INFECTED (Click Your Poison) (69 page)

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You point to his glass wall, say, “Omigod, what is THAT?” then scoop a stack of important-looking files into the trashcan attached to your mop bucket.

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

Y
ou walk around the destroyed house, unable to keep from looking as you pass by. Some sections of it are charred. What demolishes a house like that? Could’ve been some dynamite blown from within, or possibly something
worse
. Once people stop taking care of things—stop living—everything falls apart. How many houses sat empty as ticking time-bombs in the early days, filled with natural gases, only to be set off by some poor fool seeking shelter? You’ve been away from the world long enough so that threat shouldn’t matter… you hope.

Around back, there’s a swimming pool. At least there was. Now it just looks like an extension of the overgrown lawn. If not for the concrete boundary, the swamp of a pool could have posed a falling hazard, leaving you caught in the thick algae that’s choking the pool from within. Something moves in the murk below. It’s entirely possible there are fish inside this man-made pond. Could be a good source of food. Do you want to fish the pool?

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Sure, I could use a break. And nobody can sneak up on me out in the open.

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I’ll pass. Hopefully there’re s’mores up in that tree house.

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

G
ood choice. With its superior reach, the fire poker allows you to attack the undead fisherman without putting your hands precariously close to his face. The hook connects cleanly to the side of his head, cracking the skull and lodging into the brain with ease. The zombie instantly falls to the floor of the cabin—taking your poker with it.

You look to claim your fire iron from the ghoul, but you have no time—his two fishing buddies follow him into the cabin and come toward you. You back away, trying to buy time with distance as you frantically brandish your hammer. But you won’t need the weapon.

With what sounds like a small firecracker, the first zombie’s brain sprays out the front of his head. As he hits the ground, there’s another
pop
and the second zombie goes down. What just happened? Before you have time to put two and two together, the shooter runs into the cabin and with a sweep of the rifle, comes to point directly at you.

It’s a teenage girl in paintball armor. “Are you bit?” she yells.

You shake your head and raise your hands in reflex at having a gun pointed at you. She lowers the rifle and raises her mask. She’s cute, seventeen, and a redhead.

“I go by Rosie. You know, the Riveter? World War II, sleeve rolled up, ‘We can do it,’ and all that? I’m sure you’ve seen the poster. Anyway, you look underequipped, and I could use somebody to watch my back while I sleep. We can stick together if you want, but fair warning—I’ll shoot ya as soon as you get bit. Whaddya say?”

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“No offense, but you scare me. I’m kind of a loner anyway.”

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“I think I’d be more worried
not
to have you on my team.”

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

W
e began our history in caves and, poetically, you have chosen to end yours here as well. You find a lovely cavern, remote but still accessible by road, and make it home. Fortune must be on your side, because there’s a spring in the back that gives you all the water you could possibly need. You stay warm with blankets and your sleeping bag, and spend most of your time eating a bite of food every hour, counting down the minutes between each morsel.