“Don’t you dare,” she warned.
“I don’t like apples,” John said as he turned the package over in his hands. He then opened it up and popped the entire offering into his mouth. His teeth were coated in a chocolate substance as he over-exaggerated his chews.
Mirabelle grabbed him a drink of Kool-Aid when she realized he was having difficulty with his breakfast.
“Breakfast of champions, Bruce Jenner would be rolling over in his grave (or maybe not, he could still be alive or a zombie),” I mumbled as he washed it down with the vile liquid.
“My wife’s in Philly, and she works at a hotel in downtown.”
We had at least something to go on. It sure beat driving around until John recognized something. It was like the sugar acted as a direct infusion to his cognitive thought processes. That was something I would keep in mind. When we stopped for antacids I would add Snickers onto the list of things I needed to get. “Is that downtown?”
“Yes, and why are you wearing Daisy Dukes?” he asked.
“Do they make my ass look fat?” I asked back, trying to deflect the question.
“I’d rather not know,” was his diplomatic answer.
“Are you ready to go?”
“You’re going out like that?”
“I don’t have much choice.”
“Yeah…then I’m ready whenever you are,” he told me.
I made sure that Luke and Mirabelle realized how open the invitation to Maine was. They seemed somewhat interested, but I couldn’t imagine them actually leaving their homestead any time soon. Unless, of course, Luke’s wife could no longer wrangle up Ding Dongs or whatever the chocolate-like treats he liked were called.
Luke and John embraced and cried like they were brothers or friends who had known each other for decades. “I’m going to miss you, man,” John said as he wiped his face.
“Besides Mirabelle here, you’re the best person I’ve ever met,” Luke said, trying unsuccessfully to mask his own water works.
They hugged again. Both men’s shoulders were bobbing. I didn’t know if I should feel jealous or not. I think if I walked out the door and never saw John again he would merely forget he had ever met me. After another ten minutes of them making excuses not to part, we were seated in the Gremlin. John had his hand pressed up against the glass as we passed by Luke’s and Mirabelle’s. I waved. Their kindness had been like a small hiker’s cabin amidst a raging blizzard. I would not soon forget the reprieve, and I did not think John ever would.
“You alright, bud...Trip?”
“He was a kindred spirit,” John said, finally looking through the front windshield as opposed to the rear.
“Maybe after you get your wife, you can go back. It’s not that far.” He seemed to perk up after that.
“Do you think Stephanie would want to?” he asked earnestly.
My first thought was to say ‘how the fuck would I know?’ “If she sees how important it is to you, then I’m sure she’ll want to.” Although, in all honesty, I thought the odds were much slimmer than that. Odds that I figured her to be alive were about ten percent; odds that we’d find her in addition to her being well at about one percent. Odds that we found her alive and well AND she would want to hunt down her husband’s long lost friend from yesterday? I figured that to be an unimaginably small number, the type that scientists used when they were trying to figure out the weight of atoms.
John, in contrast to his earlier mood, seemed completely upbeat. He must not have received my odds sheet from Vegas yet. Beside wearing too short shorts and a tight wife beater t-shirt, plus driving in a lime green Gremlin, the day was going exceedingly well. I knew I had cosmically cursed myself the moment I had the thought. Nothing changes the fates quicker than telling the universe that everything is going great! Might as well flip a cop off doing ninety with a bottle of tequila in your lap and marijuana cigarette hanging out of your mouth. That’s about how quickly our day went from ‘wicked pissah’ to ‘what the fuck?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Eliza & Tomas
“You ready, Tomas?” Eliza asked as she headed for their vehicle.
Tomas stared back at the city as the last few fires sputtered on. There wasn’t much left at this point that could keep it going. He turned to catch up with her. “I am, Lizzie. I just want this to all be over.”
“Are we still on the same side, brother?” Eliza asked as she sat down.
“I will not raise my hand up against you, if that is what you mean,” he told her as he walked around the front of the black glassed Dodge.
“When Michael Talbot’s family are begging for my mercy, you will not help them?” she mused. “I find that somewhat difficult to believe.”
“You believe what you want, Eliza. I have not lied to you.” What he failed to elaborate on was that he would also not lift a finger to help her if the tables were somehow turned.
“I think we are in for some fun in Maine. Maybe not as much as the Black Plague, but certainly something to rival it.”
Tomas had finally come to the realization of who—and more importantly what—his sister had become. No amount of reasoning, pleading, begging, or crying would change that. She had become a monster to rival anything ever produced in the pages of a book or on the cells of a film. He only had two hopes left; one was that, once she had destroyed Talbot’s family, the hatred that burned so deeply within her would be extinguished. Or that the resourceful Talbots were able to gain the upper hand and destroy his sister. Either way would almost be a relief.
Tomas turned the car around and got back onto the highway; the restocked tractor trailer convoy packed full of speeders and a new, deadly surprise followed suit. Once the initial attack had subsided, a fair portion of Eliza’s human familiars had returned, those were bolstered by her new henchman leader Kong and his trucker friends. She had drained a few of the deserters dry for their actions. The men that were following Eliza knew they had made a deal with the devil, but when you’re faced with hell, options are limited. Eliza could barely contain her excitement, her black eyes shined brightly as Tomas drove on.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Maine
It was early evening and Mrs. Deneaux was sitting on the deck overlooking the pond. Her gaze had that far away look as she reflected back on her life.
“Beautiful out here isn’t it?” Tracy asked as she came out the sliding door. She was holding a steaming cup of tea, hoping that it would somehow drive the cold in her soul away.
“I’ve seen prettier,” Mrs. Deneaux said as she took a drag.
Tracy looked past the comment. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
Mrs. Deneaux looked over to the woman suspiciously. “For what?”
“BT told us all what you did. He said they probably wouldn’t have made it if not for you. I just wanted to thank you for bringing my brother-in-law and friend back.”
Mrs. Deneaux’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know why I did it?”
“I would imagine because their well being meant something to you,” Tracy replied not sure of the basis to Deneaux’s question.
“I did it because I stood a better chance of surviving with them than without them. Not because I have any personal affinity for either one. I think your brother-in-law is a dolt personally, and BT was just your husband’s lackey. Without Mike directing him, he is as unsure of himself as an eighteen-year-old virgin with a hooker. Now Michael I miss, that was a man that could get out of a jam, smart enough to know what to do and dumb enough to do it himself.” She laughed at her wit.
Tracy was aghast.
“Oh don’t look so surprised, dearie, self-preservation is a pretty strong motivator.”
“At the expense of all others?” Tracy asked.
“Who should be more important to me than me?”
“And you can live with yourself like that?”
“Quite comfortably,” Deneaux answered. She turned back to the pond as a lone loon landed and made an other-wo
rldly cry. Deneaux took another drag from her cigarette. “Are we done talking?” she asked. Tracy had already gone back in.
“Fun isn’t she?” BT asked as Tracy fumed past.
She stopped to respond. “You didn’t at some point think killing her and dropping her on the side of the roadway was a good idea?”
“Every couple of miles, but she never put the damn pistol away,” he responded truthfully.
“How’s Gary doing?” Tracy asked, trying to take her mind off of Deneaux.
“He’s pretty torn up. He thinks he alone is responsible for Mike’s death.”
“That’s ridiculous, Mike is...was a grown man.” Tracy swallowed hard as she made the adjustment from present to past tense.
“He can’t help it, as his big brother he feels like he should have been able to protect him.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Tracy said.
“That’ll do him some good, I think,” BT replied.
“Do you think it’s over, BT?” Tracy asked, her eyes pleading for some hope. “Will my children, will my grandchild be able to live in a world in recovery?”
BT wanted to, no, needed to give her the answer she so desperately sought. He could not find it, though, and remained silent.
Cindy who had been seated in the room, her eyes red from crying, looked at the two of them. “We’re all dead. There is no hope for us. All day long we prepare for the zombies. We are trying so hard to keep them out never realizing that in so doing we are preventing ourselves from being able to leave. And I’m sorry, but this isn’t the Garden of Eden, I don’t want to spend all eternity here. The zombies do not die on their own unless we kill them…they will ALWAYS be out there!” She shouted. “How can we possibly defeat that? Even if we somehow keep them from coming in, what have we gained?”
Tracy wanted to argue with her that, as long as they were alive, they had a chance; she just didn’t have it in her. She was sadder in life than she could ever remember being and she could not see a way to a better place. The survivors on the planet were quickly gravitating to two distinct groups. There were the Cindys; they were defeated and merely marking time until the end. On the far side of the spectrum were the Deneauxs: the ultra-survivors that would do all in their power to stay alive no matter who they had to crush in order to get there.
Mike had treaded the line in between, firmly holding on to the belief that they could somehow not only survive but win, without sacrificing who he was. With his passing, so too did that dream seem to have evaporated. If not for her children, Tracy thought she might find a way to visit Mike sooner.
***
“I was wondering when you would find me,” Gary said to his sister-in-law.
“It wasn’t easy,” Tracy said. She had spent the last ten minutes hunting him down only to find him at the end of Ron’s driveway.
He turned towards her, his eyes shot through with red. Tracy thought that he probably hadn’t slept since they got back. “I’m so sorry, Tracy,” he started.
“For what?” she asked wholeheartedly.
“Mike.”
“Stop it, just stop the ‘woe is me’, Gary. I heard what happened. How could you possibly blame yourself?”
“I left him behind.”
Tracy pressed on, even though she faltered for a moment as she thought about Mike dropping to his knees in the middle of the roadway. “Didn’t he pretty much beg you to leave?”
“Yes,” Gary said, looking down at his feet.
“And what if you hadn’t?” she asked. She waited for long seconds, Gary did not answer. “You’d both be dead. That’s what would have happened. BT would have had to come here and tell your father that he lost two sons!” she said heatedly.
“I wished it were me.” Tears now flowing freely.
“That’s always the case, isn’t it? We’d always like to take the place of the one we lost, and I don’t think it is nearly as selfless an act as we would have ourselves believe.”
“What?” Gary said, looking up from his shoes to Tracy’s hard set of features.
“Taking the place of someone we love. It’s not all we think it is, any of us would do it in a heartbeat. Oh, I guess partly because we’d like that other person to be safe, but you know what the bigger part of the equation is?” Gary was looking at her wonderingly. “It’s so we’re not left behind to harbor the guilt, the what-ifs, and the pain of moving on without the person we love. How much easier would it be to just be in the void of death? No feelings, no pain, no remorse, and especially no guilt,” she said as she propped Gary’s dropping face with her hand.
“He was my brother,” Gary sobbed.
“He was my everything,” Tracy said solemnly. “And I hold not one shred of blame against you Gary…not one. So if I don’t, you shouldn’t either. Do you understand?”
He nodded. “Thank you, Tracy. Mike was a lucky man.”
“I like to think so.”
Gary walked away. Tracy thought his spirits may have been improved. She couldn’t truly tell, though, because she was sobbing.
***
Justin had been watching the exchange between his mother and his uncle from the window in the living room. He was still having a difficult time coming to grips that his father had passed; and now, whether he wanted it or not, he was now the man of the house. It was not a responsibility he felt he was quite ready for or one in which he felt qualified. Especially since he had just recently started to hear the siren call of Eliza in the deepest recesses of his mind.
She was tugging on the folds of his being. At first it was so subtle that he thought it was merely an echo of possession, but he could no longer deny it, whatever was happening was increasing. It had gone from a ghost feeling to a feathery light touch and he was not of the ilk to believe it would subside.
“Easter Evans was a sham,” he said aloud as he absently rubbed his forehead, referring back to the man in Virginia that had supposedly exercised his demons. “She was just biding her time. She made it look like she was gone, and now she’s going to use me to kill the rest of my family. Well I’m not going to fucking let her!” His thoughts were not nearly as convinced.
Travis had been by the entrance to the living room about to tell his brother that their Uncle Ron needed their help with one of the fences. He had wondered who Justin was talking to, and when he peeked in and realized it was only himself, he had for some reason not let himself be known. Travis had noticed that his instincts had been amped up since the zombies came and he was heeding their advice now to not be seen.
Eliza’s back, Travis thought as Justin was talking. He was wondering how long Justin would take to come to that realization and if he would ever tell the rest of the group. He quickly left when Justin stopped speaking. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thought. At least as long as he didn’t say it aloud his mother couldn’t berate him for it.
***
“Would you believe me if I told you I don’t have a shred of evidence but that I know Eliza is on her way?” Travis said to his uncle who was seated on his small backhoe.
“No evidence?” Ron asked.
“Not so much as a napkin with a lipstick stain.”
“And you’re sure of it?”
“I am, Uncle Ron.”
“Any chance you could tell me why you believe that?”
“I could, but I have my reasons not to right now.” Basically I want to see how long it takes my brother to raise the flag. The longer it takes him to warn us the less I’m going to trust him.
Ron held his nephew’s gaze for a few moments, looking for any seeds of doubt in the young man’s face, when he was satisfied there were none he spoke. “How long?”
“Not as long as we want. Other than that, I don’t have any answers.”
“Not very forthcoming are you?” Ron asked. “Fine, we’ll play this your way for now, but eventually we’ll have to talk. Where’s your brother?”
“Damn I knew I forgot to do something.”
***
“You alright, dad?” Lyndsey asked her father.
He was standing in his living room holding a portrait of his family they had taken at Sears. His wife Mary had dragged him out because they were having a sale on the pictures. It had taken over an hour to get his four boys still enough to get proper clothes on them and get their hair combed, but that still paled to the two hours his princess Lyndsey had taken primping her eight-year-old self.
He turned to his daughter with the $4.99 portrait in his hand. “When I look at this picture, I can only see black exes where I should see your mom, Glenn, and Mike’s faces.”
“Oh, dad,” Lyndsey said as she came in to be next to her father.
“And I can’t help but wonder who the next black ex will descend on. It is against the nature of the universe for a parent to watch their children die, yet two of mine have passed and I have not even been able to bury either one. Where is the justice in that?”
Lyndsey had a myriad of platitudes, ‘It’ll be okay, we’ll make it, hang on, live to fight another day’ but they were just hollow words. They had no meaning beyond the airwaves they pushed with the sound of them. She did what she could to console her father.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Mike Journal Entry 9
“What the fuck is that?” I asked, but not really to John. He was sleeping, and hard if the line of drool extending down his chin was to be used as an indicator. Down off the highway was a truck rest area, replete with a service station and greasy spoon restaurant. That was not the interesting part. Had I known just how close I was to Eliza, I would have just whipped a U-turn and headed to parts unknown. The truck stop was full, I mean packed with trucks.
The owners of this particular spot had probably never seen so many customers at any one time, and my bet was they weren’t even around to enjoy it anymore. The place was bustling, and for some unfathomable reason I had to see why—never quite understood that need in me to be exposed to unnecessary risks. I pulled the car off the highway and down a slight embankment that was actually a little steeper than I had figured. I looked to my right and back up the incline wondering if the Gremlin was going to have enough power or traction to get us back on the roadway.