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Homepage of the Dead has the largest collection of living-dead related fiction on the internet. Each day a contribution is featured in the form of a 'little bite'. If you want to read more simply visit the Fiction Section. Life Among the Dead by Matt Whaley (Genre: Living Dead)

Parker slowly opened his eyes as sat up from his position in the corner of the stern. The sunlight reflected off the water in harsh daggers that slashed at his eyes, and he reflexively reached for the sunglasses he'd picked up a few days ago during one of their periodic supply stops.

Slipping the mirror-lenses glasses on, Parker sat up, grateful for the shade the makeshift canvas roof provided. They'd been slowly drifting down this river they had yet to discover a name for, and, judging by the steadily increasing heat and humidity, they had crossed over into the Southern half of the United States.

Parker got up and stepped over to the side of the boat, grateful for the gentle breeze. It caused his fatigue shirt to flap open, revealing the complex yet diminished mass of bandages over the left half of his ribcage. His wound was healing nicely. Over the last two weeks, the pain he'd felt had lessened and lessened, until all that remained was a muted throb when he exerted himself.

Parker dipped his hands into the warm brown water and splashed some of it on his head, slicking his still-short hair to his head. It felt good. Times like these were the best, when his mind was clear of the horrors that now infested their world.

"Have a good nap?" Lettner asked from his position behind the wheel of the boat. They had plenty of gas, but the current carried them where they wanted to go, and there seemed to be little sense in actually using the motor. Lettner simply kept the boat in the middle of the wide river.

"Yeah," Parker said, stepping over Jankowitz and Pam, who were sleeping in the bottom of the boat. Jank's hands were loosely wrapped around his new toy, a .444 Marlin lever-action rifle they'd picked up in the un-looted ruins of a gun shop a few days ago. There was a large telescopic sight affixed to the rifle, and Jankowitz, always an expert marksman, had become quite proficient with it. Luckily, the gun shop had also been well-stocked with shotgun shells, .45, 9mm, and .357 ammo, so they had an ample supply of ammunition. Ammo for Pignetti's SAW and their M-16s was all right for the moment, but in a few days, it would begin to run low. Civilian gun shops didn't carry military grade ammunition. But there were enough other weapons around. And in this world, weapons were of more value than gold had ever been.

"Want me to spell you?" Parker asked.

Lettner shook his head. "I'm good. Relax. Enjoy the scenery."

Parker laughed a bit. The scenery, trees surrounding the river on both sides so closely it was almost like a lover's embrace, had hardly changed at all since they'd left Williston, though they seemed to have changed species. There were less pine trees and more trees Parker thought were willows. He didn't know enough about them to be sure.

Up in the bow of the boat, Pignetti was shaving his face and his head with a straight razor, a scrap of soap, and a helmet full of river water. His SAW was within easy reach of his right hand. None of them ever left their weapons out of reach any more. Ever.

"Hey, Pig," Parker said, settling down on the gunwale next to his friend.

Pignetti nodded at the sergeant. "How you feeling?"

"Not bad," Parker said, idly fingering his ribs. "Doesn't even hurt anymore. How you doing?"

"All right," Pignetti replied, gently tracing the razor across the top of his head, then rinsing it in his helmet. "All things considering."

"I know what you mean, trust me." Parker produced a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. "Want one?" he asked, extending the pack. Pignetti shook his big head. Parker inhaled, grimacing at the hot, dry taste of the old cigarettes. In another few months, none of them would even be smokable. It was probably a good thing anyway. Not that anyone has to worry much about cancer these days, Parker told himself with grim humor.

"You put any thought into where we're going?" Pignetti asked, looking down the river and into the ever-present maze of trees that followed its course. Off in the distance, a bird called raucously, but aside from that, the world was silent. "Seems to me we've come quite a ways."

"Yeah. Best I can figure is that we're either close to the Tennessee border, or across it already. I'm surprised the river never hooked up into the Mississippi. Then we'd head all the way down to the Gulf."

"One place is as good as another," Pignetti replied in an indifferent tone. "Those goddamn things are all over, and there doesn't seem to be any place that can hold them out. Williston seemed like the best bet, but..."

"I know." Parker inhaled again, then tossed his cigarette into the water. "I figure we'll go as far as the river will take us, then I don't know. I'm open to suggestions, man." Parker stopped, not liking the look he saw in Pignetti's hard eyes. For the millionth time, he wished someone else was in charge. But there wasn't anyone else. He was it, and he'd have to deal with it as best he could.

"If you want my honest opinion," Pignetti said at length, finishing his shave and packing up his supplies. "I think we ought to find a little island off the coast somewhere, and kill every goddamn zombie on it. Then we can set up some defenses, and get some kind of normal life going. Or as normal as life can be."

"That sounds pretty good to me," Pam said, rubbing her eyes as she sat up on the bottom of the boat. She stood, sipped from her canteen, and sat next to Parker. Once again, he noted how the sunlight played through her blond hair. She was beautiful, Parker thought. Maybe even as beautiful as Sarah...