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of Rowan’s receding footsteps, but he didn’t hear them. The tall man still stood in the hallway outside the bedroom door.
    What was with that guy? It was like he was terrified to leave Lonnie’s side, like a scared little puppy. It annoyed Lonnie to no end, made the simmering fire deep inside him rise up and fuel the rage he tried so desperately to control. He didn’t know how much longer the two could carry on together before he blacked out and killed the poor sad sap.
                  Buddy’s bludgeoned, beaten mess of a face flashed again, sending another nauseating wave through his head and down into his stomach. He rubbed the back of his neck. One day at a time. That was the only way he could approach the situation they were in. One day at a time. Who knew how long either of them had to live?
                  He pushed aside his gun and scooched himself back to lay his head down on the pillow. Staring up into the black void that hovered just below the ceiling, Lonnie let his mind wander from thoughts of murder to survival to Amy, until there was nothing left. He drifted off into a deep sleep on top of the floral duvet cover.
     
     
     
    XIII.
     
     
     
                  The echo of a loud bang teetered on the edge of Lonnie’s consciousness until he questioned whether he’d heard it or if it had been part of some dream. He sat upright, perfectly still, hands pressed into the memory foam mattress, ears tuned to the complete silence that encased him. The breath he’d been holding rushed from his nostrils as he lowered himself back down onto the soft pillow.
                  An unmistakable, wall rattling bang brought him right back up. It came from downstairs. Another bang and then another, until it sounded like a flock of birds were flying right into the side of the house. All at once, Lonnie’s chest tightened. He knew what the noise was. It was the sound of hands beating against glass.
    His door flew open and a shadowed figure rushed in at him. His hands groped the bed for his rifle as his heart raced.
                  “Do you hear that?” Rowan’s voice came from the darkness.
                  He let out a breath of relief and wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Of course I hear it. I’m not deaf.”
                  “What do you think it is?”
                  Lonnie stood up and stretched his arms high above his head. “People tryin’ to get in. What else?” He spoke with the casual air of someone expecting visitors.
                  “You and me people or those other kinds of people?”
                  Lonnie heard the wet sound of Rowan swallowing a lump of fear down his dry throat as countless hands threw themselves into the windows to break through.
                  “Judging by the sound of it, the other kind.”
                  “How can you tell?”
                  Lonnie stood with his hands on his hips and glared in Rowan’s general direction. His eyes adjusted to the darkness. The crewman stood, body tensed, gun clutched awkwardly in his hands, and ever so slightly leaned forward as if he could take off running at any moment. Lonnie shook his head at the sight of him.
    He could either continue to resent the man for being a useless lump or he could teach him to pull his own weight. He could teach him how to survive. That way when he didn’t, it wouldn’t be entirely on Lonnie. He wouldn’t have to feel like it was his fault another person died on his watch.
                  “Well, there’s more than one out there. Sounds like the house is surrounded almost. And it seems like all they’re doing is beating against the windows. If it were normal assholes, like you or me, they’d be picking locks or using a rock to break the glass. They’d be more quiet about it, that’s for damn sure.”
                  The