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from the roof as if only needing the slightest provocation to schluff off.
    There was a myriad of noise, all of which catalogued in Annie’s mind as time slowed to a crawl. Every sting of pain was felt, every vision of the spinning world was considered, and the facts of her tumble were understood as she fell down the roof. The Rollers below screamed, and Annie could discern most of their voices as she haphazardly flailed her arms in an attempt to save herself before she reached the edge. The steeple smashed into the roof, sending the useless shingles spinning into the air, and Annie suddenly understood she was going to die.
    The roof sped out from under her and the sensation of falling took precedence over all other fear. Annie focused on the ground below - on the corpse of Dante, punctured by the same iron posts that she was now falling towards.

Chapter Three – Last Breath
    Thirteen years after the apocalypse
    Annie, Arthur, and Kim were sent to meet with local traders.
     
    “What’s wrong with her?” asked one of the traders that they were drinking with.
    Arthur and Kim had brought Annie along to a trader caravan that was passing through the area. The Rollers preferred to do most of their trading with the local settlements, but it was always worth investigating the caravans to see what they had to offer.
    It was an overcast, blustery winter day and Annie was anxious to return to camp. Kim and Arthur, however, wanted to spend time together away from the other Rollers. It was no secret that the two of them were in a relationship, but Billy had assigned Hero to be Kim’s partner in the field, which meant she rarely had time alone with Arthur. They cherished the rare moments together, away from Laura and Zachary’s ever-watchful eyes.
    The traders, a ragged group of men with curly beards and dirt caked cheeks, were huddled around a campfire. They held their grubby, calloused hands over the flames as they stared at Annie. She was standing several yards from the fire, her arms crossed as she shivered.
    “She’s just being grumpy.” Kim was beside the fire, cuddled next to Arthur. He had his arm around her shoulder and looked at Annie sympathetically. Kim glanced back and rolled her eyes when she said, “She wanted to head back to camp earlier.”
    “If we don’t leave soon we’re going to get caught in the storm,” said Annie.
    “Give it a break,” said Kim. “Come sit down and relax.”
    “Come on, Annie,” said Arthur with a kinder tone. He pat the ground next to him and waved her over. “Have some whiskey with us.”
    Annie’s mother had asked her to go with Kim and Arthur to stop this from happening. There was a rumor going through the area that a strain of the disease that created the Greys had begun infecting fetuses. A woman in the town of Hanger had been murdered from the inside out by her own unborn child, adding credence to the mysterious, mutated virus. Kim insisted that she wasn’t having sex with Arthur, but no one was naïve enough to believe it. When Kim and Arthur decided to head out to visit the trader caravan, Laura told Annie to go with to keep an eye on them.
    “It’s going to snow.” Annie looked up at the grey sky. “We should head back before it starts.”
    “Do you know how rare good whiskey is these days?” asked one of the traders. He was a burly man named Jack, whose eye had been cut out by a raider, a story he apparently loved to tell. The left side of his face bore the scar that claimed his eye, a purple wound that stretched from his brow to his chin, carved deep into his dirty skin.
    “And we got dog meat,” said a tall, old black man that had a plastic cooler beside him. He had a gravelly voice that was hard to understand, but was entertaining to listen to. Throughout their visit he had told them various st ories about the caravan’s exploits, and each tale came with a bevy of exaggerated hand movements that was impossible not to be entertained by. “And it