Read an Excerpt
by Lee Thomas
The irony was lost on none of them as they drew straws. Six of them sat before the fire, hands trembling as they plucked the matches from one boy's fist. Outside, their attackers groaned and pounded on the walls of the cabin.
They'd thought the mountains would give them isolation from the plague, and to some degree it had. There weren't many of the ravenous dead at their door, but there were enough, especially since those inside were fragile.
The food had run out last Tuesday--a week ago, now. Empty cabinets and cupboards. Even the occasional insect eluded their desperate fingers and their saliva-soaked tongues. The six understood the hunger fueling the dead outside. The short straw would fix that, if the remaining five were brave enough to eat.