"Maryam, can you hear me?" The man put the phone on speaker and drew his son close.

The woman's voice came across loud and clear. "Asad! I can hear you! Is Abraham with you?"

"I'm here, Mom! Are you okay? There are zombies here, Mom!"

"Same, here. Toronto is overrun. Stay there! I'm working my way to the car now to come to you inshallah. I love you both so much," she said.

The crowd of onlookers didn't move, eager to glean whatever information from outside that they could.

"Where are you now, Maryam?" Asad asked.

"I'm almost at the end of the street. I had to park far away last night there was a baseball game on and you know how everyone from outside Toronto likes to park around Islington station and take the subway into downtown." Her voice went higher and lower as she evidently ran along.

"I'll text you the directions to get here. I love you so much, Maryam," Asad said.

Abraham had trouble choking out, "I love you too, Mom. Please be careful!"

"I will! I am! I love you both too. Inshallah I'll be with you soon. No!" Panic was fervent in her final exclamation.

"What is it, Maryam?" Asad said. He was gripping the phone so tightly James feared it would crack.

"They've seen me. Allah protect me!" she called. Some scratchy noise came along with the pounding of feet as the woman supposedly ran away. She gave a loud cry of pain. "No!"

"Maryam!" "Mom!" the man and boy screamed.

"Allahu akbar!" Her voice sounded a bit fainter. After a few seconds, she was speaking again, her voice full of pain and fear. "I slipped on someone's damn takeout container! I've twisted my ankle."

"Run, Maryam! Just get up and keep going! You can do it inshallah!" Asad put an arm around his sobbing son and held him tightly.

"No! They're on top of me! Ahhhh! I think I broke it! Aoothu billahi min ashaytan-nir rajim! Bismillahir Rahman-nir Rahim! Astaghfirullah!" she began to chant over and over again. "No! Stay back! Allah, Allah, Allah!"

James, Petra and Viktor linked hands. He didn't care when Petra's nails dug painfully into his palm.

Asad began to scream into the phone. "La illa ha illa la! Please, Maryam, my love! La illa la illa la!" He dropped to his knees on the grass, dragging his son down with him, repeating it over and over.

Finally, Maryam began saying "La illa ha illa la!"

Scuffling sounds came through the phone. Everyone jumped when the woman gave the first long piercing shriek.

"La illa ha illa la! I love you, Maryam! La illa ha illa la!" Asad cried.

"Mommy!" the boy yelled.

"La illa ha illa la-" the woman's voice cut off to a gurling.

Abraham buried his face in his father's neck and began heaving with heart-wrenching sobs.

James reached up to wipe the tears that had begun dripping off his chin. All around him people were sniffling and wiping their noses and faces.

Asad's hand lay limply on the grass, his eyes on the phone that now broadcast the sound of zombie moans.

Father Lee knelt by the man and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry for your loss, my friend."

Blinking owlishly, Asad raised the device and pressed the 'end' button with his thumb.

The incredulity of what they'd just witnessed held them all in thrall.

"What the hell jibberish were they yelling at the end there?" Frank said in a voice too loud to be called a whisper. His insensitive comment fractured the family's grief, and people shifted their position uncomfortably.

"Frank Abingdon, shame on you!" Sarah Beth Cohen smacked Frank upside the head, hard.

"Ow!" the man complained.

Asad raised his head and gazed around at the small group that had unintentionally shared in his wife's final moments. "It was the shahada. It means 'there is no God but God'. Any believer who dies saying it will go to Heaven."

"Sounded like some terrorist talk to me. Not talking to the same God I do," Frank said and crossed his arms.

"Frank! Show some respect. The man just lost his wife!" Father Lee snapped.

Asad helped his son to stand. He carefully tucked his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. In a flat voice he said, "I'm not a terrorist."

"That's what a terrorist would say," Frank replied, nodding at those nearby to back him up.

With bloodshot eyes, Asad looked levelly at Frank. "I'm assuming you're a Christian? We worship the same God. In Islam, it is forbidden to kill innocents. Any Muslim who is a terrorist is not practicing his religion and should be denounced. Now, if you'll excuse me, my son and I need to mourn."

Father Lee touched the man's elbow and laid a hand on the boy's shaking shoulder. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like. I'll come check on you later, if that's okay with you?"

The man nodded and shuffled away with his son towards the B&B a few houses away.

Father Lee stormed over to Frank and gripped him by the ear.

"Ahhh! Fu—damn! What gives, Father?" Frank ducked and twisted his body in an effort to alleviate some of the pain being inflicted by the priest's strong fingers.

"Calling the man a terrorist, Frank? Really? He'd just listened to his wife being eaten by zombies. Eaten by zombies. Do you really think that was the time to air your racism?"

"Everyone knows all those rag-heads are terrorists!" Frank defended himself. He reached up and tried to pry the priest's fingers from his appendage.

Father Lee pulled Frank's face in front of his own. "I understood everything they said. In English and in Arabic. Trust me, Frank, you don't know anything except falsities. May God forgive you for the lies you spread." With a hefty shove, the priest sent Frank flying backwards to land sprawling in the grass.

"Let's try and save as many people as we can." Father Lee addressed everyone and looked hard at Frank. "Regardless of who they are or where they come from. Stay in touch by phone, people."

The priest stalked off and the rest of the group dispersed before Frank could struggle up from the ground.

Headed towards the hardware store, James glanced back. The Frank glared after Father Lee while he dusted off the seat of his jeans.

Also watching the man, Viktor exclaimed as soon as they were out of earshot, "I can't believe Frank said that!"

Petra shook her head. "He's is only ten years older than us. I'm sure they used the same textbooks and would have learned in religion class that Judaism, Christianity and Islam have the same roots!"

"Petra, do you really think Frank paid attention to anything that went on in school other than chasing girls and partying? That's all he still does today."

"Hmm, good point," she mused.

"It was awesome to see Father Lee get medieval on Frank's ear, though!" Viktor snickered and the others joined in.

A seed of worry took root in James' stomach. He adjusted his backpack to get the nail gun to stop digging into him. "Jules' death hit Father Lee really hard. You should have seen his face. He was devastated. When we see the Chief, we need to let him know."

Petra frowned. She turned to walk backwards so she could search for the priest among the departing backs. "Are you worried he'll do something? Beyond what just happened, that is. Have you ever seen Father lose it like that?"

"No. Never. He's usually so laidback," James replied. "Could you imagine the field day the grapevine would have had with that little scene? It would've spread all over town faster than the time the mayor's wig blew off in that windstorm."

"Or remember when Martina came back from vacation with that boob job?" Petra said.

"Seriously, guys, that grapevine buzzed with anything they considered newsworthy. They would've been talking about this for the next fifty years, for sure," Viktor pointed out.

Petra agreed. She turned forwards again, staring at the ground and gently biting her bottom lip.

"Those poor people," she said somberly. She adjusted her backpack and hugged her elbows in tighter to herself. "To have to listen to your mom being eaten, and you can't do anything about it."

James watched a robin swooping through the air hunting insects. "Do you want to check on your mom, Petra? The Chief said he'd go by, but..."

Rosie Mitchell lived in a tiny shack she'd inherited from her father on the street everyone called Poor Man's Hill. It was a horseshoe road just outside of town on the Mallard Lake side of Highway 19. The highway became Main Street through town and connected them to Parry Sound in one direction and eventually North Bay in the other.

The shack was a rundown derelict that somehow survived the two to three feet of snow that piled up on the roof every winter. Petra dutifully went by every few days to make sure the place hadn't gone up in flames or fallen in on her mom.

Petra kicked a rock so hard that it careened off into the trees and sent several birds squawking up into the air.

"I'd rather do the batteries first." She closed her eyes tightly for a second. "Is it awful that I really don't care if anyone on that road becomes a zombie?"

"Then," Viktor uncharacteristically hesitated. "Would you guys mind if rushed and then went to check on Anna? I know the Chief was going to stop by there, but Old Man Thornton won't remember if he's blitzed, and, besides, the kids never stay at home in the summer. It's unlikely they'll get the message."

"No problem, Viktor." Petra poked his shoulder and smiled. "Are you sweet on Anna?"

"Nah," Viktor kicked at a tuft of grass growing up through the sidewalk. "We kissed last year, just to see if there was anything there, but..." He shrugged.

"You kissed Anna?" James yelled and punched his friend's shoulder three times rapidly.

"Shut up, man!" Viktor hushed him, pushing James away. "No, seriously, hombre, shut up! Zombies?"

James clapped his hands over his mouth and scanned the area for threat. "Crap!"

"You kissed her and didn't tell us?" Petra accused playfully.

Viktor shrugged. His cheeks were flaming. "There was nothing to tell. It was nice, but there weren't fireworks or anything. It only happened the one time."

James met Petra's eyes. For all the depth of emotion between them, they hadn't taken that step themselves yet. There was no doubt he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but he knew there was no rush and was happy to let Petra to dictate the speed of their relationship.

He winked at her and she giggled. As one they chanted, "Viktor and Anna, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"Shut up, you two! See! This is why I didn't tell you in the first place. I knew you'd rib me about it." Viktor huffed in annoyance.

"Come on, man, we're happy for you. You spend so much time with Anna, we kind of expected it anyway."

Viktor watched his sneakers as he said, "Would you guys mind if I ran to check on her while you do the batteries? I can check for my mom at the same time. I doubt she's there, but, you know. Maybe my dad will be, though!"

Viktor's mother Tammy owned a tiny house in fairly good repair on an isolated track off MacLaren Road that his grandparents had left her. Sometimes his mother would show up there out of nowhere for a few days before disappearing for another indeterminate amount of time.

All Viktor cared about was that his mother's welfare check kept coming to the mailbox. It kept him fed, in secondhand clothes, and allowed him to pay the water bill and property tax. He kept a wood stove for heat and a few candles for light.

When Viktor's dad, Hector, was in the country for fruit-picking season, he would come and stay at the little house any chance he got.

If it was too cold to stay in one of the treehouses they'd built in the forest surrounding their property, Anna and her five siblings, the children of Viktor's closest neighbour Old Man Thornton, would stay there when they needed to escape their moonshine-dealing father who tended to be his own best customer.

"No," James vehemently said. "We don't split up. There's only about twenty nail guns. Let's get 'em plugged in, then we go find Anna."

"I agree, Vik." Petra said. "None of us have phones and the Chief only gave us one walkie talkie. We have to stick together."

Viktor puffed out his cheeks. "I hate it when you guys are right. Let's hurry, though. If Timmy sees a zombie, he'll probably think he can take it on."

WORD COUNT: 2170

NANO WORD COUNT: 17, 348

TOTAL WORD COUNT: 19, 173

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I don't know if this chapter was intense for you, but it sure was for me! Thank you for reading!

What do you think James and company will find when they go look for Anna?

For any non-Arabic speakers (please also note there are different ways to transliterate some of these):

'La illaha illa la' means 'There is no God but God'

'Astaghfirullah' roughly translates to 'I seek forgiveness in God'

'Allahu akbar' means 'God is most great'

'Aoothu billahi min ashaytan-nir rajim' roughly means 'I seek refuge with Allah from Shaaytan (Satan), the outcast (the cursed one)'

'Bismillahir Rahman-nir Rahim' means "In the name of God, the most Gracious, and the most Merciful'

'inshallah' means 'God willing'