Free Hell's Children: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller by John L. Monk Page A

said he’d never seen mercury in fish sticks. Pete said you needed a microscope to see mercury, and Tony just laughed at him.
    “Guys, please,” Jack said, and they quieted. “Lisa and I will head out together. Greg?”
    Greg shrugged. “I’ll go with Tony.”
    Lisa looked at Pete. “Someone should stay here and watch the kids. How good are you with a gun?”
    “I’m a pacifist.”
    Jack sighed. “What about scavenging?”
    Pete looked skeptical. “I’m not going anywhere with dead bodies inside.”
    “Most of the places have already been opened and searched already,” Lisa said. “For any that aren’t, we have tools in one of the closets. Should be a crowbar in there. As for the dead bodies: just sniff at the doors. If it’s fresh, go in.”
    Jack said, “We need prescription drugs. Look in the bathroom cabinets. Also, bring back any car keys you find.”
    Tony said, “Don’t forget gold.”
    Pete sighed with impatience. “Anything else?”
    “You should bring Mandy and the kids with you,” Lisa said. “They shouldn’t be here alone.”
    Pete snorted and stalked from the room.
    “Fun guy,” she said.
    Jack just smiled.

    * * *
    J ack and Lisa spent the rest of the day ranging through three other apartment complexes. As a precaution, he carried his dad’s AR-15, and Lisa wore a 9mm on her hip.
    They took turns knocking on doors. Every door got three rounds of loud knocking before they moved on. As it happened, they moved on quite a bit. Sometimes they’d hear something inside and knock a fourth time, only to leave empty handed.
    One time, they knocked on a door and a rail-thin girl around the right age opened without first asking who was there. Her hair was dyed green with blond roots. Jack had never met anyone with green hair before and felt oddly intimidated.
    “Hi,” he began. “Uh, I’m Jack, and …”
    The girl turned around and walked deeper inside.
    The two friends looked at each other, then into the dark apartment. The girl was gone. Like a ghost.
    “We going in?” Lisa whispered.
    Jack seriously considered shutting the door and leaving.
    Lisa said, “Keep that big gun ready,” and walked in.
    “Hey,” he whispered, but it was too late.
    For the first time in a year, Jack chambered a round in his dad’s rifle. After applying the safety, he followed her inside.
    The sour, ever-present stink of the Sickness intruded from everywhere, assaulting him like hammer blows. At a certain point in the process, people lost control of their bowels, too weak to hold anything in.
    “Jack, in here!”
    He rushed forward into a candle-lit room, prepared for the worst and wishing for anything but what he saw. Lying on a king-size bed was the paper-thin body of a woman next to an adult male corpse.
    “How can she still be alive?” he said in horror.
    “She’s not,” Lisa said. “He is.”
    Jack jerked back in fright—the so-called corpse was a man in the last stages of the Sickness. His mouth worked open and shut, dragging in painful gasps for air, and his body was covered in sores. The woman on the bed had died some time ago and had simply dried out next to her husband.
    Jack’s parents had agreed not to let it progress this far. His mom ended his dad’s suffering after he’d lost the ability to eat or drink. A few days ago, she told Jack she loved him, zipped herself into a sleeping bag, and followed his dad into death by her own hand.
    The green-haired girl was beside the bed on her knees, praying under her breath in a mumbled rush.
    “Hey,” he said. “You, uh … You should get out of here. There’s no … Your dad, he …”
    Lisa looked at him and shook her head.
    He couldn’t say the simple truth: there was no hope here. The girl wasn’t paying attention to him in any event. She just prayed and rocked.
    Lisa retreated to the living room, and Jack followed her.
    “What now?” he said.
    Her eyes flashed angrily. “Oh, I’m suddenly in charge?”
    Jack started to reply but