Reckoning in an Undead Age

by A. M. Geever

  “Me too,” Tessa said, a knowing smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

  The building was white with red trim and a red metal roof that sloped toward the road. Briceland Volunteer Fire Dept. was painted across three closed garage doors that were bays for the fire trucks.

  “Not much more than a garage,” Mario said. “But if it’s secure…”

  “Hey, guys,” Tessa said. “There’s a house up there on the hill, up that little track we passed.”

  Everyone turned around. Sure enough, Tessa was right.

  “High ground is always better,” Skye added.

  “Let’s do it,” Tessa said.

  Silas looked back at the drive they had passed and then said to Violet, “I bet there are bikes! I call dibs!”

  He bolted away.

  “No!” Violet cried, and took off after him.

  It took Mario’s brain a second to register that the kids were running away.

  “Silas, Violet, stop!”

  His heart rocketed out of his chest, lodging in his throat. Everyone sprinted after the children. The kids paid him no attention. Skye reached Violet first and snatched her up, her small legs kicking in the air as her feet left the ground. Mario pushed on, blood thundering in his ears. Silas was just twenty feet ahead of him. He glanced over his shoulder at Mario, grinning. It was a game now. Dust from the road rose in puffs around his small feet.

  “Silas!”

  Silas tripped. He tumbled to the ground with an oof, dust swirling all around him. Mario grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, pulled him to his feet, and whirled him around.

  “Never do that again!” he shouted, fear for the children’s safety quickly giving way to anger. Silas’ eyes grew wide as Mario shook him by his shoulders. “You don’t know what’s ahead of us! There could be zombies, traps, anything!”

  Silas stared at Mario, fear in his eyes. He had wiped out partially on his face. Half of it was covered in dun-colored dust that stuck to his sweaty skin like kabuki-style makeup. His lower lip began to wobble. Regret for scaring him quickly beat back the blind panic, the deja vu replay of a small boy being led into danger right in front of Mario’s eyes.

  “Oh Silas, I’m sorry,” he said, dropping to his knees. Voice softer, he said, “I didn’t mean to scare you, but you can’t run off like that. There could be anything out here. You have to let the adults check first and make sure it’s safe. Unless we’re somewhere we know is safe, you always have to be with an adult. Always. That’s the rule.”

  “Okay,” Silas managed, his voice small and unsteady.

  A tear streaked down his dusty cheek, exposing a shining line of his mahogany-colored skin, followed by another. Silas looked down at the ground. More tears dropped to the dusty earth, making tiny calderas. Mario could hear the rest of the group approaching. He tipped Silas’ face up with a finger under his chin.

  “I’m not mad at you, Silas. I got scared that I might not be able to keep you safe.”

  Mutely, Silas nodded. Mario pulled him into a hug, felt the small, stiff body relax against his shoulder. Silas couldn’t understand how small and slight he felt in Mario’s arms, how especially vulnerable he was in a world hell-bent on killing them all.

  “I just wanted to see if there’s any bikes,” Silas whispered.

  “I know,” he answered, patting Silas’ back.

  Mario felt a hand on his shoulder. He squinted up into the sunshine to see Doug standing over him.

  “Everything okay here?” Doug asked.

  “Yeah,” Mario answered.

  He released Silas, who looked at him with a wisp of caution. Mario pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and brushed away most of the dust clinging to Silas’ face.

  “We’ll find you a bike. Don’t worry. You keep this hanky in case you need it later.”

  Silas nodded, crumpling the smudged hanky in his hand. Mario stood, then held out his hand. Silas took it. They fell into step beside Doug to walk up the twisty drive.

  “I hollered at Mister Bun Bun once, when he was bad,” Silas said.

  Mario smothered a laugh. “I’ll try not to holler anymore, Silas.”

  “Okay.”

  Mario looked at Doug over Silas’ head—chagrined—but Doug’s usually mischievous face was a study of knowing concern.

  “You okay?” Doug asked.

  Six years had passed, but the fear had welled up as thick and suffocating as it had then. As it had only two months ago when they learned what had happened to Tadpole, and he’d floundered, powerless and alone and unable to do anything, while Miranda pushed him away.

  “I’m okay,” Mario answered. Then he added, his voice light, “But I have to find bikes.”

  The dusty track ended in a wide weed patch. To the left sat the one-level house, a sprawling structure of redwood, glass and steel. To the right was a three-car garage.

  “Sweet setup,” Doug said, turning in place for a three-hundred-sixty-degree view.

  Mario nodded. “We should check out the garage first.”

  “Because that’s where the bikes will be?” Silas asked.

  “Well, maybe,” he said, not bothering to explain that he was hoping there might be a vehicle they could use, despite how slim those odds were.

  Tessa said, “There are solar panels on the garage. There might be a charging station inside.”

  “An electric car?” Skye said.

  “Don’t get too excited,” Tessa cautioned, but she sounded excited.

  The presence of an operational charging station had been confirmed. There were two Tesla SUVs in the garage. If the batteries would still take a charge, they might have some wheels.

  All of the windows in the house, whether floor to ceiling to take advantage of the view, or the smaller, higher frosted panes of bathrooms, were grimed over by years of dust. Mario had waited outside with the kids while Skye, Doug, and Tessa cleared the house of three zombies. They’d been mummified because the closed-up house had been broiling inside. They must have been there for years, but were chomping for a human snack.

  They opened what windows they could to air out the house. The interior had been broiling—instantaneously drenching them all with sweat. Now, the living area end of the house was very warm but bearable. The breezeway between the living and sleeping areas, shaded by a massive Live Oak tree, was downright pleasant. The walls of the breezeway were made of retractable floor-to-ceiling glass panels. Having both of them opened halfway required a watch, but it was worth it. And if they needed to fall back quickly, the doors into the house at either end of the breezeway were sturdy and undamaged.

  Silas and Violet were out cold on a mattress that Mario had dragged into the breezeway. The lack of bicycles in the garage had triggered a cranky-fest that lunch had not allayed. Despite protestations of not being tired, both of them had fallen asleep in minutes. Mister Bun Bun was in a playpen they found in a closet, with a dish of water and some chicken feed from the garage.

  Mario climbed to his feet and stretched. Waves of sleepiness had his eyes threatening to droop, along with near constant yawns. With Doug, Skye, and Tessa still in the garage, he couldn’t afford to fall asleep unless he shut the breezeway doors, which he didn’t want to do.

  Even through the grime, the view from the hilltop was beautiful. The dark green of conifers and deciduous trees were interspersed with small patches of brown and gold. The thin ribbon of the road they had traveled threaded its way through the mountains. Even though tall, brittle grasses now covered the hillside between the house and the road, rows of grapevines looked healthy and thriving, as had the small vineyard behind the house. Mario made a mental note to look for homemade wine later this evening. He had lived in California long enough to know that wine made in someone’s basement or garage could be just as good as what commercial vineyards produced.

  A few minutes later, he heard the voices of the others. Doug, Skye, and Tessa turned the corner into the breezeway. Doug stopped abruptly when he saw the sleepin
g children but Mario waved him on.

  “As long as we keep our voices low, they’re not waking up,” Mario said when the others reached him. When he sat down, his body ached with the need to rest. “How’s it looking?”

  Tessa finished a pull on her water bottle. “I think I can get it running,” she said. “One of the SUVs is taking a charge. Might take a few days, but with two of them, I can cannibalize the other for parts.”

  “It would be nice to have a day or two to rest,” Skye said. “Especially for Silas and Violet. And poor Mister Bun Bun. He needs a break from that carrier.”

  Doug smiled at that. He tugged on Skye’s shoulder and she leaned back against him. “There’s a ton of water in the mudroom off the kitchen. I used to think those water coolers were ridiculous, but I’m so glad now that people used them.”

  “Yeah,” Mario said, then yawned so wide his jaw popped. “As long as zombies don’t show up, this seems like a good place to stop.”

  “Ever the optimist,” Doug said. He glanced over at the sleeping children. “If there were bikes, everyone would be happy.”

  “I’m too,” Mario yawned again, “tired to be optimistic. I’m glad there are no bikes. They’d have wanted to ride them, and that’d be too nerve—” He yawned again. “Racking.”

  “Take a nap, Mario,” Skye said. “You too, Tessa. Doug and I can keep watch. We’ll wake you up in a couple hours.”

  Mario didn’t want to say anything other than yes, but he asked anyway. “You sure?”

  “Let’s skip the ritual three denials,” Doug said. “Next you’ll start saying you aren’t tired, like the kids.”

  “Not a chance in hell of that,” Mario said.

  Doug’s eyes narrowed as Mario stalked from the garage to the house, his posture rigid. His mood worsened every day they spent here, even though he knew that after sitting ten years, Tessa couldn’t predict when the repairs on the Tesla would be finished. She and Skye were doing their best; it would take as long as it took. If they got it working, it would be well worth it. They could cover more miles in day in a vehicle than they could in a week on foot, especially with the small fry in tow. Mario had been okay the first few days, but after that…not so much. Doug was getting sick of Mario’s shitty attitude.

  “I don’t like those,” Violet said, her mouth downturned.

  “You’re missing out,” Doug said. “See?” He pulled a purpled grape from the vine and popped it into his mouth. The bright, sweet taste flooded over his tongue. The seeds crunched, but he didn’t spit them out. “I bet Silas will try one.”

  Silas took the bait, then broke into a grin. “They’re good!”

  “I told you.”

  A moment later he said, “What are the hard things?”

  “The seeds,” Doug answered, popping another few grapes into his mouth. “You can eat them, or you can spit them out.”

  Silas looked up at Doug, squinting in the bright sunshine. “Avery told me if I ate seeds, the plants might grow out of my ears.”

  Doug laughed. “I’m pretty sure he was teasing you. That won’t happen.”

  Silas crammed more grapes into his mouth.

  “Who’s Avery?”

  “She used to live with us, before,” Silas said. His voice was soft, but he said it with a finality that let Doug know he wouldn’t talk about Avery more.

  Silas pointed at the bunches of grapes. “What are these called again?”

  “Grapes.”

  Silas nodded. Doug glanced at Violet from the corner of his eye. She was eyeing the grapes and looking like she regretted her earlier pronouncement.

  She said, “Maybe I like these…”

  “Go on then,” Doug said.

  She pulled a grape from a bunch, hopping back in surprise when it pulled a few free that fell to the ground. Then she put it in her mouth, looking hesitant. Her eyes widened.

  “I do like these!”

  Doug chuckled softly, and they all stuffed themselves with grapes. Everyone was bored, but the kids were really bored. There was only so much Little House they were prepared to listen to, and Skye didn’t want to burn through the book too fast.

  “I bet I can beat you to the end of the row,” Doug said as the grapefest wound down.

  He looked at the kids a beat, then started jogging away. Silas and Violet tore past him, and he gave chase. They played race and tag until everyone was hot and sweaty. Then they ate more grapes, and picked a few bunches to take to the house.

  They tromped into the kitchen. Mario leaned against the counter by the sink, his back to the window overlooking the vineyard where Doug and the kids had just played. Silas ran up to Mario, holding a bunch of grapes up to him.

  “They’re called grapes! Eat one.”

  “I don’t want one now, Silas,” Mario said. He sounded irritated.

  “But they’re really good! See?” Silas popped a grape in his mouth. “You can eat the seeds or spit them out. I eat them, like Doug. Try one.”

  “I don’t want one. Maybe later.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t want a goddamn grape, Silas,” Mario snapped angrily. He didn’t yell, but his tone was sharp, almost mean.

  Silas took a step back, startled. His eyes filled with tears. Doug handed Violet the cup of water he’d just poured from the water cooler. He walked to Silas.

  “C’mere, Silas,” he said. “I have a cup of water for you.” He took Silas’ hand. Over his head, he mouthed at Mario, “What the fuck?” Mario glared at him, then stormed away.

  Doug said to the kids, “Let’s go to the garage and see what Skye and Tessa are doing. Maybe we can help them.”

  He took the grapes from Silas and set them on the counter. Silas was trying to blink back tears, but one slipped down his face. He looked confused and hurt. Doug wiped the tear from his face.

  “Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s having a bad day.”

  He took the children back outside, fuming. If Mario wanted to be in a bad mood, that was one thing. But snapping at Silas, who practically worshipped the ground Mario walked on? That was out of line. He left them in the garage, Skye reading his look at a glance before she invited the kids to help them. He stomped back through the rooms of the house, finding Mario in the breezeway. His arms were crossed. He glowered at the vista below, which Doug was pretty sure he wasn’t seeing. And if he was, it offended him.

  “What the hell is wrong with you today?”

  Mario didn’t look at him. “Nothing,” he said, sounding sullen.

  “Tell that to Silas. You’re being an asshole, and you’re being mean.”

  Still, he didn’t look at him, but Doug could wait. Mario’s scowl deepened, his eyes almost slits, impatience and anger coming off him in waves. He looked at the ground, sucking on his teeth.

  “We’ve been here a week already,” he said, shrugging, like it was an annoyance to explain himself. “I just want to get on the road again. Tessa keeps saying just one more day, but then it’s another. The longer we’re together, the more attached they get, and I can’t— It’s almost mid-October, Doug, and Silas and Violet need—”

  Finally, he looked at Doug. His mouth twisted in a miserable frown, pain flashing in his eyes, but he quickly looked away again.

  Doug said, “It’s October sixth, Mario.”

  “You know what I mean,” he said irritably.

  Doug smothered the flare of annoyance at Mario’s childish rebuttal. “What is it that you think Silas and Violet need?”

  “They need something stable. Permanent. They need to be behind walls where it’s safe, with people who are going to be there for them.”

  “Someone not you, you mean.”

  That raised his head. His expression became impatient, the lines around the thin slash of his compressed lips deepening. “You make it sound like I don’t care. I just— I don’t want them getting attached to me.”

  Doug started to laugh. “It’s a little late for that.”

  “I d
idn’t ask for any of this,” Mario said. “I don’t want them getting attached. I don’t want to be responsible for them when I can’t protect them. I can’t even keep my own kids safe. I couldn’t do a damn thing to protect Tadpole, or Miranda. I don’t know what’s happening in San Jose. If Emily and the kids…” His voice trailed off, but not before becoming a frustrated, impotent growl. “Silas and Violet are looking at me like I’m the person they can depend on, and I don’t know that I am.”

  Doug frowned. Not because he was angry with Mario anymore, but because it hurt. It hurt to see him so frightened. It hurt to watch him build walls to protect himself from the purest thing in the world: the love and trust of a child.

  “You better figure it out pretty fucking quick, Mar, because they’ve already picked you. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t ask for it; you’ve got it all the same.” He softened his tone. “This isn’t just about what Silas and Violet need. You need them just as much as they need you, but after everything that’s happened the last six months, it’s got to be scary.”

  Mario took a deep breath. “I left my kids behind, Doug. I feel like I need to step in and be Silas and Violet’s…not their dad, but someone. How long will it be before I abandon them, too?”

  For the first time, Mario really looked Doug in the eye. He looked like he was drowning, waves sucking him under. Worse, he looked like he wanted to let them. Doug stepped in closer and put his hand on Mario’s shoulder.

  “I know you feel like you failed with yours and Miri’s baby, but there was nothing you could do…nothing either of you could have done. It wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t hers. It was horrible, and unfair, and there wasn’t any cosmic plan, anything redeeming about it. It was just a bad thing that happened to two good people who didn’t deserve it.”

  “But my kids—”

  “You weren’t safe in San Jose, Mar. You still aren’t, but you’re going back anyway. Not just to finish this, but because of your kids.” Doug sighed, unsure that any of what he was saying was getting through to Mario. “I know you feel like you abandoned Michael and Anthony and Maureen, but you didn’t. You just couldn’t stay.”