Sometimes We Ran (Book 2): Community by Stephen Drivick

could figure out their angle.
    Maybe I was just being suspicious, but most survivors weren’t usually this nice. They always wanted something. I kept looking for a hidden agenda, or rape gangs, or even slave labor, but it wasn’t here. Just survivors, working together doing the business of survival. Maybe Cannon Fields was different, but Claire and I couldn’t let our guard down just yet.
    I looked over at the other bed, where Claire slept. She turned over in her sleep and sighed heavily. I hope she was having pleasant dreams. It would be great to settle down here and try to live. It seemed like such a nice place. We could be happy for a change. Maybe get a second chance at life and start over.
I went to the bathroom and got dressed. I was about to strap on my gun and holster when I stopped. Force of habit, I guess. I decided to leave them in the bedroom as we were among friends. I decided instead to investigate the smell of coffee wafting down the hallway from downstairs.
    Tony and Marcie were already at the table when I arrived. “Morning!” Tony said cheerfully.
    “Morning,” I answered. “Coffee smells good.”
    Marcie poured me a cup. The mug had a little picture of a cat on it holding a Merry Catmas banner. “Just in time. Hope you don’t mind instant.”
    I drank a few sips. It was like liquid heaven. Coffee was one of the things I missed. “It’s great.”
    Greg laughed. “Been a while, huh?”
    “Yeah.”
    Tony fiddled with his cup. “With me, it’s cigars. I would wade through about a hundred zombies just for a good cigar.”
    Claire came bounding down the stairs and joined us. She looked refreshed and ready for the new day. After an exchange of morning greetings, Marcie poured her some juice. Claire wasn’t a fan of coffee. Marcie also began to dole out pancakes. She piled four light and fluffy perfect pancakes on my plate. She gave a few to the rest of the table, and then we started to eat.
    I sat, sipped my coffee, and consumed pancakes. Light conversation and good-natured jokes were shared as we ate. Claire and Marcie laughed as they shared some humorous story. I looked around the table with amazement. A few days ago, Claire and I were fighting for our lives. Now, we were sleeping in warm beds, had clean clothes, and were eating pancakes with instant coffee. It was surreal. One part of me hoped it would never end.
    After a great breakfast and cleanup, I went upstairs to get my gun. Claire followed me.
    “So, what’s the plan, Tiger?” she asked. It was her favorite question.
    I checked the gun for a full magazine and put on the holster. These people might be friendly, but they still might be hiding something. “We’ll do what Denise said to do: Hang out for a few days and get to know these people better. Keep an eye out. I don’t fully trust these people, and I don’t think they fully trust us, either.”
    We started down the stairs. “What exactly am I looking for?” Claire asked.
    “You know: Rape, murder, forced work gangs, cannibalism…the usual.”
    We walked outside into a beautiful spring morning. It had rained the night before, and everything smelled fresh and clean and hopeful. Even the air was better in Cannon Fields. We walked toward the main street and the admin building to meet Denise. Along the way, we saw more residents. Some were walking to places with tools; others were carrying supplies, or fixing buildings. A few people were preparing former lawns as gardens to feed the populace. It reminded me of an ant colony.
    As we walked, some of the residents gave us a smile or a nod as we passed. Others just stared. I tried to hide the gun a little as we made our way up the road. Walking among our new potential friends made Claire a little uncomfortable.
    “Geez. I feel like we’re on display,” she said, putting her hands in her pockets. “Some of these smiles are a little creepy.”
    “Yeah. I think they’re smiling at us hoping we don’t kill them,” I said, trying