Free Amongst the Dead by David Bernstein Page B

deck’s railing and took aim. “Go,” she told Riley again.  
    Riley ran upstairs, Eric following. She went to her bedroom window and looked out. The stranger had his arms held high and was spinning around. George was still standing in the same position. Then the man began walking toward the house, George following.  
    “Who’s the man?” Eric asked.  
    “No idea,” Riley answered.  
    For the first time in a while, she was nervous. Why did this man have to come here? They’d been doing so well by themselves. She’d begun to think they would never be discovered by another human being. She needed to find out who this man was. What did he want? George and Joanne were bright, good people. They’d survived a long time. She would have to trust that they knew how to handle the situation. Even after spending so much time with the Milners, she still didn’t like the idea of letting others look out for her. She loved the thought of them being like a mother and father and Eric as a brother—which they all had become—but ultimately in this world she had to rely on herself. But she would trust in her new family. Trust that they would handle it and if they needed her she would be ready.  
    Eric stood by the door, listening to the voices downstairs. “It’s hard to hear what they’re saying.”  
    “Don’t worry about it. If that man is up to anything, George and Joanne will know and take care of it. Take care of us.” She wasn’t sure if she believed in her own words, but for now she had to.  
    Not before long, Riley and Eric had taken up a game of chess, Riley hoping to take Eric’s mind off the situation. A few minutes in, and Joanne entered the bedroom, still holding the rifle.  
    “Is it safe?” Eric asked.  
    Joanne sat on Riley’s bed, resting the gun against the dresser. “The man said his car broke down a few miles from here. He’s hungry and in need of aid.”  
    “Do you believe him?” Riley asked, sensing uneasiness in Joanne’s voice.  
    Joanne sighed, shoulders sagging a little. “He seems sincere…” She shook her head. “I just don’t know.”  
    That night, the stranger sat at the dinner table. His name was Renny Filder. His wounds were bandaged and he was allowed to wash in the basin in the backyard—a tub filled with rainwater used for bathing.  
    Dinner went well; the man—surprisingly—was a good conversationalist. He had been a corrections officer at Sing Sing Correctional Facility in Tarrytown, New York. He lost his wife and daughter to zombies and joined up with a group of people. They scavenged, moving around like nomads, surviving day to day like so many others.  
    He had a sister in Canada just outside of Toronto and with nothing else going on, he decided to head there and see if she was still alive. On his way north, he ran into some bad people. They had weapons—guns, bows and arrows—and vehicles that were armor plated. They chased after him, but he’d managed to lose them. He saw what appeared to be an old dirt road leading from the highway, but blocked off by a chain-link fence. Desperate and realizing it was his only chance, Renny hit the gas, breaking through the rusty chain-link fence, and traveled along a dirt path, his car bottoming out every second, until he came out onto a paved road. He sped along, turning onto another road, then another and another until he lost his pursuers.  
    “But then my engine started smoking and the car just wouldn’t go.” Renny shook his head. “I was glad to have escaped those people, but I was stuck out in the middle of nowhere. I wasn’t sure I’d be safe for long so I got out and began jogging down the road looking for a place to hide. And thank the good Lord, I found you guys.”  
    “I suppose your story is similar to whoever’s left in the world,” George said. He motioned to Joanne. “My wife’s got two sisters, one in Texas and one in Florida, but there’s just no way for us to get there safely,