Noise Hurts

For those in pursuit of happiness, even at the end of time.

***

I aim down the line of the scope from my perch. I hate how it’s windy. Although I’m a good shot, this is not my ideal routine. “They’ll hear me if I miss, Laura, and then I’m screwed. I’m almost surrounded. Too many of them.” I squint to avoid the sun and feel my teeth grind against one another as I squeeze my trigger, hoping to God I hit my mark. Should be easy. They’re goddamn fuel barrels. “Aim small, miss small.”

The explosion happens before I can duck. I’m usually a surgeon with explosives, but this is bigger than I intended. I’m blown backward out of the tree and land hard on my back, all the air knocked out of my lungs on impact with the rough, unforgiving Arizona ground. My weapon is tangled in a cactus. I crawl to my knees and find my feet, disgusted with myself.

“That could have been my face.”

I’ve been alone too long. I need to stop talking to Laura. On some level I know she’s not really here.

“Look at that,” she says. “Our plan is working. I still can’t believe you got out of that place alive.”

You know you’re crazy when the ghosts talk back.

I nod in approval, but after all this time, I still can’t believe there are so many of them. I wouldn’t go as far as calling them zombies. They’re more like...