I was driving and followed the road slowly and carefully letting Dad look around. It was quiet. That was usual. We hoped it stayed quiet. It did. The ...alley contained three houses. We found the owners by using our noses. We had liberated face masks from a clinic and doused them with various things that would block the smell from rotting flesh. The last house looked like a great candidate for us. Its owner, Norman Blanchett and his wife, Susan, had been marginal survivalists. They had generators. I knew that George was gay and I was thinking he probably thought I was a lesbian, since Sarah swung both ways.“I mean, yes, we have a cottage,” I quickly replied, back tracking on my answer. “I’m just not wanting folks to know it.”“Totally understandable,” George replied. He started to get out of his chair.“Would you like to see the cottage?” I blurted out. Once again, the words just fell out of my mouth without me thinking about it.“Sure,” he replied. “I usually just come for the day and I’ve. More

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