Whatever the brothers found in Avery’s Groceries that could be useful, they put in the backpack, including maps of hiking trails and tourist spots. Most of the food was gone, but they managed to find a few canned and boxed goods.

The most prized find, however, was a package of mini donuts that was buried under some fallen drywall, which caused them to pump their fists in a silent celebration.

Four donuts were inside. Isaac pulled two out, and the boys took a moment to savor the morsels, letting each bite melt on their tongues. Isaac licked every last taste of sugar off his fingers and lips and put the remaining two donuts in the backpack's side pocket, which he then hoisted back onto his shoulders.

The pack was much heavier now, but he cinched the straps around his waist, which seemed to lighten the load somewhat, and the boys stepped outside. It was almost dark, and the yellow street lamps had turned on automatically.

“We have to hurry,” Isaac said.

As they headed out of town, the click of a doorknob and the creaking of hinges greeted them. Immediately, the boys scurried behind a car and peeked toward the source.

Across the street, from a building with a Roman facade and gold lettering that read “BANK,” a door opened, and out came a portly man in a dark three-piece suit. He was bald and had reading glasses balanced on the end of his nose. In one hand was a leather briefcase, and in the other was a ring of keys.

The man set down the briefcase and methodically flipped through the keys until he found the one he wanted. He reached out for the doorknob but missed. He reached out again, but again, he missed even though he seemed to be staring right at it.

“It’s Mr. Joe!” Simon said excitedly. He jumped to his feet and started waving his arms over his head. “Mr. Joe! Over here!” he shouted before Isaac pulled him down.

The man stopped reaching for the doorknob and slowly turned toward the boys.

Isaac held onto Simon tightly. “Are you crazy?”

“It’s just Mr. Joe, Isaac! He knows us.”

“You have to stay quiet, Simon.”

“But maybe he can help us!”

“Simon, listen to me. We have to stay—”

He was cut off by a jangling of keys almost right next to his ear. A looming figure stared down at them, its head cocked to one side as if it was trying to work out something very confusing. It bent down to inspect the boys more closely.

Isaac’s heart seized. It was the man they had always known as Mr. Joe, who would give them candy whenever they visited the town with their parents. But now, his skin was gray, his once-blue eyes were covered by a milky cloud, and his body smelled of rotting flesh.

Mr. Joe’s furrowed brows rose with recognition, and he smiled at the boys, opening gashes in each cheek, deep enough to reveal the teeth.

“Hello, boish,” said Mr. Joe in a dry, raspy voice, barely above a whisper. “Sho glad to shee you again. How have you been?”

His breath smelled like swamp mud, and his skin appeared so ashen it looked as if a breeze could blow it away.

“We’ve… we’ve been fine, Mr. Joe,” Isaac said. “How have you…” Isaac paused, regretting what he was about to say, “... been?”

Mr. Joe’s smile grew, which opened the gashes in his cheeks almost to his ears.

“Never beddur,” he said. He searched his pockets clumsily until he withdrew some lint-covered candy. “Would you like shum…?” His lower jaw unhinged at that very moment and dropped to the pavement.

Simon looked like he was about to scream, but Isaac quickly put his hand over his brother’s mouth. They watched in horror as Mr. Joe picked up his lower jaw and absent-mindedly put it in his coat pocket. He stretched out his hand with the candy, and his swollen, gray tongue waved aimlessly as he tried to speak but managed only garbled groans.

“N-no, Mr. Joe,” said Isaac. “Thank you. We’re not allowed to eat sweets before dinner.” Isaac rose slowly to his feet, pulling Simon up with him. “It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Joe, but we have to get going.”

The boys took a few steps back. Mr. Joe straightened up and cocked his head in confusion once again.

Isaac grabbed Simon’s hand tightly and searched wildly for a place to run to, but a dark mass appeared from one side and violently tackled Mr. Joe to the ground. A woman in dirty jeans and a frayed red sweater tore into Mr. Joe’s neck with its teeth.

The woman stopped and turned her attention to the boys, and through the black blood covering her face, the boys could see that her skin, too, was gray, and her eyes were a milky white. She hissed at them and returned her attention to Mr. Joe, who was staring off to the side and blinking complacently as the woman tore chunks of rotted flesh off his face.

Isaac gripped Simon’s hand tighter and sprinted toward the boardwalk and the space underneath it, which was about a foot high. They got to their stomachs and squirmed their way in as deeply as they could.

Spiderwebs wrapped around their faces and shoulders as they made their way past the boardwalk to the center point of the buildings. The boardwalk was higher there, but their heads still struck the support beams until they reached the center of the crawlspace where they lay and waited.

They were breathing rapidly. Isaac had inhaled a lungful of dust, and he felt his chest tightening whenever he took a breath. It had been months since his last asthma attack, but he knew the signs.

No, no, no. Not now.

Isaac felt the sharp pricks in his lungs as he clawed at the dirt. He rolled to his back and tried to even out his breathing like his mother had taught him to do, but his chest seemed to tighten even more, and each time he inhaled, it felt as if it would be his last breath.

The panic seemed uncontrollable at such times, all-consuming, but he kept telling himself that it would pass, it would pass. After a long, tortured minute, his breaths came easier, and he felt his whole body begin to relax. Soon, he was breathing normally again.

But this feeling of being trapped always remained. Everything seemed so unreal, so detached, as if he were watching the world from behind glass.

“Are you okay?” asked Simon.

“Yeah. I’m okay,” Isaac answered.

The boys peered out from underneath the crawl space, watching for any movement. It was quiet again. Isaac knew they couldn’t stay down there for too long. They had to get to a safer location, perhaps find a room with a lock, or go back to the woods, where it was wide open with more places to hide.

It was another decision Isaac had to make that would determine their fate, a decision with seemingly no right answer.