ZERO DAY EVENT

2

I shoved the blanket in on top of the two pairs of pants and one extra pair of shoes. It was hot now, but we were headed north and there was no telling how cold things would get over the next few weeks. The empty bunk looked miserable, lumpy mattress covered with stains I didn't want to identify. I'd probably be missing the stupid thing like crazy soon. It wasn't much, but our ramshackle, vine-covered cabin had become a bit of stability in an uncertain world.

I grabbed the small gold-colored clock off the night stand. The faces staring at me from each side were like ghosts, especially my own. Familiar, standing next to an older brother, smiling out at the camera, yet a complete stranger to the girl I was now. I folded the two sides over the clock face in the middle and stuffed it into my bag, yanking the zipper closed and slinging the pack over one shoulder. Several large hiking packs held our food and water, but carrying supplies wasn't my job. I was light and fast, but more importantly I had good aim.

I picked up one of the charge rifles, checking the cartridge to ensure it had a full battery before slinging it across my back. A spare battery went into each of the four pockets in my pants. Last but not least, I grabbed one of the handguns, popping out the clip to make sure it was full before and the chamber clear before stuffing it into my waistband. Bullets weren't as effective on breathers, but in a pinch any weapon was better than none. Tobi had stocked us with the best we could find early on, and they'd saved our butts more than once.

People shuffled past me, slipping on packs or picking out weapons. No one looked at me. I was taboo. I'd heard about how the Amish used to shun people, not saying their names or acknowledging they existed after they did something wrong. I knew how they must have felt, the shunned people. Isolated. Forgotten. Invisible.

I followed the others outside. Everyone was clustered in a small group.

"Listen up." Tobi stood tall, the lone adult among a bunch of kids. I wondered if we made him feel more or less alone. "We go in groups of four. Never more than a hundred yards apart. If you see something, use the radio. Keeping quiet won't help if they've already locked on our vitals, so scream your bloody head off if you have to." His voice was calm, but his face was chalky and his eyes were too wide. Knowing he was afraid made my insides feel quivery and loose. "Keep your eyes and ears open."

He turned to move, but Tia walked back to the cabin door. Everyone watched as she pulled a padlock out of her pocket, flipping a latch I hadn't even known was there across the door. She wove the padlock through and locked it, putting the key on a ring and clipping it to the dog-tags she wore around her neck.

"It's not much," she said softly, "but it's home."

A lump filled my throat. I fought back tears, blinking to keep them from falling. She was right. This stupid cabin had become our home. The padlock would never hold if someone wanted to get in, the wood it held together half desiccated from age and weather, but with her simple gesture Tia had given everyone something to hold onto. Hope that one day we might come back here. To our home.

She nodded, turning away from our past, and setting her sights on whatever the future had in store. Tobi and the others followed, some with tears still falling, but most with shoulders back and head's lifted. I trailed behind them, glad to bring up the rear and stay out of sight. I'd cover our six as we moved. Invisible people made good guards.

As it turned out, danger wouldn't come from behind.

We'd been walking for close to four hours, the sun nearing its zenith when the first shout went up. One of the older boys. Paul? He was yelling and running. Other voices picked up the shout. We'd been following the highway, keeping to the trees wherever we could, but the road carved through a hill here and we'd been forced to higher ground to avoid getting funneled into an ambush or a trap. Now, hearing the shouts moving closer, I realized we'd fallen into another kind of trap. To the right, a few hundred feet were all that separated us from a steep slope down to the pavement. Whatever the threat, if they managed to push in that direction, we'd be trapped.

Two shapes crashed through the brush, appearing out of the trees ahead and to my left, just up-slope. Both ran headlong, shouting as they went. Behind them, I could hear the sounds of pursuit. Ahead of me, the three members of my group—fourteen-year-old Kevin, twelve-year-old Anthony and ten-year-old Katie—stood staring.

"Go!" I ran toward them, pulling my rifle.

They turned, eyes wide.

Which way?

I had to make a split-second decision. If I made the wrong one, it could mean all our lives. "Back." I shoved them in the direction we'd come from.

The one word was all they needed. The three of them took off running, the two who'd run out of the trees turning to follow. Paul, fifteen, and Sasha, thirteen. They'd stopped yelling, conserving energy to run.

"Radio ahead!" I shouted after Anthony, who had our quad's radio.

He didn't turn or slow, but I saw his hand go to his hip as he disappeared down the slope. I couldn't take the time to check. Whatever had chased them out of the trees was getting closer, crashing through branches like a herd of animals.

A moment later I saw I wasn't too far off.

Zero Day had taken as many animals as it had people, leaving mainly reptiles, fish and insects. But just as some of the younger humans had escaped the fate of the others, so had some of the younger members of other species.

Such as pigs.

Five of them broke from the trees now, enormous bodies moving impossibly fast for their size, hooves pounding and beady red eyes pinned on their quarry. Eleven-year-old Celia, who'd been outrun by the older members of her quad, ran only step ahead of the charging creatures. They'd be on her in seconds.

The charge rifle, set for between two and three hundred pounds, would hardly phase these six or seven hundred-pound hogs. I dropped it and grabbed my handgun. I needed clean shots to the head. I dropped to one knee, taking three deep breaths as I brought my hands up, one supporting the other.

Celia's eyes found mine.

Pleading.

Begging.

I looked past her and locked on the pig closest to her. His head was minuscule in comparison to his gigantic body. I steadied the gun and my thundering heart. Squeezed. The report from the gun echoed across the hilltop just as Celia tripped, falling in the grass. The pack broke and scattered, frightened by the gunshot. All except the leader, who lunged forward, landing in a heap at Celia's feet. Three of the pigs turned back for the trees. The other slowed, swinging back toward the girl who lay still on the ground. I sighted and squeezed again. The shot went wide left.

But the report and the whine of the bullet passing within inches of his head convinced the pig to turn and follow his friends.

I kept the gun sighted as I got up, jogging over to Celia and the downed pig. I heard sobs, and my heart did a flip of relief. If she could cry, she was alive. She rolled over as I approached, her eyes round and horrified at the beast laying on the ground so close to her. Then she was up and crashing into me, reminding me of Tia as she almost toppled me with her ferocity. She clutched my waist with arms steely bands that squeezed the air from my lungs and grasped as much skin as cloth.

I hugged her back with one arm, keeping my gaze on the tree line in case the pigs circled back for another go. When Tobi and the others arrived, I barely registered them. My body was as locked and loaded as my weapon, ready for more action, rigid with adrenaline. Tobi knelt down beside us, laying a hand on Celia's back.

"Justin?" He asked softly.

The fourth member of their quad. He was only eight, and the youngest member of our band of survivors.

Celia shook her head against me, sobs shaking her small body.

There were so few of us already. Losing even onewas like losing another family member, and for all we knew we were the onlyfamily left. We grieved together, silent, as the sun peaked overhead.