Survival by T.W. Piperbrook

turned her glance from the street to the sky. “I’ve always wanted to get out of Chester, but after all this, I don’t see much point. Everything I’ve ever needed is right here.”
    “Your mother?”
    Caddy nodded. He could see tears in her eyes. She leaned back from the window to look at him.
    “There are so many people who lose their parents at a young age and never get to see them again. But I get to see Mom every day, and that’s enough to make me happy. Things could be worse.”
    “That’s a good point,” Noah said.
    “Even when times are tough, I still get to spend time with her, and that means a lot.”
    Caddy wiped her face. Noah thought back to his own childhood, to his parents and Ricky, and felt a pit in his stomach.
    Although they’d had rough times, their lives seemed so easy in comparison. They’d always had food on the table, a place to sleep—things Noah had taken for granted. If he made it back, he’d never take those things for granted again.
    Caddy cleared her throat. “So what’s the deal? Have you decided on a car?”
    “I think I’m going for the hybrid.”
    “Good choice.”
    Noah scanned the McDonald residence. For the most part, the building was similar to Caddy’s. With the exception of the attached garage, the structure was identical. He just hoped the keys were accessible and easy to find.
    “I’ll keep a lookout from the window,” Caddy said. “If I see anything, I’ll yell.”
    “Thanks.”
    “You got it.”
    Noah got to his feet. As he started toward the door, he hesitated. For the first time in days, he felt some semblance of normalcy, the illusion of being safe. It was a welcome change from the uncertainty of the road.
    He was halfway through the doorway when Caddy tapped him on the shoulder. He spun to find her holding out the rifle.
    “Take this. You’ll need it.”
    “Are you sure? That’s the only one we have. I was going to take the knives from the kitchen.”
    “We’ll manage, Noah. We always have.”
    She smiled and walked back to the window.
    Noah clutched the rifle as he left the bedroom. Since leaving the salvage yard, he’d avoided all human contact, both with survivors and the infected. It felt good to have found Caddy and her mother, two normal people in a world that seemed to have flipped upside down.
    At the same time, it filled him with a sense of worry. What if he were to lose them too?
    As he walked down the stairs, he tried to dispel the image that he was descending into the pits of hell, and that leaving the house would mean saying another goodbye.

PART TWO – TIES THAT BIND

11
    B eing in the open was liberating and terrifying.
    Noah pointed the rifle in front of him as he crept through the sunlit yard. Because he’d slipped out through a back entrance, the door closest to him was blocked and barricaded. The house might as well have been miles away.
    There would be no getting back inside easily.
    He glanced behind him at the windows. True to her word, Caddy remained in the upstairs bedroom, watching him through the screen. He gave her a half-hearted wave and returned his focus to the yard.
    Aside from the tire tracks from the sedan, the lawn was lush and green. He stepped across the soft earth, doing his best not to call attention to himself.
    He glanced at the houses around him. Caddy’s house was the last one on the street; all the remaining properties lay to his left. The McDonalds’ house was directly across the road. The garage door hung open like a trap, beckoning him inside. He could still make out the silhouette of the car in its bay.
    Noah surveyed the rest of the house. The bulk of the windows were smashed; clothing was strewn across the lawn. Through the broken panes he could make out the shadows of furniture, but not much else. Without power, the interior was dark, and he imagined a plethora of creatures waiting to pounce on him inside.
    According to Caddy, the McDonalds had lived there with their daughter Isabelle. At