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for now, though, was set these babies up and see if they would hold for a few more days at least. We could sort out our situation by then. For now, we needed to tend to my dislocated shoulder and Brantley’s broken wrist.

Chapter 7
    I was roused from my sleep by someone yelling. As I lay there thinking I was still dreaming, there came the sound of a car turning over followed by the loud popping and humming from the muffler. I was baffled. It was still dark outside. Why would anyone be out yelling and driving right now? Had the past four years been a really bad dream, or was this?
    I sat up slowly as the engine came roaring closer, rubbing my eyes to try to focus. The first thing I saw looking out over that balcony was the silhouette of a smoke cloud against the blue night sky. The second thing I saw was the black Grand Marquis rolling on thirty-five inch tires with guys hanging out of the windows. They all had baseball bats, swinging them at every zombie that came within reach of the car. They were yelling something in Spanish over the thumping of the bass in their car. It was a stereotypical movie scene featuring a bunch of Hispanic gang members. Only this wasn’t a movie and the danger was real.
    I ducked down out of their sight as much as I possibly could up on the balcony. One thing we no longer did was inform others of our whereabouts. In all retrospect, if they were paying attention, the wall of corpses around this hotel would give us away. Most of those we’ve ran into in the past have been plunderers, murderers, and thieves who have always survived under pressure. We’ve lost a couple safe houses to zombie hordes for fighting to keep what was rightfully ours. Even Samantha was almost killed during the worst fight we’ve had so we changed our habits. We learned from our mistakes quickly and I wasn’t about to let this group of roughians know I was up here.
    They turned down the side road closest to our hotel and went away toward the north of here. I sighed a deep, grateful sigh once I could no longer hear the sound of their engine roaring on its journey. I laid there listening to make sure they weren’t going to circle back around. I watched intently as a horde of undead gathered at the mouth of the side street the car had disappeared down and attempted in vain to catch up in hopes that they would be able to eat again. My stomach turned flips as the last few stragglers walked by and headed for the side road. They were missing chunks of flesh from different parts of their bodies. Some were dragging their guts along the ground behind them. Their entire midsection was missing, save for their internal organs. One pulled his own liver out right in front of our hotel and commenced to eat it. I stifled a gag to keep from drawing their attention back this way. I needed them to leave the area. Tomorrow I planned on making a trip to the library that was a few blocks away from us. I needed a map, or several, to use to get my family out of here.
    I knew my dad would be against it, but we couldn’t stay here much longer. The supplies were depleting rapidly and majority of the food in the buildings nearby had already been pillaged by our group and passersby. We had maybe a week of food left today and would need to expand our search area. Doing so was a great risk to us all. Safety would be too far away. My dad was signing our death certificates if he didn’t change his mind on migrating soon.
    We could venture out further for what we needed, but how long was that really going to be effective? No, we needed to leave and leave now. Our future, and the future of mankind, depended on us making this decision. That gang provided the perfect chance for me to do so. Every zombie within miles would hear their voices and their car. They would be drawn to leave the area and go as far as they needed to. This was my one and only shot to get the right supplies.
    The silent glide of the balcony door was given away by the swish of the