In the morning we make an extra effort to block the school’s front doors to keep strays out. It’s a timesink but we do it. Afterwards we get back on the scent of the main group. It leads back into the outskirts of civilization, civilization full of rich specialty stores. The meandering path they took to find a new home was coming to an end. Savannah was finding it difficult to track one scent because it “was all over”. Which meant the base was close and people were doing patrols and scavenging outside it. We just had to find it.

Piles of zombies are formed at junctures in the road, psychical proof that the area was being maintained. A few have tarps over them as an attempt to cover the penetrating smell of decay. Our journey comes to a crawl. Everyone is frustrated at being so close and not there.

Especially Nils, who wants to take down every zombie in the area. He has this simmering energy when he tracks a zombie’s movement. It’s something I can only interpret as fury. He looks at one and wants to decimate it. I don't know if he's more upset after the school or if I’m just noticing it now. I think our conversation at the front doors often. My musing could end if I asked, but I find myself hesitating to reach out. Everything was new ground.

There comes a point where we run out of food. We have the choice to go back to the woods and hunt, or send one of our precious protectors to hunt alone while we wait. The adults quietly argue about next steps while I look out the windows of our current hideaway, a sunken basement. All you can see is a throng of legs. A huge herd moved into the area, spanning several streets and “taking their sweet time”. The adults are worried that whoever leaves to get food won’t be able to bring it back unscathed. I observe the state of the zombies’ bodies to be extreme and wonder how old they are. Some of them could even be from the original herd. 

The famous phone picture of the herd walking down I-98 was the last piece of news before the media blackout. Everyone had it pulled up on their devices, zooming in and pouring over it, trying to find the mistake. Something to hold onto, some proof that it was photoshopped or from a TV show, that our reality wasn’t crumbling around our feet. People still say it was fake, even after everything.

“I say we make a last push through. Just blast in and find them,” Nils blurts to the huddle of leaders. Grace is enjoying her breakfast, the only one of our group to do so. Nicole had the last dried meat the night prior.

“No,” Savannah says. “Why won’t you believe that there's no clear direction of the scent? It’s everywhere. We have nowhere to ‘blast’ to.”

“One of these days your ‘last push through’ is really going to be your last if you don't watch out,” Jacob warns.

“You’re talking to an indestructible vampwolf,” Nils says bitterly.

The arguing goes on long enough that the sun sets and the natural light is lost, the moon covered in grim clouds. The decision is made for now and we remain together in the dark basement. During a quiet moment between watches I ask Nils how indestructible he is.

“Pretty damn,” he says with a bitter smile.

“That gives me no further information.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I fail to see what is fun about our current situation.” As if on cue, a zombie growls particularly loud. 

“What do you want, a detailed test? A double blinded study?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Somehow you're creepier when you're quiet.”

“I’m creepy?” Damn it.

“Nah. I’m just fucking with you, man.”

The herd has cleared by the morning. Headed back to the woods, hopefully, or further close to the base if we’re unlucky. But the opportunity of a clear path is too good not to follow, so we begin forward into a direction not yet explored. We stick to the shadows and duck into buildings when possible. Near midday I get an uncomfortable feeling that I’m being watched. It’s so strong I almost come to a stop, whipping my head in the direction. I see nothing, but I look away long enough that I miss where the group went and take a wrong door. 

I’m greeted by a scruffy individual that is clearly as surprised to see me as I them. They quickly get over their surprise and drop the book they were holding to point a sharpened metal pipe to my throat. I freeze and Nils, always taking rear, stumbles into me. He understands my shock before he knows why and growls (whether in defense or annoyance I don’t know). Surprise flickers over the person’s face but their grip on the pipe remains unshaking.

“Nils?” they ask in a raspy voice.

“Brian?” Nils stands on his tip toes and looks into the room over my shoulder. “Dude! Holy shit!”

“Oh my myself, we’ve been waiting for you guys forever. Is everyone there?”

“Can we have this conversation indoors?” I ask politely as one can with a weapon on one’s jugular.

“He’s cool, Brian,” Nils says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. I try and ignore the lingering feeling after he takes it off, like a cold burning. Maybe it’s some vampire power. I should have paid attention when Poppy talked about them.

“Nils? Is everything-Brian!” The rest of our group comes out from the correct door and pushes us all into the room. There is much rejoicing and hugging and a little crying (from Nicole) as everyone reunites with someone from their main group. Brian respectfully greets Savannah, so they’re in the know. He is pleased to meet Grace as well, as the main group hadn’t even know if she was born alright.

Brian seems a grim survivor. They have a lot of jagged scars and holds themself confidently. They’re part of a small patrol going around to see what the zombie levels are, they tell us. There’s a lot more here than at the apartment. (You’ll notice I’m using both a singular “they” and “he” for Brian, and that is because their gender is non-binary and these are the pronouns they ask people to call them. This is just one example of the many things I will learn from the main group-ubiquitously called the Pack.)

Brian eventually puts an end to the chatter by saying we should head back to base before it gets dark.

“I told you it was just one more push,” Nils tells Nicole smugly.

“You’d be more confused if you could smell too,” Nicole says. Nils crosses his arms stiffly and doesn’t say anything to that.

“How close are we? Do we have to meet back up with patrol?” Jacob asks. Savannah bumps into Nicole and she responds impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah. Is everyone okay, Brian? Is...is Lily okay?” she asks.

“Everyone’s safe right now,” he answers.

“And Lily…?” Nicole almost whispers. Brian gives a curt shake of their head.

“She’s dead.” There is shocked silence. “I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to learn this from me.” Nicole turns her face into Jacob’s arms, Grace fussing as she is pushed between her parents. Nils just looked at Brian in disbelief.

“How?” he asks.

“She fell from a building. We think she was trying to make a hard jump as a human. It was on a solo run, so we don’t know for sure.” I struggle to keep up with the information-it seems this woman was a werewolf, the same as Nicole and Nils. So, their family. 

“Fucking idiot,” Nils hisses. “She should've known better than to mess around like that! Fucking suicidal idiot!”

“I’m okay,” Nicole says, reassuring Jacob and Savannah who is leaning against her. “I’m okay. We gotta focus. Nils, calm down. Let’s get home first.”

“I’m calm, I’m just fucking ANGRY, TOO!”

I see a picture of Lily eventually. She looks happy in it, flowers woven into her long red hair and a smile on her face. The wolves beside Nils are all distantly related as cousins of some kind, and she was no exception. Apparently she shaved her head after shit got real and she realized she needed to fight. Nils thinks her heart was never in it, though. She was broken, like all of us, but her autopilot just wasn’t enough. And now she was dead.

And on a cynical note, there was one less werewolf-valuable-asset to the Pack.