After using guns the last day and a half, many might disagree, but I prefer the machetes and swords. You didn’t run out of steel the way you did ammo. You could only carry so many rounds with you. I’d take a gun or two, stuff my pockets with ammo, but I wanted to get my hands on the machetes and swords, and strap them around my waist, and to my back. That’s what I was thinking.
“Seen this coming?” Palmeri said. She slowly spun in circles, as if trying to take it all in. I had to agree that it was a lot to process.
“Yes,” Jeremy said. “Not zombies, but something. Fall of the government. Got democrats and bleeding heart liberals running things. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Not zombies.”
“You said that, not zombies,” Jason said. “We believe there is nothing wrong with stockpiling a little peace of mind. This room, everything inside here, it’s our peace of mind.”
Jeremy bounced up and down. “Got another room, twice the size of this room with all kinds of food, and water, and sup—”
“Enough, Jeremy,” Jason said.
Jason was the big brother. That much was evident. And the smart one. He didn’t like his little brother giving away too much. After all, we were strangers.
“Take what you think you’ll need. Got bars on the outside of the windows upstairs. No shutters. Be a perfect place to hit targets out on the lawn,” Jason said.
I couldn’t agree more. We grabbed what we thought we would need. I fit a belt around my waist, and affixed both a broadsword on one side, and a twelve inch blade recurve hunting knife on the other. I slung a machete in a leather sheath over my neck and shoulder. The blade had to have been twenty-five inches long.
Charlene stood beside me and I looked at her. “What are you doing?” I said.
“You don’t want me to have a gun,” she said.
“You’re right. I don’t. Wish things could be like they were before. When there were no…no zombies. That’s not where we are anymore, honey. We’re far, far away from that place, from that time. I don’t want you to have a gun, but what happened to your brother—that wasn’t your fault. You’ve shown me over and over that you are responsible, and that you can handle the truth and handle what is going on. I don’t want you to have a gun, but Char, I need you to have one,” I said.
“Chase! Chase!”
It was Erway. Charlene and I locked eyes.
We left the weapons room and ran back for the bedroom. Erway was at the door. “He’s awake.”
I studied her expression. She gave nothing away.
Charlene grabbed my hand. It wasn’t subtle. She was telling me there was no way she wasn’t coming into the room this time.
We walked in. I pointed to the right side of the bed. Charlene went there. “Hey, little brother,” she said.
She couldn’t hold it together. The tears rolled down her cheeks, but she smiled. She wore a mask made of smiles.
I took the left side of the bed and knelt there. Took his hand. “Hey, buddy,” I said.
“Dad,” he said.
“Yeah, Cash, what?”
“Did you kill my mother?”
It wasn’t the question that I expected. I stared at him, felt Charlene staring at me.
“You came looking for us, right?”
“Of course, I did,” I said.
“Where did you go, when you were looking for us?” His words came out slow. A whisper. His lips were dry, cracked. “Where did you look for us? You went to Mom’s house, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Cash, I did.”
“When you got there, did you kill my mom?”
I looked up and over at Charlene. She seemed to wait for the answer, too. They did not need to hear the truth.
“No,” I said. “I did not. I didn’t kill her.”
Charlene’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t believe me.
I saw it in my head. Their mom on the bed, the shattered picture frame on the hardwood floor. I used a shovel. Tried to flatten her skull with it, but swing after swing had done little to stop her until I used the blade of the shovel and separated most of her head from her shoulders.
I cringed. The memory felt horrible, and knew I’d relive it time and again once this nightmare ended. If it ever ended.
I had to give more. “When I got there, we searched the house for you guys. For the two of you. We found your mom’s husband,” I said.
“I had to chop his hand off,” Charlene said. Was she smiling?
“We killed him. We had too. But when I was upstairs, I found your mother,” I said. “She was in one of the bedrooms, looking at a picture of you kids…”
She had been in a bedroom looking at a picture.
The zombies at the fence had figured out how to climb higher by standing on corpses like step stools.
“Dad,” Charlene said.
I hadn’t killed their mother. What I did might have been worse. Don’t think I ever expected them to ask me about it. Not sure, I’d have handled it differently, regardless. “I left her there,” I said. “I closed the bedroom door. I left her in the room with pictures of you two.”
“Do you think that made her happy,” Cash said.
I closed my eyes. “Yes, buddy. I think that made her happy. She has memories of you guys to keep her happy.”
Memories. In her infected state, did she have memories? Was it possible?
“Is he sleeping?” Charlene said. “Dad?”
I watched his chest. It didn’t rise. It didn’t fall. “Erway,” I said. “He’s not breathing!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I’d been sound asleep when Julie woke me up with a nudge. Working two jobs, when I had time to sleep, I slept.
“What is it?” I’d whispered. Don’t think I’d even opened my eyes.
“The baby,” my ex-wife had said. Charlene was five years old. Hardly a baby.
“What does she want?”
“Not Charlene. This baby,” she said.
I opened my eyes. Julie had the bedroom light on. She was dressed, her packed bag for the hospital by the door. “Is it time?”
She shrugged. “Contractions started about an hour ago. They’re less than three minutes apart already.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” I said, lifting myself up onto an elbow.
“If it was nothing, I would have let you sleep. I assumed they wouldn’t get so close together so soon.” She stood by her bag, with one hand on the doorknob.
“Doctor told us the second delivery will be faster than the first. Your body already knows the routine. Dilating and effacing,” I said, and threw off the bedspread. “I have time to shower?”
“I don’t think so. I waited as long as I could.”
I picked up the phone, “I’ll call our parents and get Charlene ready. You sit down, just rest. Try to relax.”
A contraction must have hit, because her face contorted. She gave the doorknob a white-knuckle grip. She breathed quick, shallow breaths in a steady rhythm.
I jumped up and led her back to the bed. “Sit, please. Just sit.”
I called my mother first. She said she’d call Julie’s parents. Everyone would meet at the hospital.
“Okay. Keep doing your breathing. I’m going to dress Charlene,” I said. I went from our room to Charlene’s. We’d need a bigger place. This two-bedroom ranch was not going to cut it. Having Charlene sleep in her own room only just happened. With a crib in there now, she’d never get any rest while sharing space with a baby.
I stood over her bed. She was balled up under blankets. Strands of hair were sticky with sweat and stuck to her face. A hug-pillow was between her arms. The hug-pillow that I’d bought for her. I had one, too. So when she slept in her own bed like a big girl, she could hug her pillow, and I would hug mine, and it would be like we were napping together. It didn’t just make her happy; it made me happy.