Day 5 - Safehouse

Smoke curls skyward ribbons,
diametric compositions
of the willow's tears.
From beyond the walls of cement I see them.
Zombies cannot harness fire, I thought, so
cautiously I approach.

Voices! And not garbled moans or screams,
but real, human, voices. The first I've heard
since this whole ordeal began.

It's all I can do not to rush past the corner
and embrace the sounds
but I force myself to wait,
to listen. Caution is needed.
I must control myself, it's one of the few things I can.
The voices tumble over to me.

A man's voice:
"No, lie farther over there. Yeah; keep your legs hidden behind that. And put some more dirt on your face, would you? Under your chin, too. It's gotta look like you're really beaten up."

A woman's:
"I still think this is wrong. And what makes you think that the first ones to see the smoke won't be those...things? No one will think that someone who has actually found a safe hiding place in this hell would purposely attract attention to themselves, even if they did want to find other survivors. We're trapping ourselves here..."

"That's a risk we have to take."

"...and practically baiting them; couldn't we burn anything other than that man? Did we even have to kill him?"

"If we didn't, he would have done us in the moment we turned our backs. He didn't have what we needed. And we can't be taking on another person, we'd have to start splitting the food three ways instead of two. Is that what you would prefer?"

There is silence,
and in it the smell finally makes its way to me.
I find myself in a panic,
horrified because the smell of burning flesh
is not as revolting as you'd think.
I know I should run.
I can't move.
In between beats of blood raging in my ears
I hear her response come
as if from across a channel:

"No."

"We need to stick together. It's just you and me."

"Promise you won't leave me here."

"I couldn't, baby. You're a part of me."