by Riva, Aline
“I want to look my best to go and meet my son,” he replied.
“We assume he's your son,” Marc reminded him.
There was not a flicker of doubt in his gaze as he took up his cane and turned from the mirror.
“I know he is,” he replied, sounding very sure, “And I'm going over there right now. Wish me luck.”
“I hope you won't need any,” Marc replied, then Greg left the room, leaning on his cane and Marc watched as he carefully made his way down the stairs. He knew if he offered to help it would have been refused – Greg was determined to walk over there and it seemed the thought of that child being his son had given him all the strength he needed to push through the pain barrier and make that walk across the street. Marc went downstairs, closing the door as Greg walked away from the house, then he went to the window and watched from behind the curtain.
“I hope this works out,” he said quietly, “I think you're right, I think that kid is your son...”
On reaching the front of the house Greg went up to the porch, pausing to brush snow from the shoulders of his jacket before knocking on the door. The wait seemed far too long, then finally the door opened. Stacy stood there in a white jumper and dark jeans, she had just taken off her coat and he wanted to ask about the baby – the child wasn't in her arms now – but instead as he saw a look of surprise on her face, he started to smile.
“How did you get over here?” she said.
“I walked,” he replied, trying to say it casually but unable to hide a smile as pride glowed in his eyes, “I'm back home now and I'm on the road to recovery! Can I come in?”
“Of course,” she replied, and stepped back and he went inside.
Stacy closed the door behind him and watched in surprise as he walked easily with the cane, only pausing to lean on it briefly as vague pain registered on his face, then it was gone as he looked to the door that led to the front room. It was open, and through it he caught a glimpse of another open doorway that led to a small kitchen.
“I'd love a cup of tea,” he said, “Then we can sit and talk...I think we have a lot to talk about?”
She met his enquiring gaze and nodded.
“You sit down, I'll put the kettle on.”
He waited for her to go into the kitchen, then as her back was turned, he went to the foot of the stairs. The light was on up there, and he cast a glance up the stairway, then decided not to think about his aching legs – this would feel like a mountain to climb, but he had to reach the top. Determination was set in his eyes as he started to go up the stairway, slowly, quietly, trying not to make a sound as he alternated between the cane and the hand rail as he went up the stairs and his legs hurt more with every step.
In the kitchen, Stacy had set the kettle on the heat and her back was turned as she waited for the water to boil.
“I'm glad you're out of the infirmary, I'm sorry I haven't been to see you lately – but I've been busy...I think you know why, you must have heard...I'm not sure what you've heard but I do need to tell you something...Is that why you came over?”
There was no reply. She glanced over her shoulder, then went through to the front room.
“Greg?” she said, looking about the empty room. Still there was no reply.
She left the room and went up the stairs. As she reached the top she saw the bedroom door was wide open and went inside, her gaze automatically went to the cot in the corner of the room – it was empty. Then as she looked to the window, there a table lamp threw a warm glow about the room and she saw Greg was sitting in the comfortable chair she used when feeding her baby. He was sitting there with the child cradled in his arms, talking softly to the baby with silver hair and white eyes as the child looked up at him, smiling as he instinctively recognised his father's voice.
“There's nothing wrong with you,” Greg said tenderly as he looked down at the baby, “Your eyes and your hair are different to other children but you're a lovely little boy...so very special... ”
“His name is Zodiac. It was Antonio Parsons idea to call him that. Once he realised he looks that way because of the bite virus, when he found out he wasn't carrying the infection, he said all the stars must have been in alignment on the day he was born...He said he's a symbol of hope, that something good can come out of something terrible. I think he's right.”
Greg looked up from the baby in his arms and met her gaze as she stood there in the doorway.
“It's my fault he's different. I was carrying the bite virus when he was conceived. When we conceived him together. Am I right, Stacy?”
Love shone in he gaze as she nodded.
“Yes, he is your son,” she replied softly.
The child gripped Greg's finger and laughed and Greg looked down, in time to see a flash of teeth as the child pulled his fingertip closer and gave a sharp nip.
“Oi!” he said as he laughed again, “Stop that! We don't bite!”
Stacy had joined him now and she stood at his side, watching as he cradled his son.
“I have to bottle feed him because he bites. It seems to be a harmless kind of urge, he doesn't draw blood – yet - but I can't breast feed. He's due for a feed in half an hour, I've got bottles ready in the fridge. Would you like to do it?”
Greg looked into her eyes and smiled.
“Of course,” he replied, then his gaze deepened, taking on intensity as he thought about the future.
“I would very much like us to be a family, Stacy. It's not enough for me to be his father, I want us to be a family unit. I want to be right here beside you to raise this boy of ours.”
She started to smile too and in that moment it was as if all her dreams had come true instantly.
“So you should be,” she said warmly, “I've been thinking about this moment since the day he was born...I've seen him smile before, but not like he is now – I think he was waiting for you, he wanted his Dad.”
He looked up at her for a moment, his eyes shining with joy as hers reflected the same, then as he cradled their son, Stacy leaned closer and they shared a kiss. The moment was brief, then Stacy turned for the door just as the kettle began to whistle and the sound carried up the stairs.
“I'd better turn that off and then go and fetch some wood,” she told him, “Or the fire will burn low...You stay there with Zodiac, I won't be long.”
He gave her a loving glance and then looked down at the baby in his arms.
“I love you, son,” he said softly, “You're the best thing that ever happened in the whole of my sorry life, the one good thing. I'm so glad you're here...”
On the street outside, as the snow fell and she shivered in her thin coat, Vicki's gaze was turned to the window where the light was glowing warmly and behind the curtain she had seen them in silhouette, Greg had been cradling the baby, then Stacy had leaned over him and Greg had kissed her. Pain threatened to break her heart in half as she blinked away tears of anger and loss for all the hopes that had been building since Greg had embraced her.
“Vicki?” she turned as her name was called to see Emma hurrying up the street towards her.
“I just heard Greg was back, it's great news...Oh no, what's wrong?”
Tears shone in Vicki's eyes as she looked to the window then back to Emma.
“Today I actually thought maybe he cared about me... Now he's in there, with her and the baby!”
“I did wonder if Zodiac might be his,” Emma admitted, “You must have thought the same, with the bite virus connection -”
“I didn't know they were together!” she said bitterly, and then as the door opened and Stacy came out of the house with her sights set on a woodpile across the street where an axe rested beside it, Vicki snapped her head around as her hair lifted on the icy breeze and anger burned in her eyes.
“What have you done?” she demanded angrily as she stormed over to Stacy, who looked at her with a startled expression.
Inside the house, on hearing raised voices, Greg looked out of the window.
“Oh no,” he said, “Oh Vicki please, don't do this.”
Then he got up, took two steps over to the cot and laid his son down inside it.
“Daddy won't be a minute,” he said, then he grabbed his cane and hurried out the door, taking the stairs as quickly as he could as the two women's raised voices began to drift louder towards him.
Across the street, Marc had been watching from the window. He had just made some tea and as he set the tea down he heard raised voices and casually strolled towards the door that led to the hallway – this was no dangerous situation to worry about, just two women having a bust up over Greg Fitzroy – it wasn't as if something like this had never happened before back in his womanising days...
“I can tell you're back on top form, Bro,” Marc chuckled as he headed for the front door.
The oil stained corpse was ravenous as it stood in the shade of a cluster of trees, their limbs had barely renewed their leaves but the shadow fell hard, obscuring the corpse as it caught sight of the woman with the long gold hair, then its attention switched to the others. Two more living beings were with her, and they smelled of warm blood and he wanted to tear into them, eat their guts and gorge on their flesh and drink their blood until nothing was left. It had been a long wait for a fresh kill. It wanted it kill both of them, it wanted to grab the first one that moved towards the shadows, it hungered madly with the need for fresh meat...
Vicki's voice was raised as she glared at Stacy.
“I knew him long before you came along!”
“Vicki, calm down!” Emma said, pulling at her arm, but Vicki pulled away from her sharply, determined to square up to her rival.
“Me and Greg have been through a lot!” Vicki said sharply.
“And we have a baby together!” Stacy yelled.
Vicki fell silent, the shock of her words sinking in. Emma was tugging at the sleeve of her coat.
“Let's go,” she said.
“What's going on?” Greg demanded as he joined them, and Stacy gave a sigh, her heart aching to see the man she loved fighting pain that was clear to see in his eyes as he leant on the cane after making his way quickly across the street.
“You should be resting!” she exclaimed.
“Is there a problem?” his question was aimed at Vicki.
She shook her head, but her eyes were tearful and she shot him a sour look.
“Go home, Vicki,” he advised, “We can talk about this another time...I realise you're fond of me and you didn't know about the baby - I didn't know about my son until today. It changes a lot. I have a future now and a family to take care of and I hope you'll be happy for me?”
He held her in his gaze.
“I thought you two were just friends?” wondered Stacy.
“We are,” he stated, his gaze still set hard on Vicki, who turned away.
“Sorry,” she said quietly.
Just then Marc left Greg's house and stepped outside, looking across the street.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“It is now,” Greg called back, and Marc turned back toward the open doorway.
Emma touched Vicki's arm.
“Let's go home,” she said again, and they turned away and began to walk slowly down the street.
“I'm sorry about that,”Greg said sincerely, “She's always been fond of me and -”
“There's no need to explain,”Stacy promised, reassuring him with a knowing smile, “You go back inside, wait with our son. I'll gather the wood.”
“When I don't need this cane any more,” he told her, leaning closer as their lips almost touched and a playful sparkle came to his gaze, “You won't be making these trips out on cold nights – I'll be fetching the fire wood!”
Then he kissed her and turned towards the house, leaning on his cane as he headed back. Stacy was still smiling from that kiss as she stepped on to the paved street and reached for the wood. The corpse lumbered out of the shadows, half staggering, half lunging with a maddening need to feast as it made a grab for her. Stacy looked up as the shadow fell over her, letting out a shriek as she staggered back in shock, turned and slipped on the frozen ground. Her scream had filled the air, Marc turned back sharply from the open door, down the street Vicki and Emma turned back towards the sound, saw her scramble to her feet and run, then the creature was on her, sending her crashing to the ground again.
Greg had turned sharply, seen the terror in her eyes as she screamed again, and he looked past her and the creature as they struggled, saw the axe beside the woodpile and leant hard on his cane, ignoring the pain that tore through his healing legs as he made a dash for the weapon.
“Get out of the way!” yelled Marc, taking up a two handed firing stance and taking aim.
Two shots rang out as Stacy and the creature rolled and the corpse took two hits to the shoulder, jerking its body, then as Marc took aim again the creature had her by the hair, tearing her head back exposing her throat as she screamed a final time.
“NO!” Greg yelled, staggering as he swung the axe high.
The creature sunk its teeth into her throat, bit down and tore it out as blood spurted over the snowy ground and ran a river beneath her body. Still the creature was biting, taking it down to bone as it snapped her head sideways and her eyes stared lifeless. The axe fell hard into the back of the corpse and Greg pulled it out with force, blinded by rage as the undead creature rolled off Stacy's body and the axe came down again.
Vicki screamed, Emma looked on in horror. Marc lowered his gun, knowing it was too late for Stacy, but perhaps this revenge was all that could save Greg's sanity as he kept on hacking and hacking at the undead corpse, it was on its back, its head severed, then another blow split the skull in half and rotted brains burst out and ran with blackened blood, that same blood was spattering up and soaking Greg's face and hair and clothing as he kept on hacking at the creature, severing arms, slicing the torso in half, hacking off its legs with heavy swings of the axe.
“Bastard! Fucking bastard!” he yelled as his voice and the sound of the axe slicing through the rotting corpse filled the street.
Then as he looked down at the bloody mess of the undead creature in pieces, the axe slipped from his grip and fell to the ground. He turned back to Stacy's body and fell to his knees hard, oblivious to his own pain as he snatched her up and clutched her tightly, weeping as he cradled her and the others stood around in silent shock, looking on and feeling powerless as from up in the bedroom of the house across the street, the sound carried as Zodiac began to wail, as if he knew his mother was never coming back.
When morning came the snow was gone, washed away by light rainfall. The villagers gathered high on the hillside that faced the mountain, where below the sea crashed on to the rocks. They buried her there, in a grassy hillside and as the sun broke through and chased away cloud, blue skies signalled the coming of the warmth of Spring. Perhaps this would mean a new beginning, Parsons had observed as he spoke over the graveside.
“And no one is to blame for the loss of Stacy,” he added, looking to Greg who stood there in a black suit holding his son in his arms, the shawl was wrapped warmly about the child, he had pulled it over his face a little, just enough to keep his eyes in shadow because he knew his son, his special boy, could not bear bright light.
“We must forgive and understand the innocence of children,” added Parsons, “Children who readily admitted trying to reach the friendly monster. We must learn from their efforts that we all want a world of friendly monsters. Perhaps one day, we will succeed. Perhaps even live in peace with these undead beings. But today as we lay Stacy to rest, we remember her life and her gift to the world - Zodiac is a child of hope. Let us all remember that as we say farewell to one of our own and look to the future with hope in our hearts.”
Then Parsons glanced at Vicki, who was standing on the other side of the grave, she was tearful and could not bear to look at Greg. As Parsons finished his speech, she wound a finger around a lock o
f her hair and tugged it sharply, ripping it from her scalp as Emma caught her hand, telling her quietly to stop, and the hair slipped from her grasp and was snatched away by the wind.
Vicki had blamed herself constantly, telling Emma that it was her long fair hair, that was the only reason the creature didn't harm her. That was why it had ended up like this, and this was why Stacy was dead... She refused to listen to reason, Emma pointing out that even Parsons had wanted to spare the creature had meant nothing to her. She had spent half the night slowly ripping out strands of her hair and she was determined to carry on, she had said, until it was gone, because it was her hair that had drawn the corpse to her in the first place...
After the burial was over, long after the others had left and Parsons had spoken at length with Greg, reminding him that he was still blessed because he had his remarkable son, Marc lingered behind, waiting to speak to his best friend alone. When Parsons finally departed, Marc spoke up.
“I tried,” he said as the two men stood together at the graveside, “I put two shots into that creature but she was fighting hard, I had the corpse right in my sights but...” he drew in a sharp breath, looking to the view of the sea as the wind blew cold and it revived his senses, pulling him back from weeping at a time when his best friend needed his strength the most, “I tried,” he said again.
Greg nodded.
“I know you did,” he replied, “Nothing could have saved her... it happened too quick...”
Then he looked down at the child in his arms and felt a spark of hope as Zodiac's pale eyes looked up at him.
“I'm sorry you don't have your Mum,” he said to his son, “I can't make up for that but I can be the best Dad in the world! I used to be a very bad man...I thought I was strong but I was a weak man, it was all about money and selfishness... Not any more. I didn't even cry today. I did all my crying last night. Now I'm looking forward, I'm thinking about the future - I'm going to be a father you will be proud of. I don't know how long we will be safe here but I promise you this: I will protect to you until my last breath...”