Devil’s Wake by Steven Barnes, Tananarive Due Page B

his gut for no particular reason. That was why he’d raised Cassidy on the shortwave two hours earlier than he usually did, and she’d sounded irritated that he’d called before she was up. My neighbor’s knocking on the window.
    Joe had prayed he wouldn’t find what he knew would be waiting in Longview. He’d known what might happen to Cass and Kendra as soon as Devon had freaked out. That’s what they called the change: “Freaking out.” Dammit, he should have dragged her out of that town right then. Then he’d found her letting the neighbors use the shortwave and drink her water like she’d been elected to the Rescue Committee. One time, she couldn’t even nameone of the women in her house. That was Cass for you. Acting like a naive fool, and he’d told her as much.
    Still, even though he’d tried to make himself expect the worst, he couldn’t, really. If he ever dwelled on that day, he might lose his mind… and then what would happen to Kendra? Any time Joe brought up that day, the kid’s eyes whiffed out like a dead pilot light.It had taken Kendra hours to finally open that reinforced door and let him in, even though Joe had used the danger word again and again. And Kendra had spoken hardly a word since.
    The Little Soldier was doing all right today. Good. She’d need to get tougher, and fast. The kid had regressed from nearly sixteen to six, just when Joe needed her to be as old as she could get. As Joe drove beyond the old tree farms, the countryside opened up on either side; fields on his left, a range of hills on his right. There’d been a cattle farm out here once, but the cattle were gone. Wasn’t much else out here, and there never had been. Except for Mike’s. Nowadays, Mike’s was the only thing left anyone recognized.
    Mike’s was a gas station off Exit 46 with Porta Potties out back and a few shelves inside crammed with things people wanted: flour, canned foods, cereal, powdered milk, lanterns, flashlights, batteries, first-aid supplies, and bottled water. And gas, of course. How he kept getting this stuff, Joe had no idea. If I told you that, you’d tell two friends, and they’d tell two friends, and pretty soon I’d be out of business, bro, Mike had told him when Joe asked, barking a laugh at him.
    Last time he’d driven out here, Joe had asked Mike why he’d stayed behind when so many others were gone. Why not move somewhere less isolated? Even then, almost a full month ago, folks had been clumping up in Longview, barricading the school, the jail, and the three-story hospital. Had to be safer, if you could buy your way in. Mike wasn’t quite as old as Joe—sixty-three to Joe’s seventy-one—but Joe thought he was foolhardy to keep the place open. Sure, all the stockpiling and bartering had made Mike a rich man, but was gasoline and Rice-A-Roni worth the risk?
    I don’t run, Joe. Guess I’m hardheaded. That was all he’d said. Mike had always been one of his few friends around here. Now he was the only one. Joe didn’t know whether to hope his friend would still be there or to pray he was gone. Better for him to be gone, Joe thought. One day, he and the kid would have to move on too, plain and simple.That day was coming soon, and had probably come and gone twice over.
    Joe saw a glint of the aluminum fencing posted around Mike’s as he came around the bend, the end of the S in the road. Although it looked more like a prison camp, Mike’s was an oasis, a tiny squat store and a row of gas pumps surrounded by a wire fence a man and a half tall. The fence was electrified at night: Joe had seen at least one barbecued body to prove it, pulled off the wire but tacked on a post as warning. Everyone had walked around the corpse as if it wasn’t there. With gas getting scarcer, Mike tended to trust the razor wire more, using the generator less these days.
    Mike’s three boys, who’d never proved to be much good at anything else, had come in handy for keeping order. They’d had