Charlotte Hoaks. . . .(C. A. Hoaks)

Feces covered the floor along with the remains of several empty dog food bags. Metal cans, probably dog food littered the room. There were signs of the dog’s attempts at opening the cans.  A couple punctures at one end were too small to get more than a bit of juice.

“Start looking in the cabinet over there.  Put everything that even looks slightly medical.  Be sure to get the thing that looks like a microwave, it’s an autoclave. I’ll help as soon as I get one of these cans opened.” Randy announced.

Miguel flicked his light to the back of the room and saw the cart.  He rolled it to the medical cabinets and immediately unplugged the autoclave and put it on the top of the cart.  He opened cabinets and piled full boxes of supplies on the cart.

Randy used his knife to open a can of some wet food and dumped it into a shinny metal bowl.  He walked to the cage and set the bowl at the door.  In a second bowl, he dumped a bottle of water from his pack.

He turned and crossed the room a stack of plastic tubs that contained towels. He found a box of trash bags and dumped the contents into the bag.  He passed the tub with it’s lid to Miguel to put supplies in. He repeated the process and then tied end of both bags. He set the second tub on the floor in front of him and began emptying the drug cabinet.  He grabbed everything in the cabinet.  He opened drawers and found prepared and sealed surgical trays. Those went in the tub as well.  The last of the tubs was used for odds and end from the examination rooms.

Randy glanced around the room one last time. “Let’s go.”

He tossed two of the bags on top of the cart and Miguel opened the door to the front of the office.  Randy turned at the sound of soft foot fall behind him.  He turned to see a dark shadow following him.

“Shit.”  Randy sighed. “Keep going.  I gotta do something about the fucking dog.”

Randy stopped and held out his hand and the shadow slowly approached.  When the damp nose nuzzled his hand he sighed.  “I guess you’re coming with us.”

The animal seemed to make a decision too and walked closer.  Randy saw a gray merle Australian Shepard. The poor animal was a mess.  The hair was matted, the feet covered in muck.

“Stay.”

Randy returned to the back room, found a box and picked up the whole cans he could find, a couple leashes, a brush, comb, nail clippers and a ball.  He hurried after Miguel in time to see the last of the supplies being loaded into his truck.

When he stepped into the sunlight he realized everyone was looking at him.  He shrugged.  “What?”  He growled.  “I couldn’t leave the mutt.”

Liz turned at the sound of the kids running from the camper.

Trace squealed. “Can we keep her?”

“We know how to take care of her.  We had a dog.” Cody added.

Randy threw the end of the leash to Liz.  “You’re good at taking in strays.  Here’s another one.”

Liz started to protest but the kids and swooped in and began petty the dog.

Harry cleared his throat.  “Hate to break this up, but we need to get moving here.”

“Everything gassed up?”  Randy asked as he helped Miguel throw a net over the supplies in the back of his truck. “Let’s move out. We go to the drugstore then head out.  We gotta meet the old man and his family this afternoon.”

“We can’t take the dog.” John protested.  “It stinks like shit.”

Randy laughed.  “Yeah.  You can tell the kids that.” He dropped the box in John’s arms.

“Son-of-bitch.” John growled as he followed the kids, dog, Liz and Harry into the camper.

“We can give her a bath….”  Trace began.

Liz covered her face with her hand.  “Not right now.”

Harry cranks the engine and called over his shoulder.  “Open the windows until you get the shit cleaned off that dog.”

Liz complied with a chuckle while she directed the kids to the table to sit down.  “Stay where you are until we get outta the town.”

While the black mare stood back watching, Della jammed the file between the top horizontal board and the post, wrapped the rag over the end and pulled.  She grunted and groaned with exertion.  Sweat beaded on her faced.  Her arms ached with the strain then suddenly a squeak of the board pulling the nail from the post startled her and she stumbled back.  She grabbed the hammer and wedged the pointed end into the opening.  She leaned all her weight into the handle.  The second nail began moving with its own protesting squeak. A moment later the board pulled free and she fell to her butt gasping for breath.

More of the infected now pressed against the fencing protecting the barn yard.  Della scrambled to her feet and grabbed the end of the board and pull until the nails on the opposite end pulled free. It fell to the ground.

Without really taking time to catch her breath, she repeated the process with the top end of the front cross board. She pulled and jerked at the end of the board with the hammer.  Suddenly the handle snapped and the board pulled free.  Della stumbled back to her feet and stepped behind the board to pry the opposite end free.

She heard the snap of wood breaking but instead of the wood in her hands falling to the ground the tension remained.  Still confused, she pushed again and the wood fell away.  The black mare screamed in terror.

Della turned around in time to see infected spilling over the broken fencing into the barn yard.  She got to her feet and grabbed the hammer.  She darted back to pick up the medical bag and satchel.

“This way!”  She shouted.

The black mare and other horses startled and raced toward away from the downed fencing.  When the infected stumbled toward Della the mare galloped between Della and the infected. The infected turned from Della and stumbled after the terrified thorough-bred.

Dell picked up her bags and stepped over the last cross board on the fencing.  She stuck two fingers between her lips and blew. A sharp shrill whistle drew the attention of infected and horses alike.

“Best I can do!” She shouted then turned and ran along the paddock fence back to the ATV.

Ten minutes later Della climbed on the ATV and cranked the engine.  She backed the machine out of the brush and steered the four-wheeler through the brush to the edge of the blacktop. She accelerated and the heavy tires climbed from the ditch to the blacktop.  She clutched, shifted and accelerated.  Once on the open road, she clutched and slipped the machine into the top gear anxious to leave the ranch behind.

She glanced over her shoulder hoping to see at least a couple of the horses had escaped but the road was empty except for the wreckage at the front of the ranch gate. A little sad, Della turn back to face the road ahead.  She settled in for the long ride home and suddenly the engine began to sputter and cough.

“Crap.”  Della whispered.  “Please, let it be just the gas.”

She down shifted and stopped the machine.  She turned off the engine and sat still for a moment listing to the ticking of the cooling engine.  She tapped on the gas tank and frowned.

She stepped off and walked to the back of the ATV.  She unhooked the bungee from the gas can and carried it to the tank. She poured gas and realized the tank was barely half empty.  She recapped can and put it back on the back bumper and secured it.

Della stepped back on the machine and turned the key.  The starter coughed then died.

“Shit!”  She cursed.

She climbed back off the machine and walked around the machine looking at the motor.  Who was she kidding?  She knew nothing about motors. She looked at the wires and tubing…tubing.  That was it! She forgot to open the valve on the gas line.

“Idiot!”

Della turned the red valve then climbed on the machine just as the sound of heavy clomping steps came up behind her.  Afraid to even look back, she turned the key and the engine cough twice then cranked.  She popped the clutch and the ATV took off.  When she was headed away from the sound she glanced over her should and laughed.

The terror melted as she saw the black mare leading four more horses toward her.  Della eased off on the gas.  The thoroughbreds followed at a steady trot.

“What in the hell do I do now?” She whispered.

Della pondered the problem with her entourage as she cruised down the highway and before she knew it she was turning on the gravel road up toward the corral and cabin. That’s it. The corral. There’s a shed with hay and a windmill keeping the water trough full.  At least for the time being.

Della pulled the ATV to the shed and turned off the engine.  The quiet was heavy and almost frightening after the ride on the growling machine. She stepped to the gate and held it open as she watched the black mare lead the other through the opening.  The black stopped and whinnied.

“I know. It’s not home but it’s as good as it’s gonna get for a while.” Della chuckled.

“What are you doing with horses?”  A deep male voice asked from behind Della. She jumped and spun around grabbing for the gun in her bag. “Easy.  It’s just me.” Zack continued.

Della slowly closed the gate. “It’s a long story.  I think we need to give them some hay and try to wipe them down.  They’ve had a long trip.”

Zack looked puzzled. “Where did you go on the ATV?”

“The horse ranch. Steve needs antibiotics.” She answered as she pulled a square bale of hay from the barn toward the fence.  She pulled off the string on one side then the other.  She dropped half the cakes of hay over the fence. Della picked up a handful of hay and stepped inside the pen. The black horse came to her for a nuzzled nudging at her arm.  Della slid her hand with the hay down the strong sleek neck. The mare shivered and straightened her neck.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Della chuckled.  “Come on Zack, you could help.”

“No.  Not me.  I’m a city boy.” He answered with a grin.

Della quickly wiped down the sweat-covered animal.  When she was finished, she grabbed a fresh handful of hay and walked toward another horse, but the animal shied away. Della barely got close enough to touch a flank or brush a shoulder of the other four animals.  Finally, she sighed and dropped the hay to the ground.

“Let’s get to the cabin. Steve needs the medicine.”

Della stepped out of the farm manager’s office and glanced at her watch.  She had been gone nearly three hours and needed to get back to the cabin. Steve was in bad shape and she had to get the antibiotics back to him as soon as possible.  If not, well, she knew his chances of surviving the infection raging through his body diminished with each hour he was without antibiotics. She only hoped what she found would be strong enough.

Since Della had been inside the building, the infected had lost interest in the carcasses of the horses in the paddock.  Now they pressed against the wooden fence surrounding the outbuildings of the horse ranch, anxious to get the remaining horses.

She sighed.  Her releasing the horses from the paddock provided temporary respite for the remaining animals from the infected, but now they were as trapped as she was in the barn. She could climb over the fencing at the side of barn lot but the horses would still be trapped with the monsters. She studied the white fencing and realized the concentration of infected against the boards would soon pull the nails from the post.  The black mare and the other horses were doomed.

Della pulled the shoulder bag close, turned and ran toward the barn and the side fence beyond.  She heard galloping hooves and turned to see the black mare racing after her.  Della stopped and the mare slowed to stroll up to nuzzled against her arm.

“Shit!”  Della looked toward the barn then the mare.  “What am I supposed to do?” She asked as she continued toward the fence until the black whinnied. Della took a deep breath and headed into the stable.

“I’m not making any promises.” She called over her shoulder as the black mare followed.

She ran to stable and down the passageway to the tack room.  She stepped into the room.  Rays of sunlight streamed through the window illuminating the rows of bridles and tack on the side wall.  A work bench under the window included a number of small hammers, pliers and scraps of leather.  Nothing large enough to pull the boards from the post.  Two handmade saddles rested on saw horses. A nearby can of saddle soap and several clothes hinted at the reason for their presence.

“Damn-it…damn-it…damn-it!” Della cursed.  She stepped out of the tack room and glanced around frustrated.  Suddenly she noticed a box at the front of barn entrance.  She hurried to it and swung open the lid.

“Bingo!”

She reached inside and pulled out two farrier hammers.  Both were pretty light weight but she hoped they would do the trick.  As an afterthought, she grabbed a rag and heavy file nearly two feet long. With tools in hand, she jogged to the fence and began walking from the front toward the back, hoping to find a loose board or two. After a full minute, she noticed one pulled away from the post a quarter of an inch.

She dropped her shoulder satchel, the medical bag and tools.  She glanced at the gathering infected at the fence.  Some of the infected had noticed her and the black and followed them to the side of the paddock.  They pressed against the boards with the front most bodies spilling blood and gore over the pristine white in dark rivulets.

Matt walked to the door and tapped on the glass. He waited and listened.  When they heard nothing inside, he reached into his pocket and drew out his LED light.  He flicked it on and passed the beam around the aged living room. The distant wall was covered in a rose floral print paper.  A worn recliner could be seen near a floor lamp with a table and candle.

A doorway to the left led into what Matt imagined was the kitchen since he could see the corner of a chrome leg with a Formica-top. Fanning the beam back to the right he saw a darkened hallway.  Matt tapped against the glass again. Again, they listened.

“Did you hear that?”

“No.  I don’t think I heard anything.” Matt answered as he cocked his head.

“I think I heard something,” Doc answered. “We don’t have to do this.”

“We’ve had this discussion.”

Matt reached out and turned the door knob. The knob moved, and the door swung open a few inches. The stench of death wafted out forcing both men to step back.

“There’s a dead body in there, and it’s had a while to ripen,”  Doc announced.

Matt pulled his t-shirt up over his nose and mouth.  “Hear that? Flies.”

“They’re dead. You do not need to go in there.”

“I have to make sure.  Stay here. No need for you to see this.” Matt answered as he stepped into the dark.

The house reeked of death and decay. Amid the shadows, Matt could see the remnants of lives that no longer existed.  The furnishings resonated with the simplicity of those lives; simple, comfortable, not much for frills.  Above a stone fireplace was an aged picture of a young Marine in uniform with a ribbon with a military medal hanging from the corner. More pictures of a Viet Nam era soldiers were displayed above the stone fireplace. The room appeared as if the residents had just stepped out for an afternoon. Matt heard footsteps and turned to see Doc following him.

“Told you, you didn’t need to come in here.”

“Not the first time I smelled death. Let’s get this over with.” Doc answered.

Matt moved from the living room to the kitchen.  The room was as neat and tidy as the previous room had been. The only thing that seemed out of place was a yellow tablet and pen on the table. Matt fanned the beam from side to side and back to the hall.

“Nothing here. Let’s move on.”

He led Doc deeper into the dark recesses of the house. He glanced through a door to the left and saw a claw foot tub, a toilet and old time pedestal sink.  A hand towel and wash cloth were folded carefully over the towel rack. A second doorway exposed a sparsely furnished bedroom, with a double bed and a dresser and massive wardrobe.  The last door at the end of the hall was closed, and as they drew closer, the stench of death grew even stronger.

Matt stepped to the door and paper crinkled under his foot.  Matt shined the light on the hand written note lying on the floor. He leaned over and picked it up.  A small piece of tape stuck up from the top.  The author had taped it to the door and at some point, the humidity had loosened the glue, and it had fallen from the door.

Matt looked closer. The note was dated five days after the attack.

Son, Your mother, passed peacefully this morning. Did what had to be done to give her peace. My time is short, and I know what will happen. I still have the .45, so I’m choosing when and how I go rather than wait for this infection to take me. I won’t cause more pain and suffering. I pray you, Jenny and the kids are safe and spared this plague. Your mother and I are at peace. Be brave and secure in our love, your father. 

Matt turned to Doc. “Okay, we can go.”

“You’re not going to look? Make sure.” Doc asked.

“Don’t need to. He was a Marine.” Matt returned the paper to the door with a trembling had and replaced the strip of cellophane tape with a piece of duct tape.

“You think the family will come?”  Doc asked.

“No. I think if they survived, they would be here by now.  Let’s look around and see if we can find some real food.  I’ve real tired of gas-station snacks.”

Matt leads Doc back to the kitchen where both men spent a few minutes opening cabinets.

“What about this door?”  Doc placed his hand on a pantry door knob.  Matt retrieved another flashlight from his pocket and tossed the LED light to him.

Doc opened the door and gasped. “Bingo!”

Tate led the small convoy of rescued women and children to an abandoned country store they had passed on the way to Hondo. Once secured, Tate and Matt ushered everyone inside and closed the building up for the night.

With flashlights in hand, the women combed through the goods for clothes, shoes, bedding, and food. They found several large bottles of water in the breakroom.

One of the kids came out of the bathroom giggling.  “It flushed!”

“There’s water in the sink, too.” Theresa, the short dark-haired woman that had assaulted the leader of the survivalists announced with a grin.

Red stepped up and added.  “Wait until we know how much water we have to work with before celebrating.”

“Yeah. Find clothes and food for now. Let me look around first.” Matt answered.

After a little investigating, Matt figured out the bathroom was hooked to a cistern that collected water from the metal roof. He found a filtering system under the bathroom sink. “You can wash in it but only drink bottled water, ladies.”

He walked toward the back door, but Tate stopped him. “Where are you going?”

“I saw a house up on the hill,” Matt answered.  “Maybe the people that own this place lives up there.”

“You don’t need to go up there,” Tate argued.

“Yes, I do. We’re taking and using whatever we find..  Who knows, we maybe the people up there need help.” Matt countered. “Get everyone cleaned up and fed.  They need rest.  Cover up the windows then put a lookout at each window.”

“Fine.  Go drag a couple more helpless people down here to take care of. I’ll never get my truck, and you won’t get your new Hummer.”

“So fucking be it, then.” Matt sniped back as he slipped out the door.

He stepped out into the dark and took a deep breath.  The silence was so heavy it seemed to insulate him from the world. A house was silhouetted against the night sky as if a dark phantom.  No hint of light could be seen through the windows.

Matt walked up the narrow drive, glancing from side to side.  The open pasture on either side of the lane showed no signs of livestock.

Suddenly he heard footsteps. He drew his handgun and fell to a knee to face the intruder.

“Woo. Easy soldier.”  A deep, gravelly voice called out. “Just me.  Bruce.”

Matt rose and stood to wait for the fiftyish man to approach. “Doc I could have shot you.”

“I don’t think so. If you were going to shot, I would be laying in the dirt right now.” Doc laughed as if a real joke.

“What’re you doing out here, doc?

“I needed to get outta there. Sonja and your friend, Tate are a real pair.”

Matt laughed. “Yeah, Tate’s a strong personality, for sure, but you need to go back inside.  I’m going to up to the house and check on the folks.”

I should go with you.” Doc answered. “Someone may need medical help.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were afraid of those two.” Matt laughed.

Doc sighed.  “Those women have been through a lot, and I think having a man around right now is the last thing they need. Helen seems to think when they’re cleaned up and get some rest, they’ll be a little more tolerant.”

“Alright.  Stay behind me and do as I say.” He started walking up the edge of the path waiting in the shadows.

After walking for a few minutes, Doc said. “You know there are more women in Grant’s camp.”

“Yeah.  It was one of the reason’s I wanted to take at least one of those assholes alive. Now we have no idea where they’re camp is.” Matt answered.

Doc fell silent. They walked for several minutes in silence.  As they got closer to the house, they realized the place looked deserted.  No vehicles could be seen.  The house was dark.  No light shown through the windows.  Wind chimes hanging on the front porch jingled on the light breeze. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a loose shutter hinge squeaked.

“No one’s here,” Doc announced.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Maybe family came and picked them up.”

Matt stopped at the edge of the porch and sniffed. “No. I don’t think so.”

“You might be right,” Doc answered.  “No point in going inside.”

Matt passed his machete to Doc and pulled his military knife from the scabbard. “We can’t leave infected to attack someone else.”

“You got a point.” Doc conceded.

“Stay here and if anything gets past me, shoot it.”

“Got it,”  Doc answered.

Brian hustled the civilians deeper into the chapel, and Billy closed the door. He used a candle stand to secure the doors. The place was dark.  Billy gathered half a dozen votive candles from the back wall and followed the others to the front of the chapel.  They settle on the cold stone flooring behind the altar and lit two of the candles.

“I’m freezing,” Margo whispered.

Brian hurried to Margo. “Billy, get food and water out. We need to get her warm. She’s going into shock.” He turned to Paula. “Get over her and get her in dry clothes.”

Billy returned with bags. “This is her bag.

Two hours later the rain had almost quit.  The two women sat huddled together resting on the vestments from the church altar.  At first, both were reluctant by then he pointed out the fact there was probably never going to be another service in this church or any other in town. Leon and Juan were both resting with their backs against the altar.

Brian led Billy to the door. “Now that the rain’s stopped I need to figure out how to get outta here.”

“The boats?” Billy asked.

Brian shrugged.  “Until I look around, I hate to commit to the boats. The flooding is pretty bad. Could be a lot of debris piled up downstream and we’d have no way of know until we ended up on top of a bunch of infected.”

“Shit. I hadn’t thought of that.”  Billy answered.

“I hope we’re far enough south to be able to drive out of the city,” Brian added. “Get everyone up and moving. I’m hoping there will be vehicles still around the monastery, a maintenance truck or something. It’s getting light. Keep everyone inside until I come back.”

“Got it.” Bill gave him a quick nod. “We’ll be ready.”

Brian stepped through the door out into the morning gloom.  A hint of light could be seen on eastern horizon amid the trees and distant office buildings.  He looked around. The grounds were damp and glistening from the cleansing rain.

The property was surrounded by a ten-foot tall concrete wall on three sides.  From the chapel, Brian could see several gravel paths leading through the garden.  To the left was a gazebo. To the right were two buildings, one appearing to be a windowed office.  In front of the chapel over a hundred yards away was a fountain. To the left at the front of the compound, was the residence building, a huge affair with dozens of windows at the front of the building.

Brian jogged through the garden stepping around broken branches and storm debris to the front gate. Once he was sure it was secured, he made his way back to the maintenance shed.  He dodged around the shrubs surrounding the drive connecting the residence to the garage and maintenance shed. A white transport van sat in front of the maintenance shed.  An old Ford Ranger had been left near the gate, with the door still standing open. The Ranger was useless, too many people and too little protection.

“Great.  A short bus.” Brian whispered under his breath. “Figures.”

He looked through the window of the maintenance office and took a deep breath. The glass was smeared with blood as was the outside of the door and door knob. He saw a dead Hispanic man slamming his hands against the glass. His khaki shirt and pants were soaked in blood from gaping wounds on his thin arms.  Seeing the man explained the truck being left in the drive with the door open. He knew he had to protect the residents of the monastery.

Brian glanced toward the gate and saw a solar panel above the gate motor.  He made his way to the front of the bus and peeked in the driver’s side window.  He could see a remote on the sun visor but no keys in the ignition. The keys were probably in the office or maintenance garage.

He pulled the machete from his belt and hurried to the door of the room. He swung the rifle around to his back and reached out for the gore covered doorknob with his left hand.  He turned his hand, but the knob moved ann only fraction of an inch then froze. Locked.

“Smart. Wish you had made it old timer.” Brian whispered.

Brian returned his machete to the scabbard and pulled his rifle free. He raised the butt of the gun and slammed it down on the cheap doorknob. He made a quick second blow, and the knob fell down the three concrete steps. Brian returned the rifle to rest of his back and grabbed the machete.

At the sound of the first blow, the infected man inside turned and stumbled toward the door. By the second blow, he was pressing his gnashing teeth against the glass of the door.

Brian placed his shoulder on the door and slammed against the wood.  The infected man fell back, and Brian stepped inside the office.  He slammed the machete into the old man’s head, and he lay still.

“Sorry, old guy,”  Brian whispered.

He glanced around the office quickly to ensure himself he was alone then began searching the room for keys.  He checked desk drawers, cabinets, even the old man’s pockets but found nothing.  He glanced around the room and noticed two doors on the side wall.

He crossed the room, knocked on the first door and pressed his ear to the wood.  He heard nothing so he slowly turned the knob. It was a bathroom.  He stepped inside, opened a bathroom cabinet and grinned.  He found boxes of individual packets of aspirin, eye drops, Tylenol, Ibuprofen. He stuffed the side pockets of his cargo pants with his find.  He pulled the door closed and went to the second door.

Brian looked through the glass and saw a row of nails on the wall with keys hanging from each.  “Bingo.”

He looked into the dark recesses of the maintenance shed.  From the light from two head-high windows across the back of the room he could see lawn equipment, and a variety of yard tools hung on the back wall.  He thought about tapping on the glass but decided a quick grab was better than taking a chance attracting attention.

He studied the keys.  There were three small keys with tags, mowers probably.  The last two were vehicle keys.  He decided to take them both. One would be the spare for the truck, he imagined. The pair of keys should be the short bus.

With the machete in hand, he toed open the door and grabbed.  He placed his finger through the ring of the single key then reached out for the last two keys.  Before his fingers found the keyrings a crash at the back of the shed shattered the silence.

Brian froze for a fraction of a second, zeroing in on the source of the sound.  Suddenly there was a brush against his leg.  He jumped, dropping the key in his hand and knocking the last two keys from the nail to skitter across the floor.

He looked down to see a black and white cat sliding against his leg.  At a mewing from the cat, there were at least two weak answers from kittens.  The mother cat wandered back into the gloom.

“Well, mama, I wish you luck, but I got shit to do.”

He fell to his knees and swept his hands from left to right searching for the keys on the cold concrete.  Finally, he found one, then another. He dismissed the last key, got to his feet, and pulled the door closed.

He went to the door and pressed the lock on one of the key ring.  The parking lights blinked on the van.  Brian hurried around the side of the van and pointed his LED light at the chapel. The door opened, and Billy led the two men and two women across the garden path to the van.  Each of the five survivors carried, cases of water or containers of food.

With the side door open, Brian opened the back of the van to start accepting supplies. When Paula went to hand him her pack, he shoved it back in her hands.

“Keep it with you, always.”

Billy and Leon handed him cases of water and a buckets food. “Leon and I are gonna go back for the last two cases of water.”

“Be quick,” Brian answered as he stacked the second case of water in the van.

Yes, this is the end of book 2.

I’m working diligently on book 3. I will be continuing the series in a few weeks.

Meanwhile, check out the 1st book published on Amazon.

Terror In Texas:

http://bit.ly/TerrorInTexas

Short Story in the “Torn Apart” series. Hard Choice.

http://bit.ly/HardChoice-Hoaks