The King of Clayfield - 01 (40 page)

She stepped back and picked up her blanket. I was weak in the knees.

"I'll leave in the morning," she said. "I'll move in with the Somervilles like Jen wants."

"Sara,
 
don't do that," I said. "What about the horses? What about...what about everything? How can I do all of this by myself?"

"I can't stay here," she said, wrapping the blanket around her. "It'll be too weird."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I know I'm a little younger than you, but I think I could make you happy."

I knew she could make me happy, but....

"After seeing what is left out there...never mind. I'm going to bed now," she said.

"Okay," I said, continuing to stare.

"Are we still sleeping in here by the fire?"

"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry,
 
of course."

I started to leave.

"By the way," she said. "I got your Eazy-E
 
quote this morning. It was from
Boyz in the Hood
."

"Yeah," I said, surprised.

She smiled at me again.

I went into the kitchen and poured myself another drink. I had the shakes again. It was going to be
 
a long night.

I woke up later than usual the next day. To say I'd had trouble sleeping would have been an understatement. The fire was going good, and Sara's blankets were folded on the couch. I couldn't find her in the house, and I feared that she was already gone. I didn't like the idea of her being out there on her own trying to find Mr. Somerville's house.

I looked out the window. The rear door on the moving van was up, and the ramp was down. She had already pushed two of the carts outside and was coming out with a third.

I put on my boots and coat and went out to help her.

"Good morning," she said. "I thought you were going to sleep all day."

"It's only eight," I said.

"I know," she smiled.

She had traded in her high school letter jacket for one of Mrs. Lassiter's coats. She had a
 
green homemade crocheted hat pulled down over her ears. Her nose was red from the frosty air.

"We could have done this after breakfast," I said.

"It
is
after breakfast," she said, still smiling. "Breakfast was served at six thirty. Didn't you get your wake-up call?"

She was acting as if nothing had happened the night before. Maybe nothing did...maybe it was a dream...maybe it was all the alcohol....

I just came out with it—

"Please stay, Sara."

She was headed back up the ramp. She stopped, stood there a second, and then resumed walking without saying anything.

"The whole reason we chose a big place like this was so we could all be comfortable and make a nice life for ourselves. You were part of that."

"This was all Jen's idea," she said from inside the truck. "This was what Jen wanted."

"What do you want?"

"I can't have what I want."

"I'm sorry about last night. I just--"

She stepped forward out of the shadows.

"No," she said. "I didn't mean that. I want my parents back. I want to go back trying to decide what my major should be when I transfer to the university. I want to
 
see my boyfriend
 
on the weekends and eat at McDonalds and all that.”

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to keep saying that."

She went back into the shadow of the box and tugged on another cart.

"I had planned to ask the Somervilles again
 
to live with us," I said. "I think we would all be safer if we stuck together like that."

"You might want to clear that with your girlfriend," Sara said, on her way out with another cart.

"I know Jen is being antisocial, but--"

"Please don't make excuses for her," Sara said.
 
"Anyway, that bunch at the high school
 
isn't too happy. Jen might be right with keeping it small. The more people you have together, the
 
more conflict there will be."

"They just have a
 
couple of
 
people that are making it bad for everybody."

"So if we had
 
a larger group, do you think we wouldn't have people like that?" she said.

"No," I said. "We could be selective about who we--"

"We already have someone like that,"
 
she said. "Jen is our Nathan."

"Oh," I said. "I don't think she's that bad."

"She is bossy and rude and it's her way or nothing."

"I'll talk to her about that."

Sara shook her head and laughed.

"I'll help you today with the horses, and I'll help you get some more supplies, but then I'd like you to drive me
 
out to the Somervilles' house. Okay?"

"And if the Somervilles decide to come out here?"

"I don't
 
know," she said. "I hear there's a group in town looking for a baby machine."

"Don't even joke about that."

Sara and I leaned on the fence and looked out on one of the pastures.

"I don't know which ones to keep and which ones to let go," I said.

"I think the girls and boys are separated," Sara said. "I think these are all boys. Do you want a mixture, or all one sex?"

"What do you think?" I said.

She turned and leaned her back against the fence, elbows up on the rails.

"I told you; I don't know about farm stuff."

"Well," I said, "I guess that if we get to the place where we need horses, then we're going to want male and female."

"Do horses go into heat like dogs?"

"I don't know," I said.

"If they do, you should just keep some of the girls. They'll attract the boys at the right time."

"If any boys are still alive."

"Yeah," she said. "Also, how can we tell if they haven't been neutered? Do they do that to horses?"

"I don't know that either," I said. "I suppose they do."

"Sounds like you don't know much. Sounds to me like you don't need to own horses."

"I concur."

"So whatcha gonna do?" she said, turning to face me.

"Okay, the ones in that field over there are females, you say?"

"Yep."

"There are six of them, and they have access to that pond. I say we keep those and let the rest go."

"That sounds easy enough," she said. "How do we let the rest go?"

"We'll just
 
knock out a
 
section of fence. There should be hammers in the barn."

The easy thing to do would have been to open the gates. However the gates opened to the interior of the property where the house and barns were. I didn't want a herd of horses standing around in the yard and driveway; I wanted them gone. They might find their way around and back up the driveway, but at least I wasn't making it easy on them.

We each got a hammer, and I found a pry bar. We entered the pasture on the east side of the driveway. It was muddy. The horses looked up from their grazing but didn't find us very interesting.
 

"Let's pop off the boards over there," I said, pointing to the corner away from the drive way but near the house. "I don't think we need to herd them out. They'll probably find their own way out."

"What if they don't?"

"Then they don't," I shrugged.

They would find their way. The fence separated a neighboring farm and there was another large pond over there. They were smart animals, and if they got thirsty, they'd leave.

We beat and pried on the boards until there was an opening between two of the posts. We walked down toward the road where the pasture had been subdivided and opened a place there for the horses on the other side.

Then we crossed over to the west side of the driveway and did the same on that side. Doing this on the west side also provided us with another escape route. It would be a muddy one, so we probably wouldn't be able to drive out. I'd have to make another one on the back side of the property at another time.

We were picking up the boards from the last opening and propping them against the fence when we noticed a man on the road. He was wearing ragged clothes, and judging from his movements, he was infected. He stopped at the end of the driveway and stared at us for a few minutes, and we stared back.

"We shouldn't shoot him," Sara said. "The sound of the gun might bring more in."

"No. You're right. Let's just see what he does."

He kept looking at us, then down at the ground, then back at us. He just stood there.

"We have other things to do," I sighed. "I'll go take care of him."

I pulled up my mask and grabbed the pry bar. The driveway was close to 100 yards long. I started walking. He didn't move except to look around. One of the horses nickered, and he looked toward the sound.

"Be careful," Sara said from behind me.
 

Halfway there he became fixated on me. His mouth hung open, and he kept
 
pushing his tongue
 
in
 
and out. He took
 
one step toward me, but that was all.

"So you're going to make me do all the walking," I said.
 

He moaned when he heard my voice.

I was going to have to hit
 
him in the head. Brenda said shooting them in the head killed them sometimes. I needed to make sure he wasn't coming back. I wasn't looking forward to it.
 

He hissed at me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I have to do it."

He took another step. He was standing next to the big white mailbox that said LASSITER on the side. I was close. He hissed again.

Just do it.

I closed the remaining space in a jog. He started to reach for me, and I
 
slammed the claw of that pry bar into his skull.
 
He smelled like road kill.

He kept reaching for me, but I
 
held him away
 
from me by keeping the pry bar extended.

"Come on, man," I said.
 
"Die."

I couldn't get the claw out. I worked it, but I couldn't pull it loose. His brains had to
 
have been scrambled to mush as much as I moved that pry bar, yet he kept on reaching.
 

The claw had gone in just above the forehead. Maybe it was
 
the lizard brain that needed to be destroyed. It had been a long time since I'd taken biology, but I thought I remembered that being
 
near where the brain attached to the spinal cord. Was it the
basal ganglia
or the
cerebellum
or something else?
 
 

"I don't suppose you would know, would you?" I said.

He made a sound in his throat that I can't quite describe.

"I'm sorry," I said.

I pushed
 
the pry bar away. He stumbled backward and fell on his butt. The bar now hung down in front of his
 
face. He grabbed for it, but couldn't grasp it. I could hear Sara walking up behind me.

"I
 
haven't been able to kill him," I said.

She
 
came up beside me. We both stood there staring down at the poor man.

"Here," she said,
 
offering her hammer. "I have the twenty-two on me, too."

"Shit," I said. "Give me the gun.”

I took the revolver from her then walked behind the man. He kept sitting there in the road. I
 
kicked him in the back
 
of the head, and he fell over. Then I rolled him
 
onto his face with my boot. He didn't move much. I put the gun
 
against the base of his skull.

"I'm sorry," I said again.

Then I put two bullets in his head. The gun didn't sound as loud as I thought it would.

"I'll stay with him," I said. "Go back to the barn and get one of those trucks. We'll
 
leave him at the church with the
 
dead horse."