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"Some people say they're... they're vampires…"

Nanci hugged herself, rocking nervously, and watched the flames of the campfire dance in the darkness. Beside her, sitting on a cleanly cut tree stump, Ike swallowed. He was spooked, too- but Nanci had insisted on visiting "Mama."

The old black woman flashed a gap-toothed smile as she rocked back in her rocking chair. "Child, these is the zombi." She cackled.

Ike shifted uncomfortably and glanced back over his shoulder at the dark forest. He'd stopped by to talk to old Mama once before, during the day, and had been so unsettled by their conversation that he hadn't been back to see her since. Coming here had been Nanci's idea. "To find out if she knows anything," she'd said. Ike sat forward, elbows on his knees, trying to get closer to the fire without appearing to do so. Mama smiled knowingly at him; he looked away.

"Zombi?" Nanci frowned. "Vampires/zombies- what's the difference?"

Mama stopped rocking and fixed her with an unwavering gaze. "The difference, child, be night an' day." Her large, dark eyes reflected the flames of the fire at them. "A vampyr, it only come out at night- to suck the life from the livin'. It's a spirit gone bad. Only way to stop it from wanderin' the night is to nail it to the Erf."

Ike felt his skin crawl. Nanci was fascinated: she was leaning forward, absorbing every word.

"Zombi… zombi a dead man got no spirit. Zombi mindless. An' zombi never stop comin'. Day, night- don't matter to zombi."

Nanci thought about it before asking: "What do they want?"

Mama smiled, and settled back in her chair to regard the young girl carefully. "Nothin', child. Zombi don't want nothin'…"

Ike was leading the way back through the maze of forest, a torch held aloft in one hand, his .38 locked and loaded in the other. He wished his father hadn't had to take his turn manning the wall tonight: he would've liked to ask him about all this. Nanci stayed close, glancing back from time to time until she could no longer see the old black woman in her rocking chair. She slowed.

"Ike…?"

He stopped and turned. "Yeah?" He sounded nervous.

Nanci stopped, looked back. "Do you think she's right?"

He shrugged. "Who knows?" He watched the surrounding darkness. "Maybe she's nuts." He didn't like to think about it, one way or the other- not when his father wasn't around. "Who cares?"

"But don't you want to know what's happening? Don't you care…?"

He looked her in the eye and answered as honestly as he could: "No."

"How many?" Stan asked. He stood with one foot up on a fallen tree, leaning forward so that his elbow rested on his bent knee. Sweat trickled down his back. The sun was directly overhead.

Beside him, binoculars lifted to his eyes, Phil silently counted. "Nine. Three boats." He lowered the binoculars. "They all got guns."

Stan sighed. "Well, as long as they stay on that side of the river…"

"They won't."

Stan turned his head to regard Phil. "What makes you say that?"

Phil handed over the binoculars. Stan looked, focused.

One of the scavengers, rifle slung over his shoulder, stood on the beach with a pair of binoculars lifted to his eyes, watching them.

"We can pick 'em off before they even get halfway across," Cracker laughed. His retarded daughter, seated on the ground next to his fold out lounge chair, picked up and swallowed a bug. Cracker backhanded her. She fell over onto her side, stunned, then scrambled up and ran crying into their tent. Cracker spat. "Kid ain't got the brains God gave a jackass." He smiled, shaking his large, round head disgustedly.

Stan, Phil, and Doug, standing at the foot of Cracker's chair, exchanged looks. Phil spat. Cracker looked down at the ground, back up at Phil. Phil returned his gaze evenly.

Stan sighed. "Maybe there's another way," he suggested.

Cracker continued to stare at Phil. "Like what?"

Stan shrugged. "I don't know."

Cracker lifted one eyebrow, still staring at Phil. "Well, you let me know when you figure it out- 'kay?"

Stan nodded. "Yeah." He lifted one hand in a half-hearted attempt at a parting wave before turning away.

Doug started to turn away, realized that Phil was still staring at Cracker, and took Phil by the shoulder and gently turned him away. Phil looked back over his shoulder at Cracker. Cracker lifted his middle finger to probe his right nostril, flicked something away.

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