MIGUEL

The National Civil War Museum reminded Miguel of a college campus: mason-bricked colonial buildings, emphasizing their symmetry, looking like greek temples from online or had that horror gothic-facade, but that's just him. He never was much of an architecture guy. A building was just a building with a roof and four walls. Still, he couldn't ignore that the museum gave him the creeps once he laid eyes on it. A creepy style, perhaps, and Bren chose it as a meeting place.

The museum sat on top of a hill, surrounded by a lush grove of trees, open grounds, and fields that once Miguel and the others walked deeper into the park, it was as if they were back in the woods. Bernadette was still a little wobbly in her steps after that hit on her head, and Charlene was rightfully concerned that she could have a concussion. Though the best they could do was keep her awake for a few hours or so until her symptoms subsided, and the old woman must never fall asleep.

A helicopter flew over the hill, probably a thousand feet or so, passing through toward downtown. Miguel would do anything for a map, but he was glad he got to study it before they drove off from the parking garage. He was able to navigate around the roads and avoided the checkpoints to get to the museum. He waited until the helicopter became a tiny dot in the distance before he walked out from the tree line and headed for the main building.

"I see a map over there," Bernadette said, pointing at a sign that said VISITOR'S GUIDE. They walked over toward it and saw that the various buildings peppered around the hill were labeled. The entire park was a dedicated museum, and Miguel found where they needed to go, the one at the top of the hill merely labeled as the main building.

Miguel and Charlene walked ahead.

"I think she's getting worse," Charlene said.

"I think your mother will be fine. Once we settle in the museum, we'll give her plenty of rest and fluids. Trust me. My friends get a lot of drunken fights in alleyways, and I've treated them before. I already gave her some of my Tylenol to help with the headache."

Charlene shook her head. "No, that's not what I meant. I'm concerned for my sister." She glanced over her shoulder where Audrey and her two girls followed a few steps behind them. Audrey's eyes were red and puffy from crying—the children, too—but they had been marching in silence for an hour now under the summer heat, and sooner or later, it would take its toll. It was hard enough to convince Audrey to leave Colin's body behind, and Miguel had to remind her of the girls. Think of your daughters, he had said. They need you right now, more than ever.

Charlene added, "I'm worried about the children, too. They just lost their father. Poor souls."

Miguel looked away. "I'm sure they'll be fine. Let them mourn. Your sister just lost her husband."

"She's going to crack at a time when it's life or death for her and my nieces. I don't like seeing her like this. I know it's inappropriate to just forget about it and move on, but we can't wallow on it for long. Does that make me a bad person?"

"No, but you ought to have a little faith in your sister. She'll pull through."

"Don't get me wrong. I love my sister, and I will do anything for those girls, but I've known her for a very long time. She has always been the pampered princess in my family—the youngest child. My dad and my mom adored her, sheltered her even more than my brother and me."

"Hold on. Brother?"

Charlene frowned. "Yeah. Older brother. We've lost contact with Jejomar over the years after he graduated high school. He never got along with my parents, so he moved out the second he turned eighteen. The last time I heard, he lived in Utah as...well, frankly, I have no idea what he's doing. We see him like once or twice a year, and he rarely calls." She paused. "I hope he's okay."

"With times like these, it's hard to get back to that family reunion."

"I guess. My dad died four years ago from a construction accident; it hurt his spine pretty bad. Got a lot of insurance and lawsuit money, though, and of course, Audrey got pampered to no end. I guess I can't complain. It's what got me my law degree, too." Charlene glanced over her shoulder again. "She never sees the real world as I do."

Miguel said, "Many people experience the same traumatic events differently. Maybe you two should talk about it and find some common ground."

"Easier said than done. She never listens to me. Convincing her to walk out of that cemetery was a miracle."

"It took a while."

"But you still did it."

"She still listened. That gotta count for something, maybe one you should try."

"Ah, besides, she hasn't learned life's number one lesson since she got pregnant with Diana. She was only sixteen then, one of those teen moms, but my parents still pampered and sheltered her when other women her age had far worse. She never experienced the consequences. And I know that pregnancy itself is consequence enough, but she never had the ramifications of her decisions."

"What lesson should she have learned?"

"That she should have been more careful with every choice she makes. Not everything's tinted in rose glasses. But it's too late now. Mom took care of the girls and supported them financially while Audrey tried to finish high school, but even then, she barely passed her classes. I was too busy in graduate school and sent my earnings as a barista her way. Even now, she expects everything to fall on her lap, let the other guys work it all out while she sits back, and she's stubborn for everything to go her way. Ah, maybe I'm too harsh on her."

"Motherhood can be a difficult thing, you know. I mean, I'm a guy and raised by my grandmother most of my life. I don't have the full authority on that front, but Audrey's probably having trouble as well and needed that helping hand."

"Somewhere else, in another time perhaps, I can let that slide. But things are different now. The world has completely changed. If my mother dies...if I die...then, my sister won't have someone to fall back to, and those girls will suffer." Charlene let out a sigh. "Colin was her bedrock, and now he's dead."

Miguel thought it was more than that. Charlene had feelings for Colin. She was the last one out in the tomb, insisting to "pay her respects" for a minute or so, but Miguel could see through her, veiled behind her eyes was a pain so raw it seeped out of her skin. He knew what grief could do to a person, and Charlene had it worse.

"You're not going to die, Charlene, and you and your sister are a lot stronger than you give yourselves credit for," Miguel said. "We're going to make it to Pittsburgh in one piece."

"That's still a long way to go. Many things can happen from here to there."

Miguel smiled. "Have you forgotten we have the Red Wolf on our side?"

Charlene thought for a moment, then returned the smile. "That has crossed my mind."

Miguel looked to the horizon, to the narrow street where the others would hopefully arrive. He imagined a train of cars driving up the ramp and parked in front of the museum, and the others would get out, and they'd all be happy and reunited. But then he had to apologize to Haskell for losing his baby. He knew Cora was special to him, and he fucked that up. He knew he shouldn't have trusted Randy, and now that bastard was far away with all their food and weapons. Miguel would have to make up for that failure for a very long time.

"How about we get out of the sun and into that building, yeah?" said Miguel.

"Deal. This heat is killing me."

"Oh, what I would do for a bag of ice chips," Bernadette said, catching up to them.

"Are you feeling okay, Bernadette? Is the headache painful? Do you feel dizzy?"

"Oh, that's been gone for a while now. I think walking it off really helped, but...I think I still need that rest," she said.

"We'll be there soon, mom," Audrey said. "Charlene and Miguel will check out the building for us and make sure it's safe."

Miguel scanned the surroundings: the courtyard with its civil war monument surrounded by a bed of flowers, the building's windows (but they were tinted, so it's hard to see), and then around the building itself. No dead bodies or even signs were used as shelter by the military or the civilians. Aside from the untrimmed grass, it was as if it's completely untouched by the pandemic, an island from a time long gone.

"Do you know how to shoot a gun?" Miguel asked Charlene.

"I mean, do I have a choice?"

"There's always a choice. I can show you how it's done so that you won't shoot your own foot."

Charlene shared a grim look with Audrey, and then she rubbed Wanda's hair. "Alright. Show me."

Miguel only had the rifle and the pistol with him, so he handed the latter to Charlene. "This here's the safety. You gotta make sure that's off if you want to aim it at someone, but please, don't be a happy trigger unless I start shooting, alright? Below here's the magazine release. I only have one mag for the pistol right now since fucking Randy—oh, excuse my language, kids—took the rest. There's only ten bullets in there and ten in my rifle, so we gotta make it count if we see vectors in there. Got it?"

Charlene nodded. "Got it."

"Good. Everyone, stay behind that tree over there, near the boulder and the public restrooms, while we check out the building. I'll give the all-clear."

"Mommy, what if Uncle Randy comes back?" Diana asked.

Audrey frowned. "He's not coming back again. Ever."

"But—"

"Come on. Let's go." Audrey dragged Wanda and Diana away toward the hiding spot.

Bernadette was about to follow Audrey, but she paused in front of Miguel and grinned. "I'll take good care of them. Don't you worry," she said, showing him the butcher knife hidden under her belt. "I bought this thing twelve years ago, and I took good care of it every single day. Sharp as if still brand new. Sad I don't have my frying pan." Then, she went after the others.

Miguel unslung his rifle and switched the safety off. "You ready?"

Charlene still looked like she didn't know what to do with a gun, but Miguel didn't want to be the only one going in a potentially dangerous building without backup. "I guess?"

Miguel corrected her grip around the gun and nodded. "Good enough."

Miguel took point, and Charlene followed closely. He didn't know what he expected to find in the museum besides more bodies of people. He had encountered those many times in odd places, and a building like this shouldn't be unexploited by others survivors for weeks when it's sitting this tempting. He didn't spot SOS banners from the roof or from the door, marking any survivors inside. There wasn't even a warning if there were vectors inside.

It was like no one had ever found the place.

All of them were red flags.

Miguel and Charlene reached the glass doors. It, too, was tinted glass, although Miguel realized it was because there were no lights. He couldn't get a good view of what was waiting inside. He didn't hear any moans or shrieks, so he took that as a good sign.

Miguel opened the door slowly and stepped in, aimed his rifle into the darkness. I can't fucking see shit!

Charlene followed. "What now?" She asked.

"Drop your weapons!" A voice boomed.

"Who's there?" Miguel asked out of reflex.

"I said, drop your weapons!" A voice commanded out of the corner.

The room was still a little dark; his eyes were still adjusting into the gloom. He caught sight of two figures knelt on one knee, realized they had their rifles aimed at him. As his eyes continued to get accustomed to the darkness, he saw three more figures up the stairs, one at the corner and another one from behind the information desk.

There was nowhere else to hide or take cover. If Miguel and Charlene ever made a move, they'd be shot to death.

Miguel slowly turned to Charlene, her hands shaking. If it was apparent to him that she was inexperienced with the gun, then these men could see it, too. Miguel lowered the rifle, and a second later, Charlene did as well.

One by one, the figures lowered their weapons, too. One of the figures from the mezzanine climbed down the stairs and walked toward Miguel and Charlene, and before Miguel could even get a good look at him, he already took the rifle off his hands and Charlene's pistol.

"You both got lucky, or we could have shot you a long time ago if not for those kids and that old woman outside," said the man.

He was handsome, tall, and built like an ox, with short buzz-cut hair, a hawk nose, almond-shaped eyes, and thin lips. He had blue eyes of steel, studying Miguel within two seconds, and he could tell he already made up his mind what kind of man Miguel was. He didn't know if his look meant it was a bad thing or not.

It took Miguel another moment to realize these men wore military combat uniforms.

The man looked at the rifle. "This is a 5.56mm M4 carbine. Anyone with a good eye can spot the difference between a LESECOM, the civilian version of this weapon, and a military one. This thing in my hand is for servicemen only. Your companion here has an M18, which is the same thing. So, where the fuck did you two get this?"

Miguel gulped. He knew it would be a bad idea to admit that he looted it from an outpost that Bren obliterated. And that they killed the soldiers inside. "We, uh, found it from one of the abandoned checkpoints on the way here."

"Abandoned?"

"Attacked. By the Alphas," Charlene interjected. "It was just lying on the road, so we picked it up. We thought we could use it to protect ourselves."

"We've lost a lot of teams east of the line, sir," a soldier about a foot shorter than the captain said.

"They could be Alphas, captain," said another.

The man—the captain—looked at Miguel and Charlene, studying them in silence. "Is that your family out there?"

Miguel shook his head. It seemed they had spotted them during their approach, so there was no point in hiding that fact now. "Just people I met on the road. She, uh, it's her family out there."

Charlene nodded compliantly. "My sister, my nieces, and my mother. They don't mean you no harm, sir."

The captain paused, turned to his squad. "Have you seen Alphas having women and children with them, Corporal?"

"Uh, no, sir. They don't believe women should fight."

The captain nodded, satisfied by the answer, and turned back to Miguel and Charlene. "Then, that clears it up! So, do you guys know you are in Alpha territory? A Dead Man Zone?"

Miguel and Charlene shook their heads. "We just arrived in the city, sir," Miguel said.

"How?"

"We...crossed the mountain."

"Out north?"

"Yeah."

The captain looked him up and down again. "Hm. It seems to me like you were all just passing through. It's getting dangerous around this area with the enemy advancing, and all military personnel, and civilians, have been ordered to evacuate behind Paxton Creek before R-Day."

Miguel took a second to put together what R-Day meant. "As I said, Captain, we just—"

"—arrived yesterday. I hear you," the captain said. "Still, it's going to be very dangerous tomorrow."

"Then, what will we do?" Charlene asked.

"Just to be safe, you're all coming with us. Normally, we don't allow civilians to tag along with us, but since you have children with you—"

"Two children. Right age," the short soldiers said.

"Yes, two children with you, then we can't have you all running around."

Miguel and Charlene shared a worried glance. "What do my nieces have to do with it?" Charlene asked.

"Harrisburg has other infected running around. We can't one hundred percent take them out with this close to the Reclamation. If we let one of them bite your niece, then that's trouble for us down the road. An army of those smart little fuckers is bad for the campaign. Better to keep the little ones safe and give them safe passage to the safe zone," the captain said.

Miguel heaved a sigh, but he still didn't trust them. But a free ride to downtown... isn't that what we wanted?

"What's both of your names?" The captain asked.

"Um, I'm Charlene."

Miguel hesitated, but he didn't want to be an ass and keep the captain waiting. "Er, my name's Miguel."

"Nice to meet you. You know, I think it's better if you"—he pointed at Charlene—"get your family out there instead of my men. Best not to freak them out." the captain was about to walk off toward his men, but then he stopped. "By the way, my name's Christophe. Captain Christophe Drucker."

Drucker.

Miguel's stomach churned, and now, he felt dizzy. Shit.

——

BREN

We rode in the RV like sardines, but I was glad we got the truck for the others to ride in. Even though Cora could take twenty-one people in her, everyone needed room to breathe or move their arms. I assigned Jun and Deon to protect the others riding in the truck, just in case we got into another trouble.

Haskell insisted on driving, but we let him be. Everyone was already warned that he was infected, though some avoided him, others, like Peter, still tried to keep him company. I still hadn't seen any sign of the symptoms, and I chucked that as a good thing for now.

Minute by minute, I'm losing my patience if things went wrong again, and I was close to lashing out if it did. I tried to remember breathing techniques I had learned from the dojo to calm myself, but I couldn't find it in me to do them. Miguel and the others were still out there, two of them were kids, and I was worried sick.

"Earth to Bren," Logan said, lying on top of my bunk bed with his shirt off. "Are you okay?"

I shook the thoughts away. "Uh, I'm fine. Just spaced out a little. Sorry." I placed the bandage at the side of his torso, just under his ribcage. It wasn't a serious cut, and it didn't need any stitches, but it was deep enough for it to bleed. Thankfully, it had stopped. "When did you get this?"

"A fight. I told you we ran into the Alphas."

"Christ. I almost forgot those people are in the city."

"They're a pest."

"And I'm sure you've defeated them with your awesomeness?"

"Who do you think I am? I'm Logan fucking Hardy, All-State champion."

"Okay, settle down. You might have a concussion," I laughed.

"As if."

"How many?"

"Just five. They're expanding across the city, going incognito in every neighborhood or whatever hole they dug up. I think they're preparing for Reclamation Day. Oh, fuck. That's tomorrow."

I put some iodine around his wound and wrapped the bandage around his torso and shoulder. "Hopefully, we don't run into them from now on."

"Ditto to that." I taped the bandage and secured it. "Ouch," Logan hissed.

"Sorry."

"No, it's fine. I'm a little jumpy."

"Maybe stop doing knife fights in the future?"

"Heh. If I can avoid it. That's more of your thing. You know, I don't even remember when I got this." Logan shrugged. "Oh, well. It's there now. I bet it'll make an awesome scar."

"You should be glad they didn't do more than that."

"Oh? Worried about me?"