After a few minutes, Porkchop had got himself in a near semblance of control. “I went over to Doc Baker’s house.”
“We were neighbors in our condo units.” Doc elaborated.
“I thought maybe he might be able to fix my mom up.” Porkchop said biting on his lower lip in an effort to stifle anymore crying.
“When Porkchop had come to my door, he was covered in blood. I thought that he had been involved in some sort of accident. He told me that something was wrong with his parents. I walked into that apartment completely unprepared for what I saw. I honestly thought it was a domestic dispute turned horribly wrong. I told Porkchop here to take a shower while I called the police. Well by then it was too late, most if not all of the cops were either out on other wild calls or had abandoned ship altogether having realized that the world had indeed shit the bed.”
“Doc.” Porkchop said.
“Sorry, can’t tell you not to do it and then turn around and do it myself, not much leadership by example.”
“I’ll let it slide this time, if you let it slide the next time I do it?”
“One, I’ll give you one. But don’t tell Mrs. Baker and it can’t be a really bad one.”
“Deal.” Porkchop said through blurry tear stained eyes.
“We heard sirens and gunshots all night. The news talked about a virus running rampant but I just couldn’t believe there was something out there that could make people eat other people, much less re-animate the dead. I mean medically there is nothing more preposterous. Porkchop wasn’t in much of a condition to answer any questions but I had seen his apartment. Something terribly wrong had happened, but I could not reconcile it. That night as the sirens and the gunshots grew louder and more drawn out, my family, Porkchop and myself crammed onto my couch. I don’t know why I did it but I had turned out the lights. We sat there the whole night like that. By the time the morning came at least three quarters of my body had fallen asleep, I had pins and needles nearly everywhere.”
“That’s a lot of sharpened steel.” I said absently.
The doc eyed me sharply. I hadn’t meant anything by the words just an observation. Forty-four years old and I still hadn’t figured out how to disengage the thought from speech button in my brain. There were seven year olds that had this simple basic function mastered.
“The scene outside my window was horrific. It was equally as bad as the scene in Porkchop’s own abode. There were dead and dying people everywhere. What I would come to know as zombies weren’t yet out in great numbers but there were still plenty afoot. The real problem was that Gary, Indiana was on fire. Mike, we were four stories up in a condominium. I figured we’d be able to wait this whole thing out and let the government deal with it. I had done an inventory the previous night and figured between my house and Porkchop’s we had at least a week to ten days worth of food, surely by then order would be restored.”
“Wouldn’t that have been nice,” I threw in for good measure.
“Quite. I wanted to wait. That seemed the most logical course of action. I’m a doctor. I don’t know how to kill, unless its malpractice.” The doc paused for dramatic effect.
“Really Doc? That’s your attempt at humor?”
“That was a secret passion of mine, to become a stand-up comedian.”
“Well lucky for us all you settled your sights lower and became a doctor.”
The Doc looked at me. “See now, THAT'S funny, do you mind if I use that?”
“Knock yourself out Doc.”
“They do shows every week and I’ve been gathering enough material and…well forget about that. Needless to say those fires saved my life. If the city hadn’t been burning I would have never left. The most dangerous thing I had ever done in my life up to that point was work at a strip club.”
Doc didn’t elaborate at this point, so when someone tells you that they worked at a strip club, you tell me what you assumed he did. All I could think was that I hoped that establishment had an 11-drink minimum. That might be the only way you could get through his routine.
“I worked my way through college as a disc jockey there.”
“Whew.” I blurted out. Luckily the Doc didn’t make the connection.
“There were fights almost nightly at the club but we had 5 or 6 bouncers who did all the heavy work. All I had to do was play music, announce the dancers and crack a joke or two.”
“I heard your jokes Doc, good thing there were breasts involved.”
“I guess I always thought the cheers were for my witticisms.”
“Oh yeah definitely not for Miss Double D’s tatas.”
“I gather you don’t have many friends Mr. Talbot.”
“Ouch, that hurts, but you’re more right than you know. I apparently was born without the gift of a thought filter.”
“And yet that lovely lady Tracy still married you?”
“That’s probably got more to do with my prowess, if you know what I mean?” I said with as much leering as I could muster without letting Porkchop in on my meaning.
“Oh I’m sure that was it.” The Doc said condescendingly.
“Can we get back to your story?” I asked a little snappishly.
The doc laughed and then just as quickly turned serious. “I was scared Mike. I mean I was frozen from indecision. Do we all go out as a group and get the car? Do I get the car and then have everybody come out then? Do we bring all the food? Do we need supplies? Formulating a plan was beyond me. My entire life revolved around order, things that involved stepping out of bounds were dealt with by my staff or my wife. I mean my wife is as smart as she is beautiful but this wasn’t a soccer practice running late or a skinned knee, this was Armageddon. Not many people have a plan for that sort of thing.”
I meekly held my hand up.
“Well of course except for you, Mike.” I nodded, and he continued. “But the rest of us like to think our ordinary lives are going to continue on as planned, two week’s vacation in France, dinner every Thursday at Chez Palace, building my practice up to the point that I can finally sell it and retire to Arizona, just normal stuff.”
I wanted to tell him that wasn’t normal for 98% of the American population. Most of us would have been happy with a 4 day weekend at Six Flags, a Wednesday night run to Wendy’s, and hopefully making enough money so that we wouldn’t have to hand out stickers at Wal-Mart when we had retired. No offense Tommy. If nothing else the zombies had leveled the playing field. We all were equally mired in the shit of existence now. I just nodded. I saw no sense or purpose in kicking the man while he was down.
“It was my middle kid Blake that finally got me going. He’s asthmatic and the smoke from the fires was really starting to affect him. Waiting it out was rapidly losing any appeal it may have contained. We grabbed everything we could carry, blankets, food, Xbox 360.”
“What?”
Doc shrugged his shoulders. “My oldest son Jesse said he wasn’t leaving without it. I figured what the hell, I couldn’t ever picture a time when the world would return to a state of normalcy again but for him I think it was more of a security blanket.”
“To each his own.” I personally however like the security that a Mossberg 12 gauge shotgun provides over that of a wireless game controller, but who I am to judge. Porkchop for one would see the validity of a game controller turned defender.
“We ran out to my car. Mike, if just one zombie had got in our way I think we would have been finished. All of our hands were full. I hadn’t even thought to grab a weapon. Looking back the best I would have had to offer was a steak knife or a golf club and I don’t think I could use either one except for its intended purpose. It was a tight fit with the six of us and Buddha but we made it. We weren’t 5 miles out of Gary when we ran into a military convoy. When they found out I was a doctor, I was instantly drafted. I tried to explain that I was a General Practitioner and not a surgeon but when you’re in a desert and somebody offers you something wet to drink you don’t stop to question
what it is.”
“Well you did right by me, Doc.” I said, alluding to my shoulder surgery.
“So that’s my story. We’ve been here ever since. I’ve done more surgeries in the last few weeks than I care to count and not all have been as successful as yours. So I would greatly appreciate it if you take care of that shoulder so it heals properly.”
Porkchop had for the most part recovered from his remembrance of his parents' demise. The runny nose and bloodshot eyes, the tell tale signs of getting a good cry-on would however take a good fifteen minutes or so more to diminish.
The doc turned to Porkchop who had just finished wiping his nose on a rapidly snot-hardening sleeve. “Porkchop, could you please track down Rachael? I’ve got some work for her to do? Thank you.” Porkchop headed out the door, his normal cheery self rapidly coming to the fore.
We said nothing for long moments after the door closed.
“You did good Doc. You did right by Porkchop and by your own family.”
“Taking Porkchop in was as natural as if he was my own. He spent more time at my house than his own. I just feel like I should have done more.”
“How many kids do you have Doc?”
“Huh?” The Doc asked pulling back to the present from his own thoughts. “Uh three, well four now.”
“They’re all here right?”
“Well not right here, but yes on this base.”
“And your wife?”
“I see your point.”
“That’s all I’m saying Doc. You kept your family safe. There’s nothing more you could have done.” I was getting the distinct impression the doc wasn’t fully convinced. “How old are they?”
“Well I can’t tell you my wife’s age.”
“Wasn’t asking.”
“ Jesse is my oldest son, he’s 15. He's kind of quiet around strangers but warms up like vinyl seats in July when he's around friends and family. He's got a little bit of a mouth on him and is definitely the family's prankster. He’s addicted to video games.”
“Yeah I got that when he took his 360 with him.” We both shared a laugh over that.
“ Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2 is his poison and he can tell you the stats on every gun available in the game. He despises his younger brother and sister but doesn't tolerate ANYONE screwing with them (except for Porkchop). He's kind of wise beyond his years in his ability to understand the human condition even if he can be a bit emotional himself. He’s a big kid and loves guns. He spends most of his spare time training with some of the other kids. The military has set up an ROTC type program. They get the kids some combat training in fire arms safety and marksmanship skills. It worries me Mike.”
“Those aren’t bad skills to have right now, Doc.”
“I just had so much more planned for him in life than one the military has to offer.”
The doc was a good man, and saved my life at least twice that I knew of so far, but he was definitely more of the small picture ilk. The world had dramatically shifted on its axis and he had not yet caught up. “Doc, learning those skills now might be his best chance to stay alive and have a different life!”
“I…I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
That seemed to perk him up marginally.
“Next is my middle child Blake, he’s 13. Unlike his older brother, he's very outgoing and has an IQ that puts the rest of us to shame. He's not as physically intimidating as Jesse but he can make you look like a fool if you want to argue with him.”
I figured that had something to do with the limiting factors associated with being an asthmatic.
“Where Jesse is more of a warrior, Blake is the thinker, the artist, his obsession is books. Being the artistic middle child and kind of a mama's boy, he takes a lot of crap from the rest of the guys in the family. I figure he's the one who will be able to pay for my nursing home should I make it that far so I’ve decided I’d better be nice to him. Rachael is 10 and she is my only daughter.”
“Be thankful for that.”
The doc wouldn't understand the backhanded compliment at least not for another two and a half years when his daughter turned from a sweet daddy’s little princess into a multi-headed demon from hell, as all teenage girls must.
“She is without a shadow of a doubt, the strongest personality in our house. She is the most wonderfully devious of children. If there is trouble to find, she's not only in it but in it to win it.”
I had learned the hard way after punishing my own boys way too much, that my daughter not only sought out trouble but was usually the root cause of it.
“Rachael's very smart but loves to tell you that she's not (the better to get away with things). She is a mini version of her mom, entirely too cute to be as cunning as she is. She scares the hell out of me because she is going to need to be locked in a closet VERY soon.”
Maybe that secret desire of all fathers to be able to lock their daughters away from testosterone infused boys could now be realized. So maybe a zombie invasion wasn’t all bad.
“Doc you did good. Now if you could up my Demerol, I’m in pain and really tired.”
“Thank you Mike, I take my quip about you being friendless away.”
“Don’t be so hasty Doc, wait until you really get to know me.” My eyelids began to slide shut as the Doc pumped some pain killing juice into my IV line. “One more thing Doc.”
He was checking my pulse. “What is it?”
“Don’t let her out of that closet until she’s about 18, the demon spawn in her will almost be gone.” And with that came blissful pain free sleep.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - JOURNAL ENTRY 9 -
I had been in a hospital bed for nearly two weeks before Doc Baker thought I’d most likely be alright to stay in my own bed in the quarters assigned to myself and my family. The quarters were nice enough. They harkened me back to my Marine Corps fleet days. The barracks were basically a no frills apartment complex. Square non-descript buildings with a square non-descript room, with an off-shoot bathroom in each apartment. In my Marine Corps days we had been stuffed 4 jarheads at a time into a 15 by 15 foot room. Honestly didn’t care about it at the time, pretty sure I’d go nuts if that was the case now. Turns out there weren’t enough survivors to merit any sort of over-crowding. Tracy, myself, and the ever stinky Henry had our own room. Nicole had the apartment next to us by herself, and Justin (when he was released from the hospital) had a room with Travis, on the other side of our room. Carol was actually down the hall, by request, go figure. It was my first night back and I couldn’t sleep to save my life. The kindly doctor had begun to wean me off the pain meds I was on. I might add that I thought it was entirely too early in the healing process to be put on aspirin. Oh what I wouldn’t do for a nice Percocet.
Tracy rested lightly next to me. Between the throbbing in my shoulder and Henry’s outbursts from his butt and mouth (farts and snores), I was getting exactly zero amount of sleep. Me and the doc were going to have a good old conversation in the morning. If that didn’t work, this was a military base, there had to be a decent black market trade going on. I got up for the fifth time. Henry raised his massive head up off the floor. I swear if he could talk, he’d be saying something like ‘Don’t blame me for not being able to sleep. My gas smells like cherry blossoms on a warm spring day.’ I patted his head, and he lay back down contentedly. I wanted to look out the window just for something to do, but the base was lit up like a Christmas tree on crack. If I had moved the blackout blinds even a fraction of an inch the room would have been flooded in light as if it was high noon and not 4 a.m.
When the throbbing in my shoulder had subsided into something less than a thundering rhino charge, I figured I might be able to give elusive sleep another chance. My ass was just about to make contact with the bed when I heard a small thud followed immediately by a muffled yelp coming through the wall, which just so happened to be the wall that we shared with my daughter. I still almost went through with the whole bed thing. The noise wa
s that slight and unmenacing sounding. I hesitated, the burn in my thighs making itself known as I hung in that unnatural in between pose of standing or sitting.
“Effen paranoia.” I lamented. I quietly padded across the room and out the door, I didn’t even bother completely shutting the door. I didn’t want the latching mechanism to wake my wife when it closed. The four-foot walk to my daughter’s door did nothing to instill any sort of fear into me. I felt foolish. I almost turned around. “In for a penny, in for a dementia.” Wasn’t that how the saying went? I was at her door, what was I going to do? Knock at 4 in the morning and see how she was doing? Hell, she was probably just having a bad dream, weren’t we all? And that decided it. Maybe I’d be doing her a favor if I woke her up.
I knocked lightly, and waited. Nothing happened. I knocked maybe just a little bit louder. I waited, still nothing. Dammit, she’s probably sleeping pretty good. ‘Talbot get your ass in bed and leave everyone alone,’ my inner psyche spewed. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, I rarely listen to my higher consciousness. I turned her knob. The door was unlocked. Now I was pissed, hadn’t I taught that girl anything! This was going to suck for her. I was about to wake her from a nightmare only to scold the hell out of her. I opened the door. I was immediately struck with the oddity of the scene that was laid out in front of me. The light was on in her bathroom, which shed enough light to let me see that Nicole was nearly naked on her bed. ‘Oh fuck! A dad’s worst nightmare. That’s what I get for not minding my own business.’
“I’m so sorry.” I said aloud.
Things at this point happened rapidly. Her head whipped up, I couldn't help but notice the gag in her mouth. I moved forward. “What the hell?” Then I smelled burning flesh (my own) as my body collapsed to the floor. I twitched like a bass out of water. The stun gun had sent upwards of 50,000 volts of charged electricity through my body. The arc and contraction of my muscles nearly made me bite my tongue off. My teeth chattered under the assault. I had 100 charley horses happening concurrently across my body and there wasn’t a thing I could do to ease the pain.