“Cover your ears,” Jamie said to me.
Moments later a sound, much like a fireworks finale, went off. I felt the ground shake under me. We covered our ears and ducked. The old metal bridge groaned. Asphalt flew into the air and dropped into the river below. A huge puff of smoke enveloped the structure, and with a heave, the middle of the Hamletville Bridge began to collapse. There was an awful grinding sound as the bridge seemed to resist its destruction. Finally, the beams gave way and the structure fell apart in the middle, the pieces falling into the river.
“She’s down,” Larry called.
“I feel like we just destroyed civilization,” I whispered to Jamie, fighting back tears.
I turned to look behind me. The residents, their faces long and pale, had already turned away and headed back to whatever they had left.
The death of the bridge ensured our survival. With the bridge collapsed, there was no way the undead could reach the town from the interstate—unless they decided to swim—which was the main route into our town. The barricades at either end of Main Street were now in place. A mess of old vehicles, scrap metal, farm equipment, and barbed wire and fencing ran cross the road and between buildings at either end of town. The town entryways were now secure enough to slow any visitors. All of us were poignantly aware that there were many farms scattered across the countryside with bodies yet unaccounted for; some visitors were expected. Otherwise there was the wildness of the forest and the dark black waves of the lake to protect us. With the bridge down, there was a certain finality to the entire situation.
We spent the next three weeks canvassing the town to rid it of pesky undead locked in houses and raiding residents’ homes for supplies. Everything was stored in the elementary school gym. We decided to work on an honors system: take only what you need. We made arrangements to rotate shifts at the school and the barricades. Everyone was accounted for and paired up to be protected. And everyone was acutely aware we’d had absolutely no contact from the outside. Thus far Kiki had no luck with the radio. The world, it seemed, had gone silent. It was something we knew but did not talk about. We were alone.
Around mid-October Fred noticed that Tander Vineyard and Orchard looked ready to bust at its seams. A popular spot for passing tourists, the Tander Orchard usually offered fruit picking, a pumpkin patch, and hay rides this time of year. Fred Johnson had checked the Tander house but the family was nowhere to be found. We all decided to head out one morning and collect the harvest. Ethel had arranged to show us all how to do canning and had a workshop set up in the gym. We had begun to function like an authentic village.
Jamie and Fred drove tractors with attached wagons to the farm that morning. Jamie had convinced a reluctant Frenchie to bring the girls. It took some doing. They almost never left the cabin. I didn’t blame Frenchie. If they were my children, I would have stayed put as well.
I rode with Jamie, Frenchie, and the girls in the wagon. The girls were very excited. It was a chilly fall morning. The first freeze had not yet come, but it was close. The scene looked almost like a tailgate party. There were about two dozen people there, most of them armed. Empty bushel baskets sat on the ground.
Ian and Tom approached us when we arrived.
“Swept the entire place. Looks clear,” Ian said.
“We’ve got armed folks all around the farm keeping an eye out,” Tom added.
“I want a pumpkin,” Kira squealed.
“Me too,” Susan called.
“Let’s go,” Tom said. He picked Kira up and swung her onto his shoulders.
Frenchie, hand in hand with Susan, smiled at me and followed Tom.
I grinned at her.
April, Summer, Ethel, Jensen, and Larry pulled up in Larry’s van.
Ethel emerged with a large box. “Until I figure out how to bake in a fire pit, this will have to do,” she said. “I used Mrs. Winchester’s recipe for homemade granola. Got it a bit burnt I’m afraid, and I think I used up the last raisins on the planet,” she said and started handing out small bags to all of us.
Jamie took a bag and kissed Ethel on the cheek. “You’re an angel,” he said.
Ethel pinched his cheek. “Honey, that’s you. How come you never got married? Summer, why don’t you go with Jamie?”
Summer looked like she wanted to sink into the ground. “Good lord, mother, the apocalypse is here and you’re still trying to fix me up.”
Everyone chuckled.
“Oh, there’s Frenchie and her girls. I have something special for them. Let’s go,” Ethel said, pulling Summer behind her. Summer shook her head and rolled her eyes as she passed me.