Chapter 3 - Part I

                                    

                                          

                          
OUTSIDE THE SOUNDS OF BIRDS greeted her. Canada geese squawked overhead, drowning out the more melodious calls of the smaller birds. The drizzle had lifted and the clouds had cleared away for one of those frigid, but glorious winter days.
                          
The goose honks faded into the distance and Lizzie realized what was missing—the sound of traffic on I-5 that helped her sleep at night. Now there was nothing. Over the warm flannel she zipped up a winter coat she dug out of a storage bin under Mama’s bed.
                          
She headed down Lincoln Street, putting in her ear buds. The upbeat sound of 4 Non Blondes brought her a bit of a warm glow as she shuffled through the mushy piles of damp leaves blown up on the sidewalk. When the song said “…screamed at the top of my lungs, ‘What’s going on?’” she screamed it, too. Nobody complained.
                          
The air smelled crisp and wintery, but as she crossed under the freeway a repugnant smell invaded her nose—the smell of death. It reminded her of when she’d done community service at the Alternative Humane Society. They had gone to a dog farm accused of abuse and neglect to save the animals still alive. She breathed through her mouth and turned the music up.
                          
Someone, or something, was watching her. Lizzie could feel it. She couldn’t help thinking… —Zombies. She spun around and jerked her ear buds out. She felt stupid, but how many years had her generation waited for zombies?
                          
She spotted something on a porch swing—something slumped over. Her first dead body—an old man, definitely not one of the living dead. His head lolled back at an impossible angle. Lizzie’s stomach churned and her eyes darted, searching for something else to look at. The last few leaves falling from the trees held her attention as she continued walking.
                          
As she passed a cute little cottage, a frantic little head popped up and down in the front window, yipping. Poor puppy. She knocked and tried the front door—locked. The dog had heard her and the yipping increased in frequency and volume. She jogged around to the back of the house. A chain link fence wrapped around to the other side of the yard. She reached across and lifted the latch. She tried the back door. It opened into a kitchen, the stench of dog shit hit her nostrils. The pup's nails clicked on the wooden floor. His tail wagged as he brushed past her into the back yard.
                          
Lizzie filled the water bowl and found the food in the cabinet over the dish. She dumped the bag on the floor.
                          
A little red light on the counter caught her eye. A cell-phone charging. What if some cell-phones work while others don’t? Maybe I should get phones from different providers. With a momentary twinge of guilt she grabbed the phone and its charger. As she left the house the pup ran back in and dug into the food. Lizzie shoved the door all the way open and pushed the garbage can against it. She jammed a garden hoe upside down in the dirt to keep the gate from closing.
                          
How many other pets were trapped in the city? And what about the rest of the country? The world? How many people had thought of man’s best friends in the end?
                          
A few hours later Lizzie had gone six more blocks, accumulated a couple more cell phones with chargers, and “saved” six cats and four dogs.
                          
She had gone no further into the pets’ homes than she’d had to. She had seen no more bodies, living or dead, which was fine by her. But the smells in each house told her if she had pushed in much further, she would have. She had to stop. Sooner or later she would come across a house where the former residents were not tucked away in bed, out of sight.
                          
Across from the Fred Meyer Lizzie paused out of habit for the “Don't Walk” sign, glancing both ways. She chuckled. Middle of the day and nothing was moving. The “City of Subdued Excitement” was dead. Lizzie glanced around, nervous. She tried to shake off the scents lingering in her nose and the feeling that someone was watching her. 
                          
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