September 12, 2048
The plague hadn’t reached this far. Not yet.
Jubal found a small house on the beach. It had no power, but there was a bed and a lot of canned food in the kitchen.
He also found others who were still alive. More arrived every day.
He had been here nearly a week. The wound on his neck had scabbed over. It looked like Fiona had been right. He didn’t have the disease and apparently wouldn’t get it.
The newcomers had all seen the zombies. Most had to deal with family who had changed. One man from Del Rio had to put down his own wife and kids. After he told his story, he didn’t say much more.
Every night there were more?res on the beach. It had become a regular refugee camp.
But Jubal couldn’t forget the sight of the alien?yer in the desert.
They couldn’t stay here much longer.
Most of them wanted to keep moving, stay on the run, hide until there were no more safe places.
There were a few who felt like Jubal, who had nothing left but the screaming in their heads that could only be silenced through vengeance.
It was something he could use.
They would travel to the Paci?c, then make their way through California. Eventually they would reach ground zero. Nevada.
He hoped they would pick up others along the way. It was a suicide mission; they all knew that. Jubal just wanted to take as many of those red-robed alien fuckers with him as he could.
For his mother and Fiona and the rest.
For Serenity.
He sat on the porch of the cabin and cleaned his guns, watching the sun set in the green sky.