Once again, Frank had a headache.

He woke up with the taste of fish-sticks and motor oil coating his mouth. The kids had set him up with a sleeping bag and a pillow which, he'd taken out to the hyper-clean reception area. He'd found a comfortable spot behind the massive reception desk, wedged between a plastic tree and a copy machine.

The tiles were cold, but Frank's body radiated a sickly heat. Plus, there was the warmth of the body he was spooning.

His head twitched back much faster than he would have liked. Pain swam in the form of ghostly spots in his field of vision.

This body should not be warm.

He blinked hard and tried to focus. In the early morning light, it was difficult to tell what color the hair was draped across the pillow. Everything looked muted and blue.

He remembered talking with Jane outside for a long time. They'd gone somewhere but it took a few seconds for Frank to reconstruct the events in his murky head.

That was it!

They'd driven back to the Target and retrieved Jane's swimsuit. And then... then... did we really go on a skunk hunt?

Emily rolled over and looked at him sleepily.

"Morning, hot-stuff," she said.

Frank was up in an instant, miscalculating his trajectory and ending up in a short but vicious scuffle with the plastic tree. He stammered at her, unable to form a complete sentence.

"Good god, you sound like Tristen," she said, rolling back over and tucking the pillow up under her chin.

"But... what... where's... where's Jane?"

"I don't know. Still out by the pool, probably. God, my head feels like shit."

"The pool?" he said it like it meant nothing to him—like he'd never heard the word before in his life.

"Yes. The place you go to swim. You guys were pretty fucked up by the time you got back—I didn't know zombies could get drunk. You were making all this fucking noise, so I came out to see what was up... since nothing was happening with Tristen." She rolled her eyes. "It's bad enough that you can't kiss the guy cause of that fucking mask thing but then he was too nervous to do anything else." She made the universal sign for limp penis—an extended finger drooping, accompanied by a sad whistle. "You guys were swimming in that fucking disgusting water but then after a few more drinks, I was like... cannonball!"

"The... the pool?" Frank said.

"Yes, dipshit, the pool. By the way, nice of you to go back to Target and get Jane's swimsuit but not mine."

"I didn't know you had one."

"It was in the same pile you put Jane's in. I didn't have one last night." Her eyes flashed down for a second to Frank's midsection. "You and I wore the same thing."

It was then that Frank noticed his nudity.

He grabbed the plastic tree and futilely attempted to hide behind it.

It wasn't working so he grabbed one end of the sleeping bag and yanked it up to his crotch only to find that he'd now uncovered Emily's thin, naked body.

"Hey, it's cold." She yanked it back.

Frank ran to the other side of the desk. "Where are my clothes?"

"Probably with Jane at the pool. Now, I want to sleep more so could you go have your panic attack somewhere else?"

"We didn't... you and I..."

She turned back over and looked at him. "You don't remember?"

"I... we couldn't've... but..."

"Well, if you can't remember, I'm not gonna to tell you," she said laughing then said, "Ow," and pushed the heels of her hands against her temples. "My head is pounding. Kinda like what you may or may not have been doing to me last night."

"But... I'm old enough to be your fath... your older brother."

"For your information, I'm probably legal... in some states... and Canada." She rolled back over showing him her boney back. "Well, thanks for the wild ride, bro," she said into the pillow. "Now, go away."

Frank stood for a moment, not sure what to do.

He couldn't remember anything about a pool, swimming, seeing Emily.

It didn't seem possible, but his headache got worse.

The room began to tilt and sway as the gummy film in his mouth got thicker. He ran, with one hand covering his mouth, out the front doors into the blinding morning sunlight and heaved the contents of his stomach onto the dewy grass.

"Have fun last night?" came a muffled voice.

Frank looked up and saw Tristen sitting on an ATV, flanked by the rest of the gasmask kids.

"We were just gonna go for a ride... wanna come?" The other kids laughed in their masks. Frank covered his nether regions and felt his cheeks getting hot. He turned abruptly and headed back into the building.

It was time to find his clothes—he'd had enough of being naked in front of minors.

The pool area was enclosed by a half-dome of tinted glass. The smell in the room was awful. It was the water. As he got closer to the edge, he noticed the green and brown haze, floating like an oil-slick on the calm surface. The edges of the pool were slimy with algae that crept down the walls into the opaque water. He suppressed the urge to continue vomiting.

Jane was passed out on the diving board, face down, her arms and legs hanging over the sides. She had a towel over her—as though someone had placed it there.

Did I do that? Frank wondered.

He found his clothes neatly folded and stacked. They were damp and cold, but he didn't want to go back out to the Suburban and chance seeing Tristen and the kids again so, he put them on.

Tentatively, he approached Jane.

She wasn't breathing which, at first, startled him and then made total sense.

Her thin arms and legs hung limp, the way Emily's finger had, just a few inches above the reeking water. Her hair had dried in clumps and her cheek was smooshed out. Her purple lips were parted slightly, pressed against the rough surface of the diving board. It looked like the staple had fallen out at some point but, miraculously, the cut was gone. It was now just a little dark purple line.

She'd... healed?

One of her eyes opened. "Hey," she said.

"Hey."

Jane forced herself to sit up, straddling the board. The towel fell away to reveal her naked back, bisected only by the string tie of her bikini. Her skin was pale nearing the point of translucence. "Ugh," she said. "Well, I guess the experiment was a success."

"Yeah." Frank said quietly.

"God lord. How much did I drink?"

"I wish I could tell ya."

She was examining her chest and stomach where the dappled surface of the diving board had left an impression. "I'm textured," she said pulling the front of her bikini away so only she could see. "Even my boobs. I look like I have scales."

Frank didn't know what to say so he offered his hand to help her over to the freezing tiles. She took it and struggled to collect her balance.

"God, my legs feel weak."

Frank picked up the towel and put it around her shoulders. She didn't need it—she wasn't cold. But she took it anyway. "Well, that was a fun night," she said, grinning.

"Yeah."

"Thanks for taking me back to Target."

"No problem."

"I have to say, it is a miracle you didn't hit any trees on the way back."

"I wish I could remember."

"You don't remember?"

"Nothing after Target... and only a little before," Frank admitted.

"What about the 'Great American Skunk Hunt?'"

"Okay, that really did happen," he nodded.

"Yeah, but we didn't find a skunk we found a raccoon."

"We did?"

"You don't remember that either?"

Frank shook his head.

"What about swimming?" Jane asked.

He shook his head again.

"Jesus... guess you were pretty far gone."

"Guess so."

"I can't believe we swam in that," she said nodding at the pool. "You must have been cold."

He shrugged.

She looked at him with a bit of concern pinching the corners of her eyes. "You might want to keep an eye on that drinking problem of yours."

"You know, I was just thinking the same thing," Frank said reluctantly.

"Hold on, I gotta pee." She rushed over on clumsy feet to the girl's locker room.

Frank's mind reeled. He was pretty sure he hadn't slept with Emily... pretty sure... but beyond that he was dealing with an all-encompassing feeling of haunting guilt that tugged naggingly, at the back of his brain. Even if nothing had happened with Emily, he was sure the feeling would have remained.

He'd cheated on Jane with his blackout.

He'd been washed away into a booze fueled nowhere land where the only person that mattered was him. It was the burning guilt of selfishness.

Jane came back out of the locker room. "I think that might've been the first time I've peed since I died. Weird huh?"

"Yeah."

"You know what else?" She looked at Frank's sallow face, chapped lips and the bruised skin under his eyes.

"No hangovers?" he said squinting.

"Yeah. Sorry. But I have to admit, I'm glad I don't feel the way you look."

"Yep. It's pretty much the worst."

Emily staggered in wrapped in Frank's sleeping bag. "I feel like waffles. I wish we had some fucking waffles."

The sound of a massive explosion and breaking glass tumbled down the hallway after Emily, sending her staggering forward. The half-dome shook, and the murky water rippled.

"What the fuck was that?" Emily asked.

But Frank was running past her toward the front of the building. As he ran, another explosion rocked the foundations of the Kinderman Center and nearly tossed him on his ass.

He rounded a corner and saw the lobby covered in the remnants of the building's shattered façade. Glass littered the floor. The sun sparkled off the pieces, making it difficult to see out to the grounds.

Jane and Emily joined Frank at the corner—Emily was twisted up in her tiny tee-shirt, having attempted to put it on while running, her shorts and boots dangling from her hand.

"What's going on?" Jane asked.

"I'm not sure?"

"Is that the Suburban?" Emily pointed as she pulled on her cut-offs.

It was.

There was another explosion, presumably one of the gas tanks in the back, that lit up the scene in hellish glory. The Suburban was a mass of fire and blackened metal.

"Oh god! All our Target shit was in there," Emily shrieked. She started to head toward the doors, but Frank held her back.

"There still might be some gas left." And on cue, another explosion knocked the remaining bits of glass out of their frames and blew Emily's hair back with a warm gust.

"Holy fuck," Emily said coming back around Jane and sitting hard against the wall.

"Well said," Frank whispered.

"Why was she naked?" Jane asked looking daggers at Frank.

"What?"

"Why was she naked?"

Frank looked at her, disbelieving, shaking his head slightly. "Wha..."

"Wasn't that the sleeping bag that Tristen gave you?" she asked. "The one she had wrapped around her naked body?"

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"I'm just curious," Jane crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes.

Emily was overhearing the exchange but didn't say anything—just cracked a devious grin.

"Look... we'll talk about this later," Frank pleaded.

"So, something did happen."

"No. Jane... just... look," he motioned to the molten mound of Suburban outside. "We've got other issues to tend to right now." He spotted some movement out by the tree line, beyond the flames.

Jane was mumbling something about Frank needing to tend to his own issues.