by Raymond Lee
“Well, if that isn’t what every girl likes to hear.” She stepped closer until she stood next to him. “Who was she?”
“My goddaughter.” He didn’t need to ask who she was referring to. “Her father died pretty quick after this whole thing started. He had actually married a woman from Russia, one of the infected ones.”
“A mail-order bride?”
“Yes.” He studied the girl, not finding any judgment, before continuing. “Paul and I were close but he never told me he’d taken a new wife. I guess with so many people judging those types of marriages, maybe he thought I would too. They had a daughter together too. She turned. Angela’s mother was Paul’s first wife. Angela was the only member of the family to survive. For a little while anyway.”
“You kept her safe as best you could,” Raven said softly. “Trust me, I know what it feels like to lose someone you’re responsible for to these things. It feels like you failed, like it was all your fault. You spend every waking moment thinking of what you could have done differently, and when you sleep, you see the ones you love getting torn apart.”
“Is that why you tried to commit suicide by zombie?”
“I just didn’t have it in me to kill a little girl after I’d gotten two other ones killed.”
“Angela died in her bed. What came after you wasn’t a little girl. The baby that growled at me from its crib as I held my gun against its head and pulled the trigger wasn’t Angela’s little sister. We have to remember these things and forgive ourselves for our failures. More important than that, we have to keep going. God doesn’t make mistakes. We’re still here for a reason.”
“You’re telling me there’s a reason why this happened, why I’ve lost everyone I care about?”
“Yes, and you haven’t lost everyone you care about.” He nodded his head toward the door. “You have people you care about down there. They care about you too.”
“I don’t want them to.”
“And you don’t want to care about them, but you do.”
“It sucks.”
“It’s a good thing.”
“How is that possibly a good thing?”
“You don’t want to feel anything. You want to be numb, indifferent, but you can’t, because you’re not that person. You’re good.”
“So because I’m good, I deserve to suffer for the rest of my life, however short it may be?” Her eyes blazed fire.
“You don’t suffer because you’re good. You’re good because you suffer.”
She stared back at him, blinking. “You make absolutely no sense.”
“What would you have done if you’d been bitten?”
“Kill myself, of course.” She answered the question matter-of-factly, as if there were no other choice.
“What if you were bitten while out there and we were surrounded? Would you just put a bullet in your head right at that moment?”
“Of course not. I’d cover my people and take as many of those monsters out as I could.”
“Why?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“I have a purpose. Now answer. Why would you save your people? In that scenario you are already dead. Why would you bother saving anyone?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t I protect others from dying the same horrible death, feeling the same pain?”
Hal smiled. When he’d come to the roof, his hope was low. He’d doubted himself, doubted his ability to see people. He’d thought he’d lost the gift, but a sign was sent.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because there’s still hope.”
She looked out over the parking lot, observing the herd of zombies lumbering around aimlessly. Men, women, even children shuffled along the pavement with no place to go, nothing to do but walk around waiting to turn someone else into the evil they were.
“You call that hope?”
“I don’t know how your loved ones died, if you put them out of their misery or left them behind, but I know you still hurt. I know you didn’t enjoy anything you had to do to get where you are now. As long as those who survive don’t quit caring, humanity is not lost.”
“Yeah, well, it looks pretty lost to me.” She cast another disgusted glance down to the parking lot before walking back to the door. She paused inside the doorway, and looked over her shoulder. “Why are you up here? You sure you’re not going to jump?”
“I’m sure. I just had some things to say to those that didn’t make it.”
She nodded her understanding and walked back inside, leaving him alone to say his apologies to Paul, and to Angela, before kneeling and praying for guidance.
Elijah opened the door marked MANAGER and stepped inside. With Kurt tied up in the baby section, he didn’t have anything to fear as he checked out the room. The first thing he noticed was the smell. Empty frozen dinner trays sat in various places around the room. The smell of the leftover food rotting combined with Kurt’s unique body odor created a thick, cloying scent that caused Elijah’s eyes to burn.
Having come prepared, he raised the can of air freshener and gave the nozzle a long press. Once the air inside the room quit stinging his eyes, he picked up the discarded food containers and placed them in the wastebasket next to the desk.
The wall above the desk held multiple monitors which allowed one to see every area of the store, with exception to the bathrooms. Kurt had taken over the room due to this surveillance system. That and he had a private bathroom, one Elijah wasn’t brave enough to enter just yet.
He tugged on a desk drawer, happy to find it unlocked, and started to peruse. Kurt had always been protective of the room and he wanted to know why. The first drawer held an assortment of unopened potato chips, candy bars, cigarettes and beef jerky. The second drawer held magazines full of naked women. The others contained office supplies and files from when there was an actual manager using the office.
“That was anti-climactic,” he muttered, looking around. He was pretty sure the poster of the blonde bikini model hanging on the wall was a recent addition to the décor. It didn’t seem to fit the man he saw in the framed family portrait resting on the desk.
The manager was a fifty-something black man with a pretty wife and two college-aged kids. He wondered if they were still alive, dead, or dead and moving. Looking at the picture reminded him of the family portraits they’d left behind when their house was taken over. They’d packed quickly, nothing but food and necessities. They didn’t think about pictures, they didn’t think about much at all after that monster started in on his mother. They certainly hadn’t thought about putting her out of her misery or burying her.
“What are you doing in here?”
Elijah looked up to see his father standing in the doorway. “The room’s vacant now. I thought I might take it.”
“Why? We’ve been doing just fine in the pharmacy manager’s office. We have those sleeping bags and the door locks.
“This door locks too. It’s crowded in there. I just want my own space.”
Carlos stepped closer, wounded emotion showing in his eyes. “We can’t keep Kurt tied up out there forever.”
“Really? You going to make him leave?”
“No.” Carlos sat on the couch, his nose scrunching as the smell of it wafted up to greet him. “We can’t leave a man out there in that world.”
“You left my mom out there!” Elijah shouted, anger affecting his ability to control his temper.
Carlos jerked back as if struck. “We had no choice!”
“You keep saying that like maybe if you say it enough it’ll actually be true, but it’ll never be!”
“We were surrounded, Elijah. There was nothing we could do. Don’t you think I would have saved her if I could? She was my wife.”
“She was my mom.” Tears burned his eyes and clogged his throat. “We should have saved her. She would have saved us.”
“She did save us.” Carlos looked away. “She yelled for us to run, not to loo
k back.”
“And you just ran.”
“I saved you,” Carlos spat. “She was already lost to us. I had to keep you safe.”
“You should have kept both of us safe. It was your job.”
“Where is this coming from? You’ve been giving me attitude since those people came here. Cruz Thomas, big movie star. You envy that man but he is just an actor. I’m sorry if I can’t be like him. I don’t have a script or stunt doubles!”
“Neither did he when he flew those people here and found them shelter, or when he stood up to Kurt, or when he saved Raven, or when—”
“Enough! There’s a whole group of them. They work together and they have weapons. It was just the three of us when we were attacked, armed with what? Kitchen knives? A baseball bat? I did the best I could.”
“Your best wasn’t good enough.”
“It wasn’t.” Carlos’s nostrils flared. “You don’t have to tell me what I already know, what haunts me every day I breathe and she doesn’t, but you will respect me. I’m still your father.”
“And my mother’s still dead,” Elijah grumbled. “At least I think she is. What if she didn’t die?”
“She died.”
“You don’t know that. She was still screaming when we fled.”
“She’s dead!” Carlos shouted with authority. “Even if she turned into one of those things, it was after she died. The good woman I married, the woman who gave birth to you, is dead. I’m sorry that she died, I’m sorry I didn’t save her. I think about that night all the time, I think about what I could do to change the outcome. No matter how many times I see that night in my head, it always plays out the same. There was nothing I could do.”
“Because you were scared, just like you were scared to help Cruz and his people bury that girl.”
“They are not my priority. You are.”
“You don’t need to protect me. I’m not afraid. I can take care of myself, and I can help others.”
“That’s easier said than done. You’re just a kid.”
“I may be young, but I’m not afraid to fight to protect those I love, or just those who need help.”
“I protected you. I still protect you.”
“Then why have we been cowering to Kurt all this time?”
“We haven’t been cowering,” Carlos defended his actions. “There’s nothing wrong with living in harmony. Now, more than ever, it’s important to live peacefully amongst each other and rally against the threat.”
“Kurt is not on our side. He’s a racist pig who’d screw us over to save his own ass without a shred of guilt.”
“So you think what I’m doing is wrong? You think I should have killed him? Put him out there with those things?”
“I think a man who protects his people does whatever necessary to keep them safe. A protector makes the hard decisions. Fortunately we have Cruz here to do that for us.”
Carlos stared back at him, jaw clenched and eyes wet, but he said nothing.
“I don’t mean to hurt you, Dad. I just need you to let me be a man. Quit trying to protect me. Protection isn’t really your thing.”
Carlos stood and left the room, not looking back, just like he didn’t look back the night the zombies ate his wife.
Elijah powered on the computer and tried to access the internet. He knew it would be down, but still cursed when the message popped up, saying no access. If he could just access the web, he’d recover pictures of his mother.
He looked over at the shotgun propped against the wall between the couch and a filing cabinet. If the internet didn’t come back up, there was another way to get a picture of his mother. Unlike his father, he didn’t plan on living the rest of his life hiding from the monsters who’d killed his mother. He planned on avenging her.
Pimjai watched the plastic stick with a mix of dread and hope. If a plus sign appeared in the window she would be completely screwed. The world was in the middle of a zombie outbreak, dead people walking around killing any survivors who may be left, and no one knew when or if this nightmare would ever end. It was not the time to be having a baby.
But she’d lost her husband to one of those monsters and a baby would be a way to keep part of him. She allowed her mind to wander, envisioning a cute little girl with Greg’s wavy dark hair and her brown eyes, or a boy. Tears formed in her eyes as she pictured a miniature of Greg, a son to carry on the family name. A son to protect from zombies wanting to munch on his baby fat and pick their teeth with his bones.
They’d been at the superstore a month now, long enough for the winter chill to set in, and for them to all be trained how to shoot and fight, but not long enough for her to forget what had happened to her friend, Maggie, when she’d given birth.
Tears fell faster as she recalled what had happened. Maggie had been near her due date when the outbreak happened, and her husband had done everything he could to keep her safe and healthy for the delivery. Unfortunately, the baby had died in womb and without any real medical help, they’d had no idea until the baby was delivered. She would never forget the gray color of that child’s chubby skin, its milky white eyes, or the awful groaning sound that had replaced its sweet baby cries.
What if her baby turned out the same? What if she died giving birth?
The plus sign appeared in the window the moment the morbid thoughts invaded her mind and she sobbed. She was pregnant.
Raven sat Indian style on the floor between two aisles of CDs, her head bowed as she listened to music pumping through the ear buds connected to the CD player on the floor next to her. The katana lay on her other side, and before her, she flipped through pages of a magazine.
“The snow is really falling out there,” Cruz said as he approached.
She looked up, brow furrowing as she removed an ear bud. “What?”
“I said the snow is really coming down.”
“Oh.” She put the ear bud back in her ear, but turned down the volume. “Hopefully it won’t be a bad winter. I’d hate to be out in that mess.”
“Why would we be out in it? We found this place, which you have to agree is pretty sweet. Food, electricity, weapons, ammo. It’s got everything.”
“Including its own resident psycho.”
“Kurt’s not a problem anymore.” Cruz lowered himself to the floor, taking a seat near her.
“Not until he gets loose.”
“He’s secure.”
“Y’all untie him from that column every day to let him eat and use the bathroom. He’s going to make a move eventually.”
“We’ll be ready for that,” Cruz advised, a little irritated by her lack of faith in his ability to keep her safe. “I promised I would keep you safe and I keep my promises.”
“A promise like that shouldn’t be made in a world like this, and I told you I’m not your responsibility.”
“Quit acting like you’re some type of burden, and save the whole you can take care of yourself spiel. I’ve heard it a hundred times already. I know you’re tough, especially now that you know how to shoot a gun.”
She nodded her head, continuing to peruse the open magazine in front of her.
Cruz sighed, frustrated. Women had flocked to him since he was a teenager. Gifted with good looks, a strong body, and endless charisma, he’d made a great actor and once the movie deals started rolling in so did the hot women. Actresses, models, pop stars, they all wanted him and he’d never had to do more than introduce himself. Then came Raven.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re difficult?”
“My parents, my teachers, and my boss.”
“I bet.” He chuckled. “So you were a waitress back in Kentucky?”
“Yep.”
“What else did you do? You know, before this zombie thing happened?”
“I worked and I took care of my sister. I didn’t have much time for anything else.”
“You had to have some fun. Friends? A boyfriend?” The mere thought of her being with a man sparked anger inside hi
m. If he couldn’t get the woman to want him, no one else should have been able to either.
“I used to be in a band. It was still work, but fun too.”
“Really? I guess the blue hair makes a bit more sense. Punk rock? Metal?”
“A little of everything,” she said. “We did a lot of classic rock covers, but we didn’t last long.”
“Why not?”
“We argued about everything, even our name.”
“Which was?”
“Depending on who you asked, it was either Rainbow Farting Unicorns or Unicorns Farting Rainbows.”
He sat there blinking at her until she smiled. “Don’t hate on the name. You know it was awesome.”
“Sure.”
“Hey, it could have been worse. One of the girls was hell bent on Premenstrual Harpies.”
He blinked a few more times then shook his head and nodded toward the CD player. “What are you listening to? Pink Floyd? Ozzy? Guns N Roses? A little Metallica?”
“I’m listening to the greatest singer of all time. David Cook.”
“Who?”
“David Cook,” she repeated while looking at him as if he’d insulted her. “The best singer to ever come out of American Idol.”
“Really? Your favorite singer is an American Idol singer?”
“What’s wrong with that?” The dark look she gave him darkened some more.
“Nothing.” He shrugged nonchalantly, picking up on her irritation with him. “I just had you pegged for more, uh, edgier musicians.”
“David Cook is not just some pop artist. He rocks hard, thank you very much.”
Cruz plucked an ear bud out of her ear and popped it into his own, long enough to hear pure pop lyrics. “Magic rainbows, huh? That where the band name came from?”
“The band name came from an episode of Supernatural, actually.” She recovered her ear bud and inserted it back into her own ear. “And this song was the one they wrote for him to sing when he won American Idol. His other stuff is edgier, and when he covers a rock song, he owns that shit.”
Cruz laughed, finding pleasure in Raven’s aggravation. “All right. I’ll trust you on that.”