Hanish paused in his yard, gazing at the field beyond his gate. Bucket in hand, he unlatched the gate and stepped through. He carefully navigated the field, stepping around lifeless bodies, until he reached the tomato plants. Kneeling, he meticulously examined each tomato. He began to pluck one but twisted it off silently, not to disturb the undead.

  Hanish stared blankly at the tomato in his hand. The sun glared, reflecting off its surface and mirroring his vacant expression.

  He crushed the tomato, its juices, seeds, and pulp oozing between his fingers, the wetness slimy and unpleasant. He shook the remnants from his hand, then turned to the next tomato, tossing it into his basket.

  He glanced up at the adjacent area, his gaze settling on his carrots. Rabbits would be getting to them, he figured. He scanned the area but saw nothing. An eerie emptiness of wild animals had settled over the land since the undead took over. Not even the birds remained.

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  He grabbed his basket and walked over to the carrots. He yanked one up; it came up too quickly, with ease. It was decayed and rotten. They were all like this. The undead were starting to affect his carrots. He wondered when they would start to affect his other vegetables.

  Hanish walked across the field, kicking at the undead bodies that littered the ground before his house. Reaching the gate, he slammed it shut and locked it tight. He lingered there, hand on the gate, staring out at the overrun world. Then, lowering his head, he headed toward the house.

  Inside, Janice moaned in her sleep on the couch. He noticed her legs as she kicked the tattered blanket off. He cringed, finally noticing the extent of her bruises. Despite the injuries, she still looked peaceful. “Lila,” she moaned. He gripped the couch as he leaned closer to listen, desperate to understand why she had pined so much for Lila. He never really understood how people could have a whole story, a life unfolding away from his own.

  He pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, then went into the bedroom and sat on the bed.

  He picked up his pistol again and placed it on his lap, staring intently at the door until his eyes grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.

  “Hanish,” he awoke, instinctively pulling his pistol up against Janice’s head. She recoiled, and he lowered the gun.

  “What…?” he stammered, noticing her trembling, her fear of him palpable. “What is it?”

  “It’s 2 PM,” she said softly, momentarily paralyzed by fear.

  “Shit!” he exclaimed, leaping out of bed and running outside. His last pig was pressed against the gate, a half-eaten leg pulled through the bars. He turned and saw only two cows behind their gates. He looked out into the field. “Damn you!”