By the time a lone security guard stepped off the elevator and ran to the scene, chaos had ensued, and the doctor was already shambling towards him, another soldier in the ranks of the undead.
Chapter 4:
Haven sat at the bow of the canoe, Faith in the center, and her grandmother in the back. Faith held a picnic basket in her lap.
“Look at the leaves. Aren’t they lovely?” she asked.
Haven stopped paddling and admired the trees washed in warm autumn colors, captivating shades of gold and crimson. “I know. I love fall. I can’t wait to buy pumpkin candles.”
Faith nodded. “And bake pumpkin cookies, cupcakes, pies... Gosh, I’m really craving something sweet now.” She sighed as she looked in the picnic basket at the healthy left-overs her grandmother had packed. Rosemary never wasted food. She always said that too many people around the world went to bed hungry with empty bellies, and it was intolerable to throw away perfectly good food because of that. Haven remembered her telling them, “There are children who would love to have that bit of pasta you’re going to throw away.” And although the girls were craving something other than left-overs, the lessons taught by their grandmother stayed with them, and they tried their best not to be wasteful.
Rosemary wiped the sweat from her brow and adjusted her wide-brimmed straw hat. “Don’t go overboard. You don’t want to have diabetes like me.”
“You look great for your age, Grandma. But Haven’s got me in the mood for some fall baking. Who’s going to join me?” Faith looked at both of them.
Haven laughed. “You can always count on me when it comes to pumpkin anything.” She shivered as a chilly gust of wind blew over them and stretched her arms, pulling the sleeves of her red and black plaid shirt down.
“I’m going to miss you when you’re gone, Haven. You’ll go to D.C. and become some famous FBI agent and forget all about us.”
Haven turned around on the small seat and put her hand on Faith’s knee. “I could never forget about you guys. I’ll try to come home as often as I can. It’s only a two-hour flight.”
Rosemary resumed paddling and prompted Haven to do so, as well. “Joining the FBI Is what you’ve always wanted. D.C. is the best place for you to make your dreams reality. So many opportunities in that great city.”
“No, I know. I’m happy for her. I just don’t want to be so far apart,” Faith answered softly, picking at a loose thread on her sweater.
Haven smiled. “I haven’t even gotten the job yet. Let’s not count our chickens before they hatch.”
Faith started unpacking the basket as they paddled over to a large cypress tree, its thick trunk and ample branches providing a cozy, shady spot to have a snack.
“You’ll get it. I just know it.” She pulled out several Tupperware containers. “Who wants what? I’ve got potato salad, baked chicken, carrots, hummus, and the pasta salad from last night. Geez, Grandma, you’re so healthy now.”
Rosemary chuckled. “Well, if I didn’t change my eating habits, I wasn’t going to be around much longer. I have three grandchildren, and I fully intend to see each of them get married and start families of their own.” She pointed to one of the blue containers. “Put a little of that pasta salad on there for me, please.”
Faith pulled out a paper plate and spooned some salad onto it. “Haven will be first.”
Haven was already munching on a drumstick and nearly choked.
Faith wiggled her eyebrows at her. “Don’t act so surprised. Houston can’t wait to marry you. And I know he wants to make beautiful dark-haired babies with you because the last time he was here, he said ‘when we have our son, all he’s wearing are Duke jerseys.’ ‘Our son.’”
Haven tried to appear nonchalant. “Maybe he was talking about you?”
Rosemary laughed. “That boy loves you so much, Haven. He’s going to be a great husband and wonderful father. Sometimes you can just tell those things.”
Faith nodded enthusiastically. “Mmmhmmm. I agree.”
Haven grabbed a carrot out of a Ziplock bag and dipped it into the garlic-flavored hummus. “I have no intention of having kids any time soon. It’d be too tough on my career. I want to be settled into everything before I even start to think about that stuff.”
Faith took a small bite of potato salad. Her eyes widened. “You’d be the cutest pregnant FBI agent ever.”
Haven rolled her eyes. “Don’t hold your breath, chica. You’ll have to rely on Brett to give you nieces and nephews.”
Faith sighed. “Brett will get married and have kids when all martial arts schools across the country shut down, wrestling stops playing on television, his friends are no longer interested in video games, and hell has frozen over. Which basically means never.”
Rosemary reached for a bottle of water and took a swig, her eyes on her eldest granddaughter. “Going back to you… What if Houston asked you to marry him? What would you say?”
“Yes,” Haven said without missing a beat. “I can’t imagine myself with anyone else. But I’m definitely not ready to start a family! How about we talk about something else?” she suggested, shifting awkwardly in the canoe.
They finished the rest of their lunch discussing plans for the holidays, namely Christmas. Christmas used to be a very painful time of the year for the siblings. While most children would go on and on about what their parents were going to buy them for the holidays or what ski trips they had planned, for Haven, Faith, and Brett, Christmas was only a reminder that they were orphans. However, over the years, Rosemary had worked extra hard to make the holiday special for them, decorating the entire house and yard in colorful, old-fashioned lights, setting up a beautiful nativity on the mantle over the fireplace, taking them caroling at the homeless shelters and nursing homes with her church choir, going to Midnight Mass at the old stone church, and making such a delicious Christmas meal that Haven looked forward to it from the twenty-sixth of December until the following Christmas. She had always admired her grandmother for unfailingly opening her home to those without a place to spend the holidays. She taught her grandchildren to always be mindful of those less fortunate and to be grateful for their many blessings. Haven had been forced to spend one Christmas away from her family while in England. Even then, she followed her grandmother’s example and threw a splendid Christmas party and scrumptious potluck for all of her classmates, making sure to invite as many people as she could, including the plumbers. She had been eternally grateful to them in particular, as they had managed to fix the water which happened to shut off as she was preparing the food.
Faith gathered the trash and placed it in the picnic basket. “Let’s paddle back to the house and make pumpkin cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. We could even pop in a Christmas movie. This cold weather really puts me in a festive mood.”
“Couldn’t think of a better idea,” Haven replied, grinning at her sister. If the two sisters shared anything in common, it was their love of all things Christmas. And they had no problem starting the celebration early. “This is definitely the best time of the year.”
***
Jack MacConnell tapped his foot impatiently as he awaited his son’s flight in the international arrivals terminal. He had already been given the green light to take the rest of the day off, but he hadn’t wanted to waste the gas to drive home only to come back again to pick up his son, Colin.
Gas prices these days, he thought bitterly.
Jack tucked his bandaged hand into his jacket pocket. He’d changed into civilian clothes and had taken a quick makeshift bath using paper towels, warm water, and copious amounts of soap in the restroom. The wound burned something fierce, but he figured any discomfort would go away with a little Neosporin and proper cleaning.
He watched as a large group of passengers walked towards him, their eager expressions searching for familiar faces. He found himself standing on his tiptoes trying to find Colin.
A jolt of excitement rushed through him. Jack hadn’t seen his son in person in over five yea
rs. He sensed that the divorce between him and Colin’s mother, Lorna, had affected his son more than he let on. Fifteen years ago, they had split after Jack discovered that Lorna had been having an affair with another man. Lorna had blamed her decision on the fact that he was never home, often working long hours into the night to put food on the table and provide for his family. Jack couldn’t understand how after thirty-three years of marriage, she could do something so selfish, especially after he had worked so hard to make sure his family’s needs were always met. Colin, who was only seventeen when it happened, changed in ways that both alarmed and flabbergasted his parents. Always a studious boy in school, he began to drift away from his studies until he finally dropped out of school, instead choosing to pursue other… interests. When Colin was an adult, Jack decided to head to the States and start fresh.
For nearly two decades, Colin had been a bartender in Glasgow. Jack had always hoped his son would find a more lucrative, sustainable career, but now that Colin was in his thirties, that hope was quickly dying out. When he wasn’t serving drinks at the local hole-in-the-wall, Colin traveled around Europe, hosteling and couch-surfing his way around the continent. He had never married, something that Jack always bemoaned as he would have loved grandchildren, and instead chose to charm his way into the beds of countless women. In addition, he drank like a fish and gambled like a madman, but to his credit, he also played the bagpipes like no other.
If there was one thing that could be said about Colin, it was that he seized life by the horns. Maybe not always in the best ways, but... Still, Jack sensed a sadness behind those charismatic green eyes and carefree spirit. While Lorna was at fault for the divorce, Jack wondered if Colin harbored any resentment towards his father. He rarely saw him, and when he did, he spent most of his time chasing women and carousing with friends. Jack hoped that his son didn’t blame him for his mother’s wandering eye. He had done the best he could, and he was proud that his family had never gone hungry.
His shoulders sagged, however, and he felt a slight twinge of pain in his gut, but ignored it. He figured he was in need of a good dinner. Jack had already taken some steaks out that morning to thaw in time for their return. He remembered how much Colin loved steak, how even as a child, his eyes would light up whenever his mother announced they were having steaks for dinner.
He looked to the left and instantly saw his son. True to his reputation, Colin was chatting up a leggy blonde flight attendant. She scribbled something on the back of his ticket stub and walked ahead of him. Jack watched him look quite satisfied with himself as she sauntered away, pocketing the scrap of paper.
By chance, his gaze shifted to Jack.
“Dad!” his richly accented voice boomed across the room.
Even in five years, Colin hadn’t changed a bit. Handsome and tall like his father, he was sturdily built. His short, light brown hair curled slightly at the ends, and sharp green eyes sparkled as he grinned a bright, megawatt smile amidst a rugged five o’clock shadow. Jack understood why his son was so popular with the ladies.
The two met and hugged each other heartily.
“Dad, wow, it’s been forever!” Colin beamed.
Jack patted him on the back. “You haven’t changed a bit, son.”
“You have,” Colin replied in earnest. “You look awful.”
“Ha. If you only knew. Today was… colorful, to say the least.” Jack decided to save that story for dinner. “Where are your bags?”
“Just brought one,” his son answered simply.
Jack looked behind him at the large duffel, eyeing it with skepticism. “A month’s worth of clothes in just that?”
“I’m used to traveling with only a carry-on. RyanAir, remember? Besides, just needed a few changes of clothes. And my bagpipes. You have a washer, right? All Americans seem to have them, the nice little stackable ones.”
“Yes, of course I have a washer. Your mother isn’t around to—bagpipes? You brought them with you?” he asked in slight shock.
When Colin smiled broadly, Jack sighed. “It’s a good thing I don’t live in an apartment. We’d both be kicked out within a week.”
“Let’s hope not. You know I can’t go anywhere without them. They’ve gotten me out of one or two predicaments.” Jack figured this might be a more interesting topic for dinner and decided to hold off on recounting his day’s “predicaments.” Colin interrupted his thoughts. “What’s for dinner? I’m bloody starved!”
“Hope you like steaks.”
“I’ll eat anything as long as I have a good brew to wash it down!” Colin said energetically, pausing to wink at a buxom brunette. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled in response.
Admiring her shapely physique from behind, Colin nudged Jack playfully.
“This is going to be a great month!”
Jack smiled and shook his head. Four weeks with Colin would certainly prove an adventure.
***
Mike hadn’t cradled a toilet bowl this tightly since his days in a fraternity at college. He stared at the dark liquid in the toilet. Mike felt like he had gotten the worst possible case of food poisoning. He had been vomiting for the past fifteen minutes.
Slowly leveraging himself up, he grasped the sink for support. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot and crusty. The dark circles around them only emphasized his condition.
Chelsea knocked on the door. “Mike, is everything okay? Are you coming back to dinner?”
“Yeah, Chels. I’m fine. I think I must be coming down with something.” He pushed away from the sink and opened the door. “I’m just going to go to bed.”
She gasped when she saw him. “You look terrible!” Concerned, she put a cool hand to his forehead. “And you’re burning up! Maybe I should call the doctor.”
“No, it’s nothing. A couple people at work are sick. Flu season. I bet they gave it to me. I just need a good night’s rest.” He pushed past her gently and headed towards the bed.
“Are you sure?” Chelsea asked again. She looked worried.
Mike climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his neck. “Chels, I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “Maybe just turn on the heat. It’s freezing in here.”
Chelsea walked to the closet and yanked out an extra comforter. “Here, this should help.”
Mike muttered a weak thanks. He could barely keep his eyes open. The light in the room made his head spin and eyes burn in unbearable agony. “Sorry. I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Okay, well…” Her voice trailed off, unsure what to say. “Sweet dreams then,” she said softly.
She closed the door. Mike clutched the blankets as another wave of nausea swept over him. He began shivering and slowly curled into a fetal position. He fervently wished sleep would come. Within minutes, his wish was granted, and he drifted into a delirious slumber. This time, he wouldn’t be waking up to the fresh smell of coffee or the feeling of warm sunlight pouring into his bedroom as the sun rose. This time was different.
***
“These steaks are bloody delicious. I forgot how skilled you were with that grill,” Colin remarked, leaning back in his chair and patting his stomach.
“Glad you liked them,” Jack answered, trying to force a smile. He had happily let Colin dominate the conversation, feeling too weak to talk himself.
Colin entertained him with stories of the beautiful women he had bedded in every country he visited. Jack, an introvert who never shared his feelings on much of anything, held his hands up in protest when Colin divulged too much. Chuckling, Colin would change the subject, recounting the one time where his bagpipes had come in handy during a bar fight.
At first, Jack pictured an angry Scotsman preparing to punch Colin the face—most likely, deservedly so—after flirting with his girlfriend. He imagined Colin wordlessly holding up his hand as he reached to the side of the table and yanked out the traditional musical instrument. Jack figured he probably started playi
ng and did so with such skill and charm, that the jealous bloke at the bar ended up laughing about the whole fight, and the two would hug peaceably.
Colin pointed out that Jack had been correct about the cause of the fight, but not how it ended.
As it turned out, on a trip to Spain, Colin had packed along the bagpipes for a friend who had wanted to have them played at his wedding. After taking a cheap RyanAir flight to Barcelona, he had planned to catch a bus to Madrid where the wedding was held. He had a few hours to kill until the next bus arrived, so he decided to go to a local pub.
Once there, he immediately noticed a gorgeous Spanish girl leaning against the bar, her long dark hair falling around her shoulders and her low-cut white top revealing ample cleavage. She noticed him, as well, and after casting a quick glance behind her at a group of men who were clearly drunk and belligerent, she smiled at Colin invitingly, beckoning him over with a tilt of her head. Her eyes burned with unbridled fire, and her full, sultry lips promised hours of heady passion. He should have seen it coming from a mile away.
However, true to form, Colin brimmed with confidence, walking over to her with his duffel bag. They began talking, her in broken English and Colin in terrible Spanish. They laughed heartily at each other’s attempts to communicate, the girl coquettishly twirling her hair while Colin rested a hand on her thigh and leaned in to her as he would tell her about his travels.
Their merriment carried across the room, catching the attention of the group of drunkards. One of them nudged another at the table, probably the largest one in the group who had also developed a sour expression as he watched Colin and the girl interact. The others seemed to sober up instantly, almost fearful of his reaction.
He glared at the girl and stood up with a huff, knocking over a few beer bottles on the table that crashed noisily to the floor. Colin and his admirer stopped mid-conversation and stared at the man as he approached. He was approximately the same age as Colin, muscular, dark-skinned, and very, very angry.
He—whose name Colin later discovered to be Franco—grasped the girl’s arm rather harshly and yanked her towards him, screaming a string of profanities at her that even Colin understood. She struggled against him, returned the expletives, and slapped his face hard. That was a mistake. Franco’s face burned red, and his livid frame stiffened. His fist reared back and landed solidly in the girl’s stomach. She crumpled to the floor, gasping for air.
The Good, the Dead, and the Lawless: The Undoing Page 5