'Til Death Do Us Part (47 page)

***

Justin had been watching the exchange between his mother and his uncle from
the window in the living room.
He
was still having a difficult time coming to grips that his father had passed
;
and now
,
whether he wanted it or not
,
he was now the man of the house. It was not a responsibility he felt he was quite ready for or one in which he
felt qualified
.
Especially since he had just recently started to hear the siren call of Eliza in the deepest recesses of his mind.

She was tu
gging on the folds of his being.
At
first it was so subtle
that
he thought it was merely an echo of possession, but h
e could no longer deny it,
whatever was happening was increasing. It had gone from a ghost feeling to a feathery light touch and he was not of the ilk to believe it would subside.

“
Easter Evans was a sham,
”
he said aloud
as he absently rubbed his forehea
d,
referring back to the man in
Virginia
that had supposedly exercised his demons.
“
She was just biding her
time. S
he made it look like she was gone
,
and now she
’
s going to use me to kill the rest of my family. Well I
’
m not going to fucking let her!
”
H
is thoughts were not nearly as convinced.

Travis had been by the entrance to the living room about to tell his brother that their Uncle Ron needed their help with one of the fences. He had wondered who Justi
n was talking to, and when he pee
ked in and realized it was only himself
,
he had for some reason not let himself be known. Travis had noticed that his instincts had been amped up since the zombies came and he was heeding their advice now to not be seen.

Eliza
’
s back
,
Travis thought as Justin was talking. He was wondering how long Justin would take to come to that realization and if he would ever tell the rest of the group. He quickly left when Justin stopped speaking.
Fuck, fuck, fuck
,
h
e thought
. A
t least as long as he didn
’
t say it aloud his mother couldn
’
t berate him for it.

***

“
Would you believe me if I told you I don
’
t have a shred of evidence but that I know Eliza is on her way?
”
Travis said to his u
ncle who was seated on his small backhoe.

“
No evidence?
”
Ron asked.

“
Not so much as a napkin with a lipstick stain.
”

“
And you
’
re sure of it?
”

“
I am
,
Uncle Ron.
”

“
Any chance you could tell me why you believe that?
”

“
I could
,
but I have my reasons not to right now.
”
Basically I want to see how long it takes my brother to raise the flag. The longer it takes him to warn us the less I
’
m going to trust him.

Ron held his nephew
’
s gaze for a few moments
,
looking for any seeds of doubt in the young man
’
s face, when he was satisfied there were none he spoke.
“
How long?
”

“
Not as long as we want. Other than that
,
I don
’
t have any answers.
”

“
Not very forthcoming are you?
”
Ron asked.
“
Fine
,
we
’
ll play this your way for now
,
but eventually we
’
ll have to talk. Where
’
s your brother?
”

“
Damn I knew I forgot to do something.
”

***

“
You alright
,
dad?
”
Lyndsey asked her father.

He was standing in his living room holding a portrait of his
family they had taken at Sears.
His
wife Mary had dragged him out because they were having a sale on the pictures. It had taken over an hour to get his four boys still enough to get proper clothes on them and get their hair combed
,
but that still paled to t
he two hours his princess Lyndse
y had taken primping her eight-year-
old self.

He turned to his daughter with the
$
4.99 portrait in his hand.
“
When I look at this picture
,
I can only see black exes where I should see you
r
mom, Glenn
,
and Mike
’
s faces.
”

“
Oh
, dad,
”
Lyndsey said as she came in to be next to her father.

“
And I can
’
t help but wonder who the next black ex will descend on. It is against the nature of the universe for a parent to watch their children die, yet two of mine have passed and I have not even been able to bury either one. Where is the justice in that?
”

Lyndsey had a myriad of platitudes,
‘
It
’
ll be okay, we
’
ll make it, hang on, live to fight another day
’
but they were just ho
llow words.
They
had no meaning beyond the airwaves they pushed with the sound of them. She did what she could to console her father.

M
ike Journal Entry 9

“
What the fuck is that?
”
I asked, but not really to John
. H
e was sleeping
,
and hard if the line of drool extending down his chin was to be used as an indicator.
Down off the highway was a truck rest area, replete with a service station and greasy spoon restaurant.
That was not the interesting part. Had I known just how close I was to Eliza
,
I would have just whipped a
U-turn
and headed to parts unknown. The truck stop was full, I mean packed with trucks.

The owners of this particular spot had probably never seen so many customers at any one time
,
and my bet was they weren
’
t even around to enjoy it anymore. The place was bustling, and for some unfathomable reason I
had
to see why—n
ever quite understood that need in me to be exposed to unnecessary risks. I pulled the car off the highw
ay and down a slight embankment
that was actually a little steeper than I had figured. I looked to my right and back up the incline wondering if the Gremlin was going to have enough power or traction to get us back on the roadway.

“
One issue at a time,
”
I told my non-multitasking self. I then looked over at John,
‘
take him?
’
or
‘
don
’
t take him?
’
I ran through the question a good half dozen times, the majority of reason
s
why I would take him revolved around the fact of leaving someone sleeping by the side of the road was just kind of shitty. And if he awoke
,
would he know what was going on? Or where he was? If he started ambling around, I
’
d never find him. Taking him into a possible hostile situation was no bargain either.

“
Fuck,
”
I m
oaned, there was no good answer
unless I just started the car back up and drove off, no harm, no foul.
I got out of the car quietly,
making sure I pocketed the keys;
John driving off without me would not be good. A gust of wind pulled the door from my hand, the door slammed shut. I silently cursed and peeke
d my head in through the window.
John hadn
’
t stirred, if anything
,
it looked like he had settled down even more.

“
Last chance
, Talbot,
”
I said aloud.
Although the moment I
pulled over
,
I had made my mind up.
“
Why do you do this shit
? Who else is gonna? Comforting,
”
I said
,
finishing my dialog off.

I walked down the rest of the embankment
,
then went through a couple of feet of spars
e scrub brush and came to a six-
foot high wooden fence.
“
I hate fences.
”
I said
,
thinking about the jump down from the top that was going to cause some serious pain in my football, Marine Corps damaged knees.
I
was pleasantly surprised when
I landed on the other side and was not rewar
ded with the all familiar twinge
of cartilage
and ligaments past their prime.
I attributed it to the lost weight, somehow subconsciously avoiding the fact that I was now enhanced. Not sure how I kept forgetting that, I guess it was a fail-safe system.

I came out behind the service station effectively blocked from all the truckers who were out fron
t. Things sounded normal enough; there was laughter
and banter among them
,
but I still was not feeling secure enough to just stroll on up, especially how I was dressed.

“
Shit
, I look like a male prostitute,
”
I said
,
looking down at my outfit.
“
Wonderful, a pair of roller skates and I
’
d be perfect.
”

I thought about blending in, but not like this.
T
hen I was dealt a hand that I had to take advantage of.

“
I
’
ll be right back,
”
o
ne of the men yelled.
“
I
’
m gonna take a piss.
”

It sounded like he was coming up
the far side of the building.
I slowly moved along the length of the building to the side I heard the man calling from. I quickly peeked my head around the
corner;
luckily he had his head down as he was approaching me
while
diligently working on opening his fly.

“
Must really have to go,
”
I said.