“Even if he had a lot to do with what’s going on now?”
Chris contemplates that thought for a second, then nods quietly. “Even if…I can’t face the future if I can’t embrace that I can’t change the past.”
She lets out a long sigh and he’s suddenly nervous. She sits so close to him. So close he can hear each inhale of breath—almost feel her breathing beside him even though they are not touching. Her feet rest on the lowest step and he can see her toes moving through the tattered fabric of her shoes. She seems to be just as antsy.
She breaks the growing silence, “How long are you going to stay?”
Chris doesn’t answer right away. He’s really not sure—especially now that Quincy has asked for his help. How much does Karen know? He’s sure she suspects something. You don’t live with someone and not notice health issues. But on the flip side, the changes may be so slight that they go unnoticed.
“I’m not sure,” he says finally. “If it’s okay with you, I might stay awhile. I really have nowhere to be.”
From the corner of his eye, he catches a slight smile cross her face.
“I’d like that,” she says. “I haven’t seen another living, breathing person in years.” She pauses, then as an afterthought adds, “Other than Paw-paw.”
At the mention of his name, there’s a thump from inside—it’s so heavy they can feel the impact through the floorboards. The two of them share a glance. Karen’s face reflects a sudden air of concern. Scrambling up, they rush inside to find Quincy lying beside the dining chair where he’d been sitting only a few minutes ago.
Chris slides to his knees and rolls him over. Quincy’s eyes are open but stare blankly past Chris, focused on something beyond the ceiling.
“Paw-paw!” Karen says, voice choking. “Paw-paw? What’s wrong?” She shakes him but gets no response.
“Karen,” says Chris, “Grab a pillow or blanket.”
She rises and disappears into another room, then comes back holding a pillow that had seen much better days. Chris lifts Quincy’s head and she slides it underneath.
“Quincy? Quincy! Wake up.” He gently pats the older man’s cheeks, hoping to spark a response.
Quincy blinks. His dilated pupils contract and focus on Chris’s face.
“What happened?”
“Looks like you may have passed out. Are you hurt?”
Through fresh tears, Karen asks, “What’s wrong, Paw-paw?” She grabs his hand and holds it to her face, kisses his fingers.
“I’m okay, baby girl…I’m okay.”
She shakes her head. “No…no, you’re not.”
Quincy closes his eyes and lets out a breath. “I’m okay,” he says, persisting, trying to calm his granddaughter.
She’s not believing it though. “Tell me the truth, Paw-paw. Please.”
He opens his eyes, focuses on Chris. Ever so slightly, Chris nods, silently trying to convey to the older man that he can’t keep holding his illness secret.
“Okay, okay,” he says. “Help me up.” He tries to sit up on his own, but grimaces and falls back onto the pillow.
“Just lay here for a bit,” Chris tells him. “Gather your strength and we’ll help you up when you feel a little better.”
“What’s wrong?” Karen pleads, voice losing its concern and growing fiercer, angrier. “What have you been hiding from me?”
“Karen, please…just give me a minute.”
She does but fidgets nervously while watching her grandfather rest. Chris is glad to see that she never lets go of his hand. She appears upset at being kept in the dark, but she doesn’t appear to be overly angry. She may have been at first, but her concern for her grandfather far outweighs any animosity. Even after only having just met her, Chris can tell she’s not the type of person to remain angry like that.
Finally, Quincy opens his eyes. He squeezes Karen’s hand and says, “I’m sorry, Karen. I didn’t mean to keep this from you for this long. I…I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” she asks, but by the sound of her voice, Chris thinks she has already drawn the right conclusion. She may be young, but she’s anything but dumb or naive.
“That I’m dying…”
Chris remains quiet as Quincy tells Karen almost everything he’d discussed with Chris a few hours before.
* * *
Karen took the news well, reaffirming Chris’s thoughts that she already suspected her grandfather’s health was failing.
“Help me up,” he said, reaching for Chris. “I’m feeling a little better now.”
They help him stand, then walk him to the living area and onto the tattered couch. A thick layer of blankets covers the seat cushions—probably covering exposed springs.
Once settled, he lets out a little chuckle.
“What?”
He turns to Karen and smiles. Reaching for her hand, he pulls her down next to him. “I wish the two of you would just head away at first light tomorrow…but I’m pretty sure neither of you would stand for that.”
Karen pokes him in the arm, “That’s not funny at all…and you’re right, we’re not going to leave you here. I’ll be here till the…” Her mouth clamps shut and tears fill her eyes before she can say the last word.
He strokes her arm, “I’m sorry, baby girl. I know, I know.”
“It’s getting late,” Chris adds. “Want us to help you to bed?”
Quincy nods and scoots to the edge. He tries to stand on his own but resorts to Karen and Chris for help.
* * *
With Quincy tucked away and already snoring quietly in his room, Chris and Karen resume their positions on the porch steps to listen to the sounds of the night.
“What’s the dog’s name?”
“Hmm?”
“The dog,” Chris says, pointing down the dark street.
“Oh, that’s Trixie.”
“Can you pet her?”
Karen looks at him sideways. “Sure, why do you ask?”
“I’ve never had a dog before. Even before the Tainted, Dad wouldn’t let us have pets.”
“I wonder why?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says, but deep down, he thinks he knows. At the institute, his father knew the chances were high of something going bad. Pets were attachments and children got very attached to pets. When the time came for him to pack up the family and leave, he didn’t want the difficulties associated with family pets—either leaving them behind or taking them with them. The solution was to refuse them entirely. It made sense to Chris, but it also sent a shiver down his spine. If his father thought this way, then he knew the risks of his research getting out of hand.
“What are your plans, Chris? I mean…you’re a drifter right? You don’t really stay in one place for very long?”
“That’s right.”
“You’ll be leaving then? Soon?”
He shakes his head. “Not soon. I made him a promise that I’ll stay until…” He lets the rest go unsaid.
“He doesn’t think I can take care of him does he?”
“I think he believes the exact opposite. He knows you can. The thing is, you shouldn’t have to be the one.”
Chris grows quiet. He has no reason to continue arguing these points with her. He can’t speak for her grandfather and he doesn’t want to. This needs to be a conversation they have together. As long as he follows through with what he promised, after that, his obligation to Quincy is over.
But that wasn’t all, was it? There’s also Karen to think about. He promised Quincy he’d take care of Karen. Would she be willing to travel? Did she want to stay? If so, would he? He remembers thinking recently that to be alone was to die a slow, horrible death because people needed social interaction. Now, thoughts of Remy, thoughts of mental torment, rush back in as if they are fresh and new.
Something touches his arm and he jerks it away.
“Chris?”
It’s Karen. Concerned, she’d touched him.
“What?”
“I asked you what was wrong. You started breathing real heavy. You didn’t hear me?”
He shakes his head, unnerved. He wishes he could forget those events. He should be able to—Remy is gone. She’s never coming back to torment him.
Chris knows this is a lie too. Her body might be dead and gone, but the memory of her still lives on in his head—and as long as he keeps thinking about her, she’ll continue to have a foothold within him. Something dawns on him then and he turns to Karen. He stares at her as if for the first time, seeing her in a new light.
Maybe Karen was the key to silencing the memories of Remy for good. In the short time he’s known her, Karen is a kind-hearted soul. She smiles a lot—and there’s true happiness behind her eyes when she does it. When she’s concerned (like she is now), it’s genuine. Unlike Remy, everything about Karen reflects a heart of kindness. Maybe Karen is the antidote to rid his mind of Remy.
“I’m sorry,” he says. Her hand is still on his arm—her touch is warm and pleasing. “You’ll have to bear with me…I have…” He pauses, trying to get the right word. Then it comes to him. “I have a lot of baggage from before.”
Her hand squeezes his arm, conveying her understanding—or, what he believes is understanding. He’s thinking about Remy, but Karen probably believes he’s referring to everything he learned concerning his father. For now, he’d let her believe that.
“If you ever want to talk about it, I’m a good listener.” Her smile lights up the darkness. Her smile is contagious and at that moment, thoughts of Remy thankfully evaporate.
“Thanks…maybe someday.”
Chapter Nine
After that evening, Quincy wasn’t the same. Karen noticed it the next morning. Her grandfather always walked the streets in the cool of the morning. He enjoyed the exercise and he usually took time to investigate buildings he hadn’t been in before. There weren’t many of these left—and of those left unsearched were that way because there were Tainted locked inside.
What he didn’t know was that Karen would often follow him and clear those houses out afterward. Three of the dead, the Tainted, was her limit. Any more and the house would remain untouched. She’d tried to clear out four only once—they’d almost overtaken her.
The morning after her grandfather’s episode, he didn’t go walking.
He didn’t go out the second day either—nor the entire week after.
She cooked and with Chris’s help did everything her grandfather used to do around the house. She’d kept herself so busy close to home that the one thing she hadn’t done was gather fresh produce from the gardens north of town.
“We need to restock. Will you be okay on your own this afternoon?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” says Quincy, waving her off. “You go do your thing.” He notices Chris isn’t with her. “Where’s Chris?”
“He’s looking around downtown. I’m going to grab him on my way to the garden.”
“Okay…and yes, I’ll be all right. I’m just going to go rest for a bit.”
Go rest for a bit—she’d heard that phrase all too much over the past week. “You sure?”
He nods adamantly and shoos her away, “Yes, go.”
There’s a distant noise and before she turns to leave, he stops her. “Is that thunder?”
She turns back, “Yes, but unfortunately it looks like it’s going to pass East of us.”
“Yes,” he agrees. Unfortunate for sure. They were due a good downpour. The summer had been dry and rain had been scarce. As fall approached, the rains should increase.
She leans down, kisses him on the temple, and turns to leave. “See you in a few hours.”
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
Karen leaves without a backward glance. It’s the last time they would see one another.
* * *
She’s downtown and stays as quiet as possible— several buildings here still have Tainted bodies. Something rustles to her right and she stops. The nearest store-front was an old craft store with the number five painted on the front window with red spray paint. Something hit the window from within.
The glass made an audible crack.
Karen freezes. Dust and grime cover the window, making it hard to see inside. A figure moves and strikes the window again. Something grey, almost white. In her mind, she translates what she sees as a stick striking against the window, but she knows better. It’s the amputated stump of an arm. The Tainted beyond that pane of glass sees her—it strikes the window with growing intensity—the shattered bone causes more cracks to appear. Surrounding the stump, tattered strings of flesh spread greasy wet globs of oily fluid across the glass.
Her hand tightens on the pickax as she slowly starts walking away. If she can get out of sight before the glass breaks, the thing will probably lose interest. The only reason it’s trying to get out is that it sensed her outside. She almost calls out for Chris, but that would be a mistake too. The last thing she wanted was to attract every dead thing within the sound of her voice. He was around here somewhere; if she didn’t find him, maybe he’d spot her.
Where was he? He said he’d be downtown, but she’d traveled almost all the way down Main Street and has seen no sign of him.
Crack.
“Shit,” she whispers aloud, glancing back at the storefront. Her heart pounds in her chest. There are now at least three different shapes behind that crumbling pane of glass. She watches in shock as a large sliver the size of her leg falls out and shatters on the broken sidewalk. That was all the creatures needed. If she hadn’t been their singular focus before, she was now. They hissed and groaned, fighting each other for access to the hole in the glass. The one with half an arm tried to push through, but another one pushed it aside, pinching the half-arm against the glass. The sharp edge catches black skin, slicing off chunks of meat that slide down the outside of the window.
Crack.
Another chunk of glass falls and Karen takes that as her cue to go. As quickly as possible, she takes off down the street, scanning each side for Chris. The alleys between buildings are clear of bodies, either living or dead.
Behind her is the sound of a massive crash. She doesn’t turn to look, knowing already that the window has finally given way. For all she knows, there are now five Tainted with nothing on their mind but catching her and feasting.
She veers to the other side of the street, making a beeline for an old 5&10 that had been closed for many years even before the world ended. The interior was bare, and she knew for a fact that there were no threats there. The problem was that there were no windows or doors on the front—only the wooden framework remained. It wouldn’t stop the Tainted, but it was familiar territory and she could use the stairs at the back of the building to funnel them one by one. She could use the landing between the first and second floors to make her stand.
She pauses at the open doorway, glancing back down the street. Only four of the Tainted follow her, each one shuffling on emaciated legs, arms reaching, focused on where they’d last seen her.
Something distracts the one at the rear of the procession. She bangs her ax against the wood; the noise should get it back on track. One lesson her grandfather taught her was that you never left the dead to walk the streets. Leaving them to roam is a death sentence. It’s one reason they spend so much time clearing them out of buildings. The only time they didn’t clear a building is when there are too many for the two of them to handle. Five was usually the limit. Four was definitely too much for a single person to dispatch.
Five was out of the question—and as she watched, the fifth one finally appeared. It had been there all along; she just didn’t see it because it was so small.
Her breath catches in her throat.
The fifth was a small child.
* * *
There were two pharmacies located downtown on opposite sides of the town square. Chris had tried the one on 1st Street, but the big red n
umber six written on the front glass deterred him. This store was considerably smaller than the other, and it was almost depleted of any useful pharmaceuticals. There had to be something here for Quincy besides painkillers, but he had no idea what some pills were for, much less, how to pronounce many of them. What he needed was a book—a book with pictures of the pills, descriptions for treatment, and the names. If he had a book like that, he could use it to find the medicine.
The biggest problem was, after so many years, would they still even have any potency? Was he just wasting his time? It doesn’t matter; he has to do what he can to help while he’s here and while Quincy is still alive.
He pauses. He was just about to pick up another bottle when a noise makes him stop. Was that glass breaking? His first thought was of Karen, but the breaking glass was something she’d avoid at all costs. In a world where the dead walked and made meals of the living, loud noises were the best way to attract unwanted attention. It was probably just a settling, causing a windowpane to squeeze the glass to its breaking point.
When he hears nothing else, he relaxes and continues searching through cabinets and shelves for something to decipher what’s what between one pill and the next.
After a few more minutes of searching, he suddenly grows restless—as if something is telling him to get out. The walls seem to close in on him. Outside, the sun shines as bright as ever, but the gloom in here is overpowering.
He moves toward the front. As he gets closer to the sun’s brightness, that sinking feeling recedes. He’s felt nothing like this before and is glad that it is going away.
He stops cold. There was no mistaking it this time—that was glass breaking somewhere outside. It seemed to come from the right, but sounds have a funny way of bouncing off buildings. He rushes outside just as there’s a louder crash. It’s loud—very loud. His heart flutters in his chest. Again, thoughts of Karen fill his head. Somehow, whatever is going on has to do with her. He’s sure of it.
Drawing one of his machetes, he holds it before him and hurries down the street. At the first set of crossroads, he pauses long enough to check the side street to the left—nothing that way.
Tainted Mind Page 7