People nod. I find myself nodding, too. I can’t help it.
“We suffer the loss of time and youth and wisdom, and though our lives may one day end, our journey is not done. We keep going because we have to, just as we keep going in life. We have to.”
I’m smiling wider now. I’ve said the same thing before, more or less, or I’ve at least thought it. Darlene takes my hand and sidles up closer to me.
“I can’t bring our friends back from the dead anymore than I can stop the rotten ones from terrorizing us. But I can offer you the same words of wisdom my own daddy offered me when I was a little gal with a dead dog at her feet. My daddy, he said, ‘Be strong, baby,’ and by golly there ain’t never been truer words in the English language except maybe ‘I love you,’ and ‘I’m sorry,’ but only those if you mean them.” Mother brings both hands to her mouth, kisses deeply then blows them to the crowd. “So I leave you,” she says, “and you might be feeling broken and sad and dejected and scared, and if you are then remember: I love you, I’m sorry, and be strong, baby!”
She spins her wheelchair away from the crowd as they erupt into another burst of applause and whistles and cheers. Darlene lets go of my hand and wipes tears away from her eyes. Norm is clapping so hard I think he might break his fingers or at least rupture his wound. Herb grins larger than the time we found a downed candy truck off the interstate a few days back.
Mother waves Grady over to her and speaks into his ear. Then she is back on the beaten grass she rolled over to get to the bandstand. Her speech was short and simple but damn effective.
Grady walks over to us and says, “She’s something, isn’t she?”
I nod, looking over the crowd. The fearful, uncertain looks written on their faces are gone, replaced with smiles and hope. I like this woman.
“Mother would like to speak with you four in her cabin in ten minutes. Is that all right?” Grady says.
“Yes,” I say.
Of course it is. Right now, I’d do just about anything to see her again.
“Good,” Grady says.
20
As the crowd departs, Jacob and his wife walk up to the steps of the bandstand. Jacob’s eyes are red and watery, but he’s trying to hide it. His wife isn’t, her makeup is running and her face is puffy. Otherwise, they both look happy. They both look like people from the world before.
Normal.
“She wants to meet with you?” Jacob asks.
“Yeah,” Norm says. “Ten minutes, in her cabin.”
“You are so lucky,” Marge says.
“That you are,” Jacob says.
“Do you know what she’ll want?” Darlene asks.
“Hope it’s nothin bad,” Herb says. “I like it here. Can we stay, Jacky? Can we?”
I smile at him, it’s a fake one. As much as I like these people, nowhere is safe. Not until the zombies are gone. So I say, “We’ll see, big guy.”
“You all would make fine additions to our little community,” Jacob says. “But it’s not up to us.”
“Aw,” Herb says, hanging his head low.
“It’s up to Mother,” Jacob says. He nudges Herb. “Chin up, big fellow, Mother is very understanding and loving. I think you guys are a shoe-in.”
“I hope so,” Herb says glumly. “Only if you have size seventeen.” He looks down at his shoes.
We all laugh.
Jacob smiles. “We’re heading back home for the night.” Now it’s his turn to look down at his boots. “Tomorrow morning will be back-breaking. That many graves to dig plus work on the fences. I’ll need more than eight hours.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Marge says. “I’m sorry about your girl. She’s in my prayers.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you so much for all of your help.”
“Don’t mention it,” Jacob says and turns to leave with the rest of the crowd.
“Bye,” we say simultaneously.
“This place ain’t so bad,” Norm says. “I don’t smell the rotters out here.” He inhales deeply. “I smell pine needles and nature and stuff. It smells damn good. Plus, that Grady guy is quite handsome, don’t you think, Darlene?”
Darlene arches an eyebrow. “Uh, Norm, I’m still with Jack,” she says, motioning to the way our arms are wrapped around each other.
“Oh, man, you didn’t tell her?” he asks me, his face reddening.
I shrug. “I didn’t think you’d want me to.”
“Man, when you were a kid you never shut your mouth. I’m surprised, Jack, truly surprised.”
“What?” Darlene asks. “What’s happening? What didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m gay — ” Norm says.
“Norm’s gay,” I say at the same time.
“Hm,” Darlene says. “Cool.”
“Cool?” Norm says. “That’s all?”
“I mean it’s not a big deal,” Darlene says. “Lots of people are gay.”
“Yeah, man,” I say, “no biggie.” The big things we have to worry about now are so much bigger. Abby’s condition. The whereabouts of the doctor. The fate of the world. Darlene and I’s wedding.
Oh God, it really never ends.
Norm looks honestly surprised. It’s another thing I attribute to his time in the Army. He’d served predominantly in the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell era and maybe all that time trying to showcase his manliness got to his brain. Times were changing before they changed for the worst. Fifty years ago, Norm would’ve been hanged for being gay. I think he’s stuck in that time.
“I love you no matter what, Norm!” Herb says and hugs him.
Norm wheezes, “I…love…you…too.”
Grady waves us to the small cabin. We walk on to palaver with Mother. I don’t know why I feel so nervous, but I try not to show it.
21
The cabin is warm, much warmer than the night air. There’s a fire burning low in a hearth on the far side of the room. Mother is close to the flickering flames, facing the bricks, a blanket over her legs hanging past her wheelchair’s wheels.
“Mother?” Grady says quietly.
“Come in,” she says. Her voice is no longer strong. Now it’s a hoarse whisper — the voice of a corpse.
“I have the newcomers with me,” Grady says.
“Come in, come in, time is a-wasting,” she says as she spins her chair to face us. I am standing in front of Darlene and Norm, Herb is behind, looming over us like a skyscraper. He had to duck when he walked in. “Are you thirsty?” Mother asks. “Hungry?”
“We’re always hungry,” Norm says.
I elbow him.
“Always hungry, ma’am,” he says. Our own mother would’ve been disappointed with his lack of manners.
“We can scrounge up something for y’all,” Mother says. “How’s peanut butter crackers sound?”
“Delicious!” Herb says.
Mother smiles warmly at him, then looks at Grady. “Grady, please fetch snacks for our guests.”
He bows, almost like a butler in some English manor, and says, “Yes, ma’am.” He disappears into a dark room. Candlelight spills onto the floor not long after, showcasing black and white tiles. My stomach grumbles thinking of crackers and peanut butter. God, it’s been close to a year since I’ve had peanut butter. Before The End hit us, I was more of a fast-food/snack eater. Rarely did peanut butter ever come up in my diet, not since the days of elementary school when my own mother cared enough to pack my lunch. Sure, Reese’s peanut butter cups were a staple in my diet, but I don’t think that really counts as real peanut butter.
“Come, come,” Mother says, “we can go in the dining room and all sit down.” She leads us into the next room where a large, oak table takes up most of the floor space.
There are candles fluttering lazily in the middle and floral placemats at each chair. We take our seats.
“You are probably wondering why I asked to speak with you,” Mother says.
“No, I understand,” I say. “This is a nice place
and you want your community safe.”
Mother nods and smiles at me.
“A very nice place,” Darlene says. “If you’re looking for more help around here, we’d be glad to contribute.”
I glare at her. Now’s not the time, I think. They’ve just lost some of their people. The wounds are wide open.
“We always welcome newcomers with the utmost hospitality,” Mother says.
And they probably shouldn’t. Besides, we can’t stay here. Maybe we can come back once the world is saved, but right now we have bigger fish to fry.
Herb smiles.
Grady comes in with the peanut butter crackers and Herb and Norm are all over them before the tray even touches the tabletop.
“Very well, Grady, thank you,” Mother says. She picks a cracker off the tray and takes a bite. Then to us, “I understand you’ve come from Eden.”
“Eden was a bad place,” Darlene says.
“Yeah,” Norm says through a mouthful of cracker. He holds his hand up, the one minus a finger and smiles. “Didn’t do this to myself, let’s put it that way.”
Mother nods. “I’ve heard the things that were going on in Eden, but that does not mean I believe them. I am a cautious woman. The people here, I consider my children, and I will protect my children at all costs.”
“So what are you saying?” Norm asks. “That we’re bad people?”
“I understand,” I say, cutting Norm off, sensing the anger boiling inside of him. “We don’t ask to stay here, only that you’ll help our friend and help guide us on our journey.”
“Your friend is taken care of,” Mother says. “Even if you were the enemy, she would be taken care of. I don’t believe in looking the other way. But what is your journey?”
Darlene stares at me with sharp eyes. I look at her and see the disappointment on her face. She doesn’t want to leave. She wants to settle down and quit running for our lives. But we can’t. I can’t. I have a chance to help the world and I’m not going to ruin that for a shot at suburbia.
“Our journey,” I say, “is to help a doctor. Your man Croghan told me he passed through here a couple days ago.”
Mother nods. “That he did,” she says. “He was not in his right mind.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. Croghan had said the same thing, yet he never elaborated. Hearing it from Mother feels like a slap to the face. I feel sweat starting to prickle on my skin. I don’t want to have chased this man only to find out he has been bitten and has become the very thing we are trying destroy.
“Was he bitted?” Herb asks. Crumbs fall out of his mouth and onto his already dirty shirt. “Oh, please don’t let him be bitted.”
“Bitten,” Norm says.
“NO!” Herb shrieks.
Mother laughs. “No, no, honey, your doctor wasn’t bitten. But he wasn’t right.”
“None of us are,” Norm says, making a peanut butter cracker sandwich and popping it into his mouth.
“Amen,” Grady says from the doorway.
“I fear he was even beyond the normal amount of insanity,” Mother said. “He spoke of changing all of this, but I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the world is beyond saving and we have to live with it. But It’s not every day a doctor strolls through your village. You can never have enough doctors. So we tried to get him to stay and help, but he wouldn’t.”
Because he has bigger fish to fry, too. Because he’s going to save the world.
“Yeah, sounds crazy,” Norm says.
Mother smiles. “Precisely,” she says. “In exchange we would offer protection, room and board, hearty meals.”
“But he said no,” Grady says. “Kept rambling on about D. C. And that place is worse than hell right now. Yeah, he was a few eggs short of a dozen up here.” Grady taps his head. “If I do say so myself.”
And who am I to judge Grady’s diagnosis? I never got to meet the man in Eden. The rest of the group had, and I trust them. But can I trust Doctor Klein? What if the end of the world just got to him? What if D.C. is gone and him with it? What if this has all been a suicide mission? I don’t like how it’s making me feel. It’s making me feel…well, dumb.
“We offered him a vehicle and a weapon,” Mother says. “A peace offering.”
“Really, we just felt bad,” Grady says, chuckling.
“He take them?” I ask.
“Most graciously. There’s plenty of weapons and vehicles lying around. We had no problem offering him those,” Mother answers, rolling her eyes at Grady.
“The car we gave him was a clunker. All we could spare, really. But the weapons were nice,” Grady says.
Well, maybe that’s helped his chances of survival enough for me to catch up to him and bring him to home-base. Final score: Humans, 2, Zombies, 1. Game over. Crowd goes wild.
“I certainly hope he hasn’t had to use them, however,” Mother says, scrunching up her brow.
“Oh, he definitely has,” Norm says. “It’s rough out there.”
“So what he says about his mission is true?” Grady asks.
I look to Darlene and Norm, my eyes pinging back and forth. Finally, I say, “As far as I know, yeah.”
“Listen,” Norm says, crunching up a cracker in the side of his mouth, “I met Doc Klein. Without him, I’d be dead. And I’ve met crazy. That Spike fellow was like a cowboy-slash-robot-slash-Brooklyn-Wise-Guy killing machine, and his wires were shorting out. That guy was crazy. This Doc Klein ain’t crazy. A little frazzled, maybe — aren’t all scientists and doctors? But not crazy.”
“Should’ve given him a better car,” Grady says, shaking his head. “Maybe even medicine.”
“Shoulda, woulda, coulda,” Mother says. “As much as it pains me to say it, we can’t be giving out our supplies to people who proclaim themselves doctors wanting to save the whole world. It’s a big, big place and we have big, big problems. That’s why I wanted to speak to y’all.”
Mother’s face has gone serious. Gone is the geniality and warmth, now replaced by something fierce. The pearlescent aura about her seems to darken. I can now hear my heartbeat in my ears, my blood running cold, brain going to dark thoughts.
It’s always the same with these leaders in the apocalypse. They’re drunk with power and they will stop at nothing to keep that power. Think of Spike. Think of Butch.
Mother leans forward and grabs my wrist. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I understand. You don’t have to explain. I am not ruthless. I am not a killer — of the living, anyway.” A funny image of this wheelchair-bound woman dashing zombie brains comes to mind and I smile. No one else is smiling.
“We aren’t violent,” Grady says.
I nod at him, feeling stupid for my earlier thoughts.
“We wanted to talk to you because we needed your help,” Mother says. She is still not smiling, she is still all business.
“Help?” Darlene asks. “I can’t imagine we’d be much help to you. You guys have everything here. Walls, fences, smiling people, even a med center. Thank God.”
“If it wasn’t for you guys Abby would be eated,” Herb says, his eyes getting watery. I put a hand on his forearm and squeeze.
“But she’s not eated. She’s okay,” I say.
He nods and takes what’s left of the peanut butter crackers in one massive hand and stuffs them into his mouth.
“Hey!” Norm says. “I wasn’t done.”
Mother spares them a glance then goes on. “We have no problem treating your friend or anyone else,” she says. She’s smiling as she looks at Herb, then she looks back at me and her face goes serious again. “The problem is our reserve of supplies. Each day they dwindle — ”
“So does my men and women who fight to make this place as great as it is,” Grady interjects.
Mother raises a hand. “Let me get there in my own way.”
He nods and apologizes.
“We need more supplies. We need drugs and equipment and food and — God forbid — more weapons. Now I don’t think lightnin
g strikes the same place twice, Jack Jupiter, but I know an opportunity when I see one and your friend Doctor Klein was a missed opportunity. I should’ve had Grady here tie him to a chair so he wouldn’t leave us.”
“Shoulda, woulda, coulda,” Grady says.
Mother smiles. “I kid, of course, but what I’m getting at is that you, my friends, are the second bolt of lightning striking our little compound. You are another opportunity. I don’t want it to be another missed one. Now, we may not be much, certainly not some sprawling metropolis or even a small town at that. We don’t have enough electricity and resources to bring us back to the technological age you young folk were so keen of. We don’t have fast food on every street corner. We don’t have much. But we do have a community — a tight-knit one — and we have books and enough electricity to get us by. Oh and Margie makes a mean veggie casserole, mmm, mmm, mmm. What I’m trying to say is that we’d love to have you, but if you want to stay here, you have to pull your own weight.”
“I need men,” Grady says. “Good, strong, smart fighters.”
“For what?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “Not to protect the walls, right?”
Grady looks at the floor, scratches the back of his neck. “Right. We’ve cleaned out just about every neighboring city…except one.”
“D.C.,” Norm says.
“Yes,” Grady answers. “It’s too big, too overrun.”
“Why now?” I ask.
Surprisingly, I don’t feel fear. I feel intrigued. D.C. was always our destination, now I can go and save the world with a bigger group.
“Because we have no other choices. We could drive to another state, hit another big city farther away, but the risk is more. We need medicine and D.C. probably has more of it than anywhere remotely close. They say when one door closes, another one opens, right? Well, don’t get me wrong, I loved my friends, the men and women we lost today, but they weren’t fighters. They were schoolteachers and maintenance men and regular old people. Now, you all come to our compound and you’ve seen it all. You’ve killed the dead and ruthless dictators — ”
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