Loading her pilfered supplies into the SUV, she made several more trips inside, determined not to come back more often than she had to. She was concerned that the winter might ruin many of the items. She wondered for an insane minute as she stacked and crammed food in every available space in the SUV, if tin cans exploded when their contents froze.

A noise broke her visions of split cans of peas and corn. She whirled, her heart racing. A figure dressed in a robe shuffled down the road, his hair long and straggly. Another survivor?

Hannah, frightened by the scarecrow of man that shambled toward her, went to jump in the Jeep when recognition struck. "Mr. Connor?" She approached Brody’s father slowly, shocked by his ghastly appearance.

Vacant eyes looked at her then through her. “Have you seen my Marie?” he mumbled. “I need to find her. I can hear her calling.”

“Is she still alive?” asked Hannah. “Have you heard from Brody?”

A horrible wail came from Brody’s father, and he clutched at his hair, pulling it as his eyes rolled madly. Hannah took a step back, but she needn’t have feared. Mr. Connor whirled. With an unsteady gait, his ragged robe flapping, he went back up the street toward his house.

Disturbed by her encounter, Hannah brought the supplies home and, once out of her sister’s hearing, told her uncle what had happened.

“He’s gone mad,” her uncle Fred said sadly. “Probably thought he was the only one left.”

“I can’t leave him like that,” said Hannah. “I’m going to ask him to come stay with us.”

“Before you do that, you need to arm yourself. He might not be the only one to have lost his marbles.”