“But our survival depends on sex, procreation.”
“What possessed Mom to have a fifth kid?” Gary asked the heavens. “How can you take something so beautiful as love and debase it?”
“You’re like the sister I never had,” I told him. “You can cook AND you have feelings.”
“Feel this,” he said as he smacked me upside the head.
“Can we maybe get going again?” I asked as I rubbed my head. “You even hit like a girl.”
We crossed through Mary’s neighbor to the back and then through their yard and onto the street.
“It was further away,” Gary said as I turned to him.
“Man, it’s quiet,” I said, turning back around. “I wish we could hear gunshots. At least, we’d know where to go.”
“Or where to avoid,” Gary added more prudently.
“Or that,” I said to him, not really agreeing.
Chapter Eighteen
Paul slowly moved down the roadway, constantly weighing his decision. More than once he had stopped and pondered going back.
“How dangerous is she really?” Paul asked himself on more than one occasion. “She saved my life. But she shot Brian and somehow got him bitten. She’s a snake that lies in the grass, waiting to strike her unsuspecting victims.” That was usually enough to get him moving.
Mrs. Deneaux was not worried in the least about her secret getting out. Paul was a dead man stumbling, she thought. She even allowed herself a laugh at her pun. Still, she was not fond of loose ends. More than once, they had come back in her long and storied life to add some disruption to her plans. She reasoned with herself that she was down to four rounds and why waste one on him when the zombies or something equally as deadly would save her the much-needed bullet. “A ferocious hamster could take him out right now.” She laughed again, and long-buried, stale lung smoke ventured out her nose as she chortled.
Chapter Nineteen – Mike Journal Entry 11
“It couldn’t have been much further than this,” Gary said as we came to our fifth street.
“You know the way back?” I asked, just now thinking about that small fact.
“I’ve been leaving bread crumbs,” he answered quickly.
“Okay, Hansel.”
“Don’t worry, I know the way.”
“I was more concerned with me. If we have to run, I want to know which way to go because you obviously won’t be able to keep up.”
“I guess you’d just better not leave me behind this time.”
We had been walking up the road, my guess would have been in a northerly direction, but that would have been merely a guess. I always feel like whichever direction I’m walking is north. When we saw a bloody body in the road, Gary grabbed my shoulder to keep me from getting closer.
“That’s probably what I heard,” Gary whispered.
My heart was sinking, the clothing looked familiar. We were edging closer, keeping a close lookout for the shooter.
Gary had stopped his forward progress.
“What’s up?” I asked him softly, looking around. We were both in crouched positions, trying to make ourselves as small a target as possible. But we were in the middle of the road, so we were pretty much fair game if someone were so inclined.
“I think that’s Brian,” Gary said trying to suppress some gagging.
“I think you’re right. Stay here and cover my back.”
Gary nodded, his mouth closed tightly.
I moved closer, trying to get into as small a ball of humanity as possible. I could see the bullet’s entry into the base of the skull. I dreaded what I had to do next. I mean the body had, I think, the same clothes on as Brian, but I wasn’t completely sure. It’s just not something I pay all that much attention to. I placed my boot under his left hip and kept my rifle aimed at his head. I then turned the body over. The left side of Brian’s face was missing, the only way I knew it was Brian was because the right side was in remarkably good shape.
“Fuck,” I said. It really seemed like the only fitting thing to say.
“Is that him?” Gary asked from his vantage point.
I nodded.
“Shit,” he said.
I agreed wholeheartedly.
When I could tear my gaze away from his destroyed face, I began to take in other details. The one remaining eye was opaque and his skin was gray. Yes, I knew he was dead, but there was a difference to the skin tone of the dead and the undead. I had been around enough of both to unfortunately become a resident expert.
“He was a zombie,” I told Gary as I came back to where he was standing.