Free After the Bite by David Lovato, Seth Thomas

said. “You ’re welcome to join us. Come to the church. I’m going to get food.”
    Garrett left the man standing there, not sure what would happen. He passed a crazy person, prepared a handgun, and shot it. It fell to the ground. He went to the food section and started filling his bag. Behind him a bloodied survivor ran past, screaming. A few seconds later two crazies hobbled by in their slow pursuit. Garrett continued filling his bag.
    “What do you think you ’re doing?” a man with a mustache asked. He was wearing a blue apron. It had big white letters on it: How can I help you?
    “I ’m gathering supplies for a safe zone,” Garrett said.
    “Not from my store.”
    “This isn ’t anyone’s store. Nothing belongs to anyone. Not anymore.”
    “You ’d like to think so, wouldn’t you? You criminal types always do. The first sign of trouble, and it’s the end of the world, which means nothing to you except for free reign.”
    Garrett clenched his fist. He was trying to focus on the task at hand.
    “I don’t think this is going to just blow over,” he said.
    “You ’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d love to feel like you have a right to break the law! To feel like you deserve to steal the things you were too lazy to work for, huh?”
    “Shut the fuck up,” Garrett said. He zipped up his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder.
    “If you don ’t put that shit back, I’ll go get a gun, and I’ll shoot your nigg—”
    Garret turned , grabbed the man by the throat, and lifted him off of the ground. He looked straight into the man’s terrified eyes.
    “I said shut the fuck up.”
    He dropped the man, who collapsed to the ground, coughing. Garrett started to walk away.
    “Come back here, you thief!”
    Garrett shut it out. It didn ’t matter anymore. The man grew frantic.
    “Hey! Hey, someone! This man just assaulted me! Hey!”
    His whining grew distant. Garrett made his way out of the Wal-Mart and got back into his car.
    The group that had been outside the church was now working frantically, both inside and out, to barricade the doors and windows. They saw that Garrett had returned, and they flocked to him. He handed out some of the guns he’d brought.
    “Let ’s keep watch for each other while we reinforce the doors. Did anyone try to spread the word?”
    “Someone left in a car with a megaphone,” someone said.
    “Perfect,” Garrett said. The older woman he’d seen earlier approached him.
    “God thanks you for what you ’ve done for these people,” she said.
    “Did He tell you that?”
    “This is the End of Days. We are the Chosen, the rest are demons. We are here to defend ourselves from them. We are being tested. You’ve created for us a sanctuary, and God thanks you.”
    “Whatever you say .” Garrett went inside and started to reinforce the back doors. He didn’t believe a word of it; sanctuary wasn’t a church and it wasn’t a gun. His sanctuary had been Marice, and she was gone forever, but at least he could provide respite for people who still had a chance.
    A few days later, after things had gotten stranger both inside and outside of the church, Garrett heard tires screech. He rushed to the window at the top of the church, opened it, and saw a car approaching. Garrett began waving his arms.
    “Go around back! Go around to the back!”
    The car turned and headed for the back of the church. Garrett rushed out of the room, down the stairs, and headed toward the back door.

 
    Death ’s Robe
     
    Elliot heard the sound of trains pulling in and out of the station. He sat quietly with a notebook open to the third page, which was halfway full of doodles of varying size and shading. Some were quite simple, like a little man waving out at the viewer, in this case Elliot. Some were much more complex and seemed to jump right off the page, reaching with whatever appendage the drawing was given. In one case, there was a mangy-looking old man. He looked like he was missing