At the beginning of fall, when the electricity failed, Hannah finally ventured forth. She had to know, silence and need making her crazy.

She drove into town, her hands, white-knuckled, clutching the steering wheel of their old Jeep Cherokee. As she cruised the barren streets, she saw and heard nothing.

Parking the SUV in the middle of the road, she looked around. Surely my family and I can’t be the only ones alive? Pretending a courage she didn’t feel, she got out of the Jeep, meaning to knock on some doors, find other survivors. She didn’t even make it one step. The perfume of death filled the air. Overpowering and vile, it made her fall to her knees. Even worse, it had a sound: the buzzing of flies. The sick humming made her retch uncontrollably on the pavement. Before her body had a chance to stop shuddering, she jumped back into her SUV and drove home like the devil himself chased her.

Her sister and uncle took one look at her ashen face when she walked in and asked no questions.

Winter approached quickly though and while they had a wood stove and cords of wood, they needed food. Their summer stash of vegetables had dwindled even with the canning they’d done.

Hannah skipped breakfast and made another trip into town. She stopped her Jeep in the parking lot of the grocery store then closed her eyes, looking for courage. The faces of her uncle and sister floated into her mind and gave her motivation. I can’t let them starve because I’m weak. She prepped herself by smearing Vaseline under her nose then wrapped a bandanna around the lower half of her face.

The fumes from the Vaseline made her eyes water but, blinking back tears, she clambered out of the Jeep and to the entrance of the store. The main door hung drunkenly, its clear panes smashed. She stepped gingerly through the shards of glass into the gloomy store. She grabbed a shopping cart and began throwing nonperishables into it. Every shadow she encountered made her jump and start. I wish I’d thought to bring a flashlight.