led the way through the aisles of supplies, turning left behind a stack of MREs, and reaching a small door.
    “Holy shit,” Lee said, “I didn’t think there were any other rooms.”
    “This is the only other one,” Ernst said.  He opened it and flicked the light.  The room was, he knew, far different than the stark austerity of the rest of his property.  The small room had an old Victorian carpet, and the walls were actually wallpapered.  Family photos hung in frames, some as old as the history of photography itself, others we re pictures of Helen.  Her hope- chest stood of f to the left.  To the right was a smaller alcove, icons hanging above a small kneeler, incense burners unlit upon a shelf.
    “Wow,” Lee said after a moment.  “This room is you.”
    Ernst gave her a small smile, nodding.
    “Who’s the woman?” she asked, gesturing towards a photo of Helen in her wedding dress.
    “That’s my wife,”