The gun was on the bookshelves. It was crazy to see it there, the hard black length of it sprawled along the softened head squares of the ancient set of encyclopedias. The burgundy books were dusty, the gold gilt muted on the raised bands, yet the gun was polished to sharpness. No longer hidden away in Dad’s room, unloaded and locked up in a safe within the closet as Mom had insisted for Zaley’s safety. On Saturday, the night of his party, he put it there on the shelves, a semi-automatic pistol now an everyday part of their lives. Mom fretted about it (what if Zaley gets hurt?) and then asked why Zaley never used the encyclopedias for her schoolwork. Thirty-year-old encyclopedias!
They hadn’t had much advance warning about Dad’s party, just a grumble about it as he went out to Mr. Foods to pick up snacks. Mom ran around hysterically with the vacuum and ordered Zaley to clean the kitchen and bathrooms. But wear gloves, baby, and be careful not to breathe the fumes of the cleanser! Chemicals are dangerous. Unable to stand it, Zaley inhaled deeply at every spray.
When Dad returned with chips and dip, soda and beer, Zaley wondered what had happened to her father. He had always been distant, more involved with himself and the television than her or her mother. Occasionally and unpredictably he exploded with accusations: Zaley laughed too loudly or had a look on her face that he didn’t like, she needed to toughen up, and when her mother said jump, Zaley should ask how high. He made fun of her mistakes on spelling and math tests, since the answers were so obvious to him. Wendesday? Is that what it’s called? I’ve been wrong all these years. What’s the matter, didn’t you study? Or is that word just too hard for you? He mocked that first grade error for years, as well as the math mistake from third. After that, she never displayed her schoolwork at home. Six times four is twenty-five? Let your husband do the bills.
Mom said that he’d really wanted a son, which stung Zaley terribly. But he had come to Father’s Day events at school and once took her out to the toy store for no reason. When he wasn’t in an explosive fit, he said hello and asked how she was doing. But that slim connection faded to grunts and grunts to almost nothing over the years. Then he went on disability for his back and now the madness in his mind consumed him. He didn’t even explode at her much any longer. Zaley had no more presence in his mind than a shadow.
With nothing else to do as September dragged into October and onward, she had made tick marks on her calendar of the instances he spoke to her. October first, then October fourth, followed by October eighth . . . then on her birthday, he mumbled through the song like he couldn’t get it over with fast enough.
But at the party, which she had not realized was a Shepherd meeting until they came through the door with patches on their vests and shirts, she saw her father laughing and animated. He slapped strange men hard on the back and shook hands warmly with the lone woman; he showed off his hoard of toilet paper and goods that rendered the laundry machine inaccessible. They gathered in the living room on the sofa and armchairs, on the dining room chairs and hard metal ones that Dad had unearthed from the garage. He smacked his thigh and welcomed them to beers (Tom! Jake! Steve! Mike! Hey, man! How’s the wife? How’re the kids?) and Mom tugged at Zaley to make her stop watching from the dark hallway. Zaley threw her off. They couldn’t see her, all of their attention riveted on one another, on cracking beers and bags of chips, and she wanted to witness this astonishing sight of Dad with friends. Nothing but fire would have moved her from that hallway, listening to her father speak more in five minutes than he had spoken to Zaley in five years.
Zaley had friends yet no one that she could tell about this transformation. It was not right to contact Corbin all the time when he had a girlfriend. Although gossip on HomeBase said that Corbin and Sally had broken up, when Zaley checked their pages, both read in a relationship with the other’s name. Elania’s father was a darling guy and she would not understand. Micah would make a joke of it. So Zaley watched this alone, except for Mom’s occasional hisses to go to her room and leave the Shepherds to their meeting.
More people trickled in from another local Shepherd squad, men ranging from twenties to sixties, and a second woman. They were welcomed with enthusiasm. It was an hour of barking laughter and rounds of applause, Dad inclining his head graciously when he was thanked for providing his home. There was talk about observations on paces and upping the shifts on the border of Cloudy Valley and Blue Hill. Since Blue Hill did not have a Shepherd squad of its own, they debated extending their coverage to that city. They chortled over Pace Five, a Shepherd route in southern Cloudy Valley, and warned the new guy not to shoot Sam The Crazy Man.
“How will I know it’s him?” The new guy was the youngest, barely older than Zaley and with a blotchy complexion.
“Oh, you’ll know,” someone said sagely. “He’s the one talking to his shopping cart and yelling at cats. So don’t shoot him.”
“Not that it would be any loss,” Dad said. The air was split with harsh shouts of laughter and claps of high fives. He smiled like a naughty four-year-old caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Again Mom hissed at Zaley, who did not retreat from her position in the darkness. Dad’s smile had a mean edge, here in this community that allowed how he felt. Allowed and understood and supported.
They talked about the saliva checks for school each semester (it’s not enough!) and how the state ruled to allow Sombra C students into schools (hell no!). Recon had shown that the Murdoch Rehabilitation Center in Blue Hill was a confinement point. Zaley was caught on that word recon, and wondered what war movie these people were starring in. Dad threw out a sly President Ching-Chong and was rewarded with clinks of beer glasses and chuckles. He was the clown among them, a cute smile on his fat face, the one who dared to voice these socially unacceptable thoughts and was beloved for it. President Ching-Chong, the First Geisha, and their three little chinkies! Zaley was embarrassed for him, as he didn’t have the sense to be embarrassed for himself. That was what he called anyone of Asian descent and she could only apply it to herself when she was dating Corbin, that one day she might walk in holding their perfect baby to hear her father shout get out! I’m not the grampa of some chinkie kid!
And goddamn the President! He hid behind a little known legal loophole that only announced a confinement point as what it was if it exceeded a base number of patients. So there could be one hundred and ninety-nine zombies in that rehab and no one would know! As long as it never hit two hundred, it technically wasn’t a confinement point. This was an incredible betrayal, but what else did you expect from a liberal government? He was just worried about not getting reelected next month for a second term. Some of the guys shouted defensively that they were liberal but didn’t like the dude either.
Recon was a man named Steve. He confirmed that it was a small confinement point less than six miles from where they were sitting right this very second. (And that’s six miles too damn close, my friends!) He got the news from a man they had on the inside working security. Everyone quieted, tense with excitement at the secrecy. The place had been functioning as a confinement point since late August when the one in San Francisco overflowed. Murdoch was on its way to closing as a rehabilitation center and the government requisitioned the building. Its few patients were transferred to a center in Penger, and its staff laid off. A perfect place to hide zombies, as Murdoch was off the beaten path of Blue Hill, pushed away at the edge of town with few neighbors.
The man in security had been forced to sign a confidentiality agreement upon his hiring in early September. He passed along that the center had over one hundred and sixty zombies, divided into two wings dependent on viral load and behavior. The worst were restrained in dark rooms to keep them calm, and they wore muzzles so that they could not bite or spit on the nurses. And they were being given Zyllevir! Barely enough of those pills to go around so why waste it on those who would never recover? The Blue Hill crematorium had been quietly taking bodies all along.
There had almost been a breakout on the man’s third day of work
. The occupants in the living room were frozen with horror at the thought of zombies let loose in the streets of Blue Hill. In that case, Zyllevir stopped working for one of the people who rated a 41%. He hadn’t been placed in the more secure west wing for serious cases because he was such a gentle guy, just a little spacey, and they hadn’t checked his viral load frequently enough. Suddenly, he went wild and charged for the front doors. The guard there shot him down. Employees wore hazardous materials suits and full masks on the job to make sure fluids didn’t touch them. That spoke to Steve’s heart, he said, since his sister was a nurse. She shouldn’t be endangered like that.
This whole time there had been zombies on their back door! Since August!
“My wife is planning to go over there every day and protest!” Steve said. “You get your women to do the same. Big picket signs, letters to the editor, organizing friends, things that women are good at. We shouldn’t have to live with zombies in our schools, sitting next to our kids, taking up a rehab center! My wife wants to do a bake sale to fund us. She thinks we should walk in the Cloudy Valley Thanksgiving parade.”
“What are we going to do about that rehab?” a man called.
“What are we going to do about the schools?” a woman shouted. “How many zombie kids are we talking about?”
“I can’t get a straight answer from the district,” Steve said. “They’re waving the privacy flag. But we’ll find out soon when they show up with stamps. I say if you want to teach them so badly, then you put them in a special classroom! Not mixing! We got clean stock in our families, and we’re going to keep it clean!”
“And don’t use our tax dollars for it!”
“Clean stock!” They cheered for Zeller, who coined the term. Clean stock was anyone uninfected, and dirty stock belonged in fenced encampments where they couldn’t spread the infection. Zeller never voiced the word encampment, but let others speak it for him. That and culling. God, Zaley was so sick of hearing the television twenty-four hours a day. Even through this party the news was playing, although it was turned down to a mutter.
Then Mom had her purse over her shoulder, and she pulled Zaley out of the house to go clothes shopping for school. The mall was going to be open for another hour and they had to leave right away! It was just an excuse since Zaley didn’t really need anything. Micah had passed along some T-shirts in June that were too small for her; they were perfect for Zaley, practically brand new and very stylish. Mom hated them, for no other reason than she hadn’t been involved in their acquisition.
They drove to the mall and went inside. Zaley dreaded this every year, the battle over who controlled her look. Most of the girls at Cloudy Valley High dressed down. The dress code was strict and enforced: no miniskirts, tube tops, spaghetti straps, midriffs, et cetera. Some girls wore dresses or knee-length skirts or chinos, but the majority showed up in pairs of regular jeans and T-shirts. T-shirts without bunnies, and where the fuck had Mom found a shirt for adults with bunnies on it at the department store? Why did they have to do this over and over, debate the most childish options? Zaley just wanted to look like the other girls. In the dressing room, she took the bunny shirt when Mom handed it in, and later lied that it was too small. Mom got a larger size. Zaley said no, she did not like the shirt and Mom insisted on seeing her in it. It was so cute! Look at the fluffy white tails! Zaley put it on the discard pile and Mom returned it to their purchases, saying that it was for herself.
It appeared in Zaley’s closet on Sunday. Mortified at the thought of wearing it to school, subterranean tremors shook her. Now it would start. Baby, where is your bunny shirt? You never wear it. Baby, those jeans would look so cute with the bunny shirt! Try it on and you’ll see. If Zaley complained, it would be baby, we don’t have money to throw around on clothes. You wanted the bunny shirt, so wear it. If Zaley pointed out that she had never wanted the bunny shirt, that Mom bought it for herself, Mom would either not remember, cry about how big Zaley was getting, or get angry. And then, rather than scream in rage like Zaley wanted to do, she would placate by wearing the bunny shirt.
She sent a picture of it to Corbin and typed: I am coming apart.
It was not right. It was not fair. He had a girlfriend, but Zaley needed him as a friend. He could not come to her window with it boarded over and she could not leave without alerting her parents. She stared at the phone in her hand. It rang, thank God it rang, and Corbin said, “Please don’t wear that to school tomorrow. That’s what I’m wearing and people will think we’re twins.”
I want to be naked in your bed, Zaley thought fiercely as she laughed. She had not known there could be anything funny about this. Then she was embarrassed at how she had not seen the humor herself, how she dumped this problem on his lap to make him solve it. Boys didn’t like girls with too many problems and her life was nothing but problems. That had been a hard part of dating him, Corbin wanting to know more and Zaley withholding the worst so he wouldn’t know how horrible it was.
If he had appeared in her room right then, she would have stripped off her clothes and pulled him down on the star rugs. And if it hurt, she’d bite his shoulder and he’d understand. Desire ran through her in a current so strong that she did not know if she could contain it. God, she was frightened of going all the way, but with Corbin, sweet Corbin, she’d push through it like she didn’t when they were dating. He had never pushed for sex. She thought all guys did that. Yet the second he sensed reluctance, he stopped whatever they were doing. This wasn’t enjoyable for him if she wasn’t enjoying it, too. Remembering that made her want him even more now. She had felt guilty even for kissing him back then, for how much she craved his hands on her body. Every time he touched her, she trembled. But sex didn’t make her a whore like she feared last year. Micah and Elania were having sex and they weren’t whores. However it was a moot point, as Corbin belonged to Sally.
He laughed with her about the stupid shirt, perfect for a four-year-old and no one else in existence. With sympathy, he said, “What is your mother thinking?”
“I don’t know,” said Zaley, ashamed that she had let this slip.
“My favorite shirt long ago had a big old green frog on it with his tongue sticking out. I’m wearing it in pretty much every picture from age four to five, and Mom said I threw a fit when it was in the wash. But I’m not going to wear a shirt like that now. You must be so annoyed.”
“How’s Cheesie?” Zaley said to change the subject.
“The Cheese!” Corbin cried happily. “She’s fine. Actually, she’s in the doghouse for chewing on a sofa pillow. Now she’s giving me major sad face. Oh, Cheesie! I still love you. She’s not sure. Zaley, tell the Cheese that I still love her. I’ll put you on speaker.”
“Cheesie, Corbin still loves you,” Zaley called.
The dog barked to hear her voice and Mrs. Li shouted that Corbin had better not be forgiving the dog just yet. Zaley started giggling as Corbin whispered that indeed she was forgiven. He loved his dog and his dog could eat every pillow in the world. That was why pillows had been invented, just for Bleu Cheese to chew on. This was what Zaley had given up, and she hated herself for it.
Then Mom interrupted the call, because Zaley could not exist separately. If Zaley was quiet, then she could be left alone in her room. But talking to someone? Laughing? Having a connection to another person? That was when Mom inevitably stepped in, since Zaley was only allowed to orbit her. It was so hard to live in this home, to survive up rather than grow up, hard to believe it would ever end. One day she’d walk out of this home and never have to walk back in. But the finish line was in the future at an impossible distance.
On Sunday evening, they battled over the lunch Mom packed for school, one with heart stickers on the sack. Zaley started to peel them off and the fight was underway. When she pointed out that her friends’ mothers did not put stickers on their lunch sacks, Mom said she felt sorry for Zaley’s friends, having mothers who did not care as much for them as she did for Zaley. Then Mo
m bristled. Well! Since Zaley didn’t like how Mom packed her lunch, Zaley should do it herself! Mom was triumphant at how this would bruise her.
An intelligent young woman makes her own lunch.
It hit Zaley like the blow of a sledgehammer. That was long past due. What the hell had she been thinking? Of course she should have been doing this! She would make her own lunch! Good God, she was switching her elective from choir to Home Ec. How to cook, how to sew, how to do these very basic things for herself! Why was she wasting time singing? She should have done it years ago to catch herself up to everyone else. Project Baby Zaley, for fuck’s sake. The longer this vacation lasted, the more F words Zaley discovered in her brain.
I am going to grow up. I am going to travel this world, I am going to drive a car, I am going to have sex, I am going to own a house and set the rules, I am going to dress and feed and take care of myself . . . Maybe she should see a therapist, too. And she would never, ever, ever tell anyone where she came from, and that would help her to forget. She wanted people to think she heralded from a normal family like they did.
Mom cried at how Zaley was unmoved about the prospect of making lunch for herself, and Zaley felt guilty. Talking about college earlier in the month had also made Mom cry, so Zaley didn’t bring it up any longer. (But what was she going to do? Live in this child’s room forever to keep Mom company? How could Zaley pick schools when she had no idea if she even had a college fund at the bank, and her mother burst into tears at the question?) Forcing herself to be calm, she said that she loved her lunches covered in stickers as a little girl (it was embarrassing even then), but now it was time for her to do the task herself. The tears shut off and Mom did not speak to her for hours, like a child having a tantrum (I’m not your friend!).
The Zombies: Volumes One to Six Box Set Page 12