by Annie Walls
A soft smile forms and he takes it, “I got it right there because it’s private, and I only want one person to ever see it.”
“I take that back, I’m not really that sorry.”
“I know,” he says, taking a big spoonful of soup. Showing me mercy, he changes the subject, “You working on the mural?”
“I’m hoping to finish it.”
“Good. I’ll keep you company.”
*
I decide to add Gwen before I finish the details of the rest of the mural. Mac will appreciate it.
“Wow. It’s great, Kan.” I turn. Rudy walks through the door and sits down in a chair with his food. “Where are you?”
“Uh, well, I didn’t want to paint me. If this were a photograph, I would say I’m taking the picture.” I stand back to check out Gwen’s outline. Mac and her almost stand the same way. “Gwen, Mac’s mom,” I tell Rudy.
“She’s here?”
“Just showed up. Crazy, huh?”
A sadness gathers over him, like clouds rolling in. “Yeah.” Turning to the mural, I try to focus on it like a salvation.
“Mac will like it.” He resumes eating and studying the mural. “I’m standing alone.” He’s right. In the mural he stands to the side, but to me, he dominates the whole thing.
“It’s how I first saw you. Watching me, with your sleeveless shirt and badass bow.” Plus, I want to paint his arms and shoulders. He’s wearing the green bandana. I kind of turned him to the side, so I could paint the curve of his ass in jeans. I really hope it isn’t obvious. There’s a zombie with an arrow through its head at his booted feet. His eyes are hooded and mysterious. I think I might draw him, with his teeth and dimple smile. I will do that later. In private. The smile that’s all for me.
Julie’s in the mural, too. She is pregnant. Sam and Ty are fierce with their new bows. Glinda stands by her man with a thigh sheath. Reece holds the sawed-off shotgun. Bunyan has his arms crossed and an assault rifle over his shoulder. Thomas looks pissed, his automatic resting face. Felix Fuller is stiff like he always is, gripping a rifle.
“Still isn’t right without you in it.” I shrug at his statement and go about adding some details on Guido. I opt for his sparkly top hat, because it’s fun to paint.
Mac stands in all his devil-may-care glory with a smirk on his face. His curls tumble on his forehead with sandy highlights from the sun. His blue eyes are bright with intensity, and the all-knowing dignity he always has. I put Gwen in beside him with the same expression on her face as when I first saw her.
Rudy ends up playing his guitar for a while and at one point, stops only to drum on the hollowness before more strumming bursts through the room in a rock tune. He sings a drawn out word, and I lose my grip of the paintbrush, making a streak of paint across a zombie face.
Whipping around, I watch him sing with his eyes closed about thinking and drinking. About being a holy roller, owning a spaceship, and going for a ride. A seemingly strange chorus until he gets to a part about getting naked. He peeks open an eye and grins, knowing he surprised me. His voice paired with the sexually charged lyrics makes my heart unevenly beat.
When he finishes, he strums straight into another song as if he didn’t just do something completely shocking. He doesn’t sing again, but keeps playing until I finish the project.
“It’s perfect,” I grin, surprised how good it feels to finish this pointless project in the grand scheme of things. Rudy remains silent and returns my smile. I step toward him, remembering a lyric from the song he sang. “Panty dropper.”
At this he laughs, shrugging as a little color creeps up his neck. “Whatever works.”
“Kan!” Mac says, coming into the room and looking at the mural with wonder on his face. Gwen follows right behind him.
Gwen gasps. “See there.” She stands a little straighter and points. “I look fantastic, as always.” We all laugh, including Rudy.
“Rudy, meet my new roommate, Gwen, Mac’s mommy,” I introduce. Mac shoots me an undignified face at the word mommy. “What? She changed your diapers, you’re forever in her debt.”
“What diapers they were, Kan.” Gwen laughs, shaking her head. “The boy could fill a diaper.” We all break out into laughter. “Nice to meet you, Rudy. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Rudy nods, sending her a tight smile. “Same here.” Everyone notices his shift, and the room grows somber. He clears his throat, “I’m glad he found you. Family is hard to come by.” Even though he’s right, his statement breaks my heart.
*
They found Gwen a twin bed at an old store, but she has most everything else she needs. Things I never thought of using again. Like a pepper cracker, but hey, to each their own. They fix her up in the loft and her things make it homey.
She ends up cooking for everyone, making pork tacos with homemade corn tortillas. She already has some, but says she’ll show me how to make them. We make a big to-do out of it, and invite Reece, Glinda, and the rest of the team. Julie comes, too, and is pleasant company. Even though she asks a lot of questions about Arizona. A subject Rudy and I are skirting around.
I eat my tacos with beans and it tastes like heaven. Everyone enjoys them. Light moods fill the air and smiles go with it. I catch Rudy watching me. I grin around my food and place my hand on his arm.
“This is our family.”
Rudy smiles, but his eyes flash with melancholy. I can’t help but think about the other shoe dropping, and soon.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A light snow falls as I place more zombies in the warehouse. What’s weird is they gather here automatically. I’m guessing this has a lot to do with the mind control thing. Upon shutting them in, I turn and bump into a body.
I follow the dark clothing to Mago’s face. His eyes slide from my face to the dock door. “You’re amassing them? Interesting, Miss Moore.”
Sitting up fast, sweat drips from my temples as I wipe it away. Dex startles, hopping off the bed. I make a quick trip out to the landing, where snow falls.
*
The sun streams in and I watch as Gwen makes her way around, brewing tea. “You all right, Kan?”
“Uh, yeah. Weird dreams.”
She nods as if in understanding, but it really doesn’t help. After getting dressed, I go outside to find a thick layer of snow covering everything.
Kids run around in laughter, building snowmen and throwing snowballs. Rudy hands out new knitted hats, scarves, and gloves to them. I remember helping him stuff them in bags at a sporting goods store. They are the good hats from big brands that will last years. The kids are having too much fun, so I join in the snowball fight.
Before I know it, I’m laughing and wet from the snow. After, I help get the head on the snowman and pat down awkward parts, smoothing it out. The children thank me for helping with red, runny noses and wet gloves. Snowflakes dot their clothing. I don’t know how much time has passed, but the sun peeks out again, making everything bright and cheery. Rudy watches us, leaning against a tree outside the courtyard. I smile at him, and he returns it, coming over to put an extra scarf around the snowman.
The kids go crazy with his idea. “Gotta keep him warm,” Rudy says, smiling at them.
“Thanks,” I tell him. With a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, he moves toward the parking lot. “He’s way too dry. It isn’t fair,” I whisper, conspiring against him. It works, because the kids take off, attacking him with snowballs. He immediately counter attacks, laughing. I watch for a minute, and then go to the loft.
Gwen helps get hot chocolate for the five kids while I change into dry clothes.
*
Next, I need to check on my zombies and collect more. When I come around the corner of my secret warehouse, the famished already did the job for me. Just like my dream. Chills sweep up my spine. More zombies walk around, congregating near the warehouse door. Even though this isn’t a good sign, it’s less work for me. I open the door, slowly, and like before they all s
tand there. Peering at me in a way that sends chills through my bones.
I turn and herd the rest of them in. The community is in an uproar about the decrease in famished, but after thinking about it, it’s more than usual. I realize now, I’ve been picking up slack from the leftover famished from the base. If I weren’t a magnet, the community would have realized the increase and most likely would be in a bigger panic. Rumors of the famished dying off flood the community. I wish. Nope. Same as usual.
*
When I get to the loft, it’s almost dark, winter giving in to short days and long nights. Gwen is feeding people. Mainly with food she brought herself, but I help with fresh food from the marketplace. I’m beginning to think this is what she does and loves to do. This is when I find out Rudy and Julie plan to leave in two days.
Taking this news in stride, I kick back on the floor with a cup. Mac is beside me, both of us leaning against my bed. Gwen cooked up a yummy version of gumbo. Like in New Orleans, I pick the meat out, and flop it into Mac’s cup. He grins, eating with renewed gusto.
“Oh Kan, I’m sorry. I forgot about your preference for vegetarianism,” Gwen says in distress.
“No, don’t be. I pick it out.” It’s some kind of ground sausage.
Reece chimes in, “Just as good as the gumbo in New Orleans.”
“You had gumbo in New Orleans?” Rudy asks.
“Yep. With gator and shrimp,” he chuckles. “Kan thought it was sausage.”
“Ha. Ha,” I deadpan as everyone laughs at my expense.
Rudy shakes his head, slumping. “Damn, that sounds really good.”
“Rudy had a pet gator,” Julie smiles at him, patting the baby’s back. “My dad used to joke with him about catching it and throwing it in a pot with celery, carrots, and onions.”
“He wasn’t a pet. He hung around wanting food.”
I’m soaking in all this information like air and I haven’t breathed in hours. Julie’s eyes fill with mischievous mirth. “You named him Slash!” At this, everyone starts in on the jokes, and Julie keeps going, “He talked about him like he was this giant loch ness creature, and when I first saw Slash, he was a foot long.”
“No, he wasn’t. He was two feet.” Laughter ensues, and Rudy laughs with us, but he grows a little somber after a minute.
After the meal, everyone passes around a bottle of PGA. To my surprise, Gwen drinks with the rest of us. Everyone chats about the snow and missing zombies as they play Rummy. Gwen glances my way knowing exactly where the zombies are. Rudy and I talk about our trip, and how the zombie base looked. The damage the bombs made pleases Reece, judging by the grin on his face. I get out my sketchbook and sketch Reece and Glinda saying sweet nothings to each other.
“Better than a camera, you are,” Mac comments.
I peek at him. “I’m getting better at drawing people. I like it.” Mac takes a swig of liquor and passes the bottle. I sip it, heating my insides while keeping an eye on a very homesick Rudy.
*
Two days pass. Agitation worms its way through my being beyond control. Everything annoys the hell out of me—the inaction of waiting for Mago being number one. The warehouse full of zombies is a burden to hide. I’m so thwarted by the entire situation, I might go blow the whole thing up. Mostly, Rudy is leaving for an indefinite amount of time.
With burning eyes, I jump up and head to the targets. A few hours in, Julie comes to see me.
“Mac told me you were out here, ripping up the targets.”
“Yep.” I stop, disengaging an arrow. I wonder if she’s here to say bye. I doubt she cares.
She sighs, “Listen, Kan…” She bites her lip as the wind blows her blond curls into the air. “Rudy was raised by his irresponsible mother.” I raise my eyebrows. Why is she telling me this? “His mother went in and out jail. Often, and he’d go to live with his aunt for a while. That’s how I met him. His aunt was my dad’s secretary. He’d go back and forth, switching schools. Eventually his aunt passed away and his mother left him when he was of age.”
I’m speechless. She goes on, “During all this time, my dad became his dad. Did everything a dad was supposed to do with a son. Football games, fishing, archery, and he even worked at my dad’s construction company. We took him in when he had no other place to go, so he could finish school and start college. I don’t know for sure, but I think my dad asked him to take care of me before he died of the cancer he battled for only a year.
“When you two didn’t find Jonathan, I think it hit too close to home.” She laughs, “It’s what drove me nuts about him, keeping everything locked up to deal with himself.” It would hit close to home. He wants Ariella to have her mother and father. He doesn’t want to repeat the cycle.
Anger surges through me. Protectiveness rises to the surface as everything clicks into place. This is the reason he keeps himself closed off. He has not been the same since our looting trip and it got worse when Mac’s mother showed up, triggering memories. Without thinking, I grab her by the arms. A flash of fear flicks behind her eyes. She’s lucky I’m not squeezing her neck. “What you’re telling me is, you used this against him. Manipulating him,” I say through clenched teeth. Deadly calm. My Bersa’s presence throbs more than I’ve ever been aware of it before. She flinches and her face falls as if this never occurred to her. “Why tell me this? You’re leaving. He’s leaving.” And I’ve tried my damnedest to be supportive of the decision.
Her chin lifts in a defiant gesture and I suppress the urge to slap it off her face. I deserve a pat on the back. Scratch that. A pat on the back and a cookie.
“I want to find Jonathan,” she says, trying to stand a little straighter through my grip. “He’s alive, and I want to find him.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, letting go and stepping back.
“I’ve talked Rudy into going to find him. I want you to help us.” Of course, she wants my help.
A bitter laugh escapes my throat. “Are you fucking crazy? We might be traveling a long way, straight into a horde of zombies.”
“You’re the one to talk, Kansas,” she spits my name out like something filthy.
“You have a baby. Shouldn’t you be worried about her? Shouldn’t her needs come first?”
“They do, and if her father’s alive, then she needs him. Same as me.”
Appears as if I’m not going to talk her out of it. “There’s only one person who can tell me where he might be. I guess you get to play the waiting game along with me.” I smile tightly at her.
“Huh? Who would know where he is?”
“Mago.”
*
In the coming weeks, that’s what we do. We wait. I get the whole team together, feeling good to be doing something productive. Reece decides to make more bombs.
I keep storing famished like household perishables. Sometimes Gwen even goes with me, and advises I should tell someone. I assure her I will—once I figure out what to do with them.
On down times, I sit with Mac and Gwen at his booth drawing everyone in the marketplace doing what they do every day. One of my favorites is of Mac concentrating on an arrow. Curls fall on his forehead, hiding his face with his hands precisely placing the fletching. I draw children, giving the pictures to their parents. They are grateful to have pictures of any kind. That helps to pass the time.
I also shot myself up with the birth control. Even though the formula is new, it isn’t like birth control hasn’t been around for decades.
I spend way too much time thinking about Rudy, his childhood, and how everything clicks into place. All it does is make me feel insignificant and thoughtless. There I was, a spoiled brat with two parents and a boyfriend that loved me. While Rudy fought to be accepted. To be loved. The one person who did show him kindness and love died a painful, slow death. I wonder about his mother and about the whole story. No wonder he closes himself off. Maybe he needs prompting to talk about it. Maybe I’ve caused him enough grief and should leave it alone.
&
nbsp; I tear my eyes away from Rudy and focus on my target, pulling back the bowstring. I hit the target with precision. Sam and Ty are right beside me, talking about the lack of famished. Reece peers at me.
“What?” I ask him.
He notices Sam and Ty listening to us. “I think we should talk in private.”
We walk toward the courtyard. “Where are you putting the famished?”
I gulp. No sense in denying it, “Uh, in a warehouse, about ten blocks away. How did you figure it out?”
He stares at me. “I was there when he cut off your hair. The zombie when we were picking up your bed. The fact you hardly leave your loft or go into the Trap. When you do leave your loft, you leave the community and zombies are missing. Wasn’t that hard. Now, why are you putting them in a warehouse?”
“I’m not sure, but when I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”
“Kan, you have to stop. People are getting concerned. Just let them come.”
I shift my weight and cross my arms. “Then I have to stay in my loft, because they act really weird around me.” I lower my voice, “They stand there.”
Reece notices my discomfort with the whole thing. “Stop, they’ll kill them before they notice anything.”
“I already have to stay away from the Trap. I’m telling you Reece, they stop and watch me. I’ve never seen anything like it. Well, I have, but not me. You know?”
He nods. “The zombie in New Orleans. Is it like that?”
“Yep,” I say. A thoughtful expression appears on his face. “Don’t tell anyone yet. Please. I might have to blow up the warehouse if I can’t figure something out.” I start pacing.
His eyes widen, but the prospect obviously thrills him. “How many do you have?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve lost count. Around two or three hundred. I’ve been collecting them for a while.” I watch my feet. “To tell you the truth, I think I’ve been picking up leftover famished from the base, too.” I take a breath.