Wwz Key To The City Documents -

— Chloe V., Mayor of St. Petersburg, 2034

The UN came. The “Great Panic” was over. They had a vaccine, or a cure, or at least a way to make the dead stay dead. The helicopters landed on the roof of the parking garage we’d turned into a hospital. wwz key to the city documents

We held the pier for three weeks. Two hundred and forty survivors. Fishermen, nurses, a surprisingly effective librarian named Maury who could kill a zombie with a boat hook. We called ourselves the Sunshine Militia, which was a joke, because the sun had turned gray with the smoke from Tampa burning. — Chloe V

“Key to the city,” I said. “It means I’m in charge.” They had a vaccine, or a cure, or

“What’s this?” he asked.

They gave me the key on a Tuesday. The first one, I mean. The real one, made of brass, the size of a child’s hand. The City Council was long gone—fled to a FEMA camp in Georgia that probably doesn’t exist anymore. I was the only one left in the municipal building because the Coast Guard cutter had room for exactly three more people, and my wife was already on it.

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “It’s the only thing keeping us civil.”