Back in the freezer section of the little bodega, back in the dark Gary finally found what he'd been looking for behind smooth clear glass. He took the box of hamburger patties up to the front and laid them out on the plastic counter by the display of disposable lighters and the lotto machine. They'd been cool to the touch in the freezer - completely thawed out and with a little fuzzy white mold on top but still good he thought. He contemplated different ways to cook them until he got up the nerve to just bite into one raw and take his chances.

His mouth flooded with saliva and he forced himself to chew, to savor the meat even though his eyes were watering up. The tension in his stomach, the crawling hunger, began to subside and he leaned on the counter with both hands. It had taken him all of the morning to find any scrap of meat at all. He'd wandered far afield from his apartment, north into the West Village. But at every butcher's shop and grocery store he'd found only empty walk-in freezers and vacant meat hooks swaying on their chains. Clearly he wasn't the first one to be drawn to where the meat used to be. For the last hour he'd been combing all the little neighborhood convenience stores and the back pantries of shoebox-sized diners and this was all he'd found. Judging by the way his stomach was relaxing and his hands had stopped shaking it was worth it.

He was devouring his second burger patty when he heard a noise behind him and he turned around to find he wasn't alone. The first of the walking dead that Gary had ever seen up close, a big guy in a trucker cap and sideburns had stumbled into the store and knocked over a rack of slim-jims. The intruder's head rolled on his thick neck and drool slid from his slack lower lip as he stared at Gary with eyes that couldn't quite seem to focus. He had the same dead veins and bluish pallor Gary had seen in the mirror but his face was slack and loose, the skin hanging in folds at his jowls and neck. He was missing a big chunk out of his left thigh. His jeans were caked with clotted blood and as he slouched forward the leg bent underneath him all wrong, threatening to tumble the big guy right into Gary's chest.

Without a word the dead man lurched forward and his hands went out, grabbing at the meat on the counter. Before Gary could stop him the big guy shoved one of the patties into his mouth and started reaching for another, the last of the four. Gary said "hey, come on, that's mine" and grabbed the back of the guy's flannel shirt to pull him away from the food but it was like trying to move a refrigerator. He tried to grab the guy's arm and got swatted backward, knocking him into a display of clattering cans of Starkist tuna. Slowly the big guy turned to face Gary with those dull glassy eyes. Gary looked down and saw he still had part of a hamburger patty in his left hand.

The big guy's jaw stretched wider as if he would swallow Gary like a snake swallowing an egg. Still no sound came out of him, no sound at all. He took a wobbling step forward on his bad leg, nearly fell. Corrected himself. His hands came up in fists.

"No," Gary said, scrabbling to get to his feet but slipping in the spill of cans, "get away from me." The big guy kept coming. "Don't you dare!" Gary shrieked, sounding absurd even to his own ears but it just came out. "Stop!"

The big guy stopped in mid-stride. The expression on his face changed from hungry anger to just plain confusion. He looked around for a minute and Gary could feel the guy's cold form looming over him, a dead shadow in the air ready to come down like a ton of bricks, to smash him, to pummel him into mush.

He just stood there, coming no closer.

"Fuck off and die!" Gary screamed, terrified.

Without a sound the big guy turned on his good heel and walked out of the bodega. He didn't look back.

Gary watched him go then pulled himself back up to his feet. He was feeling shaky again. Almost nauseous. He finished the patty in his hand but it didn't help as much as his first one had. The fight with the big guy had taken something out of him. He ran a hand through his hair, looked back at the freezer section. It was empty now. He bent down and gathered up all the slim-jims the big guy had knocked over. Those were meat too, he thought. Maybe they would help.

As he shambled out of the bodega into the daylight the ringing in his ears came back with no warning and louder than ever. He knew he had to move, to get away from the area before the big guy came back for more but he could barely stand upright. He clutched his head as the world reeled around him and leaned against the cool plate glass of the store window. A burst of white noise shot through his head like an icy jet of water and he staggered out into the street - what the hell was happening? He felt his legs moving under him, felt himself propelled through space but he couldn't see anything, couldn't make his eyes focus.

What was going on? Aneurysm? Ischemic event? His brain felt like it was shrinking in his head - was this all he got for his hard work, half a day's worth of intellect? Was he going to lose it now?

He felt something hard and metallic collide with his thighs and he forced himself to stop moving. He reached down and felt a railing, a metal railing that he clutched to as he sank down to his knees. With great effort he forced his eyes open and knelt there staring, staring with a desperate intensity at the Hudson in front of him. If he had taken another three steps he would have fallen in.

Everything was so vivid, clearer than it had ever been in life. Gary looked up at New Jersey across the water, at the hills there and saw the ground shake. He clutched hard at the railing as the earth rolled beneath him and cracks ran through the rock, cracks spouting noxious black fumes that filled the whole world with their smoke.

Behind him at the bodega the big guy's trucker hat rolled off his head as he collapsed to the pavement. His hands spasmed as the spark of animation flowed out of him and his eyes fluttered closed.