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Contagious Scott Sigler 23610K 2022-07-22

“Of course, honey,” he said. Mommy helped him out of the chair. He waddled to the kitchen.

Chelsea had to get everyone out of there. She was running away, not just from the devils but from the boogeyman. Running away wasn’t as bad as peeing her pants, but it wasn’t good, either. She was growing stronger, she knew that. Maybe someday soon she could face the boogeyman.

Face him, and kill him.

Mr. Jenkins came back with a folded paper map and walked to the dining-room table.

It was covered in guns—four hunting rifles with those big scope things, two shotguns and one pistol. Boxes of ammo filled in the s.p.a.ces between the guns.

“Can you guys clear this off?” Mr. Jenkins said. “Chelsea wants to see a map.”

Hands shot in to remove the guns and ammunition. Chelsea liked how fast everyone moved.

Mr. Jenkins spread the map out on the newly cleared table. Chelsea, Mr. Burkle, Mommy and Mr. Jenkins gathered around it.

Chelsea stared at it, but she didn’t really know how to read a map.

Mommy stroked her hair. “Do you know what you’re looking for, honey?”

Chelsea nodded, then shook her head. “How can you tell where there are lots of people?”

Mr. Burkle pointed to a yellow spot on the map. Chelsea saw the word FLINT in big black letters on top of the yellow.

“See the yellow?” Mr. Burkle said. “The more yellow, the more people there are.”

Chelsea bent her head and stared at the map. Her blond hair hung down and touched the paper. She put her finger on the map and raised her head, her face all smiles.

“This place has the most yellow! So that means it has the most people, right?”

Mr. Burkle looked, then nodded. “Yes. There would be a lot of people there, all right.”

“This is where we’re going.”

“So what now?” Mommy asked.

“Well,” Mr. Burkle said, “we have to figure out how to show a soldier G.o.d’s love, make sure no one finds out, and get out of town without getting killed.”

“And pick up more dolly daddies on the way,” Chelsea said. “We need enough dollies to make the gate. Mister Jenkins, how many people will your big car hold?”

“The Winnebago?” Jenkins said. “Hmm, probably ten more people, no problem. Will that be enough?”

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