“Well, hello there, little fel,” I said and carefully inched my hand closer without scaring it off. The whining had stopped, now repced with some very cautious sniffing from the golden retriever puppy under the car. “Sorry, no time for you to sniff around. We gotta go!”

  “What is it?” Sam called from the other side of the car.

  “I’ll show you.. in just one… second,” after a little grunt to reach deep enough under the car, I corralled the pup into my arms and held it against my chest. I stood up and showed Sam the precious little baby in my arms. It had golden fur, duh, with a slight reddish tint. The fur wasn't too long yet; this pup probably wasn’t over four months old, if that. It was shaking heavily and jumped when Sam approached and tried to pet it.

  “Oh my goodness, how did this little baby end up here?” She asked and tried to get the pup to sniff her hand, but it kept pulling away from her. After several attempts, the puppy gave her a couple of courtesy sniffs before it buried its face in my chest.

  “Well, at least it’s not in the zombie's stomach. Becca, It’s worth noting that the decayed will go after animals,” I said. Becca clicked her nonexistent tongue. She sure is pouty for an AI. I gestured at the dealership with my head, and Sam led the way back inside.

  “Let’s get you back to the facility and get you all fixed up,” I said in baby talk and scratched behind its ears.

  “You’re going to keep it?” Sam asked, almost looking surprised.

  “Why would that surprise you? It’s…” I gnced at the dog's underbelly, “he’s my best friend! Now let’s get inside.”

  Becca: How many strays are you attempting to bring back to the facility?

  Sam led the way to the front of the dealership, and as we were about to hunker down for safety inside, the familiar sound of a car accelerating reached my ears. I turned back to the road to see about half the horde do the same. Rumbling into our sight at the far end of the street, looked like a military humvee tearing down the street. Someone was using the mounted gun on the back to shred the zombies foolish enough to approach.

  “Looks like someone is coming to save us!” Sam was eted as we watched the approaching vehicle.

  “Yeah, we’ll see,” I wasn’t so sure. It could be the military looking for survivors, but this would be a weird pce to be doing it. We’re near the outskirts of the city, away from the main fighting. I would expect their efforts to be containing the outbreak wrecking the main part of the city. It could also be a few survivors who lucked into finding, or stealing, some military equipment; in that case, they would be as likely to help us as they would rob us. Either way, about forty to fifty zombies were still shuffling their grotesque bodies in our direction. We needed to hole up inside the dealership for now.

  “Let’s watch them from inside,” I said and urged Sam to open the doors. We entered, and Sam used the deadbolt to tch the front doors together, providing some false sembnce of protection from the approaching horde. Surely the zombies will notice the door is locked and move on.

  Sam remained by the front doors, watching the vehicle continue its approach while I looked around. It was a well-kept interior. White tile flooring on which my footsteps echoed in the mostly empty room.

  “This is nice flooring. I hope no one spits on it,” I said and continued my exploration.

  There was a receptionist's desk with a computer and a gss bowl with some hard candy. There was a side door to the right of where we entered, and a door right behind the desk. Employee areas, I assumed. I checked the doors, both locked from the other side. Both had very small rectangur windows and weren’t big enough to climb through. If we got desperate, I could try to break the gss to reach the locks.

  A rge rack of clothing was along the back wall. I could find various leather jackets, chaps (assless and maybe a few with ass- so, I guess, pants?), and different brand shirts. A dispy case with some biker helmets and boots. Everything we needed to gear up.

  I had hoped for some extra furniture for barricading the door, a couch or maybe even a bookshelf, but not the case. Maybe the desk could be moved in front of the doors. Better than nothing.

  This was a huge room, considering how empty it was. The only other thing in this, what I assume was a showroom, was one bck motorcycle with red trim, which was up a small ramp and rested on a dispy stand. Maybe the dealer was in the process of inventory exchange or something; I had no idea how things work in pces like this.

  I didn’t recognize the brand symbol on the one bike here, but it was obvious it was an expensive bike. Maybe a special order for one of the far-too-rich people in the South Texas area. They love to blow their money on things like this, not that it would keep them safe from a zombie outbreak. A motorcycle would be a foolish ride in this scenario. Too loud, almost no protection, easy to be knocked over or fall off; you would have to be a total idiot to ride one of these around a zombie apocalypse. An absolute buffoon.

  “So, uh, whatcha doing up there?” Sam asked me when she gnced away from the events unfolding outside.

  What the hell? When did I get on the bike? Where did I get the key? Why am I so hard? Oh well, when in Rome… or when in Texas during a zombie outbreak. I patted the side of the bike like it was a horse rushing me to Atnta in the first episode of a series. I was tempted to crank this thing and feel the power, but stopped myself. For now.

  “Just thinking about how foolish it would be to ride one of these around outside and how quickly we could get to the facility with this,” I slid off the side of the bike and hopped down from the ptform.

  BAK-BAK-BAK-BAK-BAK-BAK-BAK-BAK-BAK-BAK-BAK-BAK.

  The ceaseless metallic hammering of the mounted gun was growing louder, a clear sign of the vehicles continued approach toward the dealership. Sam had opened her mouth to say something, but as the windows shook from the force of the weapon, she turned her attention back outside.

  I needed to get some of the clothing for us, but there was something way more important to take care of first. I grabbed the candy bowl off the desk and dumped the candy into my pocket. Waste not. I looked under the desk and was eted by my luck!

  “Score! Thank you, reception dy!” I grabbed a couple bottles of water from a small cooler stored in the corner under the desk.

  “Are you really going to assume that the person who works at the reception desk is a woman? I figured you were better than that,” Sam looked disappointed as she said it.

  I held up a namepte that read ‘Gloria Sunshine’.

  “I don’t like to assume, but… eh,” I said and put the namepte back down. I tossed one of the waters at her. Sam let out a little giggle, caught the water and smiled, then looked back out the doors.

  I set the still-shaking pup under the desk and poured some water into the candy bowl for it. I patted its head a few times and slid the bowl towards it. It sniffed the bowl a few times and then stared at me.

  The pup was probably too stressed to drink right now. I decided to give him some space.

  The vehicle came right up to the parking lot, bsting zombies. Sam half-shouted over the roar of the gun outside, “It looks like that vehicle is driving straight by us. Taking out a lot of those zombie things, though.”

  Fine by me.

  “You might want to move away from the windows. If they’re shooting wildly I don’t want a wild shot to catch you,” I said. She scooted to the side a little but kept watching the car. I sure hoped Sam didn’t get hit by a stray bullet. That's the st pce I would want to be standing with people firing that huge gun wildly in every direction would be a gss door. But that’s just me.

  I went to scour the clothing rack. I was about to ask Sam her size, but hesitated. Is that rude? Does it matter when we’re hiding from a bunch of flesh-eating monsters? Would she actually care? Does she like me?

  I grabbed a few different leather jackets for her, starting with some of the small size I was pretty sure wouldn’t fit, but wouldn’t be offensive. I did the same with the chaps, but now my arms were too full of clothes, so the helmets would have to wait.

  “Try some of these on before we head back out,” I said and handed a few of the clothing items to Sam. It was my turn to watch out the window. I could still hear the mounted machine gun sounding off like a jackhammer of death, but it had started to fade. The windows were no longer shaking, and the parking lot was drenched in sticky red liquid and chunks of decayed human body parts. The decayed sure can bleed a lot. I didn’t see the two creepy zombies from before, but they could have hidden from the vehicle. They seemed smart enough.

  At a gnce, it looked like whoever was driving by had taken out around half the zombies in the horde. A few were still squirming on the ground but were missing limbs and cursed to remain where they y. I hoped zombies couldn’t crawl.

  “Dude… what is this?” Sam cackled, and it soon turned into a full belly ugh as held up a jacket that would not even make it past her shoulders.

  “I, uh, wasn’t sure of your size,” I said and started putting on my own jacket to avoid eye contact.

  “It says it’s for dogs!”

  “Good thing I found a dog, pass it back over,” I said, and Sam threw the jacket at my head. It flew right past my hand and covered my face. Sam tossed a few of the clothes I brought her to the ground until she found some that fit.

  “How do I look?” she asked and stuck her arms out, then did a quick spin.

  “Stylin’ and profilin’!” I said as I watched her show off. She looked pretty good in the leather outfit. It was not chosen to look good, but for protection from zombies, specifically to avoid being bitten. But the jacket fit her well, and her bright blonde hair falling over the bck leather was working for her. Her bright, dazzling smile that showed off every one of her sparkling teeth wasn’t hurting either. Smiles have been few and far between since we met, it was nice to see. Even if it only sted a moment.

  Becca: Maybe you should focus up instead of ogling women.

  “Hey, I am not ogling women!” I shouted back at Becca. A touch of red brightened Sam’s cheeks, and she became very interested in the zipper on her jacket.

  Becca: Ha! Fool.

  Ugh. Whatever.

  The silence in the room felt quite loud, with the only sound breaking it being the quiet pping of the puppy drinking some water. That brought my attention to the fact that I could no longer hear the mounted gun.

  “Sounds like they’ve moved on, can’t hear the car or the shooting anymore,” I said and finished getting dressed. It wasn’t a great mirror, but I was able to check myself out in the reflection on the gss door. I don’t look too bad in leather. A little warm, though. I sure as hell hoped these zombies were dealt with by summer because I am not walking around in leather when the heat hits; I'd rather be bitten. “Let’s give it a few minutes to see if they circle back, then we might have to make a run for it.”

  “Can I ask you something a little, well, personal?” Sam asked while watching me check out my own… chaps. I’m a thicc king and not scared to show it. I might not know my parents, but I knew they owned a bakery.

  “Go for it,” I started picking up the rejected clothing off the ground and went to look at the helmets.

  “Are you- ugh, trying to phrase this right- enjoying this?” Sam had her head cocked and seemed genuine with her question.

  Am I enjoying this? The world falling apart as people are torn to shreds and eaten in the streets? What kind of psycho was this girl?

  “Am I enjoying the dead or whatever rising up and devouring people?” I asked and tilted my head back at her.

  “No, sorry. I am trying to ask about the… fighting. The violent stuff. I noticed when you’re in the moment you seem to kind of enjoy it. You smile when you fight, did you know that? Why is that?” She asked, seeming to grow more confident in the question at the end.

  Oh, what kind of psycho was I?

  I paused for a few moments, maybe longer. But I took her question seriously. I thought back on everything that went down today. Starting with the warehouse, the escape with Mal, taking a helicopter to the face, finding Sam and everything after that which brought us here. Physically I hurt but the adrenaline helped dull most of it for now; I was going to be in pain tomorrow morning if I made it that long. Mentally it was a lot to take in, and I had been trying hard not to dwell too much on it all until I was safe behind the facility walls. Some good fetal position dry heaving in the shower was in my future, I couldn’t wait.

  Ignoring the feeling of impending doom swelling in my gut thinking about today, I focused on the actual fighting. Killing the decayed as they came at me, or Mal, or Sam. The zombie soldier who almost killed me, if it hadn’t been for Sam. The creepy, fresh-looking zombies. The fighting in the parking lot.

  Alright, I’m sick in the head because it was kind of fun.

  I coughed to break the silence and went to look at the helmets. I could find one that fit me pretty quickly. I found two that looked close to Sam's size, so I tossed her one to try. In the distance, that sound of that humvee firing off shots started up again. Sounded like they might be driving back this way.

  “Yeah. I guess I do enjoy it some,” I admitted. I tossed the rejected clothes on top of the clothing rack, but kept the doggie leather jacket. It wouldn’t fit the pup yet, but it would grow into it. Assuming we made it out just fine. For now, I could wrap it up in the jacket when we left the dealership. “As for why? That’s probably something I would need to work out with a team of therapists and a lot of whiskey. But I’ll say this. My life leading up to this point involved a lot of violence. Some indirectly involved me, and a lot directly involved me. Mentally, I had to make the choice: learn to enjoy it or let it destroy me. So I adapted. I guess that would be a benefit for the way the world looks now. Which is funny, or ironic maybe, that I finally get the chance to leave that life behind and the world pulls me right back in.”

  Sam listened with intense but sympathetic eyes. I didn’t see an ounce of the judgment I was expecting, maybe once she knew the full truth about what I had done leading up to the outbreak. She let me finish speaking without interruption and then whispered her response.

  “Sounds like you’ve had it pretty rough until now. Once we’re safe, I’m willing to listen to what you’ve gone through. I know how nice it can be to get to talk with someone about the hard stuff you’ve gone through,” she said, and pulled her helmet on, breaking eye contact and hiding her face. If you’re wanting to talk about it, that is. I don’t want to assume.”

  That was way too nice of her. I felt my insides squirming in discomfort. My brain felt itchy. I had to say something but I was so uncomfortable with her kindness I didn’t know what to say.

  “Well, you know what they say about assuming,” I said and flipped the helmet's dark visor down, like sliding on sungsses.

  “No, what?” Sam asked.

  “I actually don’t know. Something about your ass and me,” I said. I gave her the ol’ finger guns. Shooters shoot, baby.

  Sam burst out ughing so hard, I almost didn’t hear the engine of the rapidly accelerating humvee smming through zombies in the parking lot as it came tearing towards the dealership. It was heading our way far too fast and a zombie was bouncing around on the windshield, no way the driver could see.

  “I’m not used to people like you. You’re such a goof-”

  “Sam! Away from the doors!” I yelled and took a step toward her.

  She didn’t even look back to see what I saw before diving to the side mere seconds before the humvee smashed through the front doors.