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Chapter Text

Dorothy Zbornak racked a round into the chamber of her hunting rifle. "This is it, ladies," she said. "Time to see if our latest defensive position is any good."

"It's, what did that young man call it?" Rose Nylund asked. "He was such a sweet kid, filling those sandbags for us. Oh yes, a soup sandwich. I still don't know what that means."

Sophia Petrillo snorted. "Sure, real sweet kid. I would be, too, if I conned some little old ladies out of their last six bottles of Ensure just for moving some sand around."

"Now then," Blanche Devereaux said, patting the air with a hand in a "settle down" gesture. "We have plenty of time to discuss our pay rates later. Right now, the sun is falling. Focus, ladies! We've got company!"

As the last rays of sunlight slanted through the boarded-up windows of their retirement condo, the zombie horde began to stir. The four women fell silent as they heard the moans and shuffling start up outside, as familiar now as the birdsong before sunrise.

Chapter Text

Dorothy sighed as she dropped into one of the four white wicker kitchen chairs. She idly brushed a crumb from the sleeve of her taupe silk pantsuit.

"Long day?" Coco asked. Blanche's housekeeper smiled as he stirred a pot on the stove. "I'll be done with these enchiladas soon. That should cheer you up."

"Enchiladas? Perfect. This day was so bad that I yearned for the sweet release of death. For once, your enchiladas will bring me peace on this Earth."

Coco rolled his eyes and smiled.

Blanche entered the kitchen, carrying a fashionable leather handbag. "Dorothy, I'm borrowing your Birkin bag for dinner."

"What do you need my Birkin bag for? I hope you're not planning to stuff it with canapes like when you borrowed my Kate Spade bag."

"I did no such thing! Anyway, I need to look my best for dinner tonight with my new man. We have only been seeing each other for a week, but yesterday he proposed!"

At this startling news, Coco gasped and dropped his wooden spoon into the pot of enchilada sauce.

"Excuse me?" Dorothy gaped at her friend and roommate.

Blanche smiled beatifically. "I haven't decided what I'll tell him. We'll see how the mood takes me."

"I hope the mood takes you somewhere sensible, like the hell away from this guy. This is absurd. Is he catfishing you? Blanche, dear, he must be after your estate."

"He's after something of mine, but it's not my estate." Blanche winked and wiggled her hips, then sashayed out of the kitchen.

Later that evening, Dorothy sat on a wicker chair on the lanai with a cup of herbal tea, reading her Kindle before bedtime. A gentle Miami night breeze carried the lush scent of roses from the garden next door.

Rose interrupted Dorothy's reading. She bustled out of the house, wringing her hands in distress. "Have you heard the news?"

"About how Blanche is planning to marry some nitwit, and you and I and my mother - who just showed up on our doorstep with a suspicious claim of a nursing home fire - are going to have to find somewhere else to live, on our fixed incomes? Yes, I heard that news."

"No, not that." Rose flapped her hands dismissively. "There's some kind of new pandemic. It's really sudden. The police are blockading roads, helicopters, dogs, sirens, it's a whole thing. I don't know what to do!"

Dorothy sighed and set her Kindle down on the wicker end table next to her herbal tea.

"Well, what is there to do? I'm sure the police have it handled. We made it through the last pandemic despite Trump's best efforts. We'll make it through this one, too."

"But people are dying!"

"That's perfect for you. You're a grief counselor. Think about the job security!"

"Oh, you!" Rose tutted and sat down in a wicker chair beside Dorothy. She crossed her legs and bobbed her foot anxiously. "Anyway, have you heard from Blanche?"

Right on cue, Blanche swept in through the front door and straight out to the lanai. "Well, girls, this is it! He's the one! We're getting married tomorrow!"

"Don't you think that's a little sudden?" Rose asked.

Sophia, lured outside by all the commotion, snorted derisively. "What's sudden? None of us have that much time left. Gotta make it snappy. Clock's ticking."

"Oh, ma," Dorothy sighed.

"I've been watching the news," Sophia continued. "It's the end of the world out there. Been a good run, I guess." She shrugged and left.

The next day, Blanche's living room was packed full of guests and decorated with as much bunting and wedding cheer as they could muster on short notice. Coco wound through the room with a platter of Hors d'oeuvres, beaming at all the guests dressed in their wedding finery.

"He's late," Rose whispered loudly. "I told you this would happen."

"You told me no such thing," Dorothy said. "You said you had a bad feeling. So did I, after eating Coco's enchiladas last night."

Blanche appeared in a tasteful cream-colored silk cocktail dress and matching embroidered jacket. Her smile was as bright as she could make it.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Dorothy told Blanche. She patted Blanche's arm reassuringly. Blanche's smile faltered briefly as her composure faltered, then returned to full wattage.

Just then came a knock at the door. Blanche sagged with relief as Coco rushed to open the door.

But Instead of Blanche's fiancee, a police officer stood on the doorstep.

"I'm here to speak with Blanche Hollingsworth," the officer said. "Is she here?" His somber tone of voice cast a chill of dread across the room.

"That's my maiden name," Blanche said, her voice tight with strain. "How can I help you, officer?"

"I regret to inform you he is in police custody. He's being held as a person of interest in the act of bioterrorism, which has shut down Miami." He raised his voice to address the room. "Speaking of which, you're all in violation of curfew and regulations about public gatherings. This is a serious situation, people. Leave now, and I won't cite you."

The crowd murmured with alarm. People grabbed their coats and bags and hurriedly began to leave the house.

Dorothy grabbed Blanche in a bear hug. Rose and Sophia joined in. They hugged silently, alone together in the living room.

Later that night, the four women sat in the living room, watching the news repeat the same story points over and over.

"Where's Coco?" Rose asked. "Has anyone seen him?"

"He went to the store earlier to pick up some groceries," Sophia said. "Something about how the end of the world clearly calls for a sparkling rose' with dinner."

Rose gasped.

"I'm sure he'll be back soon," Dorothy said. But a frown crinkled her forehead, belying the light tone of her words.

In fact, they never heard from Coco again.

Chapter Text

Dorothy sat in a wicker chair in the living room, staring at her iPhone in shock. "My daughter Kate is getting married," she said as she slipped the phone into the pocket of her cornflower blue smock and tugged the matching slacks into alignment.

"She texted you that?" Blanche put a hand to her chest in shock at this breach of decorum. "Kids these days, why, when I was a girl -"

Dorothy cut her off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Yes, yes, dinosaurs roamed the Earth, and a loaf of bread cost a nickel. It doesn't matter. Kate is getting married to a man named Dennis. They planned to elope in the Bahamas, but they're stuck here in Miami because of the travel restrictions."

Rose gasped with delight. "We can have their wedding here in the living room!"

"Didn't we just have a wedding in the living room last week?" Sophia asked. "Or is that just my brain aneurysm acting up again?"

Blanche gave her a brittle smile. "We almost did, dear. But as you might recall, my fiancee was arrested on charges of bio-terrorism, which I am certain is a mistake they will be clearing up any day, and the wedding will be back on."

"Until then, we can reuse the decorations," Rose said. "We didn't even put most of them away."

Dorothy sighed. "You three get started on that. I have to call Stan and invite him."

Rose, Blanche, and Sophia gasped in unison.

Dorothy shook her head. "Kate asked, and I agreed. It's only fair her father be here for the wedding." Then she smirked. "Of course, her father lives in Maui with his second wife, and the travel restrictions mean he won't be able to fly here. How sad."

Dorothy moved to a corner of the room to call Stan while the other three women bustled around making wedding preparations. She returned a few minutes later with a grim expression.

"Bad news."

"Is Stan dead?" Rose asked.

"No, Rose, I said bad news, not good news. Stan was in Miami on a business trip when the travel restrictions kicked in. He's stuck here until the emergency declarations are lifted. He says he wouldn't miss it for the world. In fact, he's on his way here right now."

Mindful of public gathering rules, Kate's wedding was a small, express affair. Dorothy called back the priest from Blanche's almost-wedding. They invited over a small handful of neighbors and toasted the happy couple with whatever wine Blanche had on hand. As the local news anchors suggested, they kept the curtains closed and refrained from playing loud music so as not to attract undue attention.

After the ceremony, Kate and Dennis departed quickly to return to their hotel before curfew.

Stan closed the door behind them and turned to Dorothy. "Well, there's our little girl off to the next chapter of her life."

"Lovely sentiment, but I can't take you seriously in those non-prescription glasses."

"They make me look smart and distinguished!"

"They make you look like the idiot you are."

Sophia interrupted. "Okay, you two, you can either help us clean up or bicker, but not both." She flapped her hands at Dorothy and Stan, shooing them towards the lanai. "Go hash this out on the lanai."

Dorothy and Stan both huffed indignantly but dutifully did as they were told.

Stan glanced around the dark lanai. "Shouldn't we be inside, though? That's what they said on TV, right?"

"Oh piffle, they're just trying to scare people to get more views. It's their only goal in life. Speaking of which," she whirled to face Stan. "Those glasses are donezo." She whipped the non-prescription glasses off Stan's face before he could react.

"Hey! Those were expensive!"

"Well, they're my expensive fake glasses now." Dorothy flourished the eyeglasses like a hunter showing off a trophy.

Stan raised his hands in a placating gesture and took a few steps back. "Listen, I didn't come here to make trouble. Can we start over?"

"No," Dorothy said. She advanced on Stan, jabbing his glasses in the air at him. "You lost that privilege when you -"

Stan took another step back. He stumbled over an azalea bush and fell back against the waist-high stucco wall, which separated the lanai from the backyard.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake," Dorothy shook her head. "You can't even flee right. Here, I'll give you a hand."

As Dorothy stepped towards Stan with her hand out to help him rise, a terrible clamor came from the other side of the wall. It sounded like a pack of hungry dogs, growling and clawing at the wall and snapping their teeth to Dorothy's ears.

"What the" Stan glanced back over his shoulder, then drew in a breath to scream.

Dorothy watched, frozen, as a frantic group of shadowy figures reached over the half-wall to grasp Stan with dozens of claw-like hands. Then he was gone, pulled over the wall in an instant.

Stan's scream was a horrible wail, cut short by a flurry of wet crunching noises.

Dorothy's self-preservation instincts took over. Before she realized what was happening, she rushed back into the house, slammed the lanai door closed and locked it, and pulled the curtains closed.

Rose, Sophia, and Blanche, each in the middle of a different cleaning task, stared at Dorothy in horror.

"Turn out the lights," Dorothy said. "We've got trouble."

Chapter Text

Rose and Dorothy sat beside each other on the bamboo wicker couch.

Dorothy patted the peach-colored cushion between them. "I think you should do it," she said.

"Oh, I don't know," Rose said. "This hardly seems like the time. What with, you know." She gestured at the sliding glass doors to the lanai behind them, which were securely boarded up with plywood.

"You don't like our new view? I'm calling it Apocalypse Chic. It's rustic and practical. All the rage these days."

"That's what I mean, Dorothy! Back in St. Olaf, we used to board everything up twice a year at the solstice to keep out the vampires, you know." She sighed happily. "It was cozy, curling up inside with your family and a nice hot cup of cocoa. Of course, the garlic smell really put a damper on things. You had to rub it on all the windowsills, obviously."

Dorothy raised her eyebrows as she sipped from her teacup. "Obviously."

"But the important thing is, we stuck together! You have to, in difficult times. Don't you think?"

Dorothy shrugged. "I think if you can find a little bit of happiness at the end of the world, you should take it."

Blanche's mint-colored frock swirled around her as she bustled into the room, fussing with her earrings. "Excellent advice, dear, even if it's not the end of the world. Which I'm certain it isn't. But why not have some fun, anyway?"

Dorothy gestured at Blanche with her teacup. "Exactly!"

Blanche finished one earring and went to work on the second. "What are we talking about?"

"Arnie invited me to his stateroom on the cruise ship," Rose said. "He was planning to invite me on a cruise to the Bahamas, but all the cruise ships are stuck in port with the travel restrictions. They're still doing all the regular cruise ship stuff, though. He says it'll be just like if we actually went to sea! Just, you know. Not moving."

"I'm sure something will be moving," Blanche said with a wide smirk.

"Let's hope so," Dorothy said.

"Oh, you two are just terrible!" Rose laughed. "It's not like that!"

Dorothy checked her watch. "Well, if you plan to go, you'd better get moving. Sunset is in about an hour, and you don't want to get caught outside after curfew."

"I suppose," Rose said.

Arnie's stateroom was decorated in stately shades of hunter green with cream accents. Although the room was spacious for cruise ship accommodations, there was barely enough room for one person at a time to move around the queen-sized bed in the center.

Rose perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed in her best peach-colored chiffon peignoir, waiting for Arnie to finish in the bathroom. She fidgeted, uncertain where to put her hands, whether or not to strike a pose, and what expression she should have on her face. Friendly? Excited? Expectant? Nothing felt right.

The bathroom door opened. An older gentleman in a sensible blue terrycloth robe emerged and smiled. "You look beautiful, Rose."

"Oh, thank you! You know, I have to admit, I'm feeling a little -"

A blaring siren interrupted Rose before she could finish. She and Arnie flinched in surprise.

"Stay here," Arnie said. "I'll go see what's happening."

"But -"

"Stay here, Rose!" Arnie held his hand out to stay her. "Don't open the door for anyone but me."

Rose nodded reluctantly. She sat back down on the bed and tried to hold still. The news anchors kept saying that noise attracted attention. Maybe if she held perfectly still, nothing would happen, and everything would be fine.

The siren continued to wail, making her ears ring. Who could hear anything with this racket?

The stateroom door handle rattled.

"Oh, thank goodness you're back," Rose said, opening the door.

Then she screamed. It wasn't Arnie.

Rose slammed the door in the face of the shambling monstrosity, which continued to paw at the door as she firmly locked the latch.

"Well, this just won't do," Rose said. She glanced around the stateroom and then picked up a brass candlestick lamp from the nightstand. She hefted the lamp, nodded her approval, unplugged it, turned back to the door, and squared her shoulders. "This won't do at all."

Dorothy and Sophia sat at the kitchen table the next morning, playing cards and drinking coffee.

Sophia slapped her hand of cards down on the table, her merry eyes swimming behind her thick glasses. "Gin," she said.

Dorothy frowned and tossed her cards on the table with a growl. "I was sure I was going to win. Everything else has gone completely off the rails. I figured this was my chance to win for the first time in my life."

Sophia shook her head as she scooped up the cards. "Don't talk like that. That's why I like playing Gin Rummy. It feels normal."

"Well, nothing is normal. It might never be normal again."

"I know that. I'm not an idiot. But it's nice to pretend for a little while, anyway."

Rose burst into the kitchen. "I'm home!"

"I gathered that," Dorothy said. "What happened? Why are you carrying a broken lamp? Is that blood?"

"One of those things got on the cruise ship." Rose set the dented brass candlestick lamp on the kitchen island. She picked up a tea towel and used it to wipe blood from the lamp. "I thought we were done for, but it turns out it was only one, and they're pretty slow."

Rose glanced at Dorothy and Sophia, who stared at her in silent shock.

"Anyway, once the curfew was lifted at dawn, I called a taxi, and here I am! Have you all had breakfast yet?"

Dorothy and Sophia stared at each other, then back at Rose.

"Did I hear Rose?" Blanche entered the kitchen and smiled brightly. "Spill it, Rose! How did it go?"

"I had to kill one of those zombies with this lamp, and then at sunrise, I called a cab and came home."

Blanche flapped her hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, we all know you're very resourceful, Rose. I mean, how did it go with Arnie? Did you, you know?" Blanche waggled her eyebrows.

"A lady will never kiss and tell," Rose said. She set the broken lamp down on the kitchen counter. "But since I had to wash someone else's brains off my hands last night, I guess I'm not much of a lady at this point, so yes. Yes, we did." Rose smirked.

"Atta girl!" Blanche held up her hand to give Rose a high-five. Rose tentatively slapped Blanche's hand. Dorothy and Sophia shook their heads.

Chapter Text

Blanche bustled frantically around the living room. She picked up a ruby red cut glass candy dish from the bamboo wicker coffee table and dithered, trying to decide where to put it.

Rose burst in from the kitchen, waving a Swiffer duster wildly around in the air.

"Rose, what on Earth are you doing?"

"I'm dusting. There's dust in the air. Don't you see it? It's everywhere! If I can catch it before it falls, I won't have to dust anything."

Blanche opened her mouth to reply, then thought better of it. "Put this candy dish in your room." She handed the dish to Rose.

"This isn't valuable. I thought we were hiding all the valuables."

"Well, it looks valuable, that's the point. My sister will be here any minute, and if she gets the slightest whiff of money, we'll never be rid of her."

Sophia hobbled into the living room. "Which is hard, seeing as how you spent your entire life decorating this living room specifically to convince people how classy and rich you are."

Blanche sighed. "I know. It hurts. But it has to be done. I don't know why Virginia insisted on visiting, but I'm sure she wants something. The less she thinks I have, the less she'll try to leech off me. Which reminds me, you two remember to play up how you're my roommates because I can't afford the mortgage."

"I don't pay rent," Sophia said.

"Even better," Blanche said. "Rose and Dorothy help with the mortgage, and you're just dead weight."

Sophia shrugged. "Nothing new there."

The front door swung open and Dorothy entered carrying a convertible car seat baby carrier. "Why does the house smell like cabbage and fish?"

"We're trying to smell poor, so I'm making stew," Rose said. "Why do you have a baby?"

"Ted and Lucy are at the hospital. Ted had some kind of water-skiing accident, and Lucy had to be there to help him out. I agreed to take the baby overnight."

Sophia frowned. "Who the heck are Ted and Lucy? And why did they give you their baby?"

Dorothy looked thoughtful. "You know, I'm really not sure. I went out to check the mail, and this nice woman handed me the baby; she said she was Ted's wife, Lucy, and she had to see Ted in the hospital and would take care of the baby. I just assumed we knew them. She handed me the baby and a big diaper bag full of stuff, then ran away."

"You mean my niece, Lucy?" Blanche asked. "Virginia's daughter? I didn't know she was in Miami."

"No," Dorothy said. "That's a funny coincidence, though, isn't it? How many women are named Lucy?"

Rose peered in at the baby with wide, excited eyes. "What's the baby's name?"

"This is Danny," Dorothy said. She readjusted her grip on the baby carrier to pull the blanket back from the baby's face. "Isn't he just the cutest? I better go check his diaper."

"I'll help," Rose said. She followed Dorothy closely out of the living room, leaving Sophia and Blanche alone.

"So this bad news sister," Sophia said. "You need someone to take care of her?"

"What kind of "take care of her" are we talking? Like financial support, or like Mafia style?"

Sophia shrugged. "I know people who can help either way."

"Well, that's a very kind offer, and I will keep it in mind. For now, let's see what she wants. I'd better get changed, I'm meeting her for lunch in half an hour."

That afternoon, Blanche's favorite French bistro was busier than usual. Tension hung in the air, framed by the tight smiles of the wait staff and the "pretending everything is perfectly normal" faces of the other diners.

Blanche studied the Special of the Day board. When did this cafe start serving cioppino? The chef must be trying to use up a lot of odds and ends. Not a good sign, but it explained the cacophony of smells that filled the bistro.

The waiter led Blanche to her usual table, where her sister Virginia was already waiting. Blanche sized Virginia up in a quick glance.

Virginia had lost some weight (probably Ozempic), had her hair styled in a respectable shoulder-length bob (deliberately bland), and was wearing a peach-on-yellow floral print dress that looked as if it had come straight out of Blanche's closet.

Blanche resisted the urge to narrow her eyes suspiciously. Instead, she pushed her face into the beaming, outgoing smile she used to greet cherished acquaintances.

Virginia stood and gave her a hug as they exchanged upbeat "you look so good"s and "it's been so long"s. Then they sat down, and Blanche picked up her menu as if she didn't already know what she was going to order. Now, she had to bide her time until Virginia worked her way around to explaining the real reason she had come to visit.

Virginia dropped her bomb after the main dish but before coffee. She cast her eyes down at the table and reached out her hand to take Blanche's. "Blanche, there's another reason I'm here."

*Tell me something I don't know*, Blanche thought. She wanted to roll her eyes. Instead, she composed her face into an expression of sympathetic concern.

"I need a kidney. You're a perfect match to be a donor."

Blanche snatched her hand out of Virginia's. "A kidney? A whole entire internal organ? Virginia, honestly!"

"I know, I know, but I'm out of options! Do you want your sister to die, Blanche? Die and become one of those... things? You don't want a zombie for a sister, do you, Blanche? Think what it would do to our family's reputation."

Blanche closed her eyes, hardly believing what she was about to say. "Of course, I'll donate a kidney," she said. "What kind of monster would have to think twice about donating a kidney to their sister?"

Virginia began sobbing. "Thank you," she choked. She tried to muffle her wails with a napkin, but they cut through even the loud noise of the busy cafe. Blanche saw heads begin to turn, sidelong glances, everyone's curiosity piqued.

"Oh Virginia, hush," Blanche hissed. "You're making a scene. I'm not going to give you a kidney if this is how you're going to use it."

"You don't cry with your kidney," Virginia said between big sobbing gulps.

Blanche waved her hand carelessly. "Whatever, dear. You know I failed biology. Or I would have, anyway." She waggled her shoulders salaciously. "Now forget all this kidney talk; I think we need dessert."

Blanche returned home several hours later to find Dorothy, Rose, and Sophia in the living room, conferring over the baby.

"Please kill me," Sophia said, glancing up at Blanche.

"Oosie woosie woo!" Rose poked the baby with her fingertip. "Woosie woosie woosie woo!"

"I'm begging you," Sophia said. "Make it stop. Kill one of us. I don't care which one. Put me out of my misery."

"Oh, ma, don't be so dramatic." Dorothy waved a hand dismissively. "Blanche, how was it? We didn't expect you back so soon. Is kidney removal an outpatient procedure now?"

Blanche sat down in a bamboo wicker chair and smiled widely. "Good news! The nice CDC man said it wasn't an issue anymore. I guess they found a donor!"

"The CDC man?" Sophia blinked. "What does the CDC have to do with your sister's kidney transplant?"

Blanche shrugged. "There were a bunch of CDC people at the hospital. Some of them wore those white spacesuits, which made it hard to find the handsome doctors."

Rose looked up from the baby with an exasperated expression. "Blanche, you don't-"

Dorothy gently smacked Rose on the wrist. "No slut-shaming, remember? We agreed."

Rose rolled her eyes and went back to cooing at baby Danny.

"Anyway, one of them came up to me with a clipboard and asked who I was there to see. I explained I was donating a kidney to Virginia Warren. He looked her up on the clipboard and said she was all set, and I could go home."

"That's great, Blanche! When will Virginia be out of the hospital?"

"He didn't say, and I'm not allowed to visit, so I guess we'll just have to wait for her to call." Blanche shrugged. "In the meantime, let's celebrate! Hit the town! Paint it red!"

Dorothy checked her watch. "We'd better not. The sun is setting soon, and curfew is in an hour."

Blanche smoothed her floral skirt out across her lap. "Oh, right. I keep forgetting. I suppose this means the baby's staying another night."

"His mommy wommy called earlier," Rose said. "She'll be by to pick him up in the morning, yes she will! Unless I kidnap the baby and run away with him! Oochie woochie woo!"

"What?" Dorothy asked.

"Oh, we have Rocky Road in the freezer," Rose said, pointing towards the kitchen. Blanche, Dorothy, and Sophia scrambled for the kitchen, leaving Rose alone in the living room with the baby.

Chapter Text

Dorothy, dressed in a pink wrap-around house dress, tutted over Sophia on the living room couch. "I can't believe we found a doctor who makes house calls."

"It's the zombie apocalypse," Sophia said, "they better make house calls because I'm not leaving. My friend Mildred told me what happened to Mr. Wharton down the street." She shuddered dramatically. "I often wish for death, but not like that. No, thank you."

A knock at the door announced the doctor's arrival. Dorothy opened the door and was immediately taken aback by the tanned, well-groomed, well-dressed doctor. He looked more like a finance CEO than a doctor.

"Oh, hello, doctor," Dorothy stepped aside and gestured him in, then glanced down at her attire. She bit her lip, wishing she had worn a more attractive outfit. Too late now.

Sophia glanced up at the doctor. "I hope you brought me the good stuff. I'm in a lot of pain, you know. Wink wink."

"Ma, you're not actually supposed to say "wink wink," you're just supposed to - you know what, forget it. Dr. Clayton, this is my mother, Sophia.

Dr. Clayton sat down on the wicker couch next to Sophia. He reached out to give Sophia's hand a reassuring pat. Sophia made a sour face and snatched her hand back before he could touch her.

"She's a little cranky today," Dorothy said. "Well, she's a little cranky every day. You know how it goes."

"Back in Sicily in my day, when you got to be my age, they gave you any drugs you wanted. Cocaine, morphine, heroin - sky's the limit!"

"I'm sure that's not true, Ma. Dr. Clayton, we need to go over her prescriptions."

He gave Dorothy a dazzling smile. "Of course. And please, call me Elliot."

"Alright. Elliot." They exchanged a smile. Dorothy felt a flutter in her chest.

Dr. Clayton left ten minutes later, leaving behind a new prescription for Sophia and a coffee date with Dorothy that afternoon.

Blanche sighed. "I remember when men and women went out on proper dates. Dinner dates! Not this afternoon coffee shop nonsense."

Dorothy stepped out of her room and twirled to show off her outfit: a magenta patterned blouse over dove gray slacks. "The curfew, the curfew, the curfew. Why do I have to keep reminding you? And how does this look?"

"You don't have to keep reminding me. I remember, I'm just sad about it. And that looks... fine."

Dorothy narrowed her eyes at Blanche's judgment, then decided to take it at face value.

A knock at the front door. "Stall him," Dorothy said. "I still have to pick out my shoes." She disappeared back into her bedroom and slammed the door.

Blanche opened the front door. "You must be Dr. Clayton. Dorothy will be out in a minute. Can I bring you anything?"

Dr. Clayton smirked and ran his eyes up and down Blanche's body, seemingly taking in every inch of her emerald dress. "I can think of a few things," he said.

Blanche froze, surprised, then hastily strode to the liquor cabinet to put some distance between them. "How about a gin and tonic? I feel like a gin and tonic is a perfect cocktail for the end of the world." She smiled her brightest, politest hostess smile.

In the blink of an eye, Dr. Clayton crossed the room and stood beside her. Uncomfortably close. She could smell his aftershave and minty breath. He was undoubtedly the type of man to always keep a tin of mints in his pocket in case such an occasion should arise.

Blanche was accustomed to receiving this sort of intense attention from men. Flirtation was one of her favorite games. But she disapproved of cheating, and she particularly disapproved of cheaters. Her opinion of Dr. Clayton was plummeting quickly.

She hastily dropped ice cubes in a glass and then added a very light splash of gin. This rat didn't deserve their gin. He was getting a gin and tonic that was mostly tonic. And she certainly wasn't going to add a splash of lime. She hoped he got the message.

"Here you go," Blanche said. She pushed the drink into his chest, forcing him to take a step back.

Dr. Clayton leered at her as he slowly sipped his drink. A wince flickered across his face. Blanche held in a smirk.

Dorothy breezed into the living room. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Are you ready?"

"Yes, of course!" He carefully set his glass down on the bamboo wicker coffee table. "Thanks for the drink, Blanche. Another time, perhaps." He shot Blanche a wink behind Dorothy's back, then ushered Dorothy out the door.

Blanche slapped a tea towel down on the coffee table. "Perhaps another time I'll garnish your drink with rat poison," she said.

Rose entered from the kitchen. "Rat poison? Do we have rats? You know, back in Minnesota, we used peppermint oil to get rid of rats. We sprayed it all around the property and the baseboards of the house, inside the cupboards, on the doorway, everywhere."

"Did it work?"

"It didn't keep the rats away, but they sure smelled nice."

Blanche shook her head. "I don't think peppermint oil will work for this rat, either."

The next afternoon, Blanche entered the kitchen and found Dorothy sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and scrolling Instagram.

"Dorothy, I need to tell you something. You're not going to want to hear it, but I think you should know."

Dorothy, alarmed by the tone of Blanche's voice, set down her phone and coffee cup.

Blanche sat down, took a deep breath, let it out, pressed her hands before her on the kitchen table, and began.

"Last night, while you were out of the room, Dr. Clayton made a pass at me."

Dorothy made a sour face. "Blanche, are you serious? Are you sure you're not just reading too much into his demeanor? He has a very flirty demeanor."

Blanche snorted. "He backed me into a corner and was very clear about his intentions. It wasn't flirty, Dorothy. I know flirty! This was creepy and upsetting."

Dorothy nodded slowly. After a long silence, she said, "I'm glad you said something. I thought it was just me. I kept telling myself it's been so long since I was out on a date, I must just be a little rusty on how these things work. He kept throwing up red flags, and I kept ignoring them."

Blanche felt her chest hitch. "So you believe me?"

Dorothy's head rocked back as if Blanche had slapped her. "What? Of course, I believe you! Why would you even think that?"

Blanche looked down at her hands, still pressed to the tabletop. "I've been in this situation before. So-called friends who said I was making it all up, or trying to steal their man, or ruin the relationship because of sour grapes, I don't know."

Dorothy reached out a hand and placed it gently atop one of Blanche's. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, Blanche. For what it's worth, I'm sure if you wanted to sleep with him, you would have just done it."

Blanche, on the verge of tears, laughed. "Oh honey, doctor or not, I would never ruin a friendship over a man. Men are a dime a dozen, believe me."

Sophia entered the kitchen just in time to hear the last part. "A dime a dozen? That explains why you're always buying them in bulk."

Blanche smirked. "I always look for a bulk discount when I'm buying something that won't last."

"Ma, Blanche was just explaining that Dr. Clayton is a complete dirtbag. He made a pass at her last night while I was in the other room."

Sophia poured herself a coffee and sat down at the table. "What kind of pass? Are we talking sexual assault or complimenting your haircut?"

Blanche frowned slightly. "Is it sexual assault if he never actually touches you? It was gross, to be sure, but I don't know if it was sexual assault."

Sophia nodded sagely. "Sexual harassment, then. That's when a man flirts with you even though it's obvious you're not into it. It's all about consent, you know."

"Ma, how do you know so much about this stuff?"

Sophia shrugged. "I keep up with the times. You should try it. Speaking of which, I hope you're not saying you didn't do your due diligence before you went out with this creep?"

"Due diligence?" Blanche asked.

Sophia sighed and shook her head. "I'll take that as a no. Okay, ladies, watch and learn."

Sophia pulled an iPad out of her lavender crocheted purse and went to work. Within five minutes, she had pulled up Dr. Clayton's entire personal and professional history, his credit score, information about five children across three previous marriages, a long list of complaints against his medical practice filed with the state's medical licensing board, and no less than three allegations of sexual assault in the workplace.

Blanche and Dorothy regarded Sophia with silent amazement. Sophia turned off her iPad and returned it to her crocheted purse with dramatic flair. "Due diligence." She shook her index finger at Dorothy.

Dorothy held up her hands in surrender. "From now on, I'm having you vet all my dates ahead of time."

"Me too," Blanche said, holding her hand to her throat. "My goodness!"

"So what are we going to do here, ladies?" Sophia asked. "I can tell you what we would do in Sicily. It's not pretty, but I can assure you it is very effective."

"I don't know," Dorothy said. "With everything that's going on, I guess I'm kind of in a live and let-live mood."

Sophia slapped the table with her open palm, startling the other two women. "Unacceptable. That's how vermin like Dr. Clayton get by in the world. They skate past it all, and the rest of us suffer. Well, not this time."

Rose came into the kitchen. "I smelled coffee. Are we talking about vermin again?"

"Yes," Dorothy said. "The vermin is named Dr. Clayton. Ma thinks I should do something about it."

"Dr. Clayton pinched my bottom the last time he was over," Rose said. "I never told you because... well, I don't know why."

Dorothy and Blanche gasped. Sophia slapped the table three times loudly. "This is what I'm talking about! And believe me, he's only going to get worse. Men like that take advantage of times like these. He's a predator."

The four women exchanged a long, silent look.

"I should invite him over to spend the night," Dorothy said, her voice quiet and calm. "We can have drinks out on the lanai."

A wicked smile crept over Blanche's face. "Bye, Dr. Clayton."

"Bye, Dr. Clayton," Dorothy said, nodding.

Rose's brow furrowed as she looked around the kitchen. "Wait, why are we saying goodbye? Is he here? Dorothy, you shouldn't go out on the lanai after dark. Remember what happened to... OHHH." She beamed as understanding clicked.

Dorothy stood up from the table and headed for the door. "I'll go give him a call."

Later that night, Blanche, Rose, and Sophia chatted in the living room. The heavy curtains were drawn against the dark, as per federal guidelines.

From outside, they heard a brief scuffle, followed by a crash. Dorothy burst in through the lanai door and slammed it behind her.

"I could get used to this," she said, catching her breath. "Maybe the zombie apocalypse isn't all bad."

Blanche offered Dorothy a cocktail in a highball glass and a high-five. Dorothy accepted them both.

Chapter Text

Blanche bustled around the living room, fussing with everything as she so often did. "I'm just so excited for David's visit!"

Dorothy shifted her legs to the side to let Blanche squeeze past her on the couch. "We know, Blanche. You've mentioned it a time or two."

"He and I had so much fun the last time he was here! Of course, that was four years ago. He was only ten. I don't even know what he's into now."

"Well, hopefully, he's not into messing with someone else's stuff."

"Thanks again, Dorothy, for letting him stay in your room while he's here. I owe you one."

"You owe me two," Dorothy said. "Not only is David staying in my room, but I have to stay in Ma's room."

"I owe you two," Blanche agreed.

A knock at the door galvanized Blanche. She lunged for the door and flung it open, arms spread wide for a hug. Instead of David, a police officer with an exasperated expression stood in the doorway.

Blanche dropped her arms. "Officer?"

He shifted his weight to the other foot. "You're Blanche Devereaux?"

"Yes, officer. What can I do for you?" Blanche patted her hair and fixed the officer with her most winning smile.

"You can take this guy off our hands." The cop clamped his hand on the upper arm of a sullen teenage boy and pulled him into the doorway. The boy was carrying a lumpy backpack and wore an unlikely collection of clothing so mismatched to Blanche's eye that she assumed it must be considered an extremely fashionable outfit among the youths.

The cop gently shoved the boy towards Blanche. "Caught him at the airport trying to sneak onto another flight. Nice try, kid. Ever heard of security? We've got a lot of it these days."

The boy slouched into the house without a word and flopped into one of the bamboo living room chairs. He dropped the backpack at his feet and glared around the room.

Blanche turned back to the cop and gave him a broad wink. "Why thank you, officer, I appreciate you giving him a ride home. Let me know if there's any way I can pay you back."

The officer held up his hands. "We're good, thanks. Just keep an eye on him. We can't be wasting extra resources on a bunch of shenanigans these days."

"Shenanigans," David muttered, shaking his head.

Blanche shut the door and then turned to David. "Well, David, that wasn't quite the greeting I expected, but it's good to see you!"

Dorothy narrowed her eyes at David. "Have you been vaping, young man?"

Rose, wearing a white apron over a pink calico house dress, entered from the kitchen. "What's vaping?"

"It's like smoking cigarettes, but it smells like if a car made of cotton candy had an overheating radiator," Dorothy explained.

"Oh, I know that smell," Rose said. "Back on the farm, we once had a lot of extra cotton candy after the annual Beltane festival, so we tried to use it as firewall insulation on the tractor's engine bay. Boy, that was a mistake!"

Blanche, Dorothy, and David stared silently at Rose for a beat.

"No, I wasn't vaping," David said. "Must have been the guy sitting next to me or something. I bet the smell rubbed off."

"Mm hm," Dorothy said.

Blanche took a deep breath and regained control of the room. "David, welcome! I haven't seen you in so long! Let me introduce you to my roommates Blanche and Rose, and here's Sophia."

Sophia entered the living room from the kitchen. "You must be David," she said. "What's with the hair?" She gestured to the thick dark curls piled high atop David's head.

David gently brushed the close-shaved sides of his head. "You like it? I just had it done. It's pretty cool, right?"

Sophia tutted. "In my day, men had real haircuts. High and tight or slicked back. Your choice."

David smirked. "Uh-huh. Lady, in your day, black people weren't allowed to vote."

"Well, he's got me there," Sophia said, turning to Blanche. "Good luck, Blanche. He's all yours." With that, she turned around and left the room.

Later that night, Dorothy slipped out onto the lanai just in time to catch David preparing to hop the fence.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Dorothy said. "Listen." She picked up a small rock and tossed it over the fence. A groaning, thrashing noise arose on the other side of the hedge.

David gasped and took a step back.

"You know how if you feed a pigeon, suddenly your yard is full of pigeons?" Dorothy shrugged. "Anyway, Blanche should have told you we don't come out here at night."

"That's the point, duh," David said. "I don't need a bunch of old lady babysitters. I'm fourteen! I can take care of myself."

Dorothy pointed to David's backpack. "So you're setting out on your own, eh?"

David straightened up and pulled his shoulders back. "That's right. My mom said their second honeymoon would be over in a week, so I only have to kill five more days. I have some friends across town I can hang with. Don't worry."

Dorothy shook her head. "Did you not just hear what's on the other side of that fence? Son, it's hungry zombies from here to the coast. What are you even thinking?"

"I'm real fast, fastest kid on the track team at school. I can definitely outrun some old-ass Florida zombies, no problem. They'll probably fall and break a hip."

Dorothy sat down on one of the bamboo chairs. "Have a seat, David. At my age, I can't stand and talk like I used to."

David rolled his eyes and fell heavily into the other bamboo chair.

"Son, you must have more sense than this. What's this about?"

David flushed and chewed his lip for a moment, then blurted out, "Look, I heard you all talking about what a huge inconvenience I am. Sorry for existing, I guess. Just go back inside and I'll head out, and no one has to know. We can just go our own ways, and you can have your room back."

"Easy as that."

"Easy as that," David agreed. He lifted his chin in defiance.

"David, listen. I'm sorry you overheard everyone griping earlier. But here's the thing: when you get to be our age, you gripe about everything. It's just how you pass the time. By complaining. Most of the time, you don't really mean it; you're just letting off steam." She flapped a hand dismissively.

David pursed his lips. "Sure sounded like you meant it."

"Well, we didn't. None of us did. We were just, what do you call it? Trash talking?"

"Uh, not really."

Dorothy waved a hand. "Well, whatever. I don't understand you kids these days with the skibidi and the Baby Shark and all. I guess the feeling is mutual."

David sighed and slumped back in his chair. "You got that right."

"I'm sure we can work this out. Please come back inside. Can I make you a cup of hot cocoa?"

"Lady, it's like 95 degrees out! And you all keep the air conditioning at 85!"

"That's something else you'll learn about old people. We're always cold. Okay then, come inside, and I'll pour you a nice glass of lemonade."

"Fine. With vodka?"

"Absolutely not. But considering it's the end of the world, if you promise to stick around until your mom comes back, let's just say I turn my back, and whatever you put in your lemonade is your business."

David brightened. "Cool, thanks!" A thought occurred to him, and he slouched back again. "There's not actually any vodka left in the vodka bottle, though. It's all tap water at this point."

"I know, dear. I'm old, I'm not an idiot. Try a splash of gin."

David held his arms up wide in the air and bobbed at the knees while loudly singing, "Sippin' on gin and juice!" The noise stirred up the zombies on the other side of the fence, who started moaning and shuffling with excitement.

"Shh," Dorothy held a finger to her lips. "Come on, Snoop, let's go back inside."

Chapter Text

Sophia hummed to herself as she stirred a huge pot of marinara sauce on the stovetop.

Dorothy entered the kitchen, tugging the sleeves of her periwinkle tunic. "Ma, that smells amazing, what's the occasion?"

"It's my famous fourteen-hour pasta sauce. We still have twelve more hours to go, so keep your grubby little hands off."

Dorothy leaned towards the stove and inhaled deeply, intoxicated by the rich scent of tomatoes simmered with garlic and basil.

"Don't make me slap your wrist," Sophia warned. "And as to your first question, I woke up this morning thinking I'll probably never see Sicily again, not at my age, not with the travel restrictions. They're talking about extending this international travel ban for years. So I cooked." She shrugged.

"Ma, that's -" Dorothy was interrupted by Blanche, who burst into the kitchen cradling a hunting rifle.

"Check it out!" Blanche said, turning the rifle back and forth to catch the light. "You won't believe what I had to barter for it, but it's worth it, don't you think?"

Dorothy flinched away from the gun. "Blanche, what the hell?"

Blanche beamed. "It's a Winchester Model 70 Featherweight," she explained. "Just like my daddy used to use for hunting deer in the fall. Isn't she beautiful? Look at that walnut stock!" She cradled the rifle in her left arm while gently brushing away an imaginary speck of dust from the barrel.

Sophia glanced up, snorted derisively, and returned to stirring her sauce. "You're never going to sneak that thing into a deli to off someone if that's what you're thinking."

"That's not what I was thinking, Sophia, but thank you. It's for the neighborhood shooting competition this weekend. Didn't you see the flyer?" Blanche nodded towards a sheet of yellow paper on the front of the fridge.

Dorothy slid the flyer out from under the fridge magnet and read from it aloud. "Turkey shoot this Saturday, 7 p.m. to 10 p.m., residents only; first prize is a frozen turkey from Mr. Gardener's chest freezer." She flipped the flyer back and forth in consternation. "What in the world?"

"Oh Dorothy, surely you've noticed all the zombies piling up at the neighborhood gates! It's a real problem." Blanche polished the stock of her rifle with the sleeve of her fuchsia blouse. "We need to do something to knock their numbers down a little, and this is so fun!"

Rose entered the kitchen. "Are you all talking about the turkey shoot? I'm so excited!" She clapped her hands with glee.

Dorothy raised her eyebrows. "You too, Rose?"

"Of course!" Rose said. "Back in St. Olaf, a lot of kids liked to spend the summer shooting animals with air rifles. Cats, dogs, squirrels, pigeons, you name it. Oh, those were good times."

Dorothy jerked her head back as if she had been slapped. "Rose, you used to shoot animals when you were a kid?"

Rose gasped. "Oh, no! I would never!" She paused and smiled nostalgically. "I shot the kids."

"You have all lost your minds," Dorothy said.

Rose wandered over to examine Sophia's cooking. "Not in the least," she said. "For one thing, we could really use that frozen turkey. For another thing, someone has to do something about all those zombies. They're really getting on my nerves."

Sophia batted Rose's hand away from the pot. "You ladies don't stand a chance if the Nielsen twins are in the competition. Have you ever seen them on the shooting range? They're incredible shots."

"No, Ma, I haven't seen them on the shooting range, I didn't even know we had one! And why were you there, anyway?"

Sophia smiled coyly. "Just keeping my skills fresh. Anyway, that turkey's as good as theirs."

Blanche drew herself up haughtily. "I think not," she said. "Rose and I can take them, can't we, Rose?"

"Absolutely," Rose agreed with a cherubic smile. "Let me get my old rifle out of the storage shed, and we'll get some practice time this afternoon."

That afternoon, Blanche sat in the living room admiring her rifle. Rose entered, wearing head-to-toe desert camo gear with a set of shooter's earmuffs draped casually over the back of her neck. In her arms, she cradled an enormous black sniper rifle almost as long as she was tall. She patted the rifle with a black-gloved hand. "Ol' Betsy is ready to go!"

"Rose! What in the world?"

"What?" Rose looked herself over. "Do I have something on my shirt?"

Dorothy entered from the kitchen. She stopped suddenly, taking in the sight of Rose from top to bottom. "There must be some mistake. World War 3 is down the street. And have you seen Rose? She's around here somewhere."

"Oh Dorothy, you're so funny!" Rose laughed and waved a hand. "This is my old gear from back in my competition days. I told you girls I used to be a sharpshooter."

Blanche had recovered her composure. "You most certainly did not. And what are those red marks on your gun?"

Rose angled her sniper rifle to peer at the extensive collection of small red hash marks on the barrel. "Oh, those? That's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Well, I guess we should get going." Blanche stood and brushed at the front of her emerald rayon blouse. "Somehow, I feel underdressed. Or overdressed. I'm not sure."

"Do you want to borrow my angle cosine indicator?" Rose asked. "You have your own scope ring, right?"

Blanche scoffed. "You know darn well I have no idea what you're talking about." She flounced towards the front door.

"I know," Rose said, giving Dorothy a wink.

"I heard the Nielsen twins changed their mind about dropping out," Dorothy said. "Good luck, or break a leg, or whatever they say at a shooting competition."

"I'm not worried," Rose said. She dropped her voice. "They're the ones who should be worried."

"Suddenly, I'm the one who's worried," Dorothy said. "You two get out of here; you're making me nervous. All that firepower is clashing with the interior decor."

"Whatever you say," Rose said. She turned crisply and followed Blanche out the front door.

That night, Dorothy and Sophia sat at the kitchen table. Each of them had a plate heaped with pasta and red sauce.

"Ma, this is incredible as always. I'm sorry you're feeling the futility of your age, but if you keep cooking like this, I'm going to start talking about it a lot more."

Sophia waved a fork dismissively. "Shut up and let me eat in peace. You know, this was my first boyfriend Augustine's favorite meal. I looked him up online. He's been dead for six months."

"I'm so sorry, Ma. Pass me another slice of garlic bread, will you?"

Rose and Blanche entered the kitchen. They sat down heavily at the kitchen table.

"That smells amazing," Rose said. "Is there any left for us?"

"Of course, of course," Sophia said. "Assuming you won. My famous fourteen-hour pasta sauce isn't for losers."

"Ma!" Dorothy said. "That's a terrible thing to say!"

"Don't worry," Blanche said, "Rose made sure we won." She and Rose exchanged a quick look.

Dorothy raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Do tell."

"Nothing to tell," Rose said as she peeled off her black gloves. "Just a good day's work. And Mr. Gardener is going to bring the frozen turkey over tomorrow!"

"Congratulations!" Sophia patted Rose's hand. "Help yourself to dinner."

"I'm not hungry," Blanche said. She gave Rose another look. "I lost my appetite. Goodnight, all."

"Goodnight!" Rose called after her with a cheerful wave.

"She can't hack it, huh?" Sophia whispered.

Rose giggled and shook her head. "What can ya do? Anyway, I'm starved! Hand me a plate!"

Chapter Text

The Zombie Break-In

"Well, I loved her," Blanche said as she led Dorothy, Sophia, and Rose to the front door. "That Chappell Roan is just so fun!"

"She's the cutest thing," Rose agreed.

"She's a slut," Sophia said.

"Sophia!" Rose turned to glare at Sophia. "No slut-shaming, remember? We all agreed!"

Sophia shrugged. "I'm not shaming. It's her best feature."

Dorothy unlocked the front door. "Let's get inside; we can argue after we sit down. My feet are killing me."

The other three women murmured agreement.

Dorothy opened the door and gestured the other women inside. Blanche turned on the living room light, and all four women gasped.

The living room, usually a tidy place with everything "just so," had been destroyed. The wicker coffee table was smashed, paintings hung crooked on the walls, salmon-colored couch cushions scattered everywhere.

Dorothy smelled decay, the scent of a dumpster on a late summer afternoon. She pointed to the door to the lanai, which stood open. "Zombies. That's how they got in," she said.

Blanche clutched Sophia's shoulder. "Zombies! Are they still here?"

Rose made a small shriek and clutched Blanche's sleeve. "Zombies! Here? Inside?"

Sophia shook her head sadly. "Dorothy, I told you to stop feeding them. I told you this would happen." Despite her calm tone of voice, she gripped Dorothy's sleeve.

All four women moved towards the lanai door as a unit.

"They're going to kill us!" Rose sobbed.

Dorothy slid the lanai door shut and turned to shush the other three women. They stood silently together, listening intently for the slightest sound. After what felt like an eternity, Dorothy broke the silence.

"They're gone," she said. "They must have come in, realized no one was home, and left." She crossed the living room and closed the front door.

Blanche frowned. She picked up a discarded couch cushion and whacked it with her open palm as if knocking off the dust. "Well, they left a terrible mess."

"Good thing we weren't home," Sophia said, "or the mess would be us."

Rose hugged her dark red Coach shoulder bag to her chest with both arms. "Don't say things like that!"

"She's right, though," Dorothy said. "We knew this day would come eventually. Ladies, I think it's time to leave the house."

Rose, distracted, set down her Coach bag. "But we just got home," she said. "Why do we have to leave again? Did you forget something at the concert? Did you lose your wallet? Oh no! You lost your wallet, AND we got robbed?"

Dorothy sighed. "First of all, we didn't get robbed. Second of all, I... you know what, forget it. Go pack your things, Rose. You two, too. We need to be out of her at first light."

Sophia snorted. "First light. Okay, Dirty Harry, whatever you say." She waved a hand dismissively and left.

Rose hugged her Coach bag to her chest again. "What if they come back?"

Dorothy flapped her hands at Rose to herd her towards her room. "The sooner we pack, the safer we'll be. Let's go."

Several hours later, all four women met in the living room. Each had a collection of bags, packs, and suitcases.

Sophia sat, unbothered, without a single suitcase beside her.

"Ma, go get your luggage," Dorothy said. "I'm not carrying it for you. We talked about this. Everyone has to carry their own weight. I'm sorry."

Sophia shrugged. "I'm not taking anything that won't fit in my purse." She gestured to her woven wicker handbag. "I have some medications, some keepsakes, a few important papers, that kind of thing. I'm ready."

Blanche leaned away from Sophia. "What about your clothes?"

"I'm not taking my clothes. I hate my clothes." Sophia gestured to her outfit, a delicate white knit cardigan over a dusty rose dress with a collar buttoned up to her neck. "I'm getting something new. My clothes, my shoes, my Spanx, everything. Let the zombies have them. I'm leaving it all behind and starting fresh."

Dorothy took in a deep breath and held it, then exhaled slowly. Without a word, she turned away from Sophia. Her gaze landed on Blanche, who stood defiantly beside the large blue and white Chinese vase beside the front door.

"Blanche, I know you love that thing but you can't bring it. It has to stay."

Blanche, weeping, bent forward and hugged the vase. "I know, but I don't want to. I can't bear it!"

"Whatever," Dorothy said. "Bring it if you want, but you're the one who has to carry it. We don't have porters or doormen to help us out."

She turned next to Rose, who sat primly on the couch. She wore a vintage yellow apron over an olive drab v-neck short-sleeve cotton dress belted at the waist. A large khaki rucksack leaned against the couch beside her.

"Rose, what in the world is that? A duffel bag? It's bigger than you are."

Rose smiled beatifically. "It's a 52-inch sniper sled drag bag. Best one on the market. It's got my rifle, plus some other basic supplies. Don't worry, I can carry it. I've been practicing on the treadmill at the gym." She stood up and gestured Dorothy over. "I just need help putting it on."

Dorothy and Blanche helped Rose struggle into the drag bag's backpack straps.

Rose, panting slightly from exertion, looked Dorothy up and down. "What about you?"

Dorothy gestured to her outfit, an oversized light-wash denim shirt cuffed at the elbows and khaki cargo pants. "It's the most practical outfit I could find. I'm taking my luggage cart suitcase. How about you, Blanche?"

Blanche dabbed the back of her hand against her forehead and glanced down at her garnet-red dress. "Well, obviously, I'm far too petite for the kinds of tactical gear I see all those soldiers wearing, so I picked something to catch their eye." She did a little shimmy. "They're the experts at personal protection, obviously. When we get attacked by zombies, they'll see me first!"

"They certainly will," Dorothy agreed. "But don't you think you should wear better shoes? We're probably going to be doing a lot of walking."

Blanche gasped. "BETTER shoes? I will have you know these Louboutins are my absolute best pumps, aren't they lovely?" She lifted her foot back and twisted to the side to show off the shoe's red sole.

"We're not leaving until you put on some walking shoes," Dorothy said.

Blanche huffed, offended. "Fine. I have a darling pair of Jimmy Choo trainers I bought last week. I was saving them for a special occasion, but I guess this will have to do. I hope you're happy ruining my outfit! Sneakers with a dress. I never thought I would see the day." She shook her head sadly as she left to change her shoes.

A little while later, all four women stood on the front lawn looking at the house. The sharp angle of the early morning sunlight picked out highlights and cast long shadows. The coolness from last night still lingered, along with the smell of damp sidewalks and wet grass.

"Somehow, it looks smaller from the outside," Rose said.

Sophia nodded silently.

Blanche dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. "I guess it's time to leave."

Dorothy inhaled and stood a little straighter. "Just remember, no matter what happens, we're in this together."

"Group hug!" Rose cried, her arms spread wide.

"Absolutely not," Sophia said. She raised her hands defensively.

Rose turned to Blanche, who shook her head and frowned.

She turned finally to Dorothy, who begrudgingly patted Rose on the shoulder.

Rose dropped her arms back to her side, chagrined. "Fine. Let's go." She adjusted the backpack straps on her drag bag, which was only slightly smaller than she was.

All four women turned their back to the house and walked away together.

Chapter Text

1.
They didn't have far to walk. The nearest evacuation shelter was set up at the Lutheran church at the end of the next block. It was 7:30 A.M., but the entry line stretched out the front doors and almost wrapped entirely around the church.

"Remind me again why we couldn't just drive?" Blanche daintily patted her forehead with a handkerchief. "I am glowing like crazy in this humidity." Even her red dress, one of her best, looked defeated. She leaned back against the church's mock-stucco wall next to the hand-written "PROCESSING ->" sign that pointed towards the church entrance.

"No parking," Sophia said. "They said leave your cars at home. They said to leave a lot of stuff at home." She eyed the enormous khaki pack Rose wore on her back. "Can you even get out of that thing?"

Rose waved away this concern. "Oh sure! I told you ladies, I've been working out and practicing! Watch this." She backed up against the wall, braced her pack against the wall, then crouched slightly. This was all she needed to rest the pack, which was only a foot shorter than she was tall, on the ground. With the pack's weight off her back, it was simple to slip out of the shoulder straps.

"Tada!" Rose said, flourishing her arms like a game show host.

The evacuation shelter intake process occurred in the church's main office conference room. Since they had registered as a family, they sat around a conference table to fill out forms and answer questions. The air conditioning breathed a welcome chill against the back of Dorothy's neck.

Dorothy kept getting distracted by a pitiful houseplant. It was hard to answer the intake questions while a spindly pothos plant was slowly dying atop a filing cabinet directly across the room from her. She wanted to explain that this plant was clearly getting too much water, not enough light, and either needed to be potted up or pruned back. But who would she tell? And surely this wasn't the time to exchange plant care tips? What was her role here? Surely everyone here, herself included, had bigger problems to worry about?

Dorothy finished her paperwork just as a woman in a red and white vest appeared at the door.

"Everyone done? Great! Follow me, ladies!"

They followed the be-vested woman through the church office, down a wide central hallway, and into the community hall.

The large open room had a high ceiling with a full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, which probably used to have a lovely view of the church gardens. The gardens were mostly obscured by a chain link panel fence topped with coils of razor wire and barricaded at the base with sandbags and concrete pylons. Soldiers carrying large rifles dawdled in the wide pathway between the wall and the church.

Dorothy tore her gaze away from the view and scanned the room. The wall on her left had a pass-through to the church's commercial kitchen. She spotted large foil tubs of sandwiches, Costco-sized boxes of mini potato chip bags, and a fleet of water bottles. She smelled coffee brewing somewhere nearby.

Aside from some tables and chairs near the food, three loosely-arranged groups of cots took up most of the floor space.

The woman in the vest gestured towards each group of cots. "Men, women, and families," she said. "You four will be over here. I know just the place for you!"

Dorothy swept her gaze across the cots, trying not to make eye contact with any of the other refugees. She hoped she didn't look as defeated as they did, but she suspected she might. Or if she didn't now, she would soon.

About half the cots were draped with and surrounded by people's possessions. Most of the cots were occupied by people who looked some combination of dazed, bored, and/or tired.

The community hall wasn't as noisy as Dorothy would have expected. Maybe the room's acoustics helped dampen noise, or maybe no one had much to say. Maybe both.

"Dibs on the corner," Sophia said. She elbowed her way through everyone else and dropped her wicker purse on the empty cot in the corner.

"Whatever," Dorothy said. She pushed her wheeled suitcase under the cot at her mother's feet and sat down. The cot dug into her thighs, but she supposed she was in no position to complain.

Blanche and Rose claimed the other two cots, and soon all four women sat exchanging looks.

After a long moment, Rose slapped her thighs with her open palms and stood up. "Well, I'm going to go look for the kennels they mentioned. I bet they need help scooping poop and walking dogs!"

Blanche stood up and patted her hair. "I'm going to go get cleaned up a little."

"I need coffee," Dorothy said, getting to her feet.

"I spy a game of poker," Sophia said. She gestured towards the other side of the room with a jerk of her chin.

"Try not to lose your inheritance, Ma," Dorothy said. "And don't take anyone else's inheritance either, you understand? You're playing for candy or tokens, not actual money."

"We'll see," Sophia said.

Dorothy shook her head and followed the other women out of their corner. She was sure the coffee wouldn't be very good, but at least it would be fresh, judging by the smell that called to her from the other side of the community hall.

2.
Blanche, Dorothy, and Sophia met at lunchtime to go through the buffet line together. Dorothy raised an eyebrow at Blanche, who had already changed her outfit. She wore an emerald green short-sleeved shirt with a tasteful Lululemon logo stitched at the waist, matching emerald green leggings, and a mint green sweatshirt tied around her waist.

Dorothy raised an eyebrow as she grabbed a plate and moved slowly down the line. "Blanche, where's your dress? And where were you hiding those sneakers?"

"Oh, these?" Blanche smiled and lifted her foot behind her. "Well, I couldn't wear them this morning. These are indoor workout sneakers, not outdoor walking shoes." Although the lasagna was unreasonably popular, Blanche surveyed the large square foil tub and moved on without taking a serving.

Dorothy smirked as she scooped herself a serving of lasagna. "Working out? No carbs? Spill it, Blanche."

"Oh, well!" Blanche busied herself at the salad section, piling her plate high with lettuce and celery. "I might have met a handsome young man who fell madly in love with me."

Sophia paused as she reached for a pile of ham sandwiches. "How young are we talking?"

"He's of legal age, that's the important thing." She hesitated over the collection of salad dressings, then added a small splash of raspberry vinaigrette to her plate of salad greens. "His name is Dirk, and he's a personal trainer. He's holding exercise classes in one of the rooms down the hall." She dropped her voice to a low growl. "He is very fit."

Dorothy sighed. "I guess everyone has to have a hobby. Speaking of which, has anyone checked up on Rose?"

Blanche picked up a roll of plastic cutlery wrapped in a paper band. "I ran into her on the way back from an aerobics class. She's helping take care of all the pets people brought in with them. You know how she is about animals."

They left the buffet line and sat down at a nearby table.

"Should we save her something to eat?" Blanche looked back at the busy buffet line with concern.

Sophia took a bite of her ham sandwich, made a face, then set it on her plate. "She can have my ham sandwich. I think this bread is older than I am."

"Is that ham or baloney?" Dorothy asked.

"Good question," Sophia said. She made a show of peeling back the corner of the sandwich to peek inside. "It's pink. That's all I can tell you."

"Well, the lasagna is delicious," Dorothy said. She chased a blob of cheese around her plate with a plastic fork.

"The lasagna is a war crime!" Sophia shook her fist in the air. "In my day, if they tried to serve that monstrosity to people in Sicily, they'd find themselves on the wrong side of the fence at Mr. Manelli's hog farm."

"Oh, Ma, always with the tall tales. Eat your sandwich."

"It's not a tall tale. Rake up the dirt at that hog pen, you'll find enough human teeth to make a necklace."

"Ma!"

Sophia shrugged and tried another bite of the sandwich. "I'm just saying, we knew how to dispose of a dead body back then."

Blanche perked up. "Oh, hush, Sophia! Everyone behave yourselves. Here he comes." She waved her hand over her head and called Dirk's name.

Sophia and Dorothy stopped eating and stared at the man who returned Blanche's wave and walked towards them.

"Blanche, you're dating an Abercrombie model. I swear I've seen him on those bags at the mall."

Blanche shook her shoulders playfully. "Dirk, come sit with us! Meet my friends, Sophia and Dorothy. Sophia and Dorothy, this is Dirk."

Dorothy raised her fork in greeting. "Nice to meet you, Dirk."

Dirk stopped beside Blanche, towering over her. He shifted his plate of food to his left hand and waved at Sophia and Dorothy. "Nice to meet you, too," he said. "Sorry, I can't stay and eat, but I have another class starting in a few minutes."

"Another aerobics class?" Blanche asked.

"No, this one is self-defense. All ages. You're all welcome to join!" He smiled at Sophia and Dorothy.

"I'll think about it," Dorothy said.

Sophia nodded politely.

"Welp, I'm off! See you tonight, Blanche?"

"Yes, of course! Dinner, six P.M. You know where to find me!"

Dirk turned and left the community hall. Sophia and Dorothy stared at each other, then at Blanche.

"Well, come on," Blanche said. "Let's hear it. Who's going to crack the first joke? Call me a cradle-robber? Ask if he needs a permission slip to be out this late?" She stabbed a leaf of lettuce with her plastic fork.

"Nope," Sophia said.

"Not a word," Dorothy said.

"If I was twenty years younger, I'd climb him like a tree," Sophia said.

"Ma!" Dorothy dropped her fork on her plate. "Act your age!"

"I am," Sophia said. "I'm eighty, not dead."

Blanche blushed happily and continued eating her salad.

3.
Later that afternoon, Rose sat on her cot mending a torn dog leash.

Blanche staggered over and collapsed on her cot. "Leave me here to die," she said. She draped her left arm over her eyes and tried to catch her breath.

"I heard about your new man," Rose said. "He must really be giving you a workout!"

"He is, but not the fun kind. This is my third aerobics class today."

"Blanche, that's not healthy!" Rose set down her mending. "You could hurt yourself!"

"Oh, I know, but Dirk is probably used to dating twenty-something hardbodies. I'm very petite but haven't been keeping up with my workouts lately. It wouldn't be so bad if I weren't dizzy from hunger and dehydration."

"Blanche! Didn't you get lunch? I'll go get you something, hang on." Rose got to her feet. Blanche threw out her right arm to stop Rose from leaving.

"Don't you dare!" Blanche hissed. "All I've had today is a few handfuls of salad and half a cup of water. You'll ruin it!"

"Ruin what? Your imminent demise?" Rose shook her head and sat back down on her cot.

"This is how the supermodels do it," Blanche said. "All the Victoria's Secret Angels, that's their secret. Before a show, they don't eat, they don't drink, they sweat as much as they can. That's how they look their best!"

Rose rubbed the back of her neck and looked away. "You look great, Blanche."

"Thank you, dear. I just have to make it to our date at 6 P.M. and dazzle Dirk, and then I can relax a little."

"Are you sure Dirk is the right guy for you? This seems unhealthy."

"Oh, go tell it to your dogs," Blanche said. "Wait, sorry, I take it back. I didn't mean that. I'm just a little on edge."

"Mm hm." Rose eyed Blanche warily. "Well, Sophia is playing mahjongg with the Lum sisters in the women's section. Dorothy said something about taking self-defense lessons. I need to get back to the kennels. I'll leave you to guard Ol' Betsy." She patted the four and a half foot-long khaki rucksack under her cot.

Blanche lurched upright. "Wait, that's Ol' Betsy? Rose! I thought you just packed, you know, usual stuff! I didn't know you were bringing a - " She looked around, then dropped her voice to a loud whisper. "Sniper rifle!"

"What did you think it was, silly? A bunch of aprons?"

"I suppose I did. Is it loaded?"

"Technically, no." Rose stood up with the now-mended leash in hand without elaborating on this point. "I have to go. Good luck with your date!"

Blanche tightly clasped her hands and stared at the rucksack under Rose's cot.

4.
Dirk smiled broadly and stood to greet Blanche.

"Sorry, I'm late," Blanche said. "I hope you weren't waiting long." She smiled as Dirk helped her with her seat, then sat down across from her.

"I took the liberty of ordering ahead, so to speak," Dirk said. He pulled out the chair next to him, where he had hidden two plates of food. He placed the plates on the table with a flourish.

Blanche's smile faltered as she regarded her plate. "Why, Dirk, how thoughtful!" He had loaded her plate with pasta, several slices of ham glistening with fat, and a pile of broccoli covered in some kind of cheese sauce.

"This all looks so delicious!" Blanche said. It did. That was the problem. It smelled good, too. Her salivary glands twanged in response.

"And of course, bottled water of the finest vintage." He opened a 16-ounce plastic water bottle for her and set it beside her plate. "Cheers!" Dirk held his bottle aloft.

Blanche picked up her water bottle and tapped his. "Cheers! To a delightful evening with delightful company!"

"Indeed!"

Dirk started talking about what he used to do before "all this." Blanche gathered it was something to do with finance. She nodded, hummed, and agreed in all the right conversational places, but she wasn't listening. She was trying to work out how little she could eat off her plate without Dirk noticing. She started by shuffling the food around her plate with her fork, spacing it out to make it look like some was missing.

"The thing about cryptocurrency is that it's based on something called the blockchain, which -"

Blanche nodded and smiled. She had developed an interest in cryptocurrency a few years ago and had done a lot of research into the technology, which Dirk was patiently (if incorrectly) explaining to her. While he talked, she surreptitiously scraped as much cheese sauce off a piece of broccoli as she could before taking a tiny nibble.

"Anyway, I'm using that money to help fund my Flat Earth research, which -"

Blanche struggled to keep her expression pleasantly neutral. Look at his abs, she thought. You can see them through his t-shirt. Look at those shoulders! So what if he literally thinks the Earth is flat? She put down her broccoli, pretended to take a sip of water, then picked up her fork and took another tiny nibble of the broccoli.

"And that's why Elon Musk is right about the woke mind virus, the thing is -"

Blanche stifled a sad sigh. How could a guy so handsome be so insufferable? She turned up the wattage on her smile and started looking for a conversational exit. She knew it might take a while.

5.
Later that night, Rose and Dorothy sat in their cots chatting while Sophia lay back and "rested her eyes." Dorothy thought Sophia was sound asleep, but as soon as Rose said "Hi, Blanche!" Sophia sat bolt upright and fumbled for her glasses.

"Welcome back," Dorothy said, keeping her voice neutral.

Blanche sighed heavily and flopped into her cot. "Well, it was a bust. He's dumb as a sack of rocks. I just couldn't handle it."

"Oh no!" Rose said. "And here I was, so excited for you! I peeked in on one of his sessions. I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating cheesecake, if you know what I mean."

"Everyone knows what you mean, honey," Dorothy said. She turned to Blanche. "Go on, Blanche, spill it! What happened?"

"I swear it was the longest meal of my life. Which is hilarious because I only ate one piece of broccoli."

Dorothy, Sophia, and Rose winced and shook their heads as Blanche recounted her dinner conversation with Dirk.

"And now I'm starving and exhausted and I'm never doing aerobics again," Blanche concluded. "What a mistake. I should have eaten the spaghetti. He wasn't worth starving for."

Sophia waved her hand dismissively. "If he makes you feel like you have to skip the spaghetti, he's not worth your time."

"Well," Dorothy said, "if it's any consolation, I saved some stuff from the buffet in case you were hungry." She reached under her cot and produced two sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil, an apple, a banana, and two water bottles.

"Me too," Rose said. She dug into her pocket and pulled out three large chocolate chip cookies wrapped in a napkin.

Rose and Dorothy looked at Sophia.

"Oh fine," Sophia said, "I was saving them for myself for later, but here." She opened her wicker purse and rummaged around until she found three protein bars.

"Where did you get those, Ma?"

Sophia smirked. "I won them from the Lum sisters. You said no money, so we played for food. I cleaned them out!"

"Ma, we need to talk about this. In the meantime, here, Blanche." Dorothy handed her food to Blanche. Rose and Sophia followed suit.

Blanche looked at the huge pile of food in her lap. Her eyes trembled with tears. "Thanks, ladies," she said. "I can always count on you to have my back!"

Dorothy patted Blanche's shoulder. "Well, I'm sorry you didn't get one last fling before the apocalypse."

Blanche raised her eyebrows as she unwrapped one of the sandwiches. "I never said that." She smiled, then took a huge bite of her sandwich.

Chapter Text

Sophia returned to her cot just as a bunch of other women, strangers, were preparing to leave. Everyone seemed in high spirits. They were stuck in the "I guess I should go, oh, but I forgot to mention" stage of a party. Sophia fought the urge to slap them all out of the way.

"What's going on?" Sophia asked. "Why are you having a party in the emergency evacuation center?"

"Why not?" Blanche responded. "What better time to have a party! Here, Sophia, let me introduce you around."

"Don't bother," Sophia said. She lay down on her cot and turned on her side, facing the windows, her back to the party. She watched the wind whipping the trees outside, blowing trash and leaves against the chain link fence that defined the shelter's perimeter. Word had it, they were in for a big storm tonight. She silently waited until all the party-goers had left.

Sophia turned around, sat up, and glanced around. Good: no strangers within earshot. She tapped Dorothy's elbow and whispered, "I need to tell you something."

"Oh, what now, Ma? I told you not to bet with real money, tokens only! We don't have much cash!"

"Not that. Besides, the Lum sisters won't play mahjong with me anymore. I started playing gin rummy with a woman named Mimi. She reminds me of Rose's mother. Such a nice lady. Just don't ever owe her money." Sophia shook her head. "Mimi reminds me of Sicily, and not in a good way."

"Ma -"

"I lost, okay? I lost a lot. Mimi's good. No shame in losing to the best. But I kept playing. That was my mistake. Know your limits." She shook her finger at Dorothy, who sighed and sat beside her.

"Eventually, I give in. I can't lose anymore. I'm so far in the hole, I can't see out. Mimi says, If you don't have money or collateral to pay, let's play truth or dare. I say fine, I pick dare."

"Ma!"

"I know, I know. But look at me. Who's going to dare a sweet little old lady like me to do something dangerous?"

Dorothy snorted.

"So Mimi dares me to go get that $20 bill that's been stuck in the bush outside the fence all week."

"The one by all the zombies?"

"The very one. I've been trying to figure out how to get it all week. So has everyone else. So has Mimi, I guess. And she finally found a way."

"Wait," Dorothy said, holding up her hands. "You risked your life because this Mimi woman dared you to?"

Sophia lifted her chin. "It's a matter of pride." Then she deflated. "Anyway, I got the $20 bill, but…" She glanced around to ensure no one was watching, then pulled up the sleeve of her white cardigan to expose an embroidered linen handkerchief tied around her wrist. She pulled off the makeshift bandage, revealing four deep parallel scratches on her wrist.

"Oh, Ma. Oh no." Dorothy reached out as if to touch the wound, then drew her fingers back.

Sophia leaned towards Dorothy and lowered her voice. "Is it… Do you know? Is it contagious this way?"

Dorothy leaned down and whispered, "I don't know. It's a scratch? Not a bite?"

Sophia nodded and pulled the knotted handkerchief over her wounded wrist, then tugged down the sleeve of her cardigan to cover it.

"I've only heard about bites. But Ma, we have to tell someone."

"I know," Sophia said. Her eyes swam with tears magnified in her oversized glasses. She patted Dorothy's back. "I love you, kitten. Let's go tell someone."

After a flurry of panicked phone calls in hushed tones, the director of operations opted to quarantine Sophia in a locked room at the end of the side hall on the main floor. The room was originally intended for child care and Sunday School, but mainly served as a storage area.

Sophia lay on her back on a dark green office couch against the far wall. The couch was sturdy, unyielding, and smelled dusty. Someone had found a throw blanket for her. It was cranberry red with an absurd amount of fringe. She pulled it over herself and fussed with the fringe, which tickled her face.

The exterior window above the couch thrummed with the wind. The storm was kicking up outside. It was the tail end of hurricane season, and she wondered if this might develop into something more than wind and rain.

The door was locked, which Sophia thought was a little silly. The idea was to keep her contained, but the door locked from the inside. All she had to do was turn the deadbolt latch. It was just a bit of theater for everyone else, she supposed. She could hear the anxious buzz of conversation in the hallway. They were scared. Well, so was she, if she was being honest with herself.

The door was flanked by generous sidelights, full-height panes of glass on each side. In one pane, Sophia saw the armed soldier standing guard. Well, she thought of him as a soldier. Who knew, though. This was Florida. He was probably just some guy who owned camo clothing and a pistol.

In theory, the guard was watching her intently for any signs of distress or aggression. In theory, he would shoot her if she leaped up and rushed the door. In theory, he was the only thing that stood between her and the entire rest of the shelter full of scared, uninfected evacuees.

In practice, the guard had the amazing ability to sleep while standing up. Sophia watched, fascinated, as his eyes slipped closed. He wavered gently on his feet for a moment. Then his eyes snapped open, and he steadied himself. He had been doing this for the better part of an hour.

Sophia sighed and returned her gaze to the ceiling. She knew that Dorothy, Blanche, and Rose were upset she had been locked in here, but it wasn't so bad. It was the first time she'd had some peace since they left the house. Plus, Mimi couldn't collect her debt while Sophia was locked in here under armed guard. And in here, she was safe from Rose's endless, rambling stories.

If she didn't have the whole "might turn into a zombie" thing hanging over her head, she would probably be enjoying herself.

There's always something to ruin the fun, Sophia thought.

She turned onto her side, facing the back of the couch, and pulled the blanket over her head. As the rain thrashed the window, she slipped into a nap.

A cluster of people held a hushed but fervent argument in the hallway several doors down from Sophia's room. They all had strong feelings about the situation, but didn't want to be overheard by Sophia or anyone else in the shelter.

The director of operations, a middle-aged man in jeans and a blue fleece vest over a checked flannel shirt, cut his hand back and forth to silence the others.

"We're waiting for word from the CDC," he said. "They said not to take any action until we hear from them. It could take a while, though. A lot of communications systems are down from the storm."

Dorothy put her hands on her hips and held herself up to her full height. "That's my mother in there, locked up under armed guard like some kind of serial killer."

"I'm aware of that," the director said. "But -"

"If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, we'd all have a Merry Christmas!" Rose said, throwing her hands into the air.

The rest of the group stared at Rose with varying degrees of bewilderment.

"She's right," Blanche said.

"Thank you," Rose said.

"Well, I mean, Rose, I don't know what in the world you're talking about, but we need to stop all this nonsense. It's been hours since she was scratched! Surely she would have changed by now if she's going to."

"As I have explained," the director said, "that's what we're waiting for the CDC to tell us."

"Enough of this," Dorothy said. She strode towards Sophia's room. The guard, who had been slouching against the wall, snapped upright and moved to block the door.

"Ma," Dorothy called, "I'm getting you out!"

The director called out after Dorothy in a loud voice meant to be overheard by the rest of the shelter. "Don't worry, her heart attack symptoms have stabilized."

"Heart attack, my ass," Dorothy muttered. "Ma!"

Sophia reluctantly levered herself off the couch and shuffled to the sidelight beside the door. "Hush, Dorothy. It's fine."

"It's not fine, Ma! They're treating you like a criminal." She raised her voice and half-turned so she could be easily overheard. "How is your heart attack?"

Sophia shook her head. "This isn't punishment. I'm in quarantine for a reason. I'm a danger to you and everyone else. I mean, I could be. We don't know."

Dorothy's shoulders slumped. She put her hand on the sidelight. Sophia raised her hand and matched Dorothy's.

"Besides," Sophia said, "this is more peace than I've had in weeks."

Earthquake? No. Dorothy realized someone was shaking her shoulder. Had she fallen asleep? She must have. She opened her eyes and saw Blanche looming over her.

"Blanche, this isn't your best angle."

Blanche gasped, lifted her hand under her chin, and stepped back. "Well, never mind that now. The doctor is here to see Sophia."

Dorothy struggled to sit up in her cot. "For the heart attack?" She used air quotes around the term "heart attack."

"Yes, it's a heart doctor from Atlanta." Blanche followed Dorothy's lead and used air quotes for emphasis. "Oh, I should get changed! I look a fright. A doctor!" She fanned herself with an open hand.

Dorothy pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. "Calm down, Blanche. It's probably some kid in a full-body space suit. I bet you can't even see their face." She left Blanche to continue fussing with her appearance and strode as quickly as possible without alarming any other evacuees.

At the end of the hall, she found a cluster of people staring in at Sophia through the sidelights. Dorothy jostled through the crowd to see what was happening.

Inside, Sophia sat on the couch, talking to a young woman wearing a white doctor's coat over gray sweatpants and a light blue t-shirt. Dorothy couldn't hear her mother's words, but she didn't need to. From the way Sophia was waving her hands around, Dorothy could tell she was telling the doctor a story about Sicily. The doctor nodded attentively while scribbling notes on a clipboard.

Dorothy glanced at the armed guard who stood beside her. "I'm surprised you're not in there to protect the doctor from my eighty-year-old mother."

The guard's face was carefully blank. Without turning his head, he looked at her and then back at the room. "I wanted to, but the doctor insisted on going in alone."

"I'm going in, too," Dorothy said. Did the guard roll his eyes as she elbowed him aside? Hard to say. Probably.

She pulled open the door, ignoring the collective gasp of the crowd, and entered the room.

"And that's why I was vaccinated against rabies when I was a little girl," Sophia said, concluding her story.

"Ma!" Dorothy crossed the room quickly and bent to hug her mother. She had so many questions, but words failed her.

"Stop, stop! You're crushing me! Enough!" Sophia batted her daughter away. "I'm fine, I keep telling everybody. No one believes me."

"You must be Dorothy," the doctor said. She raised her hand in a "let's not shake hands" greeting. "I was just getting your mother's medical history."

"Well?" Dorothy stood back, put her hands on her hips, and glared at the doctor.

"It looks like she's in the clear." The doctor smiled as Dorothy sagged with relief and sat on a nearby folding chair. "I've given her strict orders to remain under supervision, check in with the shelter's medical team daily, and report if she feels any symptoms. Besides that, as you can see, her scratch is healing nicely."

"That was such a stupid risk, Ma! I still can't believe it."

"Yeah, yeah. I guess they're kicking me out of my private room, now. Let's go."

The doctor held up her hand. "Not quite yet, I'm afraid. I need to run some tests. We're still analyzing the contagion, and you're an interesting control sample."

"You hear that?" Sophia nudged Dorothy with her elbow. "I'm interesting!"

"That's for sure, Ma." Dorothy kissed the top of Sophia's head. "That's for sure."

Chapter Text

Dorothy awoke with a start and looked around wildly. She realized where she was, and that she was awake now. She relaxed back into her cot with a groan.

Rose glanced over from her cot. “Everything okay?”

“I had the worst dream,” Dorothy said. “I dreamed that Stan came back with some flimsy excuse about needing to get paperwork signed. One thing led to another, and we…” She made a “yadda yadda yadda” motion with her hand.

Rose gasped. “Dorothy! You didn’t!”

“Thankfully, you’re right. I didn’t. It was just a terrible dream.” She sat up and glanced towards the kitchen area. “Well, I’m up now. Want some coffee?”

“Sure.”

The two friends shuffled off to get coffee, and Dorothy had a wonderful day.

Chapter Text

1.
Dorothy and Sophia sat across from each other at a folding table in the cafeteria area of the church’s multipurpose room.

“Ma, I told you, I’m not interested in finding a date right now. Let’s survive this zombie apocalypse, and then maybe we’ll see.” Dorothy took another sip of her coffee.

Sophia set down her Sudoku book. “Are you kidding? This is the best time to find a date! Everyone is keenly aware of their own mortality and bored out of their minds. It’s the perfect combination!”

Dorothy raised her eyebrows in agreement. “Well, you’ve got a good point there.” Her fingers idly traced a scar on the pebble-textured plastic tabletop. “But still, no. I just don’t have it in me right now to be, you know. Friendly.”

Sophia snorted.

Blanche and Rose arrived with coffee cups in hand.

“Well, hello, ladies,” Blanche said, taking a seat. “Sophia, your outfit. It’s…” She waved a hand at Sophia, who sat up a little straighter with pride.

“I got everything from the lost and found,” Sophia said, gesturing to her ochre mock turtleneck and black-and-white plaid slacks. “Can you believe it? Free!”

Blanche smiled brightly. “I cannot believe that, no.” She cut her glance to Dorothy, who replied with a shrug and a “what can ya do” expression.

Rose leaned over and tugged at the hem of Sophia’s sweater. “Did it shrink in the wash?”

Sophia slapped Rose’s hand away. “No, dummy! It’s a cropped sweater! It’s supposed to be like that. But I picked these high-waisted pants anyway, so I’m not showing off any of the goods.” She raised her arms to demonstrate that, to everyone’s relief, she wasn’t showing any skin.

“We’re all grateful for that, Ma,” Dorothy said.

Blanche flapped her hand as if waving away an odd smell, indicating a change of topic. “Anyway, Dorothy, I’m borrowing your emerald earrings tonight. I have an important date, and I want to be sure to impress him.” She straightened her posture and brushed imaginary dust off the sleeve of her cornflower blue blouse.

“Blanche, honey, I don’t have any jewelry here. We hid it all back at the house, remember?”

Blanche deflated. “Oh shoot, I got so caught up in the moment that I forgot. When are we going back? Do you think I could just sneak back in and grab a few things? I could, right?”

Dorothy shook her head firmly. “You will do no such thing, Blanche. The whole block is teeming with zombies. You saw that drone footage Carl taped yesterday. There’s no way!”

Blanche sighed, then rallied and patted her hair into place. “Well, I’ll just have to impress him with my many talents!”

“Oh boy,” Sophia said.

Rose perked up. “You have talents? Like in the circus? Are you a magician? Can you do a trick?” Her eyes unfocused, and her voice took on a wistful tone. “You know, my uncle was a magician. A very famous magician! He stole my nose when I was three years old, and I never got it back. I often wonder how my life would have been different if I had grown up with a nose. It must be nice.”

Blanche, Dorothy, and Sophia stared at Rose for a moment.

Dorothy shook her head quickly to clear it and turned back to Blanche. “So who’s the new fella?”

“It turns out the local community theater director is staying right here in our very own evacuation center. He’s casting roles for a play he has written while he’s been here. Apparently, it’s quite cutting edge and topical. I would be perfect for the lead role, of course!”

Dorothy nodded. “Of course.”

“But it never hurts to sweeten the deal.”

Dorothy nodded again. “Of course.”

“With a little extra sugar, if you know what I mean.” She wiggled her shoulders.

“Blanche, everyone always knows what you mean.”

Blanche pouted at this, but quickly recovered.

“Anyway,” Dorothy continued, “Ma, we need to get moving.” She turned to Blanche and Rose. “My sister Gloria wants to talk to me and Ma about something. She’s going to call us in about ten minutes, and I want to be sure to get the quiet room so we can have some privacy.”

Rose bit her lip. “Should we be worried? What’s it about?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Dorothy said. “I’ll catch up with you both later. Come on, Ma. Your Clueless revival show will have to wait until later.”

Blanche snapped her fingers. “That’s what it’s reminding me of!”

Rose nodded sagely. “It’s giving “as if,” as the kids say.”

Blanche gave Rose a horrified look.

“The kids don’t say that, Rose,” Dorothy said. “Nobody says that. Come on, Ma, let’s go.”

2.
Blanche returned from her date well after the official “lights out” time of 9 pm. She paused before the half-open door to the multipurpose room and slipped out of her Louboutin heels. Barefoot, expensive shoes in hand, she slipped through the half-open door and moved as quietly as she could through the dimly lit room. She threaded her way through the sound of snores and light murmurs of conversation until she reached the back corner they claimed as home.

Rose and Sophia were asleep. Dorothy lay propped up on a pillow and some rolled-up sweaters. Her face glowed in the light of her Kindle. She raised her eyebrows as Blanche approached.

“How did it go?” Dorothy said, keeping her voice low.

“Well enough,” Blanche whispered with a smile as she tucked her Louboutins under her cot.

Dorothy looked Blanche up and down. “You missed a button,” she said, then returned her attention to her Kindle.

“Oh my.” Blanche glanced down at her blouse. “I wonder how that happened!”

“I wonder,” Dorothy said.

Blanche looked around, spotted the nearest folding chair, and brought it over to sit beside Dorothy’s cot.

Dorothy sighed and set down her Kindle. “What is it, Blanche? I’m trying to get to sleep.”

“What did Gloria want to talk to you and Sophia about? I’ve been dying to know!”

“Ah.” Dorothy sat up. “That.” She turned and sat on the edge of the cot, put her feet in slippers, and slipped her Kindle beneath her pillow.

Blanche practically vibrated with impatience. Dorothy’s careful display of nonchalance didn’t fool her in the least. This was something big.

“Gloria wants Ma to come out to California to live with her.”

“What!” Blanche, startled, spoke at her usual volume. The room rustled with disapproval at her outburst. Several people shushed her.

Blanche grimaced and returned to a whisper. “Oops, sorry,” she said. She leaned closer to Dorothy and whispered, “California?”

Dorothy stood up and beckoned Blanche to follow her. She led Blanche outside to the designated smoking area, where the rules were a little more lax. You could talk here after “lights out,” as long as you kept it down.

Dorothy picked out a white molded plastic lawn chair and sat down, tucking her lavender housecoat behind her knees.

Blanche sat down in the chair beside her, then lightly smacked Dorothy on the shoulder. “Okay, girl, spill it! You’re killing me!”

Dorothy plucked an imaginary bit of lint off the front of her housecoat. “Gloria made the case that Ma would be better off staying with her in California, and Ma agreed. It’s not as bad where she lives, and you know she has that huge mansion. Housekeepers, a private chef, security staff, the whole nine yards.”

“Well,” Blanche said. She sat back in her chair and stared into the middle distance. “What do you know about that.”

“I hate to admit it, but she’s right. Ma would be much better off there compared to staying with us here in the emergency center.” Dorothy shrugged one shoulder.

Blanche brightened. “Why don’t we all go? I’ve always wanted to have staff! Live in a mansion on the beach! Maybe romance a pool boy or two!”

“Down, girl. Gloria has many connections, but even so, she was only able to obtain one travel pass. You, me, and Rose will have to stay here.”

“Oh, foo.” Blanche folded her hands in her lap.

They sat in silence for a long moment. A light breeze stirred the November Miami night, rustling leaves in the trees. A discarded wax paper cup rolled across the sidewalk and fell into the gutter with a hollow clatter. Blanche heard the moans of the undead, roused by the noise.

“Let’s go inside,” Blanche said. “It’s giving me the creeps out here. Where are the security guys, anyway? Aren’t they supposed to be on watch?”

Dorothy nodded in agreement. They stood up and went back inside without another word.

3.
Dorothy studied Blanche as she sat down across from her at their usual folding table. Blanche was wearing the emerald green Lululemon workout outfit she brought to the shelter.

“So,” Dorothy said, stirring her coffee. “I noticed you wore Louboutins for your date last night.” She gave Blanche a hard stare as she sipped her coffee.

“I did, and let me tell you, they were a hit!”

“It’s just a little strange. You brought Jimmy Choos to the shelter. We had a whole conversation about it. That pair you’re wearing right now, in fact.”

“Aren’t they adorable?” Blanche smiled down at her Jimmy Choo sneakers.

“So where did you get the Louboutins?”

“Oh, that,” Blanche said, waving a hand dismissively. “They were in that big pile of donated clothes they set up in the lobby! I got the idea from Sophia’s new outfit the other day. I went digging and what do you know! I found a pair in my size!”

“That’s quite a coincidence.”

“Isn’t it just?” Blanche’s smile didn’t waver for an instant. Dorothy had to give the woman credit, she had a hell of a poker face.

Sophia arrived at the table with coffee and toast. Dorothy noted with relief that Sophia wore the same outfit as yesterday.

“I need to talk to you,” Sophia said. She settled herself and picked up a slice of toast, then used it as a baton to gesture with emphasis. “Gloria put me on the spot yesterday. I had to say yes. But I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t want to move to California.” She bit into her toast with a decisive crunch.

“Are you sure, Ma? It’s safer out there, and you know Gloria is rolling in money. You could probably have your own wing of the mansion instead of sleeping on a cot here in the shelter. She lives in the same neighborhood as Keanu Reeves. Keanu Reeves, Ma! You could run into him at the grocery store!”

“Tempting, but no. I hate California. You know that. Too many happy people. They put avocado on everything. The traffic! And too many milks. Soy milk, almond milk, coconut milk, oat milk. What are they going to milk next? Potatoes?”

“Carbs? Never,” Blanche said.

“Okay,” Dorothy said, trying to regain control of the conversation. “I understand, but I think it’s the best choice for you, don’t you? It’s not ideal, but it’s better than this.”

Dorothy gestured around the multi-purpose room, which was filled with the angelic light of daybreak. As beautiful as the light was, it only emphasized the evacuees’ worried faces, tired eyes, and dispirited posture. The room smelled like old socks, freshly brewed low-quality coffee, and stale toast.

Sophia shrugged. “Could be worse. At least I’m not staying with Phil.”

“True,” Dorothy said.

“Find me a way out of this, will you?” Sophia patted Dorothy’s wrist. “I know you can do it. You’re good at weaseling your way out of things.”

Dorothy glared down at Sophia. "I’m so glad you appreciate my weaseling skills, Ma. I worked hard to perfect them.”

“That’s my girl!”

4.
Dorothy wanted privacy for her call with Gloria, which was a problem. The emergency evacuation center was well-stocked with everything they could possibly need - food, bottled water, donated clothes, bedding, personal supplies, books, games, everything you need to ride out the zombie apocalypse. Privacy, however, was in short supply.

The church was at maximum capacity with about 350 evacuees. The building had several private rooms, but these were designated for priority medical and security usage. Dorothy could ask one of the helpful shelter volunteers, but she was pretty sure “Calling my sister” wouldn’t make the list.

Dorothy tucked a large bath towel under her arm and pushed through the church’s double-door entrance to a pleasantly balmy 78-degree November afternoon. The cloudy sky threatened rain, but for the moment, the day was dry.

She walked around to the front of the building, facing the street. The National Guard had pushed the security perimeter back to the sidewalk. Now that the church’s front lawn was inside the perimeter, the evacuees had more elbow room to spread out during the day and get some fresh air.

The constant risk of November thunderstorms was an issue, but you could still pretend to be out having a perfectly normal afternoon picnic. As long as you overlooked the zombies shuffling around on the far side of the fence, the loops of razor wire, and the guard station built onto the roof of the small bus stop shelter.

At least the smoke wasn’t too bad at the moment. Fires were running rampant throughout the city, and huge plumes of smoke shifted with the winds to bathe unlucky neighborhoods in choking clouds of ash that turned the sun dark orange, stung the eyes, and smelled like a damp campfire with strong overtones of garbage and burning plastic.

Dorothy strolled out to a spot on the lawn that was roughly equidistant from all the other evacuees. She laid out the bath towel and slowly made her way down to the ground. This had seemed like a good plan, but now she wasn’t sure if she would be able to get up without needing to flag someone down to help her.

Oh well, Dorothy thought. That’s Future Dorothy’s problem.

Gloria answered her phone immediately. After exchanging brief but awkward pleasantries, Dorothy took a deep breath and dived right in.

“Listen, Gloria. I talked to Ma. She’s having second thoughts.” Dorothy winced, bracing herself against her sister’s reaction.

“Oh, thank god,” Gloria said.

Dorothy blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Listen, between you and me? When I offered to move her out here, I didn’t think she would accept. You know how much she hates California.”

“I do. Everyone does. She made that very clear.” Dorothy rubbed her forehead with the fingertips of her free hand. “But, Gloria!“

“I know! I felt like I had to. I mean, I have so much here, and I feel so helpless. It was a genuine offer, you know that. But still, I mean. Ma.”

Dorothy nodded. “Ma.”

“She’s a lot.”

“I’m aware.”

Now that Gloria had confessed the truth, her words came out in a relieved rush. “Look, Dorothy, I feel so lousy that you’ve been stuck with her for so long! I don’t know why she never reached out to me for help when she left Shady Pines. She went straight to you. I didn’t even know about it until after she moved in with you. That didn’t feel great, and I guess I wanted to make up for it somehow. It’s not fair that you’re all stuck in some cruddy evacuation center and I’m still living it up out here, more or less.”

Dorothy sighed into her phone. Her eyes drifted across the lawn out into the street, where an elderly male zombie in hot pink golf pants was shuffling down the center line. Did she recognize him? She wasn’t sure.

“Plus, the staff all had to quit due to the emergency Shelter In Place orders, so I’m rattling around this huge place all by myself, watching the news, trying not to freak out, you know?”

Dorothy let Gloria ramble on for a long while. Not like she had anything better to do.

It was difficult to feel sorry for Gloria, who had married a rich man who died and left her everything. Dorothy knew her sister would trade all the money in the world for five more minutes with her husband, and the loneliness of this crisis was clearly hitting her hard. But although money couldn’t bring Gloria’s husband back, surely it helped soften the blow when you could go have a cry on your pool deck with a panoramic view of the LA skyline.

Eventually, they wrapped up their conversation. Dorothy pocketed her phone and glanced up at the sky. It felt like it was going to start raining any minute. Time to go inside. Which meant it was time to try and figure out if there was any way she could get to her feet without completely losing her dignity.

5.
“Good news, Ma,” Dorothy said as she sat down across the table from Sophia. “I broke the news to Gloria. She’s sad you won’t take her up on her offer, but she understands. She wanted me to tell you her door is always open if you change your mind, or if things here get worse.”

Sophia snorted. “And yet, she didn’t care enough to tell me herself.”

“It’s not like that, Ma.” Dorothy brushed at the grass stains on the knees of her khaki slacks. “She misses you, you know? You should call her sometime.”

“I should call her? I’m the mom! She should call me!”

“She does. Check your phone.”

“Oh, that?” Sophia waved a hand dismissively. “I turned that off ages ago. All it ever did was annoy me. People wanting this, people wanting that. Who needs it.”

“Well, there you go.” Dorothy sighed, then gave Sophia a long look. “So when are you going to tell us about your new look?”

“Oh, this? There’s a group of bored teenage girls going around offering to give people makeovers. They were pretty excited when I took them up on their offer. They called it “e-girl fashion.” What do you think?”

Dorothy nodded slowly, taking in Sophia’s hair (black wig, wolf cut), makeup (dramatic eyeliner and blush, bright highlights on the inner corners of her eyes and the tip of her nose, fake freckles across the tops of her cheeks), and clothes (black-and-white striped long-sleeve shirt layered under a black t-shirt, black-and-white plaid skirt, black galaxy print leggings).

“It’s really something,” Dorothy said, after a long silence.

“Just trying to mix things up a little. I’m just not sure how to get all this stuff off at the end of the day.”

“You’d better at least wash your face before bed, or your pillow’s going to look like it’s been making out with Blanche.”

“Speak of the devil,” Sophia said, glancing over Dorothy’s shoulder.

“Who’s been making out with me?” Blanche swept into the seat beside Dorothy.

“Don’t you know?” Dorothy asked.

“Oh, it’s so hard to keep track.” Blanche said, with a flirtatious wink. “Love the new look, Sophia. Are you starting an OnlyFans?”

“Only whats?” Sophia frowned.

“Never mind.” Blanche turned to Dorothy. “Dorothy, honey, I got the part! I’m the lead!”

“Congratulations, Blanche!” Dorothy patted Blanche’s shoulder. “What’s the role?”

“It’s a little hard to describe.” Blanche deflated slightly, then quickly rallied. “It’s an interpretive piece about the current situation.”

“I see,” Dorothy said. “And that translates to…?”

Blanche gave Dorothy a quick, awkward smile. “I’m going to be wearing a garbage bag, and then everyone throws balls of wadded-up newspaper at me while backstage, a girl sings a slow, a cappella version of “Dance Monkey.” It’s very topical. Very of-the-moment.”

“Very weird,” Dorothy said.

“Very weird,” Blanche agreed with a nod.

“Can’t wait to see it,” Dorothy said. “Now let’s go find Ma a house dress and some industrial-strength makeup remover.”

Chapter Text

S1E13: A Little Zombie Romance

Rose, Blanche, and Dorothy sat around a plastic folding table in the cafeteria area of the emergency evacuation center. 

"Funny how this is starting to feel normal," Blanche said. She took a sip of coffee from a paper cup. "I've forgotten what coffee tastes like when it doesn't come out of a huge metal urn."

"I know what you mean," Dorothy said. "Miami gets overrun by zombies, but the world keeps turning." She waved a hand towards the television in the distant corner of the room, where the host of a local morning show was cheerfully demonstrating the best way to secure plywood over the windows of your home.

Sophia appeared beside Dorothy so suddenly that Dorothy and Blanche both yelped in surprise. Rose, who had been staring down at her plate of scrambled eggs with great concentration, looked up to see what had startled them. She frowned slightly when she saw Sophia.

"Sophia, your stealth training is really paying off," Rose said, "but I don't think that outfit is your size."

Sophia glanced down at her clothes. She wore a Men's XL-sized vertical black-and-white striped button-down shirt over patchwork black and acid green baggy nylon pants. A pair of heavy white sneakers completed her look.

"The girls say this is how it's supposed to look," Sophia said. "It's inspired by some guy named Billy."

"Billie Eilish?" Dorothy asked. "Ma, that's a girl. She's a singer."

Sophia hiked up her shirt and managed to wrestle herself onto the bench seat with some difficulty. "They wanted to do my hair and nails, too, but as soon as I saw the color swatches, I said no way."

"You should do it," Blanche said, with a twinkle in her eye. "Why not? It's the end of the world, might as well have some fun!"

"We'll see," Sophia said. 

"I guess I'm glad you got adopted by a roaming pack of teenage girls," Dorothy said. "I'm definitely scared what would happen if they didn't have you to make over every day."

"Well," Blanche said, pivoting on her seat to stand up from the table. "I'm off to a CPR class. I offered to be the CPR dummy to keep in practice." She winked at the girls, then sashayed towards the door.

Rose perked up. "That reminds me, I have to go get ready. I'm meeting my new friend for lunch."

Dorothy gave Rose an appraising look. "A lunch date, eh? Let's hear more about this new friend."

"Oh, it's not a date," Rose said. "We're just meeting for lunch. Well, he's taking me somewhere for lunch. He didn't say where. I just thought I would get all dressed up, you know, for fun. Not as a date."

Dorothy nodded. "Of course."

Sophia snorted. "Don't forget to bring condoms for this not-a-date. I hear there's been a big uptick in the number of STDs getting passed around."

Rose stared open-mouthed at Sophia in shock. "Sophia!"

Sophia shrugged. "End-of-the-world sex, you know. People just throw caution to the wind."

Dorothy patted Sophia's hand, a warning gesture. "Well, have fun at lunch, Rose. Tell us all about it when you get back."

Rose, blushing to her hairline, left the table without another word.

Later that week, Rose stormed up to Dorothy, who stood in the hallway inspecting a new flyer.

Dorothy glanced down at Rose, then tapped the flyer. "Movie night tomorrow," she said. "It's a documentary about corn production. Sounds thrilling, don't you think?"

Rose glared up at her, mouth pursed into a thin, flat line.

Dorothy sighed. 

"Why did you do it, Dorothy? I never would have agreed to this!"

"That's why," Dorothy said. "You never would have agreed to it. So Blanche and I decided to take the initiative and invite Carter over for dinner ourselves."

"You're all going to ruin everything! Carter is an intelligent, sensitive, kind, caring man, and I don't want you all making fun of him the entire time!"

"Of course not," Dorothy said. "Rose, I'm sorry if we gave you that impression. We're not inviting him over to roast him. You want the truth? We're bored to death here. Come on, let your mystery man have dinner with us! Think of it as a morale booster. We need this, Rose, please!"

Rose sighed. Her shoulders drooped slightly. "Okay, but you have to promise me you'll all be on your best behavior."

"Absolutely."

"All of you!"

"Of course." 

"See you at six."

"See you then." 

As soon as Rose turned around to leave, Dorothy pumped her fist in victory. Going behind Rose's back to invite her new man over for dinner had been a risky move. She was worried they had finally gone too far, even for Rose. But the risk had paid off, and now they could finally get some answers.

"Well, Carter," Blanche said, "it's so nice to meet you!" Ever the polite Southern hostess, she smiled widely and chirped loudly to distract their guest from Dorothy and Sophia, who stared at him silently as Rose introduced him to the table. "Come, sit! Tell us everything!"

Carter turned to her. "Hello, Blanche." He politely shook her hand while making direct, unflinching eye contact.

Carter Kingsley seated himself beside Rose. He was blandly handsome, exceptionally fit, and dressed in a casual outfit (t-shirt, hoodie, jeans, fanny pack), each piece of which Blanche assessed as costing more than her mortgage payment. He seemed to be in his late 40s, although it was hard to tell because his face was uncannily smooth. His eyes were so dark brown they seemed black, and looked almost painted on, like a doll's eyes.

A glance at Dorothy and Sophia told her they weren't ready for conversation yet, so she steeled herself and marched on.

"What an interesting wristwatch," she said, gesturing to the collection of mysterious electronics components Carter wore strapped to his left wrist.

"That's his calibration panel," Rose said, in a way that made it clear she had no idea what the device was for.

"It's my telemetry," Carter said. "It gives me a real-time readout of all my metrics, as well as feeding the data back to the base station at my house. It monitors my levels and tells me when there's something I need to correct. This is how I get optimal performance out of my body 24/7."

"Of course," Blanche said, as if this was all perfectly normal. "How fascinating!" 

"For example," Carter said, warming to his subject, "My creatine levels have been dropping steadily for the past hour or so. Excuse me." He rummaged around in his fanny pack, which was full of packets and pill bottles and a clatter of vitamins. He produced a small, brightly-colored pill, which he swallowed with a gulp of water from his stainless steel water bottle. 

"I see," Blanche said.

"What's on your head?" Sophia asked. She pointed to her temple and circled her finger, accidentally (or perhaps not) making the "crazy person" hand gesture.

"Ma!" Dorothy elbowed Sophia. "I'm so sorry," she said, turning to Carter. "My mother had a stroke recently. It's affected some of her social behavior."

Carter smiled indulgently. "Ah, yes, I've been doing some research into stem cell usage to prevent strokes. Soon they will be a thing of the past."

"Like me," Sophia muttered.

Carter, pretending not to hear her, carried on. "This is a brain implant I developed myself. It's based on the Neuralink technology, but I made several improvements and customizations over the basic design."

"He's very smart," Rose said. She leaned against Carter's shoulder and smiled brightly.

Carter nodded to acknowledge the compliment and continued to explain his anti-aging regimen for perfect health and peak performance. 

Blanche gave Carter her best practiced and polished "attentive face" while letting his explanations wash past her. Honed by decades of pretending to listen to handsome men, Blanche slightly raised her eyebrows and nodded in time with his words. It was a flawless performance, as always.

An eternity later, long after they finished dinner, he wound up his speech with, "And that's how I met Rose."

"Delightful!" Blanche said, trying not to fidget with the napkin on her plate. "It's been so lovely to meet you, Carter, but I'm afraid I have to excuse myself. I have to be up early for a class on handling medical emergencies in the field."

"Us too," Dorothy said.

"We do?" Sophia said as Dorothy tugged her to her feet.

"Yes, Ma, we do. Let's go. Carter, great to meet you, stop by any time!"

Dorothy, Sophia, and Blanche studiously avoided making eye contact with each other as they finished excusing themselves from the table and left.

"I should go, too," Carter said, looking down at Rose. "I'm booked for a radiofrequency microneedling appointment tomorrow, and I need to start the pre-treatment protocol in 45 minutes."

"Of course," Rose said. 

"Rose, I need to talk to you about something important. Are you free for lunch tomorrow?"

"Sounds great!" Rose presented her cheek for Carter, who dutifully gave her a chaste kiss.

Back at their group of cots, Sophia, Dorothy, and Blanche whispered frantically while keeping a sharp eye out for Rose's return.

"So we're agreed, he's weird, right?" Dorothy said. Sophia and Blanche nodded quickly.

"His eyes seem to follow you around the room," Sophia said, "like one of those creepy paintings, but in real life."

"He smells like hand soap and plastic," Blanche said. "Like new car smell, or like he just got off an airplane."

"He's so smooth! Two million dollars a year to look like a soap carving that got left out in the rain." Dorothy shook her head.

"It's a lizard stare," Sophia said. "He probably sleeps on a heated rock next to a big bowl of water."

"Shh, here she comes," Blanche said. 

Rose sat down on the edge of her cot with a sigh. "Okay, let's hear it."

Sophia, Dorothy, and Blanche exchanged glances.

"Why, Rose, he's so handsome! He doesn't look a day over… 40."

Dorothy wished Rose hadn't noticed Blanche's pause at the end of her statement. It was just a brief conversational stumble, the slightest slip of cadence. But Rose's eyes narrowed, and Dorothy knew she had clocked it.

"I don't care how old he is or isn't. He's kind and smart, and he likes me. That's what's important."

"Doesn't hurt that he's rich AF," Blanche muttered to Dorothy.

"I imagine not," Dorothy said, stifling a laugh.

"You know," Sophia said, "back in my day, people got old and died. That was the natural way of the world. Assuming you didn't 'move upstate,' of course." She emphasized this last part with air quotes. 

"That's what Carter's trying to fix," Rose said. 

"Contract killings?"

"No, the other part. About getting old and dying. He's a brilliant scientist, and he's going to stop us all from aging! Also, I think he's going to ask me to marry him."

"Marry him?" Sophia asked. "You haven't even seen him with his clothes off yet! For all you know, he could just have a smooth lump down there, like a Ken doll."

"Ma!"

"I'm just saying." Sophia shrugged.

"Okay, well," Dorothy said, "for now, I am already old, and I need my beauty sleep. Good night."

The next night, Sophia, Dorothy, and Blanche sat at their favorite plastic folding table, finishing off a round of after-dinner coffee in paper cups. Rose entered, wearing a light pink silk dress and a general air of defeat.

"How did it go, Rose?" Blanche asked, patting the bench seat beside her.

Rose gave a long, low sigh as she sat down next to Blanche. "It was worse than I thought," she said.

"Do tell," Dorothy said.

"He didn't want me to marry him. He wanted me to procreate with him."

"Excuse me?" Blanche said, leaning back.

"He said he had been sampling the DNA of the women here at the shelter, and mine was perfect."

"Oh well, I doubt that's true," Blanche said. She patted her hair with a smug expression. "He obviously didn't sample mine."

"No, Blanche, he did! He said yours is pretty good, but you have a slight genetic tendency towards crepey skin."

Blanche gasped and slapped Rose lightly on the shoulder. "You take that back!"

"Blanche," Dorothy said, waving off the conversational tangent. "Go ahead, Rose."

Rose sighed again, then continued. "Carter says we need to repopulate the planet after the zombie apocalypse is over. He has a seven-step process for selecting and improving humanity. He has a PowerPoint presentation and everything!"

"Oh, well," Sophia's voice dripped with sarcasm. "If he has a slide deck, it must be legit." 

"Exactly!" Rose said. "So he had determined that, scientifically speaking, I'm the most genetically perfect woman in the entire shelter!" She sat up a little straighter in her seat and smiled.

Blanche, Dorothy, and Sophia exchanged a series of uncomfortable glances. Dorothy was the first to break the long silence.

"Rose, honey, I'm glad to hear it, but…" Dorothy waved vaguely towards Rose's midsection. "I don't think… I mean, repopulating the planet is a great idea, but there are…. Certain… medical realities….” Her conviction failed her, and she nodded towards Rose with her eyebrows raised. 

"Menopause, dear," Blanche said. "You save a ton of money on tampons, but you can't have babies."

Rose cleared her throat and stared down at the table. "Yes, I had to explain that to him."

"He didn't know about menopause?" Sophia said. "Picture it: Sicily, 1912. Every man in the world is a complete idiot." She raised her hand in a frustrated, dismissive gesture.

"Not every man! Everyone in St. Olaf grew up knowing about menopause, boys, and girls. When a hen gets to be a certain age, she stops laying eggs, and then it's time for the soup pot. Not that human women went into the soup pot. We wouldn't do that, of course. Why would you?" Rose laughed nervously. "It's not like it brings you good luck in the next year's harvest." 

Dorothy gave Rose a double-take, then changed the subject. "Well, we're sorry to hear about it, Rose, but we're glad you're not leaving us to go live with the Forever Man on his yacht with his weird supplements."

"It's for the best," Rose said. "Besides, after what Sophia said last night, I started worrying he might have some kind of weird sci-fi augmentation down there."

Blanche perked up. "Do you think so?"

"Blanche!" All three women laughed heartily. Blanche laughed, too, but made a mental note to look some things up on the internet as soon as she had some privacy.

Chapter Text

1.
As Rose sat down across from Sophia, she held up a royal blue box. “Look what I found in the church’s storage area!” Rose held the box over the table and gave it a few hard shakes to dislodge the top from the bottom. “Trivial Pursuit!”

“Great,” Sophia said. “I can’t wait to play a board game that makes me feel like an idiot.”

Rose glanced up from where she had been rummaging through the contents of the board game box. “Oh, Sophia, you look so cozy! What did those girls do with you today?” She leaned back to take in Sophia’s entire outfit: a white chunky knit hat with a giant pompom, oversized flannel shirt worn open over a white tank top, black leggings, and hiking boots with wool socks peeking out the top.

Sophia snorted and shook her head. “They called it “Christian Girl Autumn.” I tried to tell them, girls, it’s December 21st, it’s definitely not autumn. But you know what kids are like. At least today’s outfit is comfortable. They made me hold an old, empty Starbucks cup for the photo shoot and kept telling me to pretend it was a pumpkin spice latte.”

“Well, it’s very kind of you to play with them every day.” Rose unfolded the game board and began sorting out the pieces. “I’m sure they’re bored out of their minds. I would be, if I was fourteen. Imagine being stuck in an emergency evacuation center with a bunch of boring old people.”

“Yeah,” Sophia said. “Imagine.” She sighed, then picked up the blue plastic playing piece and set it in the center of the board.

“I just think it’s great we get to spend all this quality time together,” Rose said. She chose the pink piece and set it beside Sophia’s. “It seems like we always used to be so busy. I love being able to sit down with my friends and really talk!”

Sophia won the roll to decide who went first. She rolled again, then moved her piece down one of the board’s six spokes. “History,” she said.

Rose pulled a trivia card from the box with a flourish. “In what year did Constantinople, the capital of the Byzantine Empire, fall to the Ottoman Turks?”

“Huh,” Sophia said. “That one’s a little close to home, don’t you think? Did you ever wonder where we would go if we didn’t have the emergency center?”

“Well, we do,” Rose said. “And we’re safe here, so let’s not think about it. And the answer is 1453. My turn.” She returned the card to the caddy and picked up the dice.

Before Rose could roll her dice, Blanche appeared beside her. She wore a bright red silk shirt open over a taupe shirt, matching taupe pants, and a taupe patent leather purse.

Sophia did a double-take at Blanche’s outfit, then slammed her tiny fist on the table. “That’s it, Blanche. No more lies. You did not find that outfit in the donation pile! I’ve spent the entire week digging through those donations, and believe me, if I had seen a matching taupe shirt, pants, and purse, I would have remembered.”

Blanche gasped, blinked rapidly, clutched the purse to her chest, and sat down beside Rose. “Well, I don’t know what you’re trying to -“

“Enough, Blanche,” Rose said. “Spit it out.”

Blanche sighed. She looked down at the table and muttered something.

“What was that?” Sophia asked.

Blanche leaned forward. Sophia and Rose leaned in as well.

“I’ve been sneaking back to the house,” Blanche whispered into their huddle.

“You WHAT?” Rose sat back like she had been slapped and clapped her hand over her mouth in horror.

Blanche patted the air, trying to shush Rose. She glanced around to make sure no one had noticed the disturbance.

“Well, it’s only just down the block,” she said, still whispering.

Sophia raised her hands in frustration. “I thought Rose was the idiot.”

Rose and Blanche both scowled at Sophia.

“All our stuff is still there,” Blanche said. “And I’ve been taking a lot of classes here on stealth and covert tactics and such. It’s very safe. Don’t you miss your stuff?”

“Of course we do,” Rose said. “I think about the house all day. I miss everything about it. I miss privacy. I miss our good shower. I miss constantly drinking tiny six-ounce glasses of orange juice from the pitcher in the fridge.”

“I miss decent coffee,” Sophia said. Blanche and Rose nodded in agreement.

“But still, you shouldn’t be doing it,” Rose said. “It’s so risky!”

“I tell you what,” Blanche said. “If I were to, say, bring back a few things for you two, would that convince you to overlook my… indiscretions?”

“There’s not enough coffee in the world to overlook your indiscretions,” Sophia said, “but if you bring me my favorite pearl necklace, I won’t snitch about your little forays. It’s on the dresser in my room. I’ve been kicking myself for not bringing it ever since we left.”

“It’s a deal,” Blanche said, with her most high-wattage smile. “Now then, what are we playing today?”

“Trivial Pursuit,” Rose said. “We just started. Hop on in!”

“Oh, no, thank you,” Blanche said. “Once you’ve played Strip Trivial Pursuit with a bunch of hunky firefighters, the regular kind just can’t compare.”

2.
Dorothy poked her head outside the emergency center’s back door and looked around. “Oh, Blanche, there you are!”

Blanche waved from her lounge chair in the sun. “It’s not exactly lanai weather, but I couldn’t take another minute inside. Everything smells like socks and cabbage.”

Dorothy pulled over an empty lounge chair and sat beside Blanche.

“It’s not too bad in the sun,” Blanche said, tilting her head back to peer at Dorothy from beneath the brim of her sun hat. “I heard it might hit 80 today. Balmy for December.”

“Yes, yes, weather exists,” Dorothy said with a dismissive wave. “Blanche, I need to borrow your diamond earrings. I have a date tonight with Glenn.”

Blanche raised her eyebrows. “Glenn, the married gym teacher from your school? Who’s married? That Glenn?”

“It’s complicated, Blanche.”

Blanche sat up straighter in her lounge chair. “Now you’ve got my attention!”

Dorothy sighed an aggravated “I guess we’re talking about this” sigh and leaned back in her lounge chair.

“Sunblock first, dear,” Blanche said. She produced a tube of cream from her pocket and handed it to Dorothy. “Even gossip isn’t worth getting melanoma.”

Dorothy popped the lid off the tube, releasing the nostalgic scent of coconut. She continued talking as she applied the sunscreen to her face and exposed arms and legs. “From a legal standpoint, yes, Glenn is still married. But his wife was attacked on the first night. She’s one of those zombies.”

The National Guard and shelter volunteers were in the process of adding a layer of sandbags to back up the outer layer of chain link fence topped with razor wire.

“In fact, that’s her,” Dorothy said. She nodded towards the nearest gap in the sandbag wall. Through it, they saw about a dozen zombies in various states of decay shuffling back and forth on the other side of the fence. One of the zombies, a woman in a ragged blue dress, pushed her face against the fence. She seemed to be studying Dorothy and Blanche intently.

“That one who’s looking at us. The blonde in the blue dress. Well, she used to be blonde, anyway.”

Dorothy and Blanche silently studied the zombie for a long moment. Her hair color was impossible to discern, matted as it was with crusted blood and filth.

“Oh,” Blanche said. She put her hand to her throat and touched her necklace, straightening the chain and patting it into place. “I see.”

Glenn’s wife seemed to be stuck in a sort of standing spasm. A cloud of flies took flight and buzzed around her head every time she juddered to the side.

“Well.” Blanche took a deep breath, tore herself away from the sight, and returned her gaze to Dorothy. “That is complicated, I grant you.”

“The thing is, he still loves her, and he’s convinced they’re going to find a cure.”

Blanche snorted.

“I know,” Dorothy said. “In the meantime, he’s lonely, and I’m bored.”

“I understand where you’re coming from, but there are plenty of men in the world, Dorothy. Why pick one who’s complicated? You can’t throw a rock around here without hitting a lonely man.”

Dorothy snapped the lid back on the tube of sunscreen and handed it to Blanche. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “Can I borrow your earrings or not?”

“Of course,” Blanche said. “Now settle back and enjoy the sun before the wind changes and we start smelling your new boyfriend’s wife.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to smell anything over the smell of this sunblock.”

Blanche preened. “Isn’t it lovely? It’s extra coconutty!”

“No, Blanche, a yard-long pina colada on Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras is extra coconutty. This is like being hit in the face with an actual coconut.”

Blanche gave Dorothy a dismissive wave and lay back on her lounge chair.

3.
“It’s so lovely to finally spend some one-on-one time with you,” Dorothy said, as she used her fork to push the last bite of roast chicken around on her paper plate. “I always enjoyed working with you at the school. You were an excellent role model to the kids.”

Glenn ran his hand over his close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. His laughter, seemingly magnified by his barrel chest, filled the tiny room he had booked for their date. He winked at Dorothy and toasted her with his small plastic cup of white wine.

“Thank you, Dorothy. You’re a real gem. I wish we did this sooner.”

Dorothy patted Glenn’s hand. “Me too.”

Glenn’s face clouded. Dorothy knew he was thinking about his wife. Ex-wife? Surely not. They were still legally married. His wife just wasn’t, you know. Human. Anymore. Or was she? What were the zombies, anyway?

Dorothy shook her head and brought her mind back to the conversation. Glenn was explaining something about training drills for the high school football team. Dorothy smiled and nodded, and tried not to think about the existential and ontological questions posed by the zombie apocalypse.

“But that was always Marie’s favorite,” Glenn said, finishing his lecture on a down note.

“I’m so sorry about Marie,” Dorothy said. “I saw her today. She looked…” Dorothy’s social instincts commanded her to say that Marie looked well, but Marie certainly did not look well, and Glenn knew it. As Dorothy fumbled for the right word, the silence grew longer and heavier.

“Well, she’s up on her feet, and surely that’s something.” Dorothy felt herself starting to sweat. “Oh, this humidity is brutal,” she said, dabbing at her face with a paper napkin.

Glenn didn’t seem to notice the silence that had felt so long and awkward to Dorothy. He was lost in his head, a million miles away, no doubt thinking about the good days. Dorothy searched desperately for a way to pivot the conversation to a less upsetting topic.

“She’s still in there,” Glenn said. “When I look in her eyes, I see her in there. She’s trapped in that body. It’s not her fault, what’s happening. It’s not any of their fault.”

Dorothy mentally kicked herself for being too slow to stop this conversational train wreck. It was too late now. The only way out was through.

“Of course not,” she said. “Who knows why this happened, but you can’t blame them for doing… You know. What they do.”

“Exactly,” Glenn said. His eyes lit up and he leaned forward, suddenly passionate. “After they fix this, everyone’s going to have to understand that no one’s to blame. It’s like being blackout drunk, or maybe if you’re in a coma and you get up and sleepwalk into the next room and smother someone.”

Dorothy blinked rapidly, trying to come to terms with this oddly specific example. By the time she recovered, Glenn was off and running with the conversation like a horse with the bit in its teeth. She stifled a sigh and took another bite of dinner: canned green beans with slivered almonds. It wasn’t bad.

As Glenn explained the predictions and various pontifications of the talk radio and podcast pundits he followed, Dorothy wondered how to tell Blanche about their date. Blanche would certainly ask, and Dorothy hated to lie to her friend. But she also hated to tell Blanche she was right about anything, especially affairs of the heart. Dorothy’s heart in particular.

“You mentioned you saw Marie today, but have you had a chance to actually meet her?” Glenn asked.

Dorothy froze, uncertain how to respond. “No, I haven’t,” she said, in the most neutral tone she could summon.

“Well, let’s fix that!” Glenn knocked back the rest of his plastic cup of white wine, crumpled the cup in his giant baseball-mitt-sized hand, and stood up from the table.

“Oh, well, I don’t know if I-“ Dorothy verbally backpedaled.

“Nah, come on! This is great! I want you two to meet, I think you have a lot in common!”

Dorothy chuckled politely. “Okay.” She hoped he meant “meet her” in the metaphorical sense. Maybe he was going to show Dorothy a bunch of pictures of Marie.

Her hopes, weak as they were, faded quickly as Glenn squared himself up and pushed open the door to the hallway.

“I couldn’t possibly…” Dorothy tried to demur.

Glenn stopped, turned back to her, and clapped her heartily on the shoulder, knocking her off-balance. “Sure ya can,” he said.

Dorothy was certain she didn’t want to meet Marie in any sense of the word. But she felt powerless to stop what was happening. She followed Glenn down the hall and outside.

After dark, the grounds of the Lutheran church were lit up by a collection of high-powered military-grade lights. Dorothy squinted and held up a hand to shade her eyes as they adapted to the brightness.

“I wonder if I should be wearing sunblock out here,” she said.

“Huh? No, of course not. It’s the middle of the night.” Glenn cast her a quick, puzzled look, then continued his charge towards the fence.

Dorothy rolled her eyes and reluctantly followed Glenn to the nearest gap in the sandbag wall. The same gap where Dorothy and Blanche had seen Glenn’s wife (Marie, Dorothy reminded herself, she’s a person and her name is Marie) earlier.

Glenn cupped his hands around his mouth like a bullhorn and yelled, “Yo! Marie! I’m here!”

Dorothy cringed and looked around to see who might be watching. She was torn between being worried they would get in trouble for making noise after dark, and hoping one of the National Guard patrols would come shut Glenn down for endangering them all. Zombies were drawn by a lot of things, but after dark, noise seemed to be their primary trigger.

Dorothy started to feel like spending the rest of the night in “shelter jail” (a corner of the staff room blocked off by a line of masking tape on the floor) would be far preferable to whatever was about to happen.

“Glenn, I really think we should -“ she touched his elbow to get his attention, then flinched back when Marie flung herself at the chain link fence.

“There’s my girl,” Glenn said. “Marie, this is my friend Dorothy. Dorothy, Marie.”

Dorothy’s response was fully automatic. “Nice to meet you,” she said.

“Hnnnngh,” Marie said. She twitched to the side, dislodging a cloud of flies. Something wet plopped to the ground in the darkness behind her. The breeze shifted, and Dorothy caught a good whiff of decay before it was overwhelmed again by the smell of smoke. She was suddenly grateful for the fires which continued to rage unchecked throughout the city.

Dorothy gagged involuntarily.

“That’s rude,” Glenn said. He frowned at Dorothy, then turned back to Marie. “Don’t listen to her, darling. You look stunning.”

Glenn pressed his hand to the chain link fence. Was he expecting Marie to do the same from her side? Was he expecting they would have “A Moment”? Dorothy didn’t know, and at this point, she didn’t care. Coughing, she hustled back towards the safety of the building without looking back.

4.
Dorothy took a deep breath and steeled herself before pushing open the doors to the multipurpose room. She spotted Rose, Blanche, and Sophia playing Trivial Pursuit at one of the folding plastic tables.

All three of them looked up at her expectantly as she approached. No one spoke.

Dorothy removed the diamond earrings from her ears and handed them to Blanche.

“Thanks, Blanche,” she said. “I won’t need them again.”

Blanche nodded and pocketed the earrings.

“Goodnight,” Dorothy said. As she turned to leave, the three seated women leaped to their feet and tackled Dorothy in a silent group hug.

“Thanks,” Dorothy said, as she started to cry. “Unbroken ribs are overrated, anyway.”

All four women laughed.