She couldn't believe it. It was Susan McMillan, one of the richest and sexiest women in town. Her forehead looked a little more pronounced, but it was definitely her. Susan snarled at her, then returned to digging through their garbage. She picked up a half-eaten rotten apple, looked at it like it was some sort of foreign object, sniffed it, then took a bite.
"That's enough," Mark said, closing the curtain. "I don't want you turning into one of those things."
They could still hear the noise outside. Apparently, Susan had decided she liked the food there.
"The Army has determined that standard hazmat suits provide sufficient protection from the sun's radiation," the news advised, "but there are not enough of them to outfit the entire military and police force, much less the entire population. We will advise you of the latest as it develops."
"Mark," Jane said, suddenly. "Have you seen Zoe this morning?" She was usually up by now.
He stared at her. Both ran to her room...
