by Kody Boye
“He just lost his kid and his friend, Erik. Of course he’s going to be disoriented.”
“Just watch him, ok? And lock the door at night. He may be a friend to you, but he’s still a stranger to us.”
“He’s not gonna do anything,” Jamie sighed. “Especially not with two kids.”
“People act reckless nowadays. You know that.” Erik stepped into the room, took a drag off his cigarette, then settled into one of the reclining armchairs and leaned back into it. All eyes settled on him. “What?” Erik laughed.
“You’re feeling better,” Jamie smiled.
“I feel better, yes.”
“Is your headache gone?”
“For the most part.”
“We’re gonna send someone up the road to take the door off Mr. Barnsby’s old woodshed. We need the hinges for the gate.”
“I’ll go.”
“Me and Dakota are going,” Steve said. “Right, Dakota?”
“Right,” Dakota said, deciding it would be best to go along with the plan rather than question it.
“I’ll go too,” Erik said. “I can help.”
“You need your rest,” Jamie said. “I don’t want you trying to do something only to end up back in bed with another headache.”
“Quit stressing over what I’m going through, Jamie. See? Look.” Erik stood and spun in a slow circle, spreading his arms and strumming his fingers. “I wouldn’t be able to spin if I still had a headache.”
“But it’s not as bright in here as it is out there.”
“I’m not staying trapped in this house.”
“You don’t have to be trapped. I just don’t want you going with them.”
Erik stopped strumming his fingers, his arms fell at his side and his eyes narrowed. At that moment, Dakota thought he could’ve been a snake, a wicked viper with its fangs extended and venom coursing through its veins.
Uh oh.
“It’s nothing personal, Erik. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”
“Fuck you, Jamie. Seriously—fuck you.”
Erik turned, made his way into the hall, and slammed the door to Jamie’s old room behind him.
“Someone’s in a mood,” Steve chuckled.
“He’s still sick,” Jamie sighed. “Give him a day or two. He’ll come around.”
Dakota sure hoped so.
They made their way down the road with their guns drawn and their eyes set ahead. Spaced five feet apart, both to afford themselves two distinct viewpoints and to protect each other from any possible threats, Dakota raised his hand to suppress a sneeze, then pointed at a house near the very end of the road.
“See that?” he asked.
“I see it,” Steve said, fingering the safety on his gun. “Why do you ask?”
“I have a weird feeling.”
“Bad, or just weird?”
“Just weird…for now.”
Great, now I’m getting the heebie-jeebies. Get a hold of yourself, Dakota thought, shaking his head and steeling his nerves. Now look what you’ve done—you’ve freaked yourself out.
“Not my fault,” he mumbled aloud.
“What did you say?” Steve asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
About the molehill that’s just become a mountain.
Choosing not to reply, Dakota stepped up onto the sidewalk and continued to make his way toward the house that held the storage shed, taking extra care not to linger too close to the houses or the picket fences that separated them. To think that you would ever have to worry about getting too close to a harmless picket fence was impossible, comparable to a queen crossing the road in only her hosiery and sneakers. But the blood that tipped the perfect little spikes of the fences spelled fear like jagged nails on a chalkboard.
Blood used to be nothing more than a driving source that fueled the human body. In this day and age, touching it meant a fate worse than death.
His morbid thoughts having entertained him for the last ten minutes, Dakota barely realized they had crossed the street until Steve reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt. When he did, Dakota took a moment to shake his nerves off before looking up at the shed before them.
“This is where we’ll run into trouble,” Steve said.
“How come?”
“There’s blood on the door. See?”
The rusty smear needed little explanation, much less to be pointed out. “You think whoever did that is still here?” Dakota asked.
“Yep. Probably in the shed,” Steve nodded. “There’s fingerprints on the edge.”
“What do we do then?”
“It wouldn’t be locked from the inside…unless someone rigged it up, but I highly doubt that.”
“Why?”
“If something were chasing him, you’d think there’d be more blood on the door.”
“Unless the blood on the zombies was dry.”
Steve reached up to scratch the stubble on his chin before grabbing the door handle. “Ready?”
“Whenever you are,” Dakota said, raising his gun.
The door opened.
A wave of sawdust pooled out.
“Fuck,” Steve gasped, waving the air before him in a fit of coughs. “I didn’t—”
He stopped. Something moved inside the shed.
Dakota kicked his foot out toward the door just in time to trap the corpse between the shed and its door.
“Motherfucker!” Steve gasped, driving the butt of his pistol onto its head. He hit the creature again, slammed his foot into the base of its spine, then lowered his gun to its head, preparing to fire before Dakota lashed out and grabbed his hand.
“Don’t!”
“Dakota!”
“If there’s more, they’ll hear us.”
Nodding, Steve slid his revolver into its holster and gestured Dakota forward, applying extra weight to the corpse’s back in order to keep it from moving. Though decayed nearly to the point of being skin over bones, Steve obviously knew better than to relinquish his hold on it, as it continued to flail and hiss beneath him.
Dakota took a shovel from the corner of the shed and passed it to his friend.
“Batter up,” Steve said.
He drove the blade into the creature’s neck.
“You said you got it?” Erik asked over the CB.
“We’ve got it,” Steve said, glancing up at Dakota. “We had to deal with a corpse, but we got her taken care of.”
“Is the street clear?”
“It’s clear.”
“Good. I’ll send Ian up in the truck to help you load it up. Can you take the hinges out from there?”
“There’s no ladder.”
“I’ll have him load that up too. Hold tight. Over and out.”
“Guess that solves our problem,” Steve said, handing the radio over to Dakota.
“I’m just glad I kicked the door in time.”
“I shouldn’t have let my guard down. Stupid mistake on my part.”
“It could’ve gotten you killed.”
“I know. Which was why I said it was stupid.”
Dakota stepped forward, pressed a hand to Steve’s arm, then leaned into the shed, clucking at the lack of useful equipment inside. “Pretty shitty storage shed if you ask me.”
“What’s in there?”
“Nothing, really. Grain, hose, tools…probably nothing we could use.”
“We can always come back if we need it. Jamie’ll probably want it anyway. Always good to have extra stuff on hand, even if you don’t think you’ll need it.”
“You’ve got a point there.”
“Don’t I always?”
Dakota slapped Steve’s arm when he received a stupid grin in response. Down the road, the truck started up, slid out from between the gap in the wall, then started toward them, its progress slow and with hardly any sound. “At least Ian knows how to keep the truck quiet.”
“You’d think peopl
e would be smart enough not to make noise.”
“Good old machismo,” Dakota snorted, at which Steve chuckled.
They leaned back against the shed and waited for Ian to make his way up the road.
“Knock knock,” Jamie said.
“Go away,” Erik grumbled.
“You’re in my room, you know?”
“Fuck you.”
“What if I need to get something?”
“Get it later.”
“Let me in, Erik.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll kick the door down.”
With a flurry of swears, the bedsprings creaked and the chain on the door clicked and slid out of place. Shortly thereafter, the door opened, revealing Erik in all his pissed-off glory. “Hurry up.”
“Why are you in such a bad mood?” Jamie asked, pushing into the room without waiting for Erik to move.
“Maybe because you’re treating me like a kid. You ever think of that?”
“You’re sick, Erik. This is the first time you’ve been out of bed the whole week.”
“And now you’re treating me like a dick. Thanks, Jamie, it’s much appreciated.”
“Erik,” Jamie sighed. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t what? Argue? Fight? Act like an asshole?”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t, but you were thinking it. I can tell.”
“And how is that?”
“Because every time you talk to me like this, it’s because I’m—”
“Being an asshole?”
Erik’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak. Jamie smirked at his friend’s lack of a comeback. “Look,” he said, crossing the short distance to the desk, “I’m just worried about you. You haven’t had problems with your headaches since Iraq.”
“That was stress, Jamie.”
“And this isn’t?”
“I…” Erik shook his head. “It’s not the same thing.”
“What’s going on, Erik? There’s more to the story than you’re letting on.”
“No there isn’t.”
“Yes there is. I can tell. You never have a short fuse.”
“Says who?”
“Says the guy who’s been your best friend for the past fifteen years.”
Again, Erik chose not to reply. Instead, he settled down on the bed, closed his eyes and dropped his face into his hands, kneading the globes of bone on the sides of his head with his thumbs.
Come on, Jamie thought. Don’t do this to me.
“You can tell me if something’s wrong, Erik.”
“I know.”
“What reason do you have to keep things from me?”
“Because I’m losing my head, Jamie. I’m not sure how much more I can take.”
Jamie slid his fingers around his father’s portrait. Thumb gracing the corner of the frame, he looked over at Erik just in time to see a tear slip between his friend’s fingers.
“I don’t want to lose it again,” Erik said. “Iraq was bad enough. That dark room, that cell…God, Jamie, I don’t think I can take it.”
“You’re not gonna lose it,” Jamie said, crossing the room just in time for Erik to burst into tears. “It’s ok, Erik.”
“No it isn’t!”
“Yes it is. Erik, listen to me,” Jamie grabbed his friend’s face and tilted his eyes up. “See? It’s ok. Nothing wrong. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
“I failed one little test and they put in a black room.”
“You were stressed, just like you are now, and they were working you to the bone by expecting you to perform miracles.”
“All those little kids, Jamie. That bomb…”
“Don’t think about it right now. You did all you could.”
Erik managed a shake of his head, but didn’t even bother to fight as Jamie pushed him back onto the bed. “I know. I did.”
“You did.” Jamie clasped his friend’s shoulder. “Get some rest, buddy.”
Taking a few steps back, Jamie waited for Erik to respond, to crack a joke or hurl a friendly insult.
When he didn’t, Jamie sighed and closed the door.
This wasn’t just a temporary thing. That he already knew.
One little test, he thought, and they throw you in a dark room.
“Motherfucker,” Ian breathed, bracing himself on top of the ladder as he reached up to wrap his other hand around the screwdriver. “This thing won’t fuckin’ budge!”
“Try it again,” Steve said.
“I’ve been tryin’, Steve.”
“Then let me do it.”
“You fuckin’ kiddin’?” Ian howled. “If I can’t do it, you think you can?”
“Maybe you’ll have loosened it enough for me.”
“Wait! I…I got it!”
“What!”
“I got it!” Ian cried, tearing the screw out of place and nearly flinging himself from the ladder in the process. He lashed out with his free hand to steady himself on the shed’s gate while the ladder finished shivering below him. “One of you, catch.”
Dakota held his hand out. The screw plopped into his hand almost perfectly.
“Nice catch, Dakota.”
“Thanks,” Dakota said, sliding the object into his pocket. “How many more are in the top one?”
“Just one, but there’s four hinges.”
“This’ll take a while,” Steve said, sliding his hands into his pockets.
“Hey!” Ian laughed. “At least we know I can get these out, right?”
“Unless you kill yourself before you finish,” Dakota chuckled.
“I’ll be fine. Trust me, I’ve worked on a few ladders in my time.”
“It sure looks like it,” Steve chuckled.
Dakota laughed. Ian raised his middle finger before driving the screwdriver into place.
“How is Erik?” Desmond asked.
“Erik is…will be fine,” Jamie said, gesturing Desmond out of the hall and into the living room. “We just talked.”
“I heard you guys fighting and wasn’t sure if I should say anything.”
“When it comes to Erik, you’re better off not saying anything unless absolutely necessary.”
Desmond sighed. “You probably don’t want to hear a sob story after what you’ve just went through.”
“What’s up?”
“It’s nothing important really.”
“The phrase ‘sob story’ and ‘nothing important’ don’t go well together, bud. I thought you already knew that?”
“I guess.” Desmond shrugged.
“Tell me what’s up,” Jamie said, seating himself beside the boy.
“It’s just…I don’t know. I’ve felt a bit useless since we got here.”
“How do you mean?”
“You guys put the wall up, Dakota and Steve went out to get the gate. I shouldn’t be complaining, considering I haven’t had to do any of the hard work, but I don’t feel like I’m contributing enough.”
“To be completely honest, there’s not a whole lot you could’ve done to help with the wall,” Jamie said, leaning back in his seat. “I mean, if we had another ladder, you could’ve helped mix the concrete, but even then that’s usually a one-man job. As to the gate, well, Steve volunteered them to go, what with Erik and all.”
“I know.”
“Tell you what, bud, you’re good at cooking, a hell of a lot better than anyone else probably is around here. Why don’t you make all of us dinner tonight?”
“All of us?”
“All of us, including Kevin and his kids. See if you can make something special, and try not to worry about the supplies. I think we deserve a little break, considering everything we’ve gone through.”
“You sure?”
“Let’s live a little.”
“We’re feeding nine people.”
“I know. We’ll have to go back into town to get supplies. I already know that. For now though, I don’t want to worry about i
t. We’re already strung out as it is.”
“Erik hasn’t just been dealing with headaches, has he, Jamie?”
“No,” Jamie admitted. “He hasn’t.”
“I heard something while you guys were talking…something about him getting locked up.”
“He had a nervous breakdown while we were in Iraq, but keep it between the two of us. I don’t want Erik to know that I told anyone.”
“I won’t. You know I wouldn’t.”
“I know.” Jamie slung an arm across the boy’s shoulders. “You’re a good kid.”
“I try to be.”
“Considering what’s happened,” Jamie said, “you’re doing one hell of a job.”
“You guys got it,” Jamie said, laughing as Ian eased the truck in through the gap in the wall.
“We sure did,” Dakota said.
“Bitch trying to get it in though,” Steve said, jumping out of the truck.
“Careful!” Ian cried. “I’ll run your fuckin’ foot over if you jump out like that.”
Steve took a few steps back.
Dakota sat still as Ian continued to push the truck into the enclosed space. With the gate balanced against the back of the cab, it was almost impossible to see anything behind them, but somehow Ian managed. With a grunt and a twist of the steering wheel, he applied a bit of pressure onto the accelerator, then stopped directly in front of Jamie’s front porch.
Dakota leaned forward and gripped the man’s shoulder. “Good job,” he said.
“Thanks,” Ian said, reaching up to wipe sweat from his hairline. “For a minute there, I thought I was going to hit something.”
“You did good,” Jamie smiled.
“I appreciate it, boss.”
“Now all we have to do is put it up,” Steve said, hooking his thumb into his waistband. “We doing this now or later?”
“Now would probably be best,” Jamie said.
Taking his cue, Dakota jumped out of the truck and made his way around the back of the vehicle, careful not to bump into the tailgate for fear that the disassembled door would fall on top of him. He cast a glance at Jamie, who simply smiled before he came forward and gripped the side of the gate.
“You want some help?” Dakota asked.
“We’re good for now. Ian, help me get this out.”
“Sure thing,” Ian said, taking the opposite side of the gate.