In the days that followed, Lucy and I explored other storage units. I found so many books I had to prioritize them, deciding which I would like to read first, and which things-like books of tax laws or computer programming-could just be left out for the others to rummage through, since they seemed to like that. We hadn't found anything yet that Lucy liked as much as I liked books, though I felt sure that soon we would.

    She wasn't as visual a person as the rest of us. Shiny, bright, or colorful things didn't seem to interest her. This would explain why she'd picked an outfit of completely mismatched, dark colors. I liked this about her because it made her different from the others, but it also seemed sad, since her one good eye was so much clearer and prettier than those of the rest of us, yet it didn't seem to function as well for her. I couldn't remember the word for that at first, but then I found it in one of my new books. It was ironic. But not funny in the humorous way, I don't think, just sad.

    Lucy seemed serious and not given to humor in general. And she really seemed to be searching for something in the boxes, intent on finding something we hadn't uncovered. Every afternoon, after looking all morning, I'd settle on the sofa to read, but she would keep looking. I didn't mind; I knew she'd be careful with everything, not like the others, and she'd put everything back where it had been. Sometimes she'd bring me a book, and I thought that was nice of her. Then later in the evening, as it got dark, she would join me and we would just sit. She would sit closer to me now, leaning against me, and I liked that. Like pain or tears or speech, I understood what sexuality was, but I knew it was not a part of me now. Nonetheless, I liked Lucy to be near me, and I wished I knew what she was looking for, so that I could help her find it.

    Then one afternoon, as I sat reading, Lucy sat down next to me with a small black case. In it there was a violin and bow. She tuned the instrument, though my hearing was either not trained, or sensitive, or perhaps undamaged enough to distinguish the difference or improvement. Then she held the violin between her chin and shoulder and started to play.

    Again, I'm no expert-I'm not even sure whether or not I like violin music-but from Lucy it sounded divine. In a way it was the perfect complement to her stunning, feminine beauty, that she could make such captivating and enchanting music. And best of all, I could see how happy it made her to play like this.

    I looked past Lucy to where the others were shuffling around. They continued moving restlessly about, occasionally stopping near us, seeming to listen for a moment, the way they would occasionally grab something from a box, examine it for a second, then wander off. I understood how lucky Lucy and I were to have at least some of our senses intact. It also helped me understand why we didn't have the same preferences. Lucy's sight and her ability to process or understand visual images must have been diminished, along with some of her ability to move her whole body, while her hearing and her love of music were still acute and her dexterity with her hands was exceptional. And I had trouble focusing, I wasn't very dexterous, and my hearing was not especially attuned, but I had retained the ability to read.

    And the other people? I still wasn't sure what they were capable of. I suddenly felt scared and sad that each of them might have some little part of themselves that still worked perfectly, but they couldn't express or share it with others because of all the clumsiness and inertia of their bodies, the same reason poor Lucy had struggled for so long before she'd found her violin.

    As for Milton and Will, they were a complete mystery to me, what their abilities or deficiencies were, beyond their ability to speak, which all of us here seem to lack. Maybe they had fewer deficiencies overall, and that's why they were in charge. Or was it just because they could hurt us, the way Milton had implied when he'd seen me looking with fear at Will? But he'd also said we were locked in here to keep us from hurting other people. Overall, the situation confused me, but at the same time I felt much better than before, now that Lucy was happy.

    Lucy and I would still spend our mornings together, searching through the treasures in the storage units, though she didn't have the same urgency and frustration as before. Mostly she would find more books for me, and sometimes she'd find other things she liked, especially if they made some sound, like music boxes or other musical instruments, though everything that needed electricity or batteries was useless. We found an old bicycle, and although neither of us was coordinated enough to ride it, it had a bell on it that made the most welcoming tinkle, so Lucy wheeled it over to our area so she could ring it now and then. Then we would spend the afternoon together on the sofa, though now we both had something we liked, and that made it so much nicer.

    One afternoon as we sat there, I could hear the others getting more agitated and making noise. I put my books away, because I suspected it was Will and Milton. I gently touched Lucy's hand, to indicate to her that she should put down her violin too. Then I noticed she was sniffing the air, baring her teeth, and growling. I knew then it must have been Will by himself, or someone like him, someone the others perceived as both a threat and food.

    I stood up and held my hand in front of Lucy as I shook my head. I had wondered whether she still tried to eat, and I had no way to tell her that she shouldn't, but I was worried for her-worried either that the others might hurt her as they fought to get at Will, or that Will would hurt her. I wanted her to stay here with me. She remained seated, but she kept sniffing and growling.

    I stood and moved farther out from our cubicle so I could see the main gate, but I kept my hand on Lucy's shoulder. The gate was closed, but the other people were congregating around it and making noise.

    Then Will came running along the fence and-quicker than I thought possible-he climbed it, threw a tarp over the barbed wire at the top, and pulled himself over to our side. He looked at me, then ran back towards the others, who were slowly turning away from the main gate to catch up with him. A second gate separated the area around the office from the storage units, and Will pulled this closed and wrapped a chain around it and locked it. Lucy and I were trapped in here with him, and he was safe from the other people, who were now locked in the area between the two gates. I didn't like this at all, and I helped Lucy stand in case she had to get away or hide. I didn't know what to expect.

    Will approached us. I kept Lucy behind me and extended my arm to keep her from attacking Will. On her feet she moved more slowly and awkwardly than I, so I could keep her back, but it was an effort, and I was trying also to watch Will.

    He approached slowly with his hands out in front, his palms towards us. I noticed his clothing more than I had before, now that he was closer. He was dressed all over in a heavy material, denim or canvas. It was patchwork, like it had been worked on and repaired many times. He also wore a glove on his left hand, and this, along with his left arm, had bits of metal sewn on to the thick fabric. It was obviously a kind of armor he'd made to keep people from biting him.

    "Easy there," he said quietly, though his voice was still hard, commanding, not like Milton's soothing tones. "I just want to talk some more, and Milton keeps taking me away like you need privacy or something." I was happy to see that Milton understood what I was feeling and had been considerate. "I just want to find out what you know. You obviously understand what I'm saying. Can you speak?"

    I shook my head.

    "All right. But we're communicating okay so far. Is this your girlfriend?"

    I looked back at Lucy. I didn't want to embarrass her, as obviously I had never referred to her as that before. But she took her eye off Will and stared straight at me, and I knew she wouldn't mind. I nodded.

    Will shook his head. "Wow. That really takes some getting used to. You don't…?" He shook his head more vigorously. "No, never mind that. I can see where Milton was right about some things being private. Okay. You don't seem to want to eat people, is that right?"

    I nodded again.

    "It doesn't look like she or any of the others have the same tastes."

    I shook my head.

    "All right. Milton's always talking about how you all are still part of our community, and we should respect you. And most of the time, I see all of you just bumping into each other and trying to eat people, and I think he's lost it, and we should just shoot you all in the head." Lucy got very agitated at this. I really didn't know how much speech she understood, but something insulting and threatening seemed to have gotten through at that point.

    With an inhuman snarl that rose to a shriek, she shoved past me and lunged at Will. She was far too slow and clumsy to catch him by surprise or overpower him, and I was sure she'd be dead in seconds. Will stepped into her lunge and brought his gauntleted left hand up; her mouth clamped down on it. He was big enough and strong enough that from that position he could hold her at bay and keep her arms from reaching him. Given how muscular he was, and how obviously used to fighting, I suspected he could snap her neck from that position too.

    I stepped towards him, and even though I was faster than Lucy, I hadn't even taken a full step when the barrel of an unbelievably huge revolver was in my face. I didn't know much about guns, but I was pretty sure that when the hammer was pulled back-as it already was when Will raised it to my face-then it was really bad to be where I was, in front of this end of the barrel.

    Besides its size-which was beyond belief, so much that I couldn't believe Will could hold it rock-steady at arm's length like he was-it was also an exceptionally shiny revolver, which starkly contrasted with the infinite blackness inside the barrel. For the first time that I could remember, I realized what death was, and that I did not want to die. But I also knew I had to defend Lucy.

    Will shook his head very slightly. "No," he said, staring me right in the eye. "I'll paint that wall with your brains before you twitch, Mr. Smart Zombie. And then I'll do the same to your girlfriend. So why don't you explain to her-however you explain things-that it'd be a good idea for her to let go of me. All right?" He clenched and unclenched his teeth from the pain her bite was obviously causing him.

    I kept my eye on the gun and took a step back. I didn't understand the thing he had called me, but I understood what needed to happen. I placed my hand on Lucy's shoulder and held her gently as I gave her the low wheeze that we used to express something indistinctly positive or affirmative; we hardly had the exact vocabulary for what Will wanted me to communicate, nor for what I really wanted to say, which was that I loved her and didn't want her to be hurt. She was unbelievably taut, vibrating from the anger and exertion of clamping down on Will's hand. I squeezed her shoulder more, but still gently, and I kept up the low sound until finally I felt her relax slightly. Will's hand slipped from her mouth, and she and I stepped away from him.

    Will took a step back as well. "Okay. Now the gun stays out when we talk. I was trying to say something nice, lady zombie. I said that I think of shooting you all because you act like animals, or worse. Having a whole pen full of you is too much like having a pen full of rabid, starved wolves. I don't like it. But you two seem to be different." Will tilted his head to indicate me with his chin. "He doesn't eat people, and you both seem to understand it when I talk. And you seem to like each other. He almost got his head blown off just now, trying to defend you. There are plenty of real people who wouldn't do that for a girlfriend, or anyone else, and there are plenty of real people who'll hurt and kill for less than food."

    Again, I didn't understand in what way Lucy and I weren't "real," but there was hardly a way for me to pursue the issue. "So I'm trying to say that maybe you two aren't so bad, and I can take you out sometimes to see other stuff. Would you like that?"

    As happy, indeed idyllic, as things were here with Lucy, I had been thinking that eventually we would want to go out and see what else there was, once I got over my fear of wild animals, violent people, and other dangers. From what I had just seen, few people could be more dangerous than Will, so it might be useful if he came along with us. Lucy still seemed sullen and aggressive, but I could tell she'd been thinking along similar lines. We both looked back to Will and I nodded.

    Will nodded as well and holstered his gun. He looked more closely at me. "You remind me of someone. I think it was my fifth grade social studies teacher. He was my teacher that last year, when we still had a real school and subjects and books." He shook his head. "Social studies? What the hell is that, now? Things that don't exist." He looked like Lucy, almost snarling. Then he relaxed a little. "But he seemed nice, is what I'm trying to say. You look a lot like him." He looked even more intently at me, squinting his eyes. "No, couldn't be, that would be too much of a coincidence. Do you remember who you were?"

    I took a very slow step towards him as I reached in my pocket and offered him the identification card from Stony Ridge College. He took it and glanced at it, and looked more closely at me, then handed the card back to me. "Yup, that's you. The people who raised me after my real parents died, the man used to be a college professor. He's nice too. But it's not like having your real parents." He shook his head. "Well, Truman, I hope we can be friends. Does she have a name?"

    I wasn't about to mangle Lucy's name with my voice, and even if I did, she'd never heard herself called by that name anyway. It applied to her only in my dim mind. Still holding her, I pointed to her eye with my other hand.

    "What?" Will asked. "One Eye is her name?"

    I shook my head.

    He looked at her more closely. "What? Blue Eye? Yes, it is unusual, not like the eyes you all usually have. So, lady zombie, may I call you Blue Eye?"

    Lucy nodded slightly. I think she even smiled a little, and coyly.

    "Thanks. The next time I come back, we'll go somewhere. I'll check a map. It'll be fun for a change."

    He went back to the gate that was holding the others back. He unlocked the chain he had put through, yanked it off, and ran back towards us. He tossed the chain over the fence, then he was up and over it before the other people could even get the gate open. I watched him walk away and wondered what I had gotten us into.

    I led Lucy by the hand back to the sofa and we sat down. I felt so drained from the intense and conflicted feelings of fear and devotion I'd felt when Will had drawn his gun. But at the same time, I knew I owed him a debt of gratitude. Because as I gazed down into Lucy's perfect eye, I could see she knew my feelings and commitment better than I ever could've explained them to her on my own. We leaned against each other and I felt closer to her than I ever thought I could feel towards anyone ever again.