The doors to the three ramshackle houses they could see stood wide open. Including the second one in, where Petra's mother Rosie lived. In a place with mosquitos big enough to carry off a small child, clouds of blackflies, and horseflies that took a chunk of flesh with each bite, there was no way any door was left open deliberately.

James and Petra hung back in one wheel-track of the single lane gravel road, watching and waiting for any sign of life.

Bumblebees collecting nectar lazily flew among the thriving dandelion plants that had choked out nearly all of the grass around the houses. Their only real competitor were white daisies and yellow buttercups that had managed to take root in sporadic clumps.

With the flowers swaying in the breeze, if James squinted his eyes slightly, he could almost capture an image of what the street had the potential to look like. Unfortunately, the petals weren't enough to cover up the dilapidated state of everything on that road.

"Mom wouldn't leave the door open like that. Not even when she's blind drunk. She's too afraid one of the neighbours will sneak in and steal her liquor," Petra said quietly.

"Should we go check your mom's?" James asked. "See if she's there?" He had a raging curiosity to see Petra's childhood home.

Petra rocked from heel to toe a few times and sucked on her teeth.

"Let's check them all," she finally said. She adjusted the backpack and headed off.

"Let me have a turn carrying that thing," James offered.

"I'm good," she replied. "But thanks."

The first house had a surprisingly good oak front door that sat flush against the faded, peeling red paint of the house. The screen door stood half open.

"Mr Johnson?" she called quietly from the doorstep.

James put his arm over his lower face against the stench emanating from inside. It was a combination of piss, rotting food and unwashed body that made him almost heave up the granola bar he'd eaten.

He hitched up his t-shirt to cover his nose and mouth and followed Petra into the dark interior.

"Mr Johnson?" she called again.

Within seconds, James' eyes adjusted to the sunlight fighting its way through the single filthy window over the kitchen sink. He was able to make out the shape of a large easy chair in the front room. The sink was messily stacked with dirty dishes next to a drainer with a few clean ones. The top of the miniscule gas stove was surprisingly bare and clean.

The open bedroom door showed the tiny room was empty of life. It held nothing more than a dirty mattress on an iron frame and a tiny side table with the stub of a white candle set in a small white saucer. A box of matches lay beside it, half open. The burnt stubs of matchsticks were scattered all over the surface of the side table and littered the floor around it.

For good measure, Petra went in and looked under the bed and behind the door.

"How do you stand the stink, Pet?" he asked when she came out.

She shrugged. "He doesn't have anyone to take care of him. He's the only one on this street besides my mom I bother to check on. The rest are a bunch of useless guttersnipes."

She gripped the top of her hair. "Are. Were. I don't know how to talk about people anymore. I really hope Mr Johnson is okay, though. He fell through the cracks of the system, but he was a good man. He always helped me out if I needed it."

James inclined his head in question and cast his eyes over the nearly bare interior. What could this man have offered young Petra?

She gave a tight smile and cupped her elbows. Half-tilting her head down she explained, "He let me stay here whenever I needed ... somewhere safe to go." Shadows filled her eyes. "He'd sleep in his chair and let me stay in the bedroom. Then Father Lee took me in. We bring him the leftovers. I remember you asked once what always happened with them. Otherwise Mr Johnson would probably have died of starvation a long time ago."

Forcing a smile, she said, "Let's go check on my mom."

James laid a hand on her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. If she thought this disgusting place was a safe haven, what would they find next door?

Only because he knew her so well, James could sense Petra's reluctance to approach her mom's house. "Do you want me to go in alone?" he asked softly.

Petra sucked in air and blew it out noisily in an effort to calm herself. "It's so stupid that I'm getting so scared over what we'll find. Before all this, I was exponentially more likely to find her dead because she'd choked on her vomit when she was passed out, or, or worse, from one of her customers."

James inhaled through his clenched teeth. It seemed as if their kiss had finally broken down the wall Petra kept information about her past behind.

She shook her head back and forth. "As long as they brought her booze, Mom let them do what they wanted. Thankfully, none of them messed her up too badly. But Father Lee always came here with a medical kit."

Tears sprang from Petra's eyes. "I don't know if I want to find her alive or dead. Definitely not a zombie." She sniffed loudly. "Staying out here won't make it any easier. Let's go."

She marched up to the door and called quietly, "Mom?"

The inside air coming through the open door had the unmistakable tang of rancid wine and stale hops.

James leaned to the side to peer around the house. He twitched when he saw the huge pile of bottles that was littered under the side window.

"Mom could only get refunds on beer bottles. So, she threw all the rest out there," Petra explained.

Her shoulders rose and fell with another deep, bolstering breath, then she stepped inside.

James followed directly behind her. The layout was exactly the same as Mr Johnson's, except there was the tiniest kitchen table flush against the bedroom wall flanked by two folding chairs, a small loveseat with grimy, stained cushions against the far wall and another folding chair presumably for guests.

Every flat surface was littered with bottles.

The bedroom door stood open, just as at the last house. The bed was covered in a thin set of sheets with a swirling purple pattern printed on them. A thin floral bedspread was strewn messily across it.

A door to the right of the front door showed a filthy toilet with a standing stall shower and a toilet with a cracked lid.

"Petra, where did you go when your mom had customers?" The question was out before James even knew he meant to ask it.

She pointed at the sink. Crossing, she pulled open the door to the undercounter cupboard. Most of the tiny space was taken up by the sink bottom and its plumbing. She lifted a cheap metal hook latch.

"When I was really young, Mom would put me in here to sleep. When I got a bit older, I'd run and hide under here as soon as someone knocked on the door. Mom just said the door stuck if anyone tried to open it.

"I went out the back window as soon as I was big enough to climb out. Whenever I could I'd pile leaves or snow up under it to make it easier. Then I'd run to Mr Johnson's, or just anywhere else really."

She trailed a hand along the edge of the chipped Formica counter.

"Father Lee found me in the park when I was five. It was the end of January. I'd been in the toilet when her customers knocked... It was Billy Pierce's dad and one of his friends.

"I waited till they came in, then edged out the front door while their backs were turned. I didn't have a chance to grab my jacket, but I just knew I had to get out. I was going to go to the dumpster behind the grocery store, since it was already snowing, and I knew the dumpster would keep me warm enough." She gave a little chuff of breath. "It was also a really good place to get something to eat. That's why I didn't go to Mr Johnson's that night."

She moved over to the loveseat and stood staring at it through the years. "When I saw headlights, I hid under the picnic table. Father Lee called to me. I had seen him around with old Chief Peterson and stuff. He always had the kindest smile.

"He squatted down and talked to me, tried to get me to come out. I was absolutely freezing cold. When my teeth started to chatter so bad I couldn't reply, he asked me again if he could help me. I decided it was worth taking the risk with him than freezing to death in the park."

She crossed her arms over her chest and squeezed her upper arms. "He wrapped me in his own coat and cranked the heat in the car. Then he brought me back here. We could hear the screaming from out in the car, so Father Lee just kept driving. He stopped by Chief Peterson's house before taking me to the rectory.

"I heard him go out again later that night. The next day he told me I'd be staying with him for a few days because my mother had been taken to the hospital. Father was great that way. Even though I was so young, he never hid the truth from me."

Petra covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders began shaking with silent sobs.

James was at her side in an instant, enfolding her in his arms. She sagged against him, burying her face in his chest. He cradled her, gently rocking back and forth again, saying nothing and just giving her the time and space to release.

After several minutes, Petra pulled her head back. She took in the tiny hovel with one sweeping glance. Her chest hitched sporadically with the unfinished tears. "I'm just hoping that I'll find her body. That she died naturally. Not for my sake, but for hers. She's just had so much pain already. Is it too much to ask for her to be spared being eaten by zombies?"

Tears fell from James' eyes. "Amen," he croaked. It was the only reply that seemed suitable to him in that moment.

He hated to be the one to pour salt in the wound, but he had to keep her expectations realistic. He cleared his throat and said, "We'll keep looking Petra, but there's no guarantee we'll find her. What if she was bitten and wandered off into the woods? If someone put her down out there, it's unlikely we'd ever find her body."

Petra sniffed and nodded. She wiped her face with the backs of her hands. "You're right. I just pray that she's already gone, and it was painless."

He nodded and brushed the back of his hand over her cheek to catch a few stray tears.

She grimaced briefly at his wet shirtfront. "I made your t-shirt all snotty again."

He looked down and chuckled. "Well, I guess it'll just have to air dry. Maybe I'll get some interesting patterns."

"Let's not tell Viktor what it is and see what he says." They both snickered mischievously.

She leaned back in their embrace, tipped her chin up, and inhaled so deeply her ribs popped. A euphoric smile spread over her face. "Phew! I feel so... light."

With a contented sigh, she dropped her forehead to his chest in a clean spot and rested.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She'd had two major emotional releases pretty close together.

She nodded. "I feel better than I ever have. Really tired, though, and absolutely famished."

"Do you think your mom has anything to eat?"

"Doubtful. Father Lee and I bring her food, too. She rarely goes into town. As you can see from the bottles, she prefers a liquid diet."

James squeezed her hand. "I'm so sorry, Petra. I know it doesn't help much, but I'm sorry about everything you went through and..."

He trailed off, unable to express the deep sense of loss he felt for the woman he loved. The experience of a normal family, a normal childhood. A mother who put her child's needs before her own. A mother who protected her.

Her reply was heartfelt. She squeezed his hand. "Thank you. We've both been pretty cheated, haven't we?"

He snorted slightly. "Yeah, and now we've got zombies."

She gave a small laugh which made him happy. "Let's go check on the other places."

The other houses were just as shabby and empty as the first two.

Petra scratched her head and glanced back at the few abandoned structures they could see. "I have no idea where everyone is, but it's clear something happened here. I know these people well enough to say they wouldn't leave their doors open like that. I mean, every single one was the same. It just doesn't make sense."

"I have no idea, either. Let's head back into town. I'm starving, too."

She nodded. "We'll see what the Chief says about what to do next. Maybe he'll have better luck getting some clues here."

They reached the end of the trees that lined Poor Man's Hill and stepped onto the main road.

"Crap!" James exclaimed.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Where do you think all the people on Poor Man's Hill have gone?

Thank you for reading!

WORD COUNT: 2287

NANO WORD COUNT: 36, 745

TOTAL WORD COUNT: 38, 570