“There’s no secret, sweetie, every extra second I spend with you I treasure.”
“I…I think that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“Plus there’s always the chance you’ll make the soufflé I’m so fond of.”
“And there’s the Trip I know and love.” She smiled and hoped that there truly was
a heaven, because she couldn’t imagine spending an eternity without him.
Chapter 17 – Mike Journal Entry 8
After talking with Ron I didn’t want to talk to anyone else—maybe ever. I walked the
perimeter of the fence probably a dozen times before I reneged on my communication
blackout. Gary had almost everybody doing something on the truck retrofitting.
“How much longer?” I asked him through a shower of sparks as he cut through the side
of the truck with a torch.
“Couple of hours at the most,” he replied, not stopping what he was doing.
I walked out.
“Where you going, Talbot?” BT asked, catching up to me.
“I’m going to bury my niece,” I told him.
“You said there were zombies all over the place.”
“I know.”
“It’ll be dangerous and foolhardy.”
“I know that, too.”
“You’re still going to do it, aren’t you.” He said as a statement and not a question.
“I have to, man. I don’t have a choice,” I told him, my voice quavering a bit.
“Don’t give me any shit; I’m coming with you this time.”
I didn’t say anything; his company was welcome. He came back a couple of minutes later
with some spades he had dug out of a maintenance shed.
“Yeah, that’d probably help,” I told him, grabbing one.
“Mike?” Tracy asked, coming out from the garage.
“I have to, Tracy.”
“Hurry back,” she said, giving me a small kiss that gave me the strength I needed
to do what had to be done.
I saw Tommy watching us as we left. I was wondering if he had any thoughts or visions
of what lay before us. I’d been thinking a lot about the kid and the first time we’d
met. I didn’t know if he actually had a spirit guide that showed him signs or omens,
or if it was his own self and he had developed that guise. I guess in the end, it
didn’t matter. He’d saved us many times with his prophecies, the only thing was, he
hadn’t had any in a long while. I wasn’t sure if it was because whatever well he had
been dipping in had run dry or the future was so bleak he didn’t want to share it.
Travis locked up the gate after we walked out. “Tell her I said goodbye,” Travis said
before turning away.
He’d only just gotten his man-card and didn’t want to damage it too much so soon.
It’s perfectly acceptable to cry when no one can see you. He hadn’t been overly close
with his cousin, but they were family and they’d shared enough laughs that he would
miss her shining face.
So there we were, two men walking down a street in a zombie infested town, carrying
shovels, heads bowed.
“You gonna be alright?” BT asked me.
“Oh, I would imagine eventually,” I said, finally gazing at something besides the
pavement in front of my feet. “She was Ron’s firstborn, apple of his damn eye. Daddy’s
little princess and all that. I’m trying to wrap my head around all of this. What
if it was Ron telling me he had to kill Nicole because she was a zombie? I don’t think
I could take it, man.” And BT watching or not, tears were flowing.
“You know I’m not good at this, right?” BT asked as he wrapped me in a hug.
“Still appreciated,” I mumbled into his chest.
“We really should get going,” he told me.
“I know.” I slowly pulled myself away. “Thank you.” We didn’t say anything else until
we began to approach the apartment building. Maybe he was embarrassed or maybe he
was pissed at the snot I’d left on his shirt.
“We’re here,” I said, ducking behind a small hedgerow.
“There are definitely zombies around.” He wrinkled his nose.
“I’m just hoping it’s the dead ones,” I said as I poked my head up to look at the
staircases. They were littered with zombies, some still moving, albeit not in a vertical
position. Severed spines and broken necks or blown off legs were making any true form
of locomotion difficult. The problem was that they would be able to communicate with
their brethren if they caught wind of us.
“That’s gross,” BT said, pointing to a zombie that was pulling itself along the ground
with its chin,. Glass and stone were embedded on the bottom of its face, blood was
pouring from the wound as it shredded the soft skin. Leaving something akin to a giant
red snail-trail
“I wonder what pulled zombie tastes like?” I asked. “I can’t help it, the meat strips
hanging off its chin remind me of barbecue. No one ever said I was right in the head.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“What are we waiting for?” BT asked as he watched my concern. “None of them here can
catch us.”
“The zombies can talk to each other,” I told him as I got back down behind cover.
He looked at me for a bit. He didn’t question my statement in the least. “I really
hate zombies.”
“That makes two of us. We need to finish off the survivors as quickly as possible.”
BT grabbed his rifle.
“Nope.” I pulled my machete from its scabbard.
“Oh come on, man, I’m clean. I’ve got on new shoes. You’ve gotta know how much brothers
value new shoes.”
“Take them off then.”
“That’s cold, man. That’s just cold.”
He might have thought it was ‘cold’ but he was serious about the shoes. He took them
off, tied the laces together, hung them around his neck, and then put them down his
shirt.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“How the fuck do I always get accused of having the issues?”
“You tell anybody about this and we’re through.”
“Nice socks.” He was wearing argyle.
“Just because it’s the end of the world doesn’t mean I should dress that way.”
“I’d love to debate high-fashion with you, but I want to get this shit over with.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
“Damn, are there zombies close by?” I asked, looking around quickly.
BT was on high alert.
“False alarm,” I said, looking at his socks.
“My feet do not stink!”
“Says you,” I told him as I stood. I wanted to come up on the side of the zombies
and give them as little time to shout a warning or a dinner bell. BT was right behind.
I won’t even go into the litany of curses he expressed when his sock-clad foot came
down in what we both hoped was dog crap.
“Don’t say a fucking word.” He bent and gingerly pulled off his sock.
“Damn, your toes look like sausages. And I’m not talking those little cocktail wieners
either. Those are like full grilling sausages. Get a bun and some sautéed onions,
someone could have a feast.”
“Shut the fuck up, Talbot.”
“Spicy mustard.”
He glared at me. I did the wise thing and w
ent silent…for a second or two.
“And not that I like it, but maybe that German coleslaw looking stuff.
“It’s sauerkraut and shut the fuck up.”
“Well, I know who I’m eating first if I go cannibal.”
“Done?”
“I wonder how they’d grill up? Alright, alright, I’m sorry…it’s my coping mechanism.
Do you use ketchup on brats?”
“As soon as I’m done with the zombies me and you are going to have a talk.”
We were about ten feet away when the first zombie caught sight or wind of us—probably
smelled BT. I drove my machete through the relatively soft part of its skull where
its nose was. I wrenched it free just as BT was bludgeoning another. I hoped he wasn’t
noticing the gore that had sprayed all over his chest and was even now most likely
soaking through to the shoes he was so adamant about protecting. We moved quickly,
putting the zombies down, I caught some ‘chatter’ in the back of my head but it was
weak and not sustained. I felt fairly confident that, by the time we finished off
the five or six that were still alive, they had not successfully gotten off a distress
beacon. Not that they were all that altruistic to begin with or they wouldn’t have
left their fallen here. If they started to care about their own, we’d be over. Dying
for others was a uniquely human trait and signified a higher order of thought, one
of the few things that separated us from other animals.
Now, that is in no way implying that I think all humans are better than all animals,
far from it. I’d had enough examples even before the zombies to prove that. I’m just
saying that if zombies started looking out for their own, any odds of man making a
comeback would be greatly reduced.
I put my hand on BT’s arm, halting his progress as I went up the stairs. Each step
seemed harder than the one before it. By the time I got to the top, I didn’t think
I was going to be able to move my feet; it was not ‘like’ a nightmare, it was one.
My niece still lay where I had shot her. She looked almost peaceful. I had to hope
I had put her out of some misery. I placed one hand under her neck and the other under
her knees. She was so light. My throat closed in pain as I picked her up. I just wanted
her to wrap her arms around my neck and tell me she was alright and that I had saved
her. Instead, her arms hung limply from her body. The deep purplish color on her features
destroyed any fantasy I could possibly have that she yet lived.
“Some fucking hero I am,” I said as I descended the stairs.
“I’m so sorry, man.” BT said as he watched me carry her down.
I couldn’t say anything more. To speak would have opened up the floodgates. There
was a park in the center of town I remembered seeing when we had come in; that seemed
as fitting a place as any to lay her to rest, and it would be easy enough for Ron
and his family to find and visit when and if they would someday get a chance.
The wise and prudent thing to do would have been to dig a few feet down and lay her
in peace. We went down six. How could I ever explain it to my brother if hungry dogs
dug her up? We were almost at completion when I realized nothing would touch her,
she was contaminated. Odds were, even the worms would steer clear. This was doing
little to help my mood, which was already as sour as old lemonade.
I was putting the last few shovelfuls on top. BT sat down at a bench and was putting
his shoes back on, grumbling about some stains or something. But I knew he was really
trying to focus on anything other than what was going on. Hell, if I cared enough
about my shoes I would have been right next to him.
“You going to say a prayer?” he asked as I tossed the shovel aside.
“Why? God already failed.”
“Take that back.” BT stood.
Well, now I was going to deal with the wrath of God and the wrath of BT, and BT was closer near as I could tell.
“He doesn’t mean that,” BT said, looking up, I guess trying to cover for my blasphemy.
Honestly, I don’t know if I meant it or not. I’d had my issues with faith since I’d
turned thirteen and, as a teenager, decided I knew it all. Thus far, my immediate
family was safe, but at what cost? I’d lost a son-in-law, my best friend and his wife,
my niece, my father, and my soul. God charged more interest than a mafia don. Still,
it could be worse…infinitely worse.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I bowed my head. “Sometimes the burden gets too great.” I didn’t
get an actual response, but I swear I got the sensation of ‘I’ll let it slide this
time’.
BT stepped up, and for that I was appreciative. “God, please let this girl lie in
peace, and let her family find solace in the fact that she is out of pain,” BT said,
wringing his hands together. I did make the sign of the trinity upon my chest and
we left.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” BT asked when we were far enough away from the
gravesite--as if at this distance the big guy wouldn’t hear him. “Pissing me off is
one thing, pissing your wife off is another more stupid thing. But Him?” He pointed up. “What is wrong with you?”
“He understands,” I told him.
“You say that like you met.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Wait? Did you? Forget it I really don’t want to know.”
“He doesn’t like Jar Jar Binks…He told me so,” I said.
“That doesn’t prove you met God, but if you did, I guess that does make Him wise.
Forget it. I don’t even want to know how the conversation went. Knowing you, I can’t
believe He didn’t just strike you down where you were.”
“That’s kind of funny, because that’s what I said to him.”
“You’re kidding right? Forget it, man. You’re fucking nuttier than trail mix.”
We walked a little further, an uneasy silence building between us.
Finally BT spoke again in hushed tones, “Did He say anything about me?”
“He did say something about maybe picking my friends better, but most of the conversation
revolved around Star Wars.”
“I’m done with you, man. My momma always said crackers were crazy, something about
their white skin not being able to stop the sun from cooking their brains.” He widened
his stride to pull away from me.
I smiled, with no idea why I thought poking the giant was a good idea, but just being
around him lightened my heart. He was as true a friend as I had ever walked in life
with, and the sooner we could find Doc and get him fixed up, the better. Just as the
first rays of brightness cut through the fog that had enshrouded me, I watched as
BT’s steps faltered. He went down quickly to one knee, his right hand shot out and
grabbed a hold of the chain link fence next to him. That kept him from falling over.
I rushed up to his side. His face was twisted in agony.