22
I didn’t sleep well that night. Dreams of zombie mobs pounding on the windows and doors of our home. Only, in the dream, it wasn’t the Bunker but a single-wide trailer, and the zombies were tearing their way in. I woke with my heart thundering in my chest.
Conor lay asleep beside me. Diana’s eyes reflected the glow of a night-light from her bed nearby, apparently awakened by my restlessness.
I spent a long time listening to sounds. A creak in the roof. Bushes scratching on the windows in the night breeze. A year or so earlier, I discovered a homeless man had been living in my attic. Fortunately, he had only been there for a safe place to sleep and to occasionally steal my food. He was now a friend with a good job and a home of his own.
But now every unexplained noise seemed like a p
