by Boye, Kody
What, though? Just what had he thought? That the snow would take them away, turn them into icicles that would explode with any slight disturbance, freeze them in place and destroy whatever was inside them entirely?
I should’ve known better.
“Thought what?” Jamie asked.
“I thought this would end them. The snow.”
“You know what?” Jamie said, “I did too. Some little part of me hoped that the cold weather and all the snow would stop them from moving, maybe even get into their bones and break them when the moisture expanded as it turned to ice.”
Dakota sighed. He stepped back into the master bedroom and waited until Jamie was inside before closing the twin glass doors behind them. “Are we awake for the day?”
“We might as well be,” Jamie said, reaching for a pair of jeans at the end of the bed. “Did you want to go back to bed?”
“No point,” Dakota said.
Because I’ll just have nightmares about the new Christ if I do.
What they thought would be a short burst of snow soon turned into a steady flurry of ice and sleet. Like a mountain lion just roused from sleep, the wind hissed and roared across the hills and reverberated throughout the wooden frames of the houses, rattling the sleepy occupants. At times the wind would be so strong that the houses would shake, quivering in the shadows of the mountains before them, while at other it would be so soft and subtle that it would sound like nothing more than a lone kitten’s hiss.
Seated in the living room with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a cup of warm tea in his hands, Dakota raised his eyes just in time to see a blast of snow cover the window.
Great, he thought. Now I can’t see anything.
Not that there was much to see anyway. The lawn was bare, and with the new wall now firmly in place, anything beyond its scope was out of reach, shadowed just like the window now was.
“Oh well,” he sighed. “Not much I can do about it.” He looked over at Rose. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m well,” she said. “A bit cold though.”
“You want this blanket?”
“That’s nice of you, but no thank you, I’m used to the cold.”
“What part of England did you come from?”
“Wales. It isn’t in England though; it’s just part of Britain. Most people are of the opinion it’s part of England anyway. To answer the question you were probably about to ask, it’s usually cold, but we get more rain than we do snow.”
“So you’re used to the weather then?”
“A little, but not like this.”
Dakota cast a glance down at his cup of tea and sighed, wishing that he could be a microbe or something similar swimming about its surface.
At least it’d be warm.
“Is Jamie going to do something about our food supply?” Rose asked.
“I’m not sure,” Dakota said. “I know that Desmond offered to keep track, but I’m not sure if he’s done it or if he’s even added the new stuff to his list.”
“If the weather keeps up, we’re not going to be able to make supply runs.”
“I know.”
“And if we can’t make supply runs, we’re going to have to eat as little as possible.”
“At least now we can use the snow as water. I think we have a distiller.”
“Can’t be drinking dirty water.” Rose stood. She stretched her arms over her head and crossed the living room, toward the window that he’d just been looking out. She pressed a hand to the glass and held it there for several moments before she pulled it back. Her bony armature reminded him of the inner workings of a clock and mechanical engineering.
How long did she go without food?
She said she’d been stranded at sea for weeks, then had spent the days leading up to her arrival at their place driving across the country, but what did that say? It didn’t lead to any conclusion that she’d eaten anything, albeit something that would keep her going longer than a few hours.
She’s safe. That’s all she has to worry about.
“Where is your boyfriend anyway?” Rose asked.
“I don’t know. Why?”
“I wanted to talk to him about something.”
“He’s probably upstairs going through his parents’ closets.”
“Maybe we’ll get some extra blankets then,” Rose said. Halfway through stretching her arms out again, she looked over at Dakota and frowned, her features visibly softening.
“Something wrong, Rose?”
“Does it bother you that Kevin flipped out over…whatever it was we saw yesterday?”
“A little.”
“I’m worried about his children.”
“He’s a good dad. Remember, he just lost his oldest son and the only friend he had.”
“I know, but he’s unstable. I don’t think we should bring him with us anymore.”
“She has a point,” Jamie said, making his way down the stairs with an armful of clothes. “These are for you, Rose. They were my mother’s, but they look about your size.”
“Thank you, Jamie.”
“No problem,” Jamie said, passing the clothes off to Rose. “But yeah, Dakota, I completely agree with her. Kevin shouldn’t go on supply runs with us anymore.”
“Especially since he was making so much fucking noise,” Rose sighed. “I was afraid we were going to have to deal with a bunch of zombies.”
“I did too, guys, but…” Dakota shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Every party has their nuts with the bolts, Dakota. You should know that.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not saying that to be rude. I know Kevin’s a good guy, I could tell when we had our heart-to-heart, but you can’t dwell in the past, especially when you’re out in the field.”
Dakota watched Rose sift through the clothing Jamie had brought down, then retrieve a pink hand-sewn sweater. She pushed her arms through it, but left it unbuttoned. She gave Jamie her approval with a curt nod. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I know we haven’t had much time to get my living arrangements settled, but I’d prefer if I weren’t around Kevin, if at all possible. He doesn’t make me completely uncomfortable, but I don’t think my presence around his children would be for the best right now.”
“Does anyone know what happened to his wife?” Dakota asked.
“He mentioned something about her yesterday,” Rose said, “but he started talking about his oldest boy and it was lost in the wash.”
“There’s not much we can do to help him,” Jamie frowned. “Unless we take Erik with us on another supply run and have him pick out some meds from the pharmacy, but I don’t think he’s qualified or trained to deal with psych patients. I guess the best thing we can do for Kevin is be his friend. Right now, that’s what everyone needs.”
No kidding, Dakota thought.
Without friends, this world would swallow you whole.
*
“Dad,” Arnold said. “Can I talk to you?”
Kevin raised his eyes from their place on the floor. Taking a moment to consider both himself and the fourteen-year-old boy that now stood before him, he allowed himself a deep breath, then nodded, gesturing his son forward with a wave of the hand. “How’re you doing?”
“Fine,” Arnold said. “It’s just…I need to ask you something.”
“What is it, son?”
“Does God exist?”
As out of the left field as the question was, Kevin had expected it. Somehow, he’d known this very question would arise in the weeks after his oldest son’s death. It wasn’t hard for children to wonder just what happened after someone died, especially to someone they loved so much.
I should have done better, he thought, setting a hand on his son’s back. I should have taken them to church more.
Back then, before the world had ended, he never worried about taking his sons to church. Each Sunday that passed on the calendar
was just another day, a day that could be repeated in the week coming and the week after that. He never worried about the church, his sons or their place in the world. It’ll come again, he’d told himself. There will always be other Sundays. Now, though, he couldn’t be so sure.
With the weight of the world against his shoulders, bearing down on him like a thousand pounds weight, he felt incredible guilt over his recent lack of faith.
The boys… they’re not even saved.
Jessiah had been baptized at the age of seven. It had been one of the few things he and his wife had agreed on back then, before they split after Mark’s fifth birthday. He’d been so preoccupied with his work and being a single father the past few years that he hadn’t even stopped to consider that his other children had never been indoctrinated into the Catholic faith.
Jessiah’s there, he thought, looking up at the ceiling. In Heaven, with God.
He had no doubt about that. Even after laying eyes on the monstrosity within the convenience store, he knew that his son was Saved, that Jessiah was in Heaven with the Holy Creator. But now, after all this time, after all this lack of faith, here came his middle son bearing the shield of honor, the cracked plate of trust. What was he to say to a boy who knew nothing of God or what He was?
You can do this, Kevin. You can do this.
“Dad?” Arnold asked.
He inhaled sharply. It took him a painful moment to realize he’d stopped breathing regularly. “Just thinking…about a lot of things,” he said, gesturing the boy to sit on the arm of the couch. “You asked if God existed. Right?”
“Yes.”
“I want to tell you that He does,” Kevin said. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, Arnold, but certain things don’t seem as obvious as they should be.”
“What do you mean?”
“Eagle was a blessing, maybe even an angel for all I know.”
“But Dad, angels aren’t supposed to…”
“Die?” Kevin asked. Arnold nodded. His eyes dropped to his floor and his head followed with it. “They, too, are mortal, son. They may be heavenly, but they are flesh and blood just like us.”
“I thought that angels were beautiful, shining, with wings?”
“Arnold, you don’t have to have wings to be an angel. I’m sure you already know that.”
“Dad…Jessiah isn’t just…gone, is he?”
“No, son. He isn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because on the day we buried him, when I was at my weakest and I was ready to just give in, I asked God to take care of my son, your brother. All He asked was that I kill the demon within the barn.”
“Diana,” Arnold whispered.
“Yes, Diana, your brother’s beautiful mare. The Devil took hold of her and made her His construct.”
“But I thought the Devil didn’t exist?”
Kevin laughed. “Some say he doesn’t. Some say he does. All I know is that when I opened that stall and looked into her eyes, I saw him, Arnold. I saw the Devil.”
Arnold didn’t say anything. Instead, he raised his eyes and looked directly at Kevin, his face now bolder and more determined than it had been before.
“I don’t ask you to believe,” Kevin said. “All I ask is for you to know that He exists, at least for me.”
“I know, Dad,” Arnold said.
“Good,” Kevin smiled. “Go check on your brother for me, please.”
The boy stood. He was about to head for the stairs before he stopped and looked over his shoulders. “Dad?”
“Yes, son?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” Kevin smiled. “So much.”
*
“Quit hitting me!” Arnold cried.
“Then stop bossing me around!” Mark cried back, tossing a pillow in his brother’s direction.
Arnold ducked, the pillow missing him by inches, and said, “All I said was to be careful what you said to Dad.”
“Dad’s the grown-up! He should be the one taking care of us!”
Sighing, Arnold ran a hand over his quickly-lengthening hair and stared at his little brother. Being thrust into the position of the eldest sibling wasn’t easy.
If only Jessiah were here.
If Jessiah were here, he’d know what to say. He’d always known how to make Mark stop crying when something was wrong, when it seemed as though the world would crumble in around them and they would be covered in rock.
“I miss him too,” Arnold said, tears snaking their way down his face. “I’m trying, Mark. I’m trying!”
“Brother,” Mark said. A hint of his former, much-younger self appeared in that moment. With a twitch of his nose and a flare of his nostrils, Mark’s lip curled up and his eyes widened to their breaking point. His tears came back once more at the sight of his older brother in tears. “What’re we gonna do without him?”
“I don’t know,” Arnold said, collapsing onto the second bed. “I just don’t know, Jason.”
“What did Dad say when you asked?”
“That…that God does exist.”
“That’s not all he said.”
“Yes it was.”
“Arnold, you were down there too long for him to just say that.”
“Mark, please—”
“Tell me!”
“All right! All right!” Arnold cried, shaking his head and raising his hands. “Keep it down though, ok? I don’t want Dad knowing we’re upset.”
Mark started to speak, but Arnold silenced his brother with a glare. Sniffling, Mark reached up to wipe the snot from his lip, absently wiping it on the thigh of his jeans when he was finished. “He said,” Arnold began, “that when he went out into the barn to take care of Diana, he saw the Devil in her eyes.”
“The Devil?” Mark asked.
“The Devil,” Arnold agreed.
“But Dad never said anything about the Devil.”
“I know. That’s why I asked.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“No.”
Mark threw himself from the bed and into his brother’s arms. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, burying his head into his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to be so mean.”
Arnold set his hands on his brother’s back. “It’s ok, Mark. I’m not mad at you.”
“I’m sorry for throwing things at you.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry for calling you names.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry for everything.”
“It’s ok,” Arnold said, closing his eyes.
As his younger brother cried in his arms, Arnold shamelessly shed a few more tears of his own.
If only Jessiah were here.
He’d know what to do.
*
Erik tapped on the door with the back of his knuckles. He pushed it open and peeked into the room, taking note of Ian’s shirtless form lying on the bed. “Ian? You doing ok?”
“Yes,” Ian said. “Something bothering you?”
“Not a lot, but a little.”
“What’s up?”
Erik stepped into the room. He took a moment to admire the floral décor hanging along and around the window before returning his attention to Ian. “You care for a little downer?”
“Like I said, what’s up?”
“Dakota and Jamie saw a zombie walking around earlier.”
“So?”
“She was covered in ice.”
“So what does that mean?”
“That they’re not going anywhere,” Erik sighed. “At least not for a while.”
“We’re on our own, aren’t we? No military help at all.”
“Not as far as I can tell. I’ve been messing with a radio here in the kitchen. It’s working, but I’m not picking anything up.”
“Nothing?”
“There’s some static, a few garbled words here and there, but nothing concrete. I think one of them might have been a relief broadcast, but whatever
it is, I can’t hear it.”
“What makes you think it was?”
“Something about ‘all citizens’ and the like.” Erik said.
“Your headaches been better?”
“I guess. I haven’t had one for a few days.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For asking.”
“We were all worried about you when we first got here. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
“Can I ask a favor, if it’s no big deal?”
“Shoot.”
“You know I’m bipolar. I mentioned it back at the base.”
Ah, Erik thought.
How could he have forgotten that frustrated moment when, while lying in his room, he’d heard a knock on the door only to find Ian—depressed, near tears and trembling, only able to say, I need my meds, Erik—I ran out.
Ian continued, indifferent to Erik’s epiphany. “I’ve been having a really rough time. I’ve been doing the best I can to control my temper, but I’m starting to go through some of the depressive cycles and I don’t want to get any worse than I already am. It’s hard enough having to be cooped up, but with almost nothing to do, I’m surprised I haven’t gone crazy.”
“You need meds,” Erik agreed. “Why haven’t you mentioned it before?”
“Because I didn’t want to bother you with it.”
“It doesn’t bother me. Fuck. I just wish we would’ve thought to grab them before we left.”
“We weren’t anywhere near the supply closet when we had to leave, Erik. It’s no one’s fault.”
“I know.” Erik said. “Ok. Cool. You need meds.”
“That’s all I’m asking for.”
“You know what kind?”
“Symbyax, but I can deal with other stuff too.”
“We can do that on our next supply run.”
“So you’ll talk to Jamie and whoever?”
“I will.”
“Hey, Erik? Just between us…before, when I was in prison…after I was forced to rape that girl for my initiation…I used to think that no one would ever accept me after what I’d done.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. When the other guys I was with died—when Dakota and Steve killed them just as they should have—and I was sitting there with the plastic cuffs around my wrist and my life dangling on the line, I thought that I would never get a second chance. You know what though?”