“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough excitement for a while. You mind finishing up here? I’d like to make it home in time for dinner.”
“Sure. Hug your son for me, and give Allison my love.”
“I’ll do that. See you tomorrow.”
I pocketed the medallion and left out the back door. The world outside was bathed in the muted yellow cast by a low afternoon sun. The air was crisp, and my stomach began to rumble at the thought of Friday dinner with my family. Friday was a special day for us. It meant Allison was making her specialty—roasted chicken with green beans and cornbread. My mouth watered just thinking about it.
As I walked, the streets filled up with people getting off work and heading back to wherever they rested between mornings. There was light, and laughter, and children running underfoot, and the smell of food cooking in street stalls and restaurants. I passed Stall’s tavern and saw my old friend Mike transferring some sort of meat from a smoker to a large metal pan. He waved as I passed, and I waved back. A breeze picked up from the north and I could smell the first sharp chill of the coming autumn. Glancing around, I saw the leaves of the trees lining the street were beginning to change colors.
Thus always the cycle, I thought. Birth, growth, decay, renewal.
It wasn’t always pretty, but it was life. I tilted my face up to the sun, smiled a little, and walked home.
The saga will continue in Surviving the Dead Volume 9:
WAR WITHOUT END
Coming soon …
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About the Author:
James N. Cook is a veteran of the U.S. Navy, a former cubicle dweller, and the author of the Surviving the Dead series. He hikes, he goes camping, he travels a lot, and he has trouble staying in one place for very long. He lives in North Carolina.
Surviving The Dead (Short Story): Quick Killer & The Iceman Page 7