The city had fallen quiet. That night the recently risen from the dead were dead once more. They had fallen, sprawled into the streets where they had stood after crawling from their hiding places. Dead again. They had thought it was over. Hoped it was over. Donita stood now and looked at the city. They weren't dead any longer. Whatever it had been, it had not been able to kill them, if that had been what it was supposed to do. In fact, it had seemed to make them even stronger once they had come back the second time; stronger and smarter. She could see them in the streets below now. They walked purposefully from doorway to doorway, testing the locks, stopping at every shadow. Investigating. A car here, a doorway there, looking up to catch her eyes. Maybe just to let her know that they knew she was still there. And Bear slept behind her in the bed, unaware of it all. Oblivious to it. And there was irony here. Irony, because she was dying. She was dying, and she was sure that they knew it. She was sure that was the reason they kept looking up at her where she stood on the balcony, judging the time between now and when she would be one of them. She blinked away tears as she looked out over the night darkened city: the fires that burned, the dead that prowled the streets.
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