Free After The End by Melissa Gibbo Page A

smile and proceeded outside. We rejoined the
others and lifted the garage door the rest of the way open, guiding
the trucks into their daytime storage. The sole Undead carried a
few bags into the living room before excusing himself to patrol the
area. We worked without sound, making pallets of bedding and
unpacking some of the food. All minds were churning over the
night’s events.
    An hour before dawn, Daemon knocked on the
front door; after checking the peephole, Randolph let him in. The
fledgling shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his
throat.
    “There aren’t any fleshies roaming about
nearby and I found a place to crash that’s close, so if it’s
alright I’m going to bail now. It’s pretty obvious that I’m making
most of you uncomfortable. I’ll come back after sunset.
    Sorry again for not being able to keep my
cool earlier; and for not preventing that dickhead from shooting
Dane. I was dealing with some zombies and wasn’t aware of the
danger over there. I’ll be more vigilant and composed from now on.
Night all.”
    He stepped back out the doorway and
disappeared into the predawn fog.
    We all knew his reason for sleeping
elsewhere; the guy was afraid of what we might do to him. Daemon
was immortal, fast, strong, and petrified of us. I understood his
concern; while the sun was up, he’d be helpless and there was no
trust between him and the group. I drifted off in a Despicable Me
sleeping bag wondering what it would take for us to all feel safe
again. Somewhere outside I heard what sounded like a bobcat
defending its territory.
    It was almost noon when I was roused for my
turn as guard. I looked around the dim room. Ellen’s Father was
adding toys and children’s books into his backpack; his face was
drawn and he seemed despondent. It occurred to me I should learn
his name soon, as I walked into the kitchen to join Sunny for some
gator jerky and oranges. She and the other driver had just finished
their turn on duty.
    After we quietly fortified the residence in
case of multitudes of dead or gun-wielding maniacs, we’d agreed to
return to camp the next evening. Our scavenging had already yielded
everything on the list – including condoms — as well as a shotgun
and shells, various books, booze, and toys.
    The firearm was in the cab of the F-150 until
we got back to the camp. Once we got home, it would be locked in
the case with the others we’d acquired throughout the chaos (we
only kept them as a final response for when all else fails). I
thought about the return trip, my thoughts only disturbed by the
snoring from the next room and the occasional moans from the
exterior of the structure. The day was long and uneventful, but far
from peaceful. I wondered how Daemon was resting.
    The Sun had set twenty minutes prior when
three little knocks tapped on the door; the team had already
gathered in the truck beds, ready to leave. I saw it was our late
arrival and proceeded out the door. Daemon had changed into a pair
of Levis and a blood donation tee the Red Cross was handing out
last Halloween. As we strolled around the house to open the garage
door and rejoin our party, he noticed me checking out his new
attire.
    “Yeah, met some icky people on the way over
and had to do a little clothing shopping. My other outfit got kind
of gore-splattered, but we won’t have many Dead in our way for at
least a block. Besides, I couldn’t resist this shirt.”
    He smirked as he pointed out the logo of
fangs and the phrase: donate blood. It fit him well.
    I shook my head and lifted open the metal
door. I was a little jealous he was the only one whose shirt hadn’t
stuck to his back awkwardly in the Spring air. Both vehicles roared
to life and everybody found a spot for the ride home. I pulled out
the bow and quiver of arrows and got comfy between Randolph and
Daemon; I hoped the weapon would be unnecessary as we backed onto
the glistening street.
    The drive back to camp went by quickly and
Daemon had been