“Any zombies with you?” Jed’s familiar voice rang out.
“Open this gate, old man, before I ram this truck through that stupid bus,” I responded.
Jed waved the bus to move and the sliding wall retracted. Smiling a little, the old bastard was having a great time busting my balls. Great, just what I needed. And then the more I thought about it, I think he was right, but I wasn’t going to let him know.
Damn it! I stalled the truck halfway through the entrance.
“Nice driving, Tex!” Jed shouted.
“Shut up you old fart!” I yelled, fresh sweat busting out on my forehead.
“Should I just put up a neon sign that says ‘OPEN?’” he yelled back.
Now he was laughing and I was so flustered I flooded the damn engine. The guards were looking up and down the street, they were nervous. We hadn’t had this large a breach since the night it all went down. I was finally able to get it started and all the way in. The bus almost slammed into my rear end in their haste to get the gate closed. I pulled the rig up to the clubhouse for the off-loading and I hopped down. Jed bustled over, beaming at our haul, including the four newcomers. However, he was a little put off when he noticed our returning party was one fewer than the departing one.
“Spindler?” he asked.
I shook my head subtly. There must have been something to the look in my eye because he didn’t press the issue. I had other things on my mind to contend with, the strange zombie woman being at the forefront. I would wait for tonight to speculate on that though. I quickly gave Jed an account of our run-in with Durgan and then waved one of the Little Turtle women over, Joann Orefice. She was the unofficial official welcome wagon.
“Hey Joann, we’ve got four newbies,” I began
“Three,” Thad stated firmly.
I looked his way. My eyebrows arched up as if to say ‘really?’
“Look,” he said. “She might not be the nicest person in the world but she’s family and she’s all I’ve got left. Don’t worry, I know where she lives.” He headed off into the twilight.
From zombies to Mrs. Deneaux, I was weighing the choices.
“Three then,” I finished.
Joann moved closer towards our small group. “Ohmigod.” She stopped short. “What is that smell?”
“I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” I said, this was preferable to an explanation. But before I left I had to ask one question. “Beth, have we ever met before?”
She said ‘no’ half a beat too quick. Great, now I would spend half the night in a fruitless attempt to try to figure out where I knew her from.
Joann smiled and the two women began to talk animatedly. When B.T. stepped from behind the tractor-trailer, Joann looked up with a worrisome expression across her face.
I laughed a little. “Don’t worry, he’s harmless,” I yelled back as I added extra speed to my step to get the hell out of there.
I could hear Big Tiny growl behind me.
CHAPTER 10 
Journal Entry - 10
I opened the front door to our home. Tommy was waiting by the door.
“Hey Tommy, how you doing bud?” I said, smiling at him. It was impossible not to, with his giant grin to match.
“Hey Mr. T, how you doing? Everything go all right?” he asked expectantly.
I had no wish to recap the horrific events of the day with Tommy, and he didn’t need to know either way. This was all just small talk anyway. I knew what he was fishing for.
“Yeah not so bad, bud,” I said as I pulled off my small rucksack. I thought for a second he was going to start dancing on his tippy-toes. That alone would have made the trip worthwhile.
“Hey Tommy, I found these while we were getting ready to leave,” I said nonchalantly as I tossed him a Yoo-Hoo and a Butterfinger. In all reality it was the first two items I had sought out.
“Thanks Mr. T!” he said as he wrapped his arms around me. It was a hug of the innocent, something that was going to be sorely missed in this brave new reality.
“Please call me Mike, Tommy.” I pleaded.
“Okay Mr. T,” he answered as he took a bite of his Butterfinger right next to my ear.
The noise was loud enough to startle Henry, who had been sleeping on the couch. The same couch I wasn’t allowed on if I even looked dirty.
I waited for Tommy to finish his Yoo-Hoo which he was gleefully slugging away on before I asked him a question that had been bothering me the better part of the day.
“Tommy,” I said. He looked up. “Do you have family?”
The merriment in his eyes clouded over in distress with the swiftness of a storm at 14,000 feet. I was sorry I had asked. If I had known the pain I was going to put the boy through I would have left it alone.
“My parents are dead, Mr. T,” he said solemnly.
With the finality and certainty with which he had answered I was wrongly under the impression that it had happened years ago in some tragic fashion, like a car accident or a building fire. I didn’t press. I had all the answer I wanted even though it wasn’t the right one.
But Tommy continued. “I sent a message and I haven’t heard anything back.”
