Three riders cross an empty field, staying in the open, far from any possible Stemmers lurking in the shadows under trees. They stop near a cell tower at the top of a hill. Kate produces a sawed-off shotgun from her saddlebag; something has gone horribly wrong.

Kate and her sisters dismount their horses and take a closer look. Sarah scans the area with the pair of binoculars they found at the ransacked sporting good store back in Kankakee. Without a word, she passes it to Carol.

To the naked eye, the old farmhouse looks as it should: a white, humble two-story frame with a comfortable porch, surrounded by a pleasant lawn and shady trees.

“There’s no one there.”

“The men are supposed to stay inside.”

“I know that. There’s no Stemmers outside.”

“Let me see that.”

Kate takes the binoculars. She scans the shady areas under the porch, near the trees on the lawn, behind the pickup, under the tractor, the front of the barn. There’s not a Stemmer anywhere in sight.

She does a 360, examining the shade under the row of trees to the south, the dense pack of trees near the pond, the shade behind random bales of hay, coming back to the deserted yard surrounding the house. “They’re gone.”

“They didn’t just get up and leave.”

“Unless there’s no reason for them to stick around.”

“What do you mean by that? Why would they-”

“I didn’t mean the Stemmers.” Kate tosses the binoculars to Carol, then mounts her horse in a single, practiced motion and trots off.

“Kate, wait!”

She ignores Sarah’s call, urges her horse faster toward the place she and her sisters have called home for the past three cycles. She rides toward her men.

#

September 5

Dear Kate,

Today, after you and the girls left, we moved all the furniture from the upstairs rooms and pushed everything against the doors and windows, just as you suggested. I’m sure the boards will hold up like they always do, but we’ll do it your way. Why take any chances, huh?

We let Lucy keep her bed. She needs it more than we do. Now to figure out how make a nursery for the baby.

Carlos found an old crank radio in one of the upstairs closets. The handle won’t turn, but Danny thinks he can get it working. He’s scrounging around in the basement for tools as I write. Boy, I wish we could make a run out to the barn. That place is packed with tools.

I hope your day has been uneventful and you haven’t run into any Stemmers. I know you and the girls can walk right through a crowd of them completely unnoticed (that must be such a strange feeling), but I’d rather you not take that chance. By now I’m sure you’ve found a comfortable place to hole up for the night. Get some rest.

With love,

Jeremy

#

Kate reaches the house and dismounts, disturbed by the lack of Stemmers. The house should be surrounded by the fuckers. During the day, they’re usually packed in tight under the trees and on the porch. The place is eerily silent, save for the gentle flapping of the screen door in the breeze. She goes inside.

Even before stepping into the front room, she knows what she’ll find. There’s blood on the overturned furniture, blood on the walls, blood on the empty shell castings on the hardwood floor. She kicks one of the shells with the toe of her boot. It skitters into the kitchen.

#

September 7

Kate,

Sorry I didn’t write yesterday. I’m worn out. We all are. The Stemmers are coming in greater numbers. I don’t know if it’s because you and the girls are gone or if we’re the only ones left alive. Either way, the numbers are staggering. Even now, as I write upstairs beside Lucy’s bed, taking the occasional peek through a crack through the boarded window, I’m amazed by how many have flocked to the fields surrounding us. They’re all just standing there, watching the house and waiting. They don’t move. They don’t speak. They just stand in the moonlight and stare.

At least I shouldn’t worry about you and the girls running into any of them. They’re all here!

Lucy says they want the baby, but I’ve told her that’s silly. The baby’s going to be born healthy and happy. As for the Stemmers, so what if they know we’re here? It’s not like that know Lucy’s pregnant? Right?

On to other news. Danny found an assortment of electronic odds and ends downstairs, including an antique soldering iron that can be heated up by placing it on the wood stove in the kitchen. He’s already cleared out a space for to work. Be great if he can get that radio working!

Carlos has come up with his own idea. Says he’s gonna turn the front room upstairs into a command central. Says that’s the best place to store weapons. With some careful sawing, the knotholes in the boards can be expanded into gun slits. From there we can take ’em down, one at a time, if we have to. Says it’ll be just like the castle days and we’ll “get medieval on their asses.” Don’t I wish.

I don’t know what he’s expecting. As long as we stay inside we’re fine. The dumb-asses just stand there staring at the house. The only time they move is to get out of the sun, like they’re vampires or something.

We’ve all been taking extra care of Lucy. She says the baby’s moved down, so I’ve been working extra hard reading those medical books you told me to read. Can’t say I’m any sort of doctor yet, but I suppose I can deliver the baby okay.

Can you believe Carlos and Juan are still making bets on who the father is? Wouldn’t it be a shock if the baby came out with skin as dark as mine? Okay, you and I both know that won’t happen, but it would certainly add new twist on our little “family”.

I better finish. My eyes are hurting. Wish there was some way to get new glasses. I love the new frames you found on your last run, but I really need a new prescription. I shouldn’t complain. If anything I should be thankful I didn’t get one of those shots last year.

With much love,

Jeremy

PS: Lucy sends her love and wishes she was riding with you.

#

Kate goes into the kitchen, finds the table turned over, electric parts scattered across the yellowed linoleum. She picks up a radio the men must have been working on and turns the crank. Static. Trying the dial, she catches something – a voice? She goes past it, tries to turn back, but it’s gone.

Kate sets the radio down, steps around the pot-belly stove and goes upstairs.

#

September 8

Dear Kate,

Lucy has given us a special project. We found a trunk full of fabric. Lucy says it’s time us guys learn to work a needle. She has us on quilt detail. Says winter will be here before we know it, and it’s better to be prepared. Believe it or not, I’m actually getting pretty good, and the fine motor work is great practice for your budding doctor.

And yes, before you ask, I’ve been reading the medical books every day, like I promised. Wish the medical jargon was as easy to understand as a simple cross-stitch. I’m so afraid I’m not going to do this right.

Please come home.

Love always,

Jeremy

#

Kate finds more blood at the top of the stairs. Whatever happened here went down ugly. From the looks of the splatter, the Stemmers must have came in from above while the men tried to hold them off at the top of the stairs.

She’s seen it happen. Stemmers might look slow and docile, but once they go after you, they’re all teeth and nails. There’s no holding them back.

#

September 10

K:

Last night was the worst. They were moaning. They must have been pressed against the house, banging on the outside walls, the doors and windows like impatient dinner guests, and moaning. Crying in agony. Almost makes you want to feel sorry for them. Almost.

Carlos couldn’t take it anymore. Being locked up in here day after day, those things out there in force night after night, it’s too much for him. For me. For all of us.

I had to wrestle the gun from him. One minute we were all sitting around doing our evening needle work, and then he ran to an upstairs window and was ready to start firing. Kept saying it don’t make no difference. They already know we’re here. I don’t know how to argue with that.

At least he came to his sense and settled down. We all know what happens if you attack ’em. They’ll stand there and do nothing for days on end, but one single act of aggression, and they go bee-shit. I reminded him the only – the only time – it’s safe to do anything, is when you’re here and it’s your time of the month. You know, after reading all those medical books, and I still can’t find a reason why menstrual blood would make you practically invisible to them.

I hope you come back with lots and lots of supplies. I hope we have so much you won’t have to go on another ride for a long time. Hope you can spend your next cycle here. Maybe you can take us out for some fresh air.

Danny says he’s making progress with the radio. He’s got the crank working. Just has to repair a few circuits. Maybe we’ll get something, a government signal, anything. I can’t wait to try it out.

Stay safe.

J

#

Kate goes around the corner into the south bedroom. The men had emptied all the furniture, and set up a row of guns near the windows. What were they thinking? Was that supposed to protect them? Save for the few empty rounds in the living room, they obviously didn’t get a chance to use them. Morons.

She turns back into the bloody hall and regrets her thoughts. Jeremy and the guys aren’t morons, maybe a little short sighted sometimes, but never morons. Their rag-tag group of survivors – some family, some people they found, wouldn’t have made it out of the city if they were morons.

She goes down the hall to Lucy’s room.

#

September 11

FUCK!

FUCK! FUCK! And double-fuck!

They won’t leave us alone. This morning we looked out the windows and they’re still there in the broad daylight. Why won’t they go hide in the shadows like they’re supposed to? At least then we could crack open a window, get a little fresh air.

But no, now they got to keep standing out there like the sun doesn’t bother them. The damn ass fuckers are getting sun stroked and don’t do jack shit. I hope they turn into fucking raisins and die. Bastards.

Shit. I gotta go. Lucy’s in some bad pain.

J

#

Kate has to stop. There’s too much blood.

#

September 14

Dear Kate,

We lost Juan.

Things have been a stink hole lately. It’s been over a hundred degrees the past three days. We’re roasting in here. And poor Lucy, she’s miserable. We’ve been taking turns fanning her like she’s an Egyptian goddess, and she’s still complaining. At least we’re off quilt duty for a while.

You might like to know we’re not the only ones suffering. The Stemmers are looking really sick. They’re sunburned beyond sunburned. I never thought skin could get that red and dry. I think they’re dying. It’s worse than the general malaise they’re usually in. Some of them are bleeding for no apparent reason. Many of them have developed bloated stomachs and have developed skin lesions and grotesquely swollen glands (hey, listen to me and the medical jargon). More and more of them have fallen to the ground in a sort of fever. Maybe they’ll all just off and die.

Back to Juan. He snapped. Just snapped. Carlos talked us into moving back the blockade and opening the door a hair. No one objected. I think we all wanted to get a good look at the Stemmers, see what was happing to them.

Trust me, we were extra, extra cautious, and were ready to move the stack of dressers back into place at a moment’s notice. But Juan, he just burst past us and ran out, crazy like, cursing at the Stemmers.

Most of them were too sick to take notice, but there were enough healthy ones to go after him, even if they were sluggish. I think that just made it worse. They bit into him with such deliberate fervor, ripping him apart and passing out pieces like Thanksgiving diner. Even of the ones I’d pegged for dead got up and joined the feast.

Juan tried to make it back to the house, but there wasn’t anything we could do for him. Kate, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I’m wiping away tears as I write this. It was my decision to close the door and push the dressers back, leaving your cousin out there to fend for himself. We had to, you understand. We had to. It was the only way we could protect the rest of us. Protect Lucy.

She’s taking it hard.

Now, it’s late at night and I’m taking a break from fan duty to finish writing this. We’re all quiet in here. We’re barely looking at each other, let alone speaking. With the lack of the usual chatter or trash talk over a game of cards, I can hear the Stemmers outside. I think they’re puking. It sounds like they’re lined up, taking turns throwing up. The funny thing is, they sound healthier now, maybe even happy.

Praying for your safety,

Jeremy

#

Kate forces herself into the room, keeping her eyes off the pool of dried blood on the mattress.

A splintered tree limb cascades through a broken window. Caught on a twig, a bit of fabric from one of Jeremy’s shirts flaps in the breeze. She removes it, caresses it against her smooth cheek, takes in its scent and tries not to imagine what happened to her husband.

#

I heard Juan’s voice outside. I don’t know how. I saw him get torn to pieces and eaten alive, but I’m certain it’s him. Earlier today, I looked outside and saw that the Stemmers had thrown up in a common pile of fleshy tissue and bone. I’m afraid to look outside now. I’m afraid I’ll see Juan standing there, half-formed, in pool of Stemmer vomit.

Call me crazy if you want, but I think I’ve figured out how they multiply.

#

A lantern lays on its side in the corner by the head of the bed, leaking oil onto Jeremy’s notebook. Kate picks up the journal, shakes it off, then flips through the damp, slippery, pages. She scans past the entries for July and August, turns to September 5th, the day she and her sisters rode out.

She finds a clean spot on the mattress, sits down, and reads.

#

September 16

Dear Kate,

I’m getting worried. It’s past your cycle and you’re not back. Where are you?

Listen, I want you to know, no matter what, no matter what happens, if you come back and never read a word of this journal, or if, God forbid, you come back and this is all I’ve left behind… no matter what, I love you, Kate. I love you.

Yours,

Jeremy

#

Kate is engrossed in the journal when Carol and Sarah enter the house downstairs. Her sisters call out for her, but she doesn’t respond. She reads every word, every page, listening to Jeremy’s deep voice in her mind’s ear.

#

September 19

Dear Kate,

Finally some good news. I’ve been reading and re-reading those medical books, and I suddenly have a remarkably clear idea how the female body works. I’m not worried about the delivery. I’m not trying to brag, but Lucy is in good hands. I’m finding that I have a good mind for medicine after all. With some continued reading, our group will have its own medic.

The thing that still baffles me is how your periods can keep the Stemmers away. Assuming they have adequate sense of smell, they should smell you and the girls during menstruation. What is it about menstrual blood that makes them ignore you? Any other blood and they go ape-shit, but when you’re on your period, you might as well not even exist. I’m not complaining; at least it gives you and the girls a chance to go out for supplies. I just wish I understood it better.

I should have paid more attention to the news about stem-cell research last year. I remember hearing news about the latest in skin cells and bone marrow and the “miracle breakthrough.” And then Dad’s diabetes. He said it wasn’t nothing but a shot in the arm, and his insulin level went up and stayed normal.

And it wasn’t just his diabetes. His hearing got better, too. Remember that? He stopped wearing his hearing aids. Apparently the treatment repaired his cochleae. He was looking better, walking like I hadn’t seen him in years. He lost weight and was looking great.

Dad said it was all thanks to genetic engineering, but I never took the time to pay attention to what is was they were actually making. By the time they started talking about the Stem-Virus in the news, it was too late.

No, I didn’t pay attention until the police gunned Dad down in the middle of the street. He’d grabbed a kid off of a bicycle and was biting the back of her neck.

And it wasn’t just Dad. It was everyone. It was everywhere. The whole city went nuts. We’re lucky we left when we did. Anyone who had stem cell treatments started eating flesh and chomping on bones like zombies from those movies.

Here’s what I’m thinking. They are zombies.

Hear me out on this one. After seeing them so close to death, and then seeing them alive and healthy again after feasting on Juan, I got an idea. They didn’t just eat Juan; they communed with him. They used his flesh and blood to rejuvenate them, and in return, gave him a new life as one of them.

That’s what Dad was doing to that girl.

His miracle cure turned into the miracle virus, and now the whole world is full of fucking zombies.

I can’t wait until you’re back. I want to show you what I’ve put together in those medical books. Maybe together we’ll figure out what the deal is with discarded epithelial cells that keeps you off the Stemmers’ radar?

I’ve tried talking about this with the guys, but they’re only interested in the radio, and if I tell Lucy, she breaks into tears crying about the baby. I’m afraid she’s going to go into labor any day now. She’s been really bitchy lately.

Where in the hell are you? It’s way past your cycle, and I’m worried. I’m really, really worried. Come home.

Jeremy

#

Kate stops reading. She cocks her head, listens.

“Carol? Sarah?”

“Down here.”

“Did you see this?”

Kate goes downstairs, stops at the bottom of the stairwell, finds Carol and Sarah in the kitchen with the radio.

“Shh. Listen.”

She stops by the stove, listens. The signal is faint and mostly static, but there’s a voice there. A recorded voice repeats the same message over and over.

“…National shelter… Normal-Bloomington… proceed with extreme caution… travel… open spaces… avoid…”

“What do you think that is?”

“A shelter.”

“That means there’s more survivors?”

“I hope so.”

“What about the guys? Is that where they’ve gone?”

Kate holds up the notebook, as if that should explain everything.

“No.”

The women leave the radio and dash upstairs. Kate has no business going back up there. She goes out onto the porch, away from their cries.

#

September 22

My dearest Kate,

Today is a day of good news. Danny got the radio working and there’s an emergency center in Normal. We’re going to go there, even if you’re not back by then. I’m glad I’ve been keeping this journal. You’ll have something to find that tells you where we’ve gone. We’ll head out as soon as Lucy’s ready.

That’s the other good news. She’s been in labor all day. I’m taking a short break to keep you updated before I go back to work.

The heat has finally broken, and it’s been thundering all night. I think there’s a storm coming. The Stemmers are acting strange, too, as though there’s something in the air. Carlos says he saw some of them climbing a tree. I think the lightening is playing tricks on his eyes. I’ve never seen them climb anything.

The really spooky thing is we keeping hearing tapping on the windows. I’m sure it’s nothing but the wind blowing the tree limbs against the house. Wouldn’t it be something if I peeked outside and saw a bunch of Stemmers trying to climb inside?

Maybe it’s better if we don’t think about that.

Lucy’s decided we’re going to name the baby Ripley. Doesn’t that sound like a great name for a survivor? And it doesn’t matter if it’s a boy or girl; it works.

Gotta go. We’re about to have a new member to our family!

#

Kate sets the journal down. The blank pages tell her more than another entry possibly could. Sarah and Carol join her on the porch. Carol’s holding the baby blanket she knitted. It’s covered in blood. So much blood. More blood than she could imagine coming from an infant.

“Wha… wha… what… do… y… you have there?” Carol manages to choke out.

“Jeremy’s diary.”

“Does… it… say… what happened?”

Kate closes her eyes and nods. She can only imagine what Jeremy’s next entry might have said.

#

Kate,

We have a beautiful baby boy. Looks like Juan, too. Has his eyes. Even Carlos would agree.

You would be so proud of me. I didn’t have any trouble delivering Ripley. I cut the umbilical cord just the way those books showed me. I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am, how happy I am.

Ripley made his first sound. A whooping cry that got the attention of the guys downstairs.

They were on their way up when Lucy looked beyond me with a face of sheer terror. I thought I did something wrong, caused her some sort of unexpected pain.

Then I turned around. I was so engrossed in the delivery I hadn’t noticed the window boards breaking. I didn’t notice the massive tree limb crashing through the window, the fragments of broken glass flying everywhere, the hungry Stemmers spilling into the room.

Kate, they looked so perfect. Skin so smooth and unblemished. Their sunburns had healed, rejuvenated with all their other cells, making them as perfectly newborn as the infant I held in my hands.

Then I saw where their eyes were and pulled Ripley close to my chest. I saw the anticipation in their eyes. The feast they desired. All that newborn flesh, all those fresh, new cells. They wanted him. They wanted us.

One moment they were gentle and peaceful, and the next they were all dull teeth and short nails and hunger. I held onto Ripley for as long as I could.

Kate, you can’t stay here. You have take Sarah and Carol and go to Normal. There’s a shelter there. But please be careful. Stay in open spaces. Travel by day and always have someone keeping watch at night.

There’s something else. Kate, you might run into us. We’re going to Normal, too. I don’t know how or why, we’re all heading that way. There’s no life left here, so we’re moving on, as if by instinct. I’ll be traveling with Ripley.

Kate, if you see us, don’t for a second think I’m the same man you love. Don’t you dare let me get near you. I’m in charge of a child, and I will do anything to keep him alive. Do you hear me? I will do anything to keep this child alive and fresh.

#

“It’s getting late.”

She closes the notebook and leaves it on the porch, pages flapping in the wind as she and her sisters mount their horses.

“Where to?”

“Normal.”

“Normal.”

Kate takes one last look at the discarded notebook. “It hasn’t been fertilized,” she whispers. “There’s no life.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, sparking her horse to turn south, toward Normal. Kate rides off, her sisters beside her, leaving behind the quiet farmhouse that once held the promise of new life but now sloughed death instead.