Apocalyptic Moon (After the Bane) by Eva Gordon Page B

memories. “I was a resident at University Hospital in Austin, Texas. My specialty was as a diagnostician.”
    He’d heard the medical term from a talk show. A person who could figure out diseases. “You don’t sound Texan.”
    “I’m not. I was raised in San Francisco, California, until five years ago when I left for my residency and stayed.”
    “Well, Doc, you’re lucky to be alive. San Francisco, Austin and most other major cities are infested with zombies.”
    She sighed in empty hope. “Before I was bitten, the news reported martial law was enforced and the military’s full force prepared to crush the zombie threat. Then, Mansfield said all of our efforts failed. At first, I told myself he lied, but at the rate the infection spreads, I knew he spoke the truth. But, there must still be a military battle going on.”
    “You’ve been here for a long time. A second wave of Z-phage struck and infected global military installations. The U.S., British, Russian, Chinese armies, and all other big and small nations are without their protective forces.”
    “Whoever released this germ meant to destroy all humanity.”
    “That’s what the pack leaders believe. We just don’t know who or what.”
    “Maybe it was the werewolves.” Her tone edged in sarcasm.
    “Many of our kind are not friends of humans, but even we like your technology, movies, music, and let’s face it, human civilization.” Not to mention human women were hot in bed.
    “The irony is that I was supposed to die on May 13 th . On my twenty-seventh birthday.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Not sure. My mom, grandmother, hell, pretty much everybody on my maternal side, died at age twenty- seven.”
    Could she be a witch? She was immune, just like the powerful wise women were during all the great plagues. Legend was that their powers did not come into play until the age of twenty-seven. He’d been well versed on the Benandanti treatise, Malleus Melandanti, similar to the book written during the dark ages by human witch hunters. As teenagers, he and his friends burned the book in defiance against the Benandanti. His pack and witches had once been allies long ago. He sniffed, trying to decipher if there was a reason why her scent was distinct, alluring. A witch’s rich floral aroma, but that was not proof enough. “Have you noticed anything different since your birthday?”
    “Okay, you’re going to think this is weird.” She sniffed as if holding back laughter. “But you’re a werewolf, so maybe not. I dream a lot about flying. Before I was brought here, I actually woke up with my face pressed against my bedroom ceiling.”
    “But not here?”
    “No. See? It just goes to prove it was only a dream.”
    “Anything else?”
    “This is harder to explain away. On my birthday, yeah ironic, I ran into my neighbor weeding her garden. Betty complained about her dead rosemary bush. I leaned in and touched it.” She brushed her hand through her hair. “I know what I saw. The plant turned from dead brown to green. Purple flowers appeared.” She laughed. “Betty was so impressed that she invited me over after my shift in ER. That night a zombie bit me. She probably thinks I stood her up.”
    He remembered the Fenrir Arbor Wolf Guide to the Mythos : ‘ The Aradia Witch is called upon the fields to heal crops and insure productive fields .’ “Did your mother or grandmother keep a journal?”
    “I was three when my mother died. Her death devastated my father. We left New York and moved to the Bay Area. We had only one picture of her because shortly after her death our home burned to the ground. It was arson, but who would hate us that much?” She shrugged. “We never found out. When I turned eighteen, I searched for close relatives but only found one cousin. He’s the one who told me about the age twenty-seven curse. I went on Ancestry.com and found the pattern. Dad was pissed and told me not to believe such nonsense.”
    He nodded. “You are