BloodoftheDead[UndeadWorldTrilogyBookOne]

by A. P. Fuchs

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  10: At Joe's Place

  Joe really didn't want Billie and Des in his apartment and the only reason he invited them back was because it was the right thing to do.

  But is it really the right thing if my heart isn't in it? April came bounding out of the front room just as they entered the apartment. She bowed and barked and growled at the newcomers.

  Des took a step back.

  "Don't worry,” Joe said. “She's friendly.” Then added, “To me, anyway.” He locked the door and chained the top.

  April's lips curled way back, showing her teeth. She barked, the sound echoing off the walls.

  "April, quiet!” he told her.

  She barked again.

  Joe stepped up to her and put his hand on her head. “Quiet. It's okay.” The dog stood straight up on all fours. “Don't mind her. She'll get used to you in a moment."

  Billie nodded. Des had taken another step back.

  The three stood just inside the door, Billie and Des looking at him as if waiting for him to say something.

  "If your shoes stink like the dead, take them off otherwise don't worry about it. April'll trail you around if she thinks you're one of them. Might even jump on you."

  Des made a face then took off his shoes. Billie took hers off, as well.

  Joe kicked off his boots and took April by the collar and led her into the front room. The other two didn't follow and it wasn't until he stood in the middle of the room without them did he add, “You can come in, if you want. Or you can stand there. Up to you guys."

  Billie and Des came in but didn't sit. They were a mess, each covered head to toe in sticky zombie blood.

  "You should get cleaned up. As said, April'll go nuts if you don't,” Joe told them.

  Billie shrugged. “How?"

  "Got running water?” Des asked.

  "No. But I have water. Bathroom's at the end of the hallway. Why don't you guys go down there and clean up. There're a few jugs in there that you can use, same with a tub."

  "What about our clothes?” Billie asked.

  Good point, Joe thought. He had a few things Des could wear but nothing for girls. “I got some extra. You can use them."

  "Where?” Des asked.

  "The bedroom. I'll get them."

  Joe led them down the hallway, Billie and Des following behind, April behind them. A low rumble emitted from April's throat as she trailed Des's heels.

  The two visitors remained outside the bedroom door as Joe and April went in to find them something to wear. A few moments later he came out with a couple of T-shirts, some pants and socks. April remained at his feet.

  "Here. This should do it. It's nothing fancy,” he said and handed the stack to Des.

  Des took it between his palms. “Thanks."

  "No problem,” he said even though a part of him was having a hard time letting the clothes go. He didn't have much as it was and he'd feel especially rude if he asked for them back when Des and Billie were done with them. He wasn't even sure if he'd see them again after they left.

  Des and Billie went into the bathroom and closed the door behind them.

  Joe immediately went to the kitchen, pulled off his coat and tossed it on the table. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and shouted down the hallway, “April, come. Now."

  The dog remained in front of the bathroom door, gazing up at it as if she could see the two beyond.

  Joe whistled. “I said let's go!"

  Reluctantly, April obeyed and joined him in the front room.

  Muttering came from behind the bathroom door. Joe couldn't make out what was being said but it sounded like Des was speaking.

  "Is it just me or does he seem to be a bit of a suck?"

  April didn't reply.

  "Just me, then."

  He took a swig of beer. It was old, the taste sharp and fizzy. Having these two here, in his home, made his heart ache, especially since one of them was a girl. The last person to have been in need had been April. She had slept over, back at his old place. Slept with him. They lay together on his bed and it was there they kissed for the first time. That was all. Just a kiss, but it was one Joe could never forget.

  It was the first time he kissed someone he loved.

  You gotta get past this, he thought. “Just move on."

  But it was impossible.

  April's memory lingered in every thought, on every breath, was present all the time. Even though she was dead, even though the stamp of finality had been put on things, he still held out hope that some way, somehow, he'd see her again and this all would have been some big misunderstanding.

  "It's hopeless, isn't it?"

  The dog looked at him like she did every time he tried to reason out his inability to let April go: a wide, dark-eyed stare, one filled with sympathy and one filled with the hurt of being unable to help. At least, that was how Joe liked to think his dog looked at him every time his heart went for a trip down the gutter.

  By the time Billie and Des emerged from the bathroom, his beer had been long gone.

  Billie led the way down the hallway, wearing a white T-shirt and black sweatpants. Des followed close behind, wearing jeans and a green T-shirt. Both the socks he had given them were gray.

  "Got a place where I can put these?” Billie asked, holding up a wad of rolled-up, blood-covered clothes.

  "Yeah,” Joe said as he got off the couch and went into the kitchen. He pulled a black garbage bag out from under the sink and had Billie dump the clothes in it. “I'll toss these next time I go outside."

  "When is that?” Billie asked, bending her elbows and putting her palms on her lower back.

  April barked.

  "Quiet!” Joe said. To Billie: “Tomorrow. I go out every night."

  "What for?” Des asked.

  Joe's mind went blank. He knew why he went out night after night, hunting the undead, but to put it into words.... He couldn't even explain it to himself never mind someone else. “Let's put it this way,” he said. “The dead are walking the earth. They weren't supposed to. Once you died, that was it. Now, that's no longer the case. It would be one thing if it were a set amount of deceased people walking around. It's quite another when they either eat the rest of us who are still alive or turn us into one of them. This isn't how it's supposed to go, Des. I go out to try and reclaim some of the life that was taken from us. Will I ever get it all back? No. But at least I'm trying. That's more than what most folks are doing. Humanity gave up, remember? We're just pulling through and that's it. Let's try fighting for a change. You never know what might happen."

  Billie had a subtle grin on her face. Des's face was blank, as if he couldn't quite compute what he'd just been told.

  "So, you're, what, some kind of superhero?” Des said.

  Joe smirked. “No, but thanks for the compliment."

  "I just don't think it's wise,” Billie said, “going out like that, asking for trouble. Look at what just happened. Crazy. And you want to walk into that? You're nuts!"

  You just don't know I've got nothing to lose. “Maybe. But you guys also walked into that."

  "Yeah, but we didn't know they'd be all over the place."

  "Neither did I. This is new. It's been a long while since they've gathered in those kinds of numbers."

  "Think they're looking to clean us out, that is, wipe everyone who's left off the map before, I don't know, moving on to the next city or something?"

  "Maybe, but I doubt it. They're not that smart. Besides, each city is full of the things, remember?"

  April came up beside Joe and sat at his feet, never taking her eyes off Billie and Des.

  "But they are smarter or at least seem to be functioning at a higher level than before,” Des said.

  "Yeah,” Billie said.

  "They seem more feral now, too,” Des said.

  Billie looked at him, eyes wide. “Feral? Now that's a big word,” she said. “One
would think you read or something."

  "I read."

  "Yeah, comics."

  "Still reading."

  Comics. I used to write those, Joe thought. Des would probably get a kick out of him telling him that, maybe even get all fanboy on him. But that was a lifetime ago.

  "We need to learn more,” Joe said.

  Billie furrowed her brow. “Have a computer? One hooked up to the Net?"

  "Computer, yes. Net, no. I got rid of it."

  She looked at him incredulously. “Serious?"

  "Not everyone's a geek like you, you know,” Des said.

  "Shut up."

  "Pssshh.” Des waved her off with his hand.

  "I was hooked up, long ago. Not anymore. Didn't need it."

  "Surprised you were able to disconnect with the service provider,” she said as if she didn't believe him.

  Joe flashed back to the night he took a beer bottle to his computer in a drunken rage and tried smashing it to bits. His manuscript detailing his weekend with April was on there and, at the time, he thought that by destroying the computer he'd be able to get away from her and put to rest the torment of losing her. He trashed his modem, but the bottle broke when he went for the processor.

  "A lot of surprising things have happened since the rain came, now, haven't they?” he said.

  She eyed him coolly. He held her gaze, not giving her an inch. For a guest, she had a lot of guts to talk to him like that.

  "Anyway,” Des said, “what now?"

  "Sleep,” Joe said. “We'll talk once we're rested. It's been a long night."

  April growled.

  "Where do you want us to sleep?” Des asked.

  Joe still kept looking at Billie. She hadn't taken her eyes off his.

  "Hey, yoohoo?” Des said, waving a hand between them. “I said: ‘Where do you want us to sleep?’ Didn't you hear me, Joe?"

  "I heard you. Take the bedroom. I'll sleep out here."

  "Do you mind?” Billie asked.

  "It's fine.” No, it's not! That bed hasn't been slept in since ... since ... April ... di—"There's a sheet and a pillow. Should be good enough."

  "A pillow?” Des said.

  Joe shifted his gaze to him, grimacing. “Is that a problem?"

  Des took a step back. “No, not at all. Thanks. Yeah, um, thanks."

  Joe turned and sat on the couch. Without looking at them he said, “If there's a problem, holler. April and I are light sleepers."

  "Okay,” Des said and he and Billie left the room.

  Billie didn't say goodnight.

  * * * *

  "Arrrgh, that guy!” Billie said as Des picked a side of the bed.

  "What?"

  "That didn't seem a little strange to you?"

  Des glanced side to side, as if looking for a clue as to what she was talking about. “What?"

  "He comes out of nowhere, saves our butts—twice!—invites us back here then acts like a jerk!"

  "He's giving us a bed, Bill."

  She snapped a finger up and pointed at him.

  "Billie, I mean,” he said. He lied down on the bed and threw her the pillow. “I can live without it,” he muttered. “Sooo ... what's going on?"

  She glanced toward the bedroom door before joining him. “You know what? Forget it. I'm tired. Upset. Good night."

  "Night."

  She tossed the pillow on her side of the mattress and plopped her head on it. She closed her eyes but the frustration swirling around in her chest forced her upright. “He's lying to us!"

  "About what?"

  "About being off the Net, that's for sure. And his whole speech about trying to make the world a better place? As if!"

  "He doesn't owe us anything, Billie. He's going out of his way to help us out.” He rolled over and leaned on his elbow. “What's really going on?"

  She took a deep breath. “This guy's not all he's cracked up to be, Des."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You know, he says—or tries to come off—as all selfless and noble and heroic. He goes around killing zombies, for crying out loud, all for the greater good and all that."

  "And?"

  "He's not doing it for us, for the greater good. He thinks he is, but he's not."

  "Then what's he doing it for?"

  "Himself.” She adjusted herself against her pillow. “You can't tell me that he doesn't feel a sense of pride every time he knocks one of them off. You can't tell me that he truly and honestly enjoys it when someone thanks him. You can't tell me that he hates any kind of hero worship. He's as human as you or me, Des. You and I both know that we can sugarcoat our service to others under the guise of ‘giving of ourselves’ and being ‘selfless’ and ‘humble,’ when deep, deep down, even if it's just a small part of us, we enjoy the thought of ‘doing the right thing.’ It's one thing to feel that whole better-to-give-than-receive satisfaction, but do you know what that saying really means?"

  Des looked lost. “No."

  "It means that your joy comes out of seeing someone else benefit from your helping them without thinking about what it's doing for you, you know? Even if that ‘doing for you’ is being happy about doing the right thing."

  Des clicked his tongue three times, as if counting the seconds until she was done. “Sooo ... why's this such a big deal, again?"

  Billie plopped her head down on the pillow then screwed her lips to the side. “I guess it's just ... you know I'm not really an open person. I'm—"

  "You've always been straightforward with me."

  "That's because you need a good kick in the kahoohoos now and then.” She smiled. “Anyway, it could just be because I'm tired and maybe I'm on a different wavelength as a result, but this whole ‘Joe thing'—and I'm thankful for him saving us, don't get me wrong—but this whole ‘Joe thing’ bothers me because—"

  "Because?"

  "Can I finish?"

  "Yeah. Sorry."

  "It bothers me because ... I've known guys like him before."

  "You have? How many zombie killers do you know?"

  She closed her eyes. Des could be really clueless sometimes. “Not that. The kind who put on a mask of ‘being a good guy’ or ‘being the hero’ when, really, there's something else beneath all that."

  "Who?"

  She rolled over onto her side, no longer facing him. A pinch grabbed at her heart. She had resolved not to bring Drake to mind anymore, but right now, sleepy and emotionally drained, she didn't care that Drake's face haunted her memory. “I knew this guy for about seven months prior to the rain.” The bed rocked as he scooted closer, presumably so he could hear her better. “We dated, went all hot an’ heavy and all that stuff."

  "What was his name?"

  "Drake. I don't know if I loved him or thought I did or what because even now, when I think about him, I really miss him but not in the way I think I should, you know?"

  Des just listened.

  She continued. “Anyway, he was always there for me. Listened to me go on and on when I was having problems with my folks. Listened to me complain about some of the garbage going on at school. He even helped me with my homework. Every time we hung out he always picked up the bill, held the door open for me. Drake talked about the volunteer work he did at Winnipeg Harvest, how he worked the prayer lines at Trinity Television, how he went to see his grandma in the nursing home twice a week. The list goes on but you get the idea. I remember thinking, ‘Wow, what a guy. Wish I wasn't so selfish that I could donate a handful of hours a week to a soup kitchen or something.’ That was another thing on his list, by the way. A soup kitchen. Did it once a month. Point is, after my initial awe of him waned, I started to notice little things, things that, in hindsight, should have been a lot clearer than what they were. But at the time, I only found them kind of odd and that was it. He used the word ‘I’ a lot when he talked. He mentioned his do-goodings a lot more often than a person really should. He was always quick to step in and offer advice about how he dealt with somet
hing, say, something similar to what I was going through with my parents."

  "What happened? Did the rain..."

  "I'm assuming so. I really don't know. After the rain fell I thought maybe he was still out there and I should connect with him, you know, the whole ‘all-for-one’ thing humanity had going there for a while. But the way things worked out and winding up here in the Haven, I didn't see him nor have I bumped into anyone online that I think might be him."

  "He would use a handle, like you? The punk girl thing you use?"

  "Probably. I don't know."

  "So what happened? Between you guys, I mean?"

  She closed her eyes, expecting a tear or two to leak out. Instead her heart just ached even more. “What happens to most girls, Des, when they think they've found Mr. Wonderful? He dumped me for someone else. Didn't know who."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Me, too. Had a real good thing going. Well, I thought so, anyway. What sucks about it was there was no lead-up to it. No time of things going downhill or things getting shaky. Just one day, ‘Oh, hey, Billie. I don't think we should see each other anymore.’ ‘Really, Drake, why?’ ‘Well, I found someone else. Been seeing her for a while, actually. Sorry I didn't tell you.’”

  "Sheesh, he really said that?"

  "No, dummy. But something like it. I don't remember his exact words. All I know is he found someone he liked better and blew me off."

  "I'm sorry."

  "It's all right.” A tear had rolled down her cheek. She only noticed it now. She wiped it away. “Let's get some sleep. Who knows what time Joe wakes up or how long he'll let us stay here."

  "Maybe if he really is Mr. Hero, he'll let us stay for as long as we need."

  "Right. And we don't live on a planet of the dead."

  * * * *

  Joe stood outside the bedroom door, leaning up against the wall.

  He had heard everything.

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  11: If Just for a Good Night's Sleep

  The scraping had stopped a few minutes ago, but August wasn't convinced that whatever it was was gone. He lay there listening intently, ready to point his gun at a dead-yet-moving target.