After: Dying Light by Scott Nicholson

escape. DeVontay held up his free hand to show he was unarmed, keeping the other under Kokona. “I’m one of you,” DeVontay called up to the man, who kept his weapon trained on him.
    “Tell him ‘Don’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes,’” Kokona whispered. “Or ‘eye,’ in this case.”
    “You’re a real comedian, aren’t you?”
    “You’d better quit talking to me, or he’ll get suspicious.”
    “He’s got a rifle pointed at me. I don’t think he needs any encouragement.” DeVontay took a few steps forward, glancing around to see if any other sentries were watching. Someone could be behind a window, and the sun reflecting off the glass would conceal him or her. He would just have to chance it.
    “I’m DeVontay Jones,” he said to the sentry, a civilian in a jean jacket and wool cap. “I just returned from a scouting mission.”
    The muzzle didn’t waver. “Where’s the rest of your squad?”
    “They’re on the way. Corporal Volker sent me ahead since I found a survivor.” DeVontay offered the blanketed bundle up for viewing.
    The man squinted down, unsure of what he was supposed to be seeing. “A baby? Surviving after all this time?”
    “Found her in a house, along with some fresh blood. The corporal figured the mother or father must have recently been killed.” DeVontay hoped invoking Volker’s rank would carry some weight with the man.
    “That don’t make no sense,” the man said. “There can’t be any survivors in town that we don’t know about.”
    “We both know that’s not true. A smart person can hold out for months without anybody even knowing they exist. Zaphead or otherwise.”
    “I thought you guys were looking for a Zapper baby.” The guy sounded dubious now.
    “We were, but I just follow orders.” DeVontay gave a “whatever” shrug. “Come have a look if you don’t believe me.”
    Kokona kept her eyes closed, and DeVontay made sure her face was toward the dawn. That way, if any light squeezed out from between her lids, it could be mistaken for sunlight. But she looked for all the world like a normal sleeping baby.
    The sentry looked around as if seeking guidance, then eyed the narrow metal stairs leading to the street. “I’m not supposed to leave my post.”
    “I understand,” DeVontay said. “I guess I’d better check in with the lieutenant. He’ll know how to handle this. Going to be a pain in the ass, if you ask me. The thing starts bawling, and next thing you know, every Zaphead east of the Mississippi is going to be closing in on us.”
    The sentry looked out at the horizon as if the worst was already coming to pass. “Those things creep the hell out of me.”
    “Babies, or Zapheads?” DeVontay joked.
    “Both.”
    “Well, I’ll ask Hilyard not to put you on diaper duty, how’s that?”
    “Appreciate it, brother.”
    DeVontay gave a little wave of acknowledgment as he strolled past, careful to hide his limp even though his legs throbbed with several injuries and the strain of the long walk back. Turning the corner, he saw several people gathered around a trash barrel, warming their hands over a fire that oozed greasy black smoke. They didn’t see him, or didn’t care, and he entered the first door he came to, hoping no one was inside. It was a florist’s shop, the refrigerated cases full of wilted brown bouquets behind their glass doors.
    Kokona opened her eyes. “You could throw a whole lot of funerals with those.”
    “Pipe down, you squirt.” DeVontay walked to the back of the shop. The funeral home was still a block away, but it was outside the fortified perimeter Hilyard had organized around the main square. He’d seen the lines of vehicles blocking the streets, and no doubt snipers protected the area from above.
    The back of the shop featured a short hallway, with an office on one side and a musty restroom on the other. The back door was latched with an iron bar, and the lock was a button type that simply required