Makem yelped, "That is painful."

"I know," she said, "I missed you by a few feet. My eyes are fading."

"You could have taken off my shoulder."

"You jumped over my wall and complain?"

"Sorry," he lowered his head.

Julian grumbled dropping the bloody pellets to the dish. But Lull, as he typically was, sat curiously watching the two talk and leaned over the table watching her jab into him. "Lull," Julian said furrowing her brows.

"What?"

"What do you mean what? The table is for eating not for lying on."

"Sorry," he pouted leaning back.

"Curiosity killed the cat," she warned.

"What's your name?" asked Lull.

"Makem."

"What?" he furrowed his brows.

"Makem Yousafzai."

"What?" he asked confused.

"You can just pronounce it as Makem," he smirked.

"Like Mock 'em," Julian joked, "But don't mock him."

Lull giggled.

Julian lifted his arm dabbing at a cut, "Tell me Makem, what are you?"

"Iranian."

"And you lived this long?"

"Why is that surprising?"

"I don't know," she said dabbing at his wound, "It's just something you say in this situation, I guess."

"How old are you, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Seventy," she replied, "My name is Julian. And that's my grandson John."

"Lull."

"Lull, right," she sneered, "Lull." She rolled her eyes.

"Why Lull?"

"My mom gave that nickname to me," he replied, "She said I was born with droopy eyes, almost like I was sleepy."

"That makes sense," he chuckled, "Where's your mom?" Lull lowered his head shrugging.

"I'm sorry," Makem said.

"You didn't mean anything," Julian said assuring Lull, "Right?"

"I know, grandma."

"How long have you been here?" asked Makem.

"Since it all started, during the whole chaos," she scoffed, "The walls keep them out, and I'm not too bad with the firearms, either. My husband left them behind before he died. So... they've served me well."

"Amazing," he whispered, "You two... ? When this happened, the newsman said not many people would survive this. Especially the... older people."

"Well, I agree. But we were lucky."

"How do you eat?"

"We make due," she explained, "I have a garden out back, we save the seeds of everything we eat, and... well, we just make due, I'll say that much."

"Look, I'm sorry I broke into your home. I was... desperate, and this place seemed safe and secure. I don't expect you to trust me."

“How did you figure on coming here?” she asked, “Are you alone?”

“I saw you two far away… I was just resting on a roof and saw you and was so desperate and tired that I just tried it. I didn’t know you’d have a shotgun.”

“You figured to forcing your way in here, right?”

“No, of course not,” he insisted, “I was just going to…”

“Manipulate your way in here.”’

He sighed, “No…”

“Listen here, we have no room for stragglers or wanderers so if you figured to guilting me in to letting you room with us, you’re wrong.”

“Just hear me…”

“No,” she smacked her scissors on the table, “You listen. You’re intruding on us, you almost let those bastards in and for all I know that commotion sent some of the nomads our way. I don’t know you, and I don’t trust you. I could have blown your fucking brains out there for all you know.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“You didn’t fire back.”

He pursed his lips.

“You got no authority here, and you definitely have no influence, so I do all the talking, and you listen, got me?”

He nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”

“You need us,” she declared leaning over him.

He nodded silently.

“Just… Just give me two days. I’m begging you.”

There was a long silence as Julian continued patching his arms up.

"Can he stay, grandma?"

"Lull, please."

"I'd be appreciative, ma'am. Please."

"How do we know we can trust you?"

"Take my gun,” he handed it to her, “And, and... I'll sleep in the living room. Just please, for at least two days."

“I’ll think about it.”

"How old are you?" asked Lull scratching his head.

"Thirty. You?"

"Eight," he smiled with a grin that showed some of his teeth missing.

Lull observed him, "What did you do before this happened?"

"Lull--"

"--What?"

"--That's enough with the questions, already."

"I’m sorry."

"It's okay," Makem shrugged, "He's curious. There's not much to learn these days." He shrugged, "I don't mind it." He was tan, with messy black hair, a hint of a mustache, droopy eyes, and bearing a rather calm demeanor that signaled a man clearly battling all the horrors on the outside. She bandaged his shoulder and stood up.

"What did you do before this ended?"

"I was a lawyer," he replied, "Uh... I was just getting into the practice when all of this happened."

"Yeah, my mom was a doctor." He leaned in with a whisper, "She used to looked at girls' privates."

"Lull!" Julian barked.

"Sorry," he muttered shrinking in his seat.

Makem laughed clutching his shoulder.

"You don't seem very upset for someone your age."

"I cry all the time," he admitted, "But grandma needs my help most times."

"Good thinking," Makem nodded, "She's tough."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "She's scary, too."

Makem laughed.

“You want to see how scary I can really get?” she threatened. Lull’s eyes widened. She gave a signal to be quiet. He nodded and sat back.

“I’ve been looking everywhere,” Makem explained, “I don’t know what for, though. I keep getting lost and looking for anything. The cars are crap, there are no people, and I can’t find any of the safe havens.”

“They’re out there,” Julian replied.

“Really?”

"There just aren’t many of them left is all," Julian declared.

"I know," Makem nodded looking back at her standing at the stove, "I've looked everywhere, but as the days go by, they're getting into every corner of the city…"

"Will they get in here?" Lull asked.

"No, honey," Julian said, "He's just talking about unprotected areas." She met eyes, and he nodded in agreement, "Yes, that's what I meant. Sorry."

“But the safe havens out there. I can hope.”

“I hope so, too,” he nodded, “I was looking--”

"--Do you know any jokes?" asked Lull.

"Jokes?" Makem asked confused.

"Riddles or something."

"Knock Knock jokes?"

"I hate knock knock jokes."

"Lull, be nice," Julian warned.

"Well, I think I might know some," he thought.

"Can you tell me one?"

"Lull, enough."

"Just one and I'll stay quiet. I promise."

"Now you're promising miracles."

"Okay," Makem chuckled, "Um...," he shrugged struggling to think up one, "Why was the baby ant so confused?"

Lull thought, "Why?"

"All of his uncles were ants."

Lull giggled leaning back.

"Oh god," Julian groaned nodding her head.

"It's the best I have," Makem shrugged, "Now, about the safehaven...?"

"…Yes, the only safehaven left is in Texas."

"Texas?" he turned anxiously, "Really?! That’s not far! How do you know?"

"It was on the radio when all the stations shut down. The haven there set up a frequency that could probably call out to those still alive. It's been a month since the frequency stopped going out, but... it's an option."

"Of course," he said enthusiastically, "It's an option. We could try."

"How?"

"You don't have a car?"

"I don't even know if it would work."

"Of course it would."

“There’s no proof the safe haven still exists.”

“It’s worth a shot, don’t you think?”

“There’s no proof it’s still there. Remember all the churches and Red Cross zones set up for the survivors? They went down within a week.”

“B-But I could help…”

"…I don't want to leave," Lull admitted, "I don't want to go out there."

"Don't you want to be in a safer place? With food? And people? And, and community?"

"I'm not leaving," Lull declared.

"You're tired, go to bed, okay?"

Lull nodded and walked off.

"Listen you, you can stay here, but as long as you're under my roof, you'll follow my rules. Don't you dare get his hopes up like that."

"Like what? I was just saying..."

"…Don't just say," she replied sternly, "Got it? He's had everything smashed to pieces, the last thing he needs is some stranger building his hope up."

"I don’t want to be here--"

"--Then leave, what the hell do I care?"

"I don’t want to be here, but I have no choice. Don't you want to leave too?"

"I'm old, you think I'd make it out there by myself? And with a kid no less?"

"I have to try for it," he urged, "I just have to."

"Here," she said slipping him a paper, "The directions. I wrote them down the first time I heard the frequency. It's been sitting on my table ever since."

"My god," he said reading the paper, "This is fucking excellent."

"It's probably not even still standing, or maybe it's been mandated by the government, or nomads, who knows."

"It's still worth a shot."

"Have at it, then. You're young and mobile, but as for me I'm just waiting for the inevitable," she replied shrugging, "If I die, I'm dying here. I'm not letting any goddamn walking shit heads force me out of here. Those government people tried to force me to go to some base with them. Hah. Two weeks gone by and they were taken down by those things, and I'm still here. I showed those bozos."

"So, I could take this?"

"If you want, then try for it." She sighed, "Want some tea?"

"Tea?"

"We still have hot water."

"Okay," he scoffed.

"My husband, god rest his soul, always had tea before dinner. It made him hungry all the time."

"Did he die during this?"

"Thankfully no. He died of Leukemia a few years before all of... well, this."

"He's lucky."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You had family, I assume," Julian said.

"Lots of them. Brothers, uncles, and the like. I just... you learn to live with it, you know? Eventually, you begin focusing less on grief and more on survival.”

“They end up living through the memories,” Julian explained, “You can live through the memories, but not too much. It takes focus away from the now and you die."

“I try to stay focused.”

"Yep... that's how you do it."

"Uh... for someone named "Lull," he's very excitable."

"It's not often he comes across human contact anymore. He seems to like you some." He folded the paper.

"And that's good?"

"Yes, I'd say so," she replied. She staggered over to the chair and dropped down with a groan.

"This is the first time I've been off my feet in days."

He gave a heavy sigh.

“So… if I went… could I come back for you?”

“You could try,” she nodded, “But if you’ve seen how it is out there…”

“I owe it to Lull to at least try,” he shrugged.

“If you somehow find human contact that wants to help, then you come back here and get Lull, okay?” They met eyes. He nodded slowly.

"It's quiet here most of the time, but they get riled up during the day when there's the slightest commotion. The wall here has been pretty sturdy, which is good. My husband built it after we got robbed and it’s very strong.”

"Thank god I even made it to this place. I was willing to take any chance I could."

"Well, if Lull likes you, we’ll see how it goes. So, you can stay as long as I say. Or until that paper burns a hole in your hand."

He smirked.

"I've been through World War 2, The Depression, and abuse, and... this is the scariest thing I've ever seen."

"I know," he muttered, "I'm afraid of losing it, sometimes... I don't know why, but I always come back and snap out of it."

"You have to keep your head. My head is screwed on tightly by Lull everyday."

"That's good."

"Did you have kids?"

"No, thank god."

"A... girlfriend, or wife?"

"No," he muttered.

"Why not? You're a good looking man--"

"--I'm gay." She stared a second. Then she gave a humph of surprise and shrugged, "That's interesting."

"You're not surprised."

"No," she smiled, "Like I've said, this scares me more than anything I've ever been through, a gay man in my home is the least of my problems right now."

He chuckled.

"Did you have a... uh... what do you call it, husband, lover, partner, mate, what?"

"Just a friend, I guess. I loved him. But... he didn't make it."

"I'm very sorry to hear that. Lull lost his mother, and... when she died, he didn't grieve much. Sure, he loved her, but he just seemed to accept it. Or maybe he was just too young to dwell on it."

"How did she die?"

"I’m not too sure. She left him here for me to take care of and drove off to look for some help for his sister, and... that was it. She never came back. Lull told me about his sister being attacked and his mom being bitten and just bringing him here. She left my granddaughter to die from what I heard. He doesn’t talk about it."

"She may still be alive."

"Look at how long it's been," she smirked, "She's dead... and we've accepted that. And grieved. And mourned. And kept watch for her." She clutched her gun tightly.

"Ah," he nodded knowingly.

"How's the tea?" she asked sipping hers.

"It's...," he cringed.

"I know," she scoffed, "But it does the trick in relaxing you."

“Yeah, my mum loved it, herself.”

Later, Julian dropped a large pillow and sheets down along the large blue couch and held her hand out, “Enjoy the couch, and don’t bother to sleep in. I wake up very early to get the day’s work done, and I am pretty noisy. My door will be locked, as will Lull’s. You try anything and I’ll kill you.”

“You have my word,” Makem swore.

“I’m putting my faith in the notion that there’s still good people left.”

“I swear.”

“I’m locking up the rooms, so try to sleep.”

“Thank you, Julian.”

She nodded and turned walking up the steps slowly. His hip was still throbbing and the clinking of the rain filled the silence with the boarded windows and barred door thumping from the heavy water.

He reveled in the warmth of the couch and closed his eyes quickly falling out of his surroundings. “How do I patch it up? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” Greg said with his eyes glazed over, “Just get the toilet paper and wrap it.” Makem wiped the blood from his face and walked past two women who sat on a couch watching the television. He grabbed the paper towels and rushed past them. “The streets are littered with bodies and blood as the second wave of police is preparing to clear the shopping areas of the walking dead who have continued invading apartments all around the city, these things are unstoppable…”

“How is he?” Ellen, a dark haired Hispanic teenager girl asked standing by the kitchen. “He’s not well,” Makem said wrapping Greg’s shoulder as he sat along the floor, his blood smeared along the white tiles as the thumping persisted in the bedroom.

Greg yelped and whimpered smacking his head against the stove.

“We locked them in the hallway, so they shouldn’t come in here,” she explained.

“I can’t believe we came up here, it was suicide,” Makem replied.

“It was all we could do, they cornered us,” she replied, “I’m sorry we followed you two. We were scared.”

“I know,” he nodded.

“We didn’t know what to do…” she quivered breaking in to a fit of tears.

“Just go in the living room and calm down, okay?” Makem assured her, “I’ll take care of him.” She nodded whimpering and walked back to the couch.

“I don’t know how to stop the bleeding,” Makem quivered.

“It really hurts,” Greg whimpered, “It’s not just a bite it…” he cringed.