Four days of a somewhat peaceful stalemate was all we had.
On the fifth day, at roughly dawn, I woke to the sound of guns firing outside.
Alex was up first, straight to the window in just his boxer briefs. Izzy began to cry at the rude awakening.
"Shhh… shh… my love," I quickly pulled on the pants from the night before, then socks and boots, ready to flee from our temporary sanctuary the second I needed to.
"It's okay, they'll be sorted soon," Alex stood at the window, pulling the curtain aside to look out. Both of us could easily sense the souls and strong virus energy at the perimeter.
"Any idea what it is?" I asked as I adjusted Izzy to lie in my arms, nursing, my hand over her ear as the guns continued to fire outside.
"Not the dead, not unless they've learned to fire guns."
Great, he was learning to get more and more sarcastic as he dabbled in his humanity.
