Rick is still watching her, interest and a hint of amusement on his face rather than blank boredom, so she carries on.
‘One morning, about a week after it all started, I got to work and two of our nurses had phoned in sick. They didn’t show up for work the next day either and neither of them would answer the phone. My supervisor went to their homes to check on them and found them both dead. No symptoms, no signs of violence. Katie had been reading up about deadly viruses that went through hospitals like wildfire, killing off patients; incurable diseases immune to antibiotics. She and I met up over lunch in the canteen and she’d printed out all these news reports from all over California, stories from other hospitals about patients and nurses dying for no reason. No one knew why. When Katie didn’t come in to work the next day, I thought she’d quit. I went over to her place and found her just sitting on the couch, dead, with the TV on. I didn’t go back to the hospital. I went home and packed and thought I’d head for my Mom’s in Portland. I didn’t think it through, not immediately, I just didn’t want to stay where people were dying and all the reports Katie had found were from California. Mom always said if anything ever happened I could go home. It wasn’t until I stopped to fill up with gas in Bakersfield I realised it was more than people dying for no reason. People were dying for really good reasons too, like other people ripping their heads off. I stole a gun from the gas station and just started to drive, staying off the Interstate, still thinking I should head to Mom’s—’
Rick sits forward, fries halfway to his mouth. ‘Wait, you stole a gun from a gas station?’
‘There was a dead guy on the floor of the store with a shotgun lying next to him. Looked as if he’d been trying to rob the place. The guy behind the counter was dead too. I just grabbed the gun, went through his pockets for spare cartridges and ran. I didn’t even pay for the gas. It was the first illegal thing I’d ever done.’
‘You went through a dead guy’s pockets for spare cartridges?’
‘It’s a shotgun, only holds two at once, I figured he must have brought more ammo with him in case something went wrong. Don’t you ever watch TV?’
He stares at her for a second. ‘You didn’t call the cops or the paramedics?’
‘You don’t understand. There were cops everywhere. All I could hear was sirens in every direction. I knew there was something going on. I mean, I’ve seen all those George Romero films, Dawn of the Dead, Day of the Dead, Diary of the Dead. I wasn’t about to hang around to become meal of the dead was I?’ Rick shakes his head with an amused smile and she accepts it as a compliment. ‘I drove all day and stopped at a diner for something to eat and to take a pee. I was enjoying my vanilla milkshake, waiting for my caramel apple pie, when someone starting screaming, out in the parking lot. When I looked out, there was this guy – looked like any normal guy in a suit – but he was attacking people with an axe! There was a woman lying on the ground bleeding from her head and a kid was holding his arm with blood seeping between his fingers. What kind of man attacks a little boy? So I went out there, got the gun from the back of my car and shouted at the guy to drop the axe. I told him the cops were on the way. But he didn’t drop it. He took off this woman’s head with a single swing and then came for me. So I shot him.’
It was far from fun at the time but she’s pleased with the way Rick’s looking at her now, a whole new level of respect even after what he’s seen her do over the last couple of weeks, despite what he knows she’s capable of.
‘He was going to kill me. I wasn’t about to stand there and let it happen. I thought I should get out of there quick after that so I had to leave the milkshake which cost me eight dollars, and of course I didn’t get the pie so I was still hungry. But I figured the last place I wanted to end up was in a jail cell, it’s the first place the zom – the un-dead – would go to look for food and there’s no escape. So I took off and no one tried to stop me. I pulled into the parking lot of a half-decent hotel a couple of hours later in Carson City, got some dinner and a good night’s sleep. I called Mom the next day. She said there was nothing bad happening in Portland so I decided not to go there in case any of it followed me. She wanted me home but I thought it was too risky. I just kept moving, changing direction every day. Whenever I saw something I thought I could help with, I stopped. I killed people who were no longer people. I stole weapons and ammo whenever I got the chance. That’s what I was doing when I first saw Luke, stealing ammo from a store in Red Bluff.’ She smiles at the memory. ‘Luke was stealing stuff too. Ammo mostly, all different kinds so I knew he must have quite a collection of guns. Course I fancied him from the start. Who wouldn’t?’ Rick makes a face and Emilie smirks at him.
She thinks Luke's as gorgeous as any of the so-called Hollywood heartthrobs, even with the scar that runs from the top of his right cheek bone through his right eyebrow. It just adds to his rugged masculinity. She hasn’t kept her feelings for him a secret when perhaps she should have done.
‘Our eyes met across a counter that was covered in blood and broken glass and he gave me this smile.... It was brilliant, one thief to another. I followed him out of the store and we walked straight in to a group of un-dead teachers attacking a bunch of school kids in uniform. Between us we took out all the teachers and after the kids ran off he introduced himself. I hoped for a kiss but he just shook my hand and asked me where I was headed.’ In amongst the horror, it’s a warm memory. ‘I said I wasn’t headed anywhere particular. He told me he was travelling with a couple of people and asked if I wanted to tag along.’ It isn’t quite how the conversation went but it’s close enough for storytelling purposes. ‘I thought I’d be safer in a group than on my own.’ Not necessarily true, and now she knows that just as the others do, but back then it seemed like a safe assumption to make.
In the end, it depends on the group.
‘Do you regret it?’
It's a question she's already asked herself. Maybe Gabe does, and Joe, she isn’t sure. She thinks Rick does. But she doesn’t, she can't, and she shakes her head firmly. She won’t regret a single second spent in Luke's company, no matter what the price. It’s just a shame she never stood a chance with him and that it took her a whole week to realise it.
‘But he never even flirted with you.’
‘No.’ She allows herself a petulant curl of her bottom lip even though she knows it's childish and pointless. ‘But hey, he and Matt, right? No girl’s ever going to break into that. They’re off in a world of their own most of the time. I tried, the first few days, until I realised he wasn’t even seeing me. He’s friendly, and he gives nice hugs, but it’s like he’s blind when it comes to seeing me as a sexual being. I don’t take it personally; he’s like that with everyone. Remember that waitress in Fort Bragg?’
It was a roadside cafe, the same as all the others they stopped at, some of which were ahead of the apocalyptic tide. They ate in those that were, looking for a brief spell of normality amongst the chaos. Burgers and shakes, fries with everything, ice cream and pie. This one had good coffee, bad food and a waitress who tried to hit on Luke the moment they walked in to the place. She was great looking and she knew it: blond hair, huge tits and legs up to her ears. Luke was pleasant enough with her but she was after a phone number and like every other interested man and woman on the planet she was out of luck. Emilie had already reached this conclusion and it didn’t take the fake-breasted girl a week. After four refills and the same number of quiet knockbacks, she ‘accidently’ spilt hot coffee over Matt’s shirt. Emilie did think at the time that Luke’s reaction was something of an overreaction, slapping her as hard as he did. But watching Matt kick Luke in the ass on their way across the parking lot, for getting them thrown out before he’d had pie, made it worth missing out on dessert.
So no, she doesn’t regret joining their little band of fugitives and if it is over then at least she got to see the finale first hand, up close and personal. All she does regret is falling for a guy who was spoken for a long, lon
g time ago.
~..~
Rick’s suddenly seeing Emilie in a whole new light. He knows her well enough to understand she’s a plucky chick, nothing much unnerves her and from the start he’s thought she’s unnaturally un-squeamish, although he supposes that’s what comes of working in a hospital. Some of the stories she’s shared over the time he’s been with them have put him off his food on more than one occasion. That, on top of the things they’ve seen and done as a vigilante-slash-help group making their way around the South West, means he hasn’t eaten properly in a while and he’s glad that nothing’s transpired to put him off his meal tonight because it’s the best he’s had in weeks. Joe’s a great cook – who knew? Rick’s got a clean plate and an empty glass and although he was exhausted earlier and desperate to put his head down and sleep, now he’s eaten he doesn't feel so tired. There is, however, a creeping anxiety in his gut that he hopes will be put to rest by another beer, and thanking Joe is a great excuse to go to the kitchen.
Joe and Gabe are just finishing their meals, sitting at the kitchen table, as Rick puts his plate on the worktop next to the sink and offers to do the dishes in return for another beer.
‘You’re on,’ Joe accepts, and Gabe hands him his own plate and cutlery before going into the hall, probably heading outside for a cigarette despite the continuing rain. Joe pours Rick another cold one and sets it down on the side close to where he’s running the water, waiting to see if it will run hot, surprised when it does.
‘What are the chances of us having Dawn?’ He expects the answer to be either a straightforward snort or a sarcastic comment, but instead Joe replies,
‘Better than you might think.’
They check the cupboards around them before looking under the sink and, hey presto, there’s a new, unopened bottle of dishwashing liquid.
‘Would you look at that?’ Rick’s stunned.
Joe nods. ‘I was just saying to Gabe, either someone did actually live here until very, very recently, or someone stocked it thinking the apocalypse is the same as war.’
‘Or someone stocked it for us.’ It’s a faintly chilling thought.
Joe nods slowly. ‘The idea did cross our minds but God alone knows what that means. We decided we’re not going to question it too hard tonight and investigate tomorrow.’ He plucks a drying towel from a drawer to the left of the sink. ‘You wash, I’ll dry.’
There seems to be plenty of hot water but Rick doesn’t use too much because now he's thinking about how wonderful a piping hot shower might feel. Or even a bath. He uses just enough to get the plates in and when Emilie comes through to deliver hers, and to thank the chef for the delicious meal, the water just about covers all four of them at the bottom of the deep sink.
‘Emilie was telling me how she got caught up in all of this,’ he comments when she returns to her fire, just to have something to say. He reaches in through the bubbles to wash the forks.
‘Must be confessional,’ Joe comments, and Rick casts a glance over his shoulder. ‘I coughed up to Gabe when I was cooking. He asked, mind. Still, it’s not something I thought I’d ever talk about to anyone.’
Rick looks around them, at the unbroken windows and the clean kitchen. ‘Could be something in the house?’
‘Wouldn’t surprise me. So, continuing this new tradition, how’d you end up in a dumpster in Michigan Bar?’
It’s not something he’s planned to talk about either, not ever, because he’s not proud of his old life given the good he’s done in his new one, even if he has only been living this new one for a couple of weeks. He doesn’t feel as close to Joe as Gabe and Emilie obviously do, but sharing as many life or death situations as they have makes Joe a comrade-in-arms. He deserves the truth. Besides, Rick has the distinct feeling that a confessional would be good for him right about now.
So he admits, ‘I was a conman.’ All Joe does is raise his eyebrows. ‘I sold fake insurance door to door, forged paintings at auction houses, counterfeit coins at collectors’ fairs. I conned people out of money. Good people too. Then, about a month ago, I was selling pet insurance to everyone with a flea-ridden mutt in this small retirement community called Friendly Hills when I came across something worse than me.’ His hands go still in the warm water, the prongs of a fork sticking into his palm. ‘Something was conning people out of more than money. Something was conning people out of their lives.’
Joe is silent for a second. ‘Lives? Like... life insurance?’
‘No, more like... death insurance. There was some kind of document. The moment anyone signed on the dotted line they died, simply dropped dead where they were standing.’
‘You saw it happen?’
‘Yeah, and I left town that same day. But before I actually saw it, there were stories. I overheard a woman from the soup kitchen telling an old homeless guy that one of their volunteers had been found dead on her doorstep. And in a bar these two construction guys were talking about their friend getting home to find his wife dead in their doorway, the door wide open but nothing stolen. Then one afternoon this tall, thin guy in an immaculate suit walked right by me on this woman’s drive. I’d just sold two hundred dollars of fake vet insurance to her for her miniature poodle. The guy was strange and I know we’ve seen some strange shit lately but there was just something wrong with him. On the surface he looked like any other guy in a suit, like me only better dressed. Black suit, black shirt, red tie. Then he smiled at me as we came level with one another.... He had too many teeth in his mouth, like a clown from some low-budget horror movie, and there was something wrong with his eyes. They were too dark, like there was no white in them. Gave me the creeps so much that I hung around, up the road, until he left. Then I went back to the house to make sure the old lady was okay. I mean, me growing a conscience like that after practically stealing from her minutes before? Out of character, I’m telling you. I found her lying dead in her hall, flat on her back on the carpet with her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. No sign of violence, just this piece of paper in her hand; a single, blank sheet with her signature in red at the base of it.’ He shudders and returns to washing up. ‘It was like someone was taking contract killing literally. I’d been in the house, I knew what the cops would think if they found me. So I left town, just drove, stayed on the road for days, realised something bigger was going on than just one guy. I dodged disaster all the way to Michigan Bar where you guys saved me from those bastard zombies.’
‘Which leads me to ask,’ Joe starts, not passing judgment on Rick’s previous incarnation – for which he’s grateful – or giving him a bollocking for the use of the 'z' word. ‘What were you doing in that dumpster?’
‘Hiding! What did you think I was doing?’
‘Looking for lunch?’
Rick glances at Joe in time to see him wink. ‘I have never been so scared in all my life as I was that afternoon. I thought I’d had a lucky escape at a bar the day before when I watched a pack of rabid dogs tear apart a waitress who came out for a smoke. I honestly thought my number was up until you guys showed.’
‘Emilie rescued you. She did most of the work that afternoon, letting off steam I think. All we did was dust you off once Matt hoisted you out.’
Not a highlight of Rick’s life, he’s the first to admit, even in a life with very few highlights. He’s made up for a few of his sins over the last couple of weeks, just possibly not enough of them. He doesn’t want to think about that, so he forces a smile and acknowledges, ‘She’s an unusual girl.’
Joe laughs. ‘Yes, she is. A great shot, an ace with a baseball bat, and utterly unshakable. She’s a great asset in a fight.’
‘The only thing I’ve known get to her is Luke,’ Rick throws in pointlessly and Joe nods.
‘Shame the only thing to ever get to Luke is Matt.’ There’s something dark underlying his words and Rick is very, very good at hearing the nuances in people’s voices.
‘I never pegged you as a homophobe.’
Joe
throws his hands up, dying towel hanging from the fingers of his right hand. ‘Oh, I’m not, believe me. I’ve got nothing against gay guys and absolutely nothing against Matt and Luke. I am absolutely certain that we wouldn’t be here were it not for what’s between those two so I’m not criticising them in any way. I’m just saying, for Emilie’s sake, it’s a shame. Shame she couldn’t fall for a boy who can love her back.’
That tone’s there again and Rick realises he did misinterpret it. ‘You don’t think there’s time for her to meet someone else?’
Joe looks at him, right at him, and the look in his eyes sends shivers down Rick’s spine. ‘Do you?’
No, he doesn’t. But that means admitting there’s no time for him either and that’s something he’s not quite ready to do because he is most definitely here, right now, and that in itself feels somehow unexpected. ‘I don’t know,’ he lies smoothly enough. He’s good at lying; it used to be his chosen profession. ‘Maybe.’
‘So where do you think we are?’
He moves his head slowly in silent denial of what Joe’s implying. ‘We’ve seen some crazy shit recently. This house is far from the craziest thing to happen to us.’
‘I don’t know. Everything we’ve seen, everything we’ve fought, it all made sense in an apocalyptic way. Being transported from a park in California to wherever this is? That ranks very highly in my list of crazy shit.’
‘We could be anywhere. Could still be in California. Could be in Kansas.’
Joe snorts. ‘Worrying thought.’
Rick sets the last plate on the draining board, thinking about what Joe said. He’s never actually blamed himself for anything so he hasn’t atoned for any of it, not from the heart. Whenever he stopped to think about why he was doing what he was doing, he always blamed his parents, his upbringing, even television. He managed to fool himself into believing it was the chances he never had that led him into a life of crime. But like it or not, Matt and Luke have shown them all what they can do with excuses like his. Despite both of them losing their parents at a young age, they didn’t just become lost in a system that really doesn’t give a shit, didn’t end up on the street turning others into victims in order to boost their own self-esteem. No, they're the ultimate example of good triumphing over bad. They let their grief lead them into a life of saving folk, educating the few people who would listen, harbouring unworthy idiots like him, saving their asses and keeping them safe. He owes his continued existence to the two of them: he, the others here, hundreds more out there. It must be too late to repent now. He should have done it properly when he had the chance, at the Church of the Fallen Saints when the offer was made for atonement and forgiveness by the priest they liberated from the thing living in the rafters.
The House at the End of the World Page 4