There was a bang.  He shook as if falling from a tall building, and quickly realized he had been dreaming again.  More of a nightmare.  it came in part or whole every time he slept.

He considered it the beginning of this new life, and the end of his former.

He thought for a moment about the day he took his son home, and how he decided to drive the back way to work, which saved him from the majority of the blast.  He then thought of the possibilities of his son surviving.  But he knew he had to search, even if he could never find him.

He never really thought twice about his sons mother.  Knowing she was in the medical field and worked at the local Health Department, he already knew the fate that she, and thousands of other workers and citizens looking for hope met.

But his son was supposed to go to school that day, and he didn't know what route the bus took.  It may have been safe from the blast, his son could very well be alive.

It had been too many weeks to count since the cleansing.  He thought for a moment how he wished he could have started sooner.  But between his sickness from the blast, the temporary blindness, the loss of his vehicle, no public transportation, and the events that followed for a few weeks after the cleansing, there was no way he would have lived through the riots and looting and explosion of anarchy after the cleansing to travel.

It had only become safe enough to travel in the recent days.  once the drug lords, gangs and other somewhat organized groups formed boundaries in the burbs, and those who did not fit into any category of lawless order quickly ran to the major cities thinking they would be protected there.

His guilt relieved when he once again realized this was the soonest he could have possibly left on his journey.

The sun was slowly lifting, and he was cold.

He realized that he had chills all night, and now was wet with morning dew.  The morning winds would be coming soon, and with it the stench of death and rotting things that belonged under the ground.

The pungent odor was already beginning to waft in the air as he sat up and looked toward the house and garage.

He knew he had to get his gun, and Sam.

He watched for a minute to see if there was any life coming from the garage, but it was evident they were done until evening.

He slowly worked his way back to the garage, and noticed something glowing.  It was a light.  The night before it was blotted out by the glow of the fires, but it was a light bulb, just next to the back door to the garage where the gang members had taken Sam.

As he got closer and stepped up on a small berm, he noticed that the entire roof of the garage was covered in solar panels.  This was big!

He quickly pulled out his PDA and turned it on.  He knew he only had a little power, so he made it quick.  He clicked the GPS on, and as soon as it was operating, he clicked "Favorite Location", and typed a note next to the Longitude and Latitude "Solar Roof Panels".

This was a big find, power being at an all time rare.

He wasn't sure how Pete would be able to extract or transport them, but he knew Pete would want them.  He needed to develop a power source for purifying water, charging batteries, and whatever else he came up with.

Pete may even decide to reactivate his house automation.  They are very useful, that is if it even works.  Lunk thought of how somethings didn't work any more since the blast.

He continued toward the house, keeping one eye on the garage for trouble.  He shut the PDA off and stuck it in his thigh pocket buttoning the pocket.

How ironic, Lunk thought to himself.  He wished he had a weapon, so he could get his weapon from the house.

He noticed there were no windows in the garage, so as long as he was quiet, he was safe.

"No", he whispered out-loud, he wouldn't be safe once he opened the back door to the house.

He remembered there were at least 3 or 4 more shadows in there.

He pointlessly looked around on the ground for some sort of weapon.  A rock, or a stick, anything!

But there was nothing.  A few sticks he could break in his hands, and only pebbles.  It appeared as if the land at one time was a garden of some sort, about an acre.

He stepped close to the back of the house.  He knew his gun was just inside the door.

He also knew he forgot to put the silencer on it that Pete had made from an old PVC pipe.  He wasn't sure if the gun would be loud enough to wake his foes, but he didn't want to find out.

Drunken gang members slumbering behind him, and a house full of freaks of nature in front of him, no gun, no Sam, no supplies gathered.  What was he doing out here?

He remembered his dream again.  "Trevor...", he whispered.

He convinced himself he was ready for this, and grabbed the door knob with purpose.

He took a deep breath and turned the knob, or at least tried to turn it.  It was locked.

That gang member who shut the door must have locked it.

Now what?

There is no way he can get Sam back without a weapon.

Then he remembered, "The keys!", he had placed them in his pocket just before he was attacked.  He pulled the keys out of his pocket, realizing he had slept on them all night and his right thigh was aching with bruises.  Perhaps he fell on them during the attack as well.

He looked at the keys by the slowly rising light.

A small oval florescent orange flotation device with a double rung chain holding a key ring.  It held four keys.  One was a rusty key with the marking "M-10" on it that looked as if it went to a padlock, the two other keys were small keys, one marked "Briggs and Stratton", and the other marked "Chrysler".  These obviously went to a boat.The fourth was marked "True Value", obviously a copy of the house key, bigger than the others.

He slowly placed the key into the door knob and turned, the knob opened up.

He slowly opened the door and stepped in, closing the door behind him.

He hated that.  But he also hated the thought of the gang members seeing the door open if any stepped outside for anything.

This time was different than the first.

He was more silent than before, aware of the presence of others in the house, and twice as careful with every move he made, not wanting to see another attack.

He quietly placed the keys back in his pocket, where they neatly fell right back into their place, each key hitting the bruise it had left as a reminder of the previous day, and night.

He heard a growl, and fear struck him.  He froze not wanting to move and give away his position,  then realized it was his stomach.

He tried to take shallow breaths so as not to provoke his stomach into speaking.  Not now, this was not the place for that!

He knelt down and started feeling around.  He heard heavy breathing as he fumbled a little quicker to find his salvation.

He felt the cold gun and picked it up.

He knew there was a safety, felt with his left hand a clicked it.  But there was a problem.  Was the safety on, or off?  He clicked it, but did Pete put the safety on before giving Lunk the gun?

If not, Lunk just put the safety on, and wouldn't be able to fire if he needed to.

"Man!", Lunk whispered a little to loudly.

There was a moan from the other room, just two or three steps in front of him.

He couldn't see the silhouettes this time, the sun not quite high enough to make it over the trees in the front of the house.

He stepped forward towards the sound.

He wanted to turn and run, but couldn't take a chance of getting attacked from behind by one of the cursed.  He felt he would never survive that attack, not without Sam on his back.

He stepped toward the sounds, and could finally adjust his eyes to see the silhouettes.

It was the front room of the house, completely gutted to the floor boards, and there were more than a few cursed in here.  it appeared to be about a dozen chained to the floor, unable to do more than stand in place.

Most of them ignored Lunk's presence, apparently too weak to care.

He was disgusted, appalled and filled with pity all at the same time.

He didn't realize as he stepped into the room noting some of the chains broken, and some empty, that he stepped a little to close to one of them.

It hissed and lunged at his head pulling the chains taught, reaching with its hands and snapping its jaws like a wild alligator.

Instinctively Lunk lifted his pistol and fired. It went off with a puff of pressured C02.  The beast dropped limp to the floor instantly with one hole to the forehead the size of a coin.

That was enough for him, he had to get out of there.

He didn't understand why anyone would keep these things, what the point was.  but there were a lot of things taking place since the cleansing he didn't understand.

He moved quickly to the back door, hoping his gun didn't alert the neighbors.

He slowly opened the back door and stepped outside into the yard, closing and locking the door behind him.

he thought quickly to himself, "They need a warning on this door or something." As he stepped back away from the door he noticed the screen door that had at one time hung in front of the houses back door.  It was up against the back of the house on its side, and painted on the door in red was a symbol.

It was the symbol of the afflicted.  A symbol of the cursed.  A symbol warning all that this house is full of deadly virus and disease.

Lunk was convinced that the virus was not airborne, simply because everyone had been breathing the bad air for months now, and many people did not have the virus.

So he didn't worry about his trek indoors.

but he was worried about how he was going to get Sam back.

He felt much more confident since he had his gun.  But he couldn't out-shoot an armed gang with a paintball gun.

He wasn't sure how many shots he had left, and couldn't remember if Pete had reloaded the gun after shooting it.  For all he knew, he had shot the last shot!

He fiddled with the back of the gun and revealed the ammunition.two steel shots poured out into his hand.  He replaced them, and made a note to himself.

This wasn't good.  he knew there were at least three gang members in the garage, maybe more.  And at least two of them were armed.

He had to think about this for a minute.

Lunk tried to remember every action movie he had ever seen.  He remembered the 3D remake of that classic film "Rambo", no good though.  He also thought about the virtual film starring that big Canadian guy.  Virtual films made Lunk a little sick though, the holographic images flicker a little and made him nauseous, so he couldn't really remember how the hero saved the day.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but knew he had to do something.

They were probably all asleep right now, this would be the perfect time for an attack.

"An attack?", Lunk laughed to himself at the thought.

"I want Sam back, now.", Lunk said under his breath to cause action in his limbs.

He moved to the back door of the garage, with his now two-shooter ready to go.

He nervously clicked the safety, then put it back, obsessively checking to see if the safety was off.

He listened at the door but heard nothing.

"Well, here we go...", he said to himself trying to muster the courage, and settle his sick stomach.

His hands were shaking and his knees felt weak.

With one hand on his gun, he placed his other on the door knob and began to urn it slowly.