Day 55, November 3rd Arizona             They said it wasn’t contagious, but what the hell did they really know about anything. They had been spouting horseshit since day one. Pure, high-grade, Kentucky-Derby-winning, horseshit. Nate Williams grabbed a full piece of red chalk from a small Ziploc bag in a drawer. He dropped a diagonal line across four hash marks, stood back from the kitchen wall and counted out loud. “Eleven sets of five equals … fifty-five days. Fifty-five days since the power went out.”  Fifty-five fucking days. “Don’t worry.” Nate’s head tilted from side to side as he mimicked, “That big ole flare just fried a few transformers. We’ll have ‘em up an’ runnin’ before…

Day 13, September 22 Boca Raton, Florida Exactly twenty-three minutes after he died, Francis Jaynes sat up slowly in his bed. He swiveled his neck from side to side and, by the soft moonlight filtering through the window of his room at the Welcoming Arms Nursing Home, could discern the familiar silhouettes of each piece of furniture. Everything appeared precisely as it always did. Gripping the side-rail for stability, he lowered his feet to the ground and pulled himself into an upright position. He switched on the battery-powered lamp beside his bed and squinted as he slid his glasses onto the bridge of his nose. He looked around for a…