A tall man wearing all black was tottering through the crowded boat, handing out sips of fresh water and slices of stale bread, pieces of rotting fruit. As he came closer Mia realized he was a Priest. The square of white on his collar stood out in the pitch black. He smiled kindly at Mia and her bundled child. She took his offering, drinking the water and tucking the food away.

There was little choice after Jack was gone. Mia packed a small backpack for Evan and a larger one for herself with food and water and a few items of clothing. Mia decided they would go down the fire escape rather than take their chances navigating the apartment building. She threw the backpacks out the window and they hit the ground with a hallow thud. Evan was still in and out, each time he woke up he howled in pain and fainted again. Mia knew his shoulder hurt terrible but honestly had no idea how to fix it without fear of causing permanent damage. She carried him down the rickety fire escape steps, her heart pounding and sweat pouring down her forehead into her eyes.

They traveled for hours, in no particular direction, ducking down side streets or behind buildings when ever Mia thought she heard suspicious noises. Eventually they came across a man and woman, sitting together on a bus stop bench, talking. Mia laughed despite herself, since the scene looked so normal it was downright hilarious. Surly a bus would be by any minute to drive them straight into the heart of zombie apocalypse. As she got closer she realized they were arguing, but they stopped when they saw her coming towards them. At first they looked alarmed, ready to flee, but the sight of a woman traveling alone with a hurt child gave them pause.

The man was not a doctor, but seemed confident he could pop the boy’s shoulder back into place and that once it was done he would feel much better. Mia had no choice but to trust the man and was glad she did once Evan was set right again, wide awake and eating a granola bar the man had pulled out of his jacket pocket. It turned out the couple were not married as Mia had first guessed, but were random strangers to each other as well, or at least they had been until they met up and started traveling together two days before.

“We’re heading to the harbor,” the man, whose name was Ryan, told her.

“What for? There is no travel in or out.” Mia had no better ideas but couldn’t imagine what good going to the harbor would do for them.

“Nothing legal, anyway,” Ryan answered. “We’ve gotten bits of information from other people we’ve seen that there is a group down at the harbor planing to embark by nightfall tomorrow.”

“Embark? To where?” Mia tried not to sound excited, it had to be a rumour.

“To a magical place where the the flu doesn’t exist, and the inhabitants will welcome us with open arms even if we are a hoard of hungry zombies when we arrive.” Megan, Ryan’s travel buddy, rolled her eyes and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. So that’s what they had been arguing about.

“Megan has a point, even if we get on a boat and sail away to a far off land, what are the chances they’re going to let us stay?” Evan tugged at Mia’s shirt. He was excited by the thought of getting on a boat.

“I’m guessing zero to none, and possibly a welcome wagon lynch mob armed with machine guns.” Megan took one drag off of the cigarette and threw it on the ground, stomping it out. “Shit, the kid, sorry.”

“Thanks,” Mia said to her with a weak smile. It seemed a little silly to be worried about second hand smoke right now although the thoughtful gesture was still appreciated.

“Well, it’s a chance I’m willing to take. You girls can stay here to get eaten, or worse, zombiefied.” Ryan picked up his heavy black duffel bag and started to walk down the street.

“Wait up,” Mia shouted, “we’re coming with you!”

A large wave picked up the boat and tossed it roughly back into the sea. People screamed, bodies rolled on top of one another. Mia was jarred out of her memories once more by the horrific situation that surrounded her. Her tired mind was having trouble staying in the present. She wished she didn’t have to remember any of it.

Chuck was still sitting next to them. He wasn’t crying anymore, thankfully. Instead he just looked out into the open water. Chuck thought he was a cowered, for abandoning his daughter. Maybe he was, letting her live only helped the zombie population along. But Mia couldn’t judge a man for not doing what needed to be done when it involved ending his own child’s life.

There were limits to what most people would do in order to survive. Mia had exceeded expectations in the cold hearted bitch category so far, but she would protect Evan with her very last breath. Tears were forming in the corners of Chuck’s eyes once again. Mia felt compelled to say something to stall the inevitable flow of emotions she didn’t want to witness again.

“I chopped off a man’s arm this morning,” she said suddenly.

It worked. Chuck turned his gaze from the water to Mia, his sadness temporarily forgotten. Silence surrounded them, as everyone in ear shot listened for Mia to continue. Normally public speaking terrified her, but swallowed in darkness, her words started to pour out effortlessly. She started her story with no introduction, right in the middle, not caring if it made any sense. She started with her and her son, hiking to the harbor with a man they didn’t know named Ryan.

At that point they had traveled together for one full day, and had taken turns keeping watching the night before. At dawn they set out once more, finally talking with ease to each other about their experiences so far. A kind of trust had been built. Evan’s excitement over the prospect of getting on a boat had subsided, and he walked along quietly, watching the cracks in the ground as they walked and walked. All night the boy had tossed about, sometimes screaming in his sleep, screaming out for his Daddy who would never come to comfort him again. No, not since mommy had shot him in the head. Mia had shared with Ryan what happened with her husband Jack. Ryan shared with Mia that he had watched his own brother get torn to pieces a week earlier, by their next door neighbor no less.

“Hey Evan,” Ryan called out to the boy, “look over here.” Ryan walked over to a storefront window that had been smashed in. The glass crunched under his big black army boots. The rioting and looting had long since been over, now it wasn’t called “looting” anymore, it was called “scavenging”. This store had sold comic books. A wire rack was hanging halfway out the window. Ryan plucked a Batman comic from one of the shelves.

“Batman was always my favorite. What about you?”

Evan looked at Mia who nodded. He walked carefully over the glass to take the comic book from Ryan’s hand. “I like Batman too,” he said in a small voice. He opened up the glossy cover and ran his hand over the colorful pages inside.

Mia, ever alert, was the first to hear the shuffling sound from within the building. Panic tore through her body. She opened her mouth to warn them but screamed instead as a grey arm shot out of the darkened building, seemingly out of nowhere, and grabbed Ryan around the neck.

Evan watched as Ryan was lifted by his neck into the air, his feet swinging wildly inches off the ground.

“Evan!” Mia yelled for her son and ran towards him. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him away, then shoved him behind her so that she stood in between him and the window. She could now see the face of the undead thing squeezing the life slowly out of her new friend. Its lifeless eyes watched her and Evan carefully as a slow guttural moan escaped its lips. It held Ryan up but made no move to bite him.

Mia reached behind herself and blindly opened her backpack, rummaging for the gun inside it. She felt her hand close around the cool steel just as a second zombie shambled through the broken glass inside the building and grabbed hold of Ryan’s’ hand. Mia swung the gun out in front of her. She was poised and ready but she couldn’t pull the trigger. The second zombie was about three feet tall, with a bloodied mass of light colored hair only on one side of its head, wearing footed pajamas with Disney Princesses on them.

Mia raised the gun and pointed it at the original, decidedly more adult, zombie. Still she hesitated. She didn’t trust her aim and it was holding Ryan close to its rotting body. The little dead girl opened her mouth and sunk her tiny teeth into the fleshy part of Ryan’s arm. Ryan was trying to scream but his vocal cords were being crushed. Mia fired the gun into the air. It startled the girl who hissed at Mia but still retreated backwards into the darkness of the abandoned store. Blood streamed down Ryan’s arm, a flap of rugged flesh hung down from his open wound. Mia shuddered, remembering the similar wound on her husband’s arm. She pointed the gun square at the zombie’s head and fired without hesitation because really there was nothing left to lose at that point.

Surprisingly enough, her bullet hit its mark, right between the eyes. Ryan went crashing to the ground, gasping for air and clutching his neck. He held up one hand, in a stopping motion, silently begging Mia not to shoot him. “Let’s get out of here,” he wheezed, “I have an idea.”

Mia thought about Jack, about how quickly he had turned from her loving husband into a blood thirsty monster. If there were a way to save him though, she had to entertain it right? She wasn’t a murderer and Ryan hadn’t turned yet.

“You walk ahead of us,” she said to him, waving him forward with the gun still in her hand. She walked protectively in front of her son. They walked without saying another word, the only sound between them was Ryan’s sputtering breath. After a while they found an open area, a parking lot, and stopped.

Mia tested the door of a bright red Jeep Liberty, it was unlocked. She instructed Evan to get inside and not come out until she said it was alright. He was still holding the Batman comic book, rolled up now like scroll, his knuckles where white wrapped around it.

She walked over to were Ryan sat on the ground, his duffel bag was open and he pulled out a huge knife in a leather casing. In one movement he undid a clasp and slid the casing off the knife. It was a machete. Mia looked at it, and then at Ryan who was holding to towards her.

“What the hell do you want me to do with that thing?” Mia backed up, unwilling to take it from him.

“I want you to cut my arm off, of course.” Ryan’s voice was shaking but his tone was even and deliberate. “And hurry, before the disease spreads.”

“Uh, how do you know this is going to work?” Mia looked back the Jeep, worried Evan would be able to witness the whole scene.

“I don’t, but let’s try it anyway. Hey, if it works you can take credit for discovering how to stop the spread of zombie juice to the brain.” Ryan tried to smile but it turned into a tortured grimace.

Mia took the heavy weapon from him and looked back the Jeep one last time. Ryan laid on the ground, his arm stretched out to make it easier for her. How on earth was he going to stay still and just let her chop his arm off, she wondered.

Sinking to her knees she raised the machete over her head, and plunged it down onto his arm with all her might. She felt the blade hack into his flesh, hitting bone. It made a sickening sound. Blood splattered across her face, soaked through her shirt. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she had to do it a second time to get all the way through.

Half of the survivors on the boat were listening to Mia’s story now. She told it quickly, in a strong voice. She stopped talking and looked down at her son in her lap. It had been awhile since anyone had asked about him, and Mia was glad, because she was so tired of pretending.

She didn’t even notice that she was crying until a warm tear trickled into her mouth. Her lips trembled and she shut them tight.

“So what happened,” Chuck asked her gently.

“He bled to death of course,” Mia spat out. “I sat next to him afterwards, waiting until his hand twitched and his eyes flew open, then I killed him again.”

The quiet on the boat gave way to men and women offering up their own survival stories. Their voices growing stronger and more confident as the night wore on. Some were horrific and some were terribly sad. One after the other as they sailed along towards dawn. Mia sat very still and acted like she was listening to them. All the while she was replaying in her mind the last conversation she had with her little boy.

After killing Ryan for the second time, she had begrudgingly walked back to the Jeep where Evan was waiting for her. Her clothes and hands were covered in blood, it dribbled along with her, creating a trail. She opened the Jeep door, expecting to find a terrified child. Evan was curled up in the back seat, sound asleep. He still held tight to the rolled up comic book. He looked so small, in the fetal position with one hand grasping the comic book and the other thrown over his eyes, blocking out the light.

“Wake up Buddy, we have to move on.” Mia shook him and he stirred just a little, then coughed. It was a deep, phlegm filled cough. His eyelids opened just a crack, they were red and dry looking.

“I don’t feel good, Mommy,” he croaked, and then closed his eyes again.

Mia touched his forehead, it was hot; hot enough to make beads of sweat gather at his temples. Her heart sank and her body followed, bringing her to her knees. She had fought zombies, killed her own husband and butchered a man’s arm off, all to protect her son. Now the flu threatened to destroy all that she had done for him. She stroked his hair and hummed his favorite lullaby as best she could while fighting back tears.

It wasn’t the most noble idea she had ever had. Evan was small and curled up he could pass for younger than he was. She could carry him and hold him and tell everyone he was just sleeping. If it was just the plain old flu, then he would wake up in several hours and everything would be alright. If it was the Phoenix, well, then he would be dead in a few hours and she would have to make another decision all together. They were less than an hour from the docks, and it was the only option she could think of. She bundled him in a blanket and lifted him out of the Jeep. Carrying him slowed her down, but they still made the docks before the boat left.

Mia found herself listening to the other passengers, their stories rising above the night, cutting through her own self absorbed thoughts. A mother talked about losing her whole family, a husband and two children. A father told everyone how he had run over his undead teenaged daughter with a minivan trying to escape with the younger siblings. The priest had set his own church on fire after it filled up with zombies looking for a mid-day snack. Everyone had survived, up to this point. They had all gone through hell, just as much hell as she  had. Now she was risking all of their lives on the off chance that her own son would survive, when she knew in her heart how it would all end.

Silently, Mia pulled herself up. She stood and almost fell, but Chuck stood and steadied her.

“I’m just going to walk to the back of the boat. There’s more space there and I want to put him down,” she nodded at the blanket covered boy in her arms. Chuck smiled at her, and let her go. Mia carefully avoided stepping on anyone as she made her way to the back of the boat. She found a small gate leading out to a small free area where nothing would be between her and ocean. She walked through, carefully latching it shut behind her. She faced the rolling ocean waves and breathed the salty air deep into her lungs. She moved the blanket to see Evan’s face one more time. He was still burning with fever, he curled tighter to her body, still alive but with shallow breath and a weakening pulse.

“Mommy loves you,” she whispered and stepped off the boat. The two of them made hardly a splash against the rise and swell of the icy waves and the little fishing boat sailed on into the unknown.