The Most Uncommon Cold IV:

Surviving Amid The Zombies 

Jeffrey Littorno

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The Most Uncommon Cold IV:

Surviving Amid The Zombies

by

Jeffrey Littorno

Copyright © 2014 by Jeffrey Littorno

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author Jeffrey Littorno.

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

This book is only possible because of the support and encouragement I receive on a daily basis.

Thank you to Melinda Fox and Carole Guffanti-Notley for your suggestions.

Thank you to my wife Gyeyeol for putting up with my distraction and obsession throughout

the whole process.

Thanks to you, because if you are reading this, you give me a reason to keep writing.

Chapter 1

     Christina lay huddled on the couch and still shaking beneath a red blanket with which Kelly had covered her.  Lawrence slowly sat down next to her feet.

     “How’s my big girl?” He clearly struggled to keep his voice cheery. She gave no response other than continued shaking.

     Lawrence slowly reached over and touched the blanket.

     At the instant his fingers made contact with the fabric, the shaking stopped and the blanket flew open. The tiny arms circled around Lawrence’s neck before he has a chance to move away. The big cop instantly stared into a pair of red, tear-filled eyes.

     “Those things went all around… and… and… I felt so ascared,” Christina sobbed. “You didn’t come to protect me, Lawrence.”

     She pushed her face into his chest while the rest of us stood still and watched.

     Kelly moved first as he charged toward the couch. Before he got within a couple of yards of the couch, Taylor stepped in front of him. The tall maintenance man towered over the teenager. I moved forward ready to break up the confrontation, but my concern was unnecessary.

     Taylor drew himself to the tallest possible form. Every one of his muscles appeared to be tensed, and he clenched his fists in front of him. The sight of the boy seemed to freeze Kelly. The two of them made eye contact and glared at one another for a few seconds. Then the rage that had taken hold of Kelly just moments before evaporated and his shoulders sagged. He turned slowly away from the couch and dropped his body into a chair on the other side of the room. 

     Everyone continued to keep an eye on Kelly for a few moments before Lawrence stood and lifted Christina into his arms. He looked over at Kelly and nodded. Taylor and I followed him out of the room.

     Things remained a bit tense between Kelly and the rest of us after that.

      I began wondering if we should start venturing out into the neighborhood. Lawrence and Taylor both saw little reason to leave the safe world we had created.

     It was not that I had any great desire to put myself or any of us in danger again, but I did have a need to know what exactly was going on outside of our building.  

     The conversation went the essentially same

way every time.

     “For all we know, things might be getting back to normal, and there’s no need for us to be holed up like this.”

     To such comments, Lawrence always replied, “Stick your head out the window. Nothing’s close to normal.”

     “There might be something we are able to do… something to help,” I would offer.

     “Sure, a burnt-out cop, a newspaper reporter, a juvenile delinquent, an old hippy, and a little girl team up to save the world! Stop me if you’ve heard this one before!”

     “I’m just saying that we might be able to do more than just hide out and wait,” I would respond, trying not to sound whiney.

     “From what I’ve seen, staying put and surviving is a pretty good idea these days,” Lawrence would comment, knowing he had won the argument. “Anything important will be on the radio or television.” 

     I realized that he was right, but it did not change my mind about wanting to know what was going on in the world. I wanted to learn more than what we could see from the windows, and the emergency broadcasts only provided the information deemed absolutely necessary. Blame it on my inquisitive reporter mindset, but I wanted to find out every detail I could in order to be able to decide for myself what qualified as important and what did not.

     Since we had finished exploring the building and the unpleasant task of disposing of the bodies, there was not a lot to keep us busy. Without something else to keep it occupied, my mind could not help but to travel outside and wonder about the state of the world.

     Kelly spent most of his time holed up down in the basement. Lawrence and I went there a few times and watched the news with him. The incident with Christina was never mentioned, but the tension remained. I kept an eye on the maintenance man for any signs of the strain easing, but all I only saw furtive glances toward Lawrence that revealed smoldering rage.

     We had been in the building for about three months, and I was getting restless. The typical day started with breakfast in the apartment. After that, Lawrence and I usually left Taylor and Christina to walk through the building and check for any changes especially around doors and windows. We did that even though we had never found any sort of change. Still, it does not hurt to be cautious. Once done, we would either gather things from the other apartments or spend time with Kelly.

     I should have been thankful for the relative calm of the routine, but I was not. I could not get past the sense that I was hiding from the world.

     One afternoon, after making our normal rounds, I headed up to the roof to have a look around. I had gotten into the habit of spending more and more time by myself looking out at the surrounding area. I had found a little portable radio in one of the apartments which I brought with me. The roof was an open flat top with scattered satellite dishes and an older television antenna. It did not appear that anyone had been on the rooftop for quite some time.

     On the first day I came up to the roof I had found someone’s stash of nudie magazines. Judging by the crushed soda cans and cigarette butts scattered around the area, I guessed the magazines belonged to a group of boys. I pictured three of them, ranging from ten to thirteen years old. One of the boys was sitting Indian style with the magazine on the cement in front of him. Another was leaning against the short wall bordering the roof and trying to appear cool as he practiced blowing smoke rings. The third boy was on his back holding a magazine suspended over his face.

     “This chick’s boobs kinda look like Brenda’s,” he said. “I wonder if they feel the same.”

     The boy who had been perfecting his smoke rings started to move forward when the huge laugh from the other boy stopped him.

     “What a loada crap!  You never got any-where near touching any boobies, except maybe your own,” the third boy roared. 

     “Just ask yer sister!” The kid on his back yelled, and the laughter stopped.    

     Even a rooftop with girlie magazines, cigarettes, and pop, saying something about a guy’s sister was crossing the line. The two boys glared at each other as they slowly got to their feet and moved quickly close to one another.

     My imagination always cut out at that point leaving me alone on the roof. So I would sit up there many afternoons trying to get anything besides the hiss of static on that radio and looking out over the streets below. I never got anything more than noise on the radio, and the streets below were empty. Of course, I had nothing but time, so I spent some of it looking out over a deserted city. Actually, the streets were not always abandoned.  Occasionally I did spot some movement.

     The first time I noticed someone walking in the shadows near the building my excitement got the better of me and I shouted without thinking first. As soon as the sound left my mouth, I realized my mistake. The thing jerked around and looked up at me. Even from so far away, I was shocked by the pale skin of the face long face and the dead eyes staring up at me.

     In a matter of moments, the single shell became a group of about eight. I wondered how they had been signaled that there was a reason

to come to the area. After just a minute, the mob had grown to about twenty shells. The things seemed to be more agitated and focused than ever. Their movement was jerky as if they were being pulled against their will. I am not sure exactly how long I watched them, but it was quite a while. It finally occurred to me that my appearance was what was stirring up all the shells. By now, they had moved to the sidewalk below me and were banging on the walls of the first floor. Although we had reinforced everything at the ground level, it was not smart to be drawing attention to our building. I had no idea whether the shells would remember the location later, but it did not make sense to take the risk of having them return.

     I moved away from the edge of the roof. There was a spot in the corner of the roof where I sat down and watched the street below without being seen. After a few minutes, the shells became calm and shuffled around the sidewalk near the building. After about thirty minutes, the street was again empty.

     The things clearly traveled in packs and shared some sort of communication abilities. Did they simply rely on sight and sound, or was there something more?  I smiled at the thought of studying shell psychology, but that is precisely what I was doing. But then again, the term psychology referred specifically to the study of mental activities and related behavior. Could the term be applied to something that seemed to have very little in the way of complex cognitive operations?

     On most days, I would simply sit there on the roof listening to the hiss of static from the radio. The still of the landscape as far as I could see covered everything with a surrealistic mood.

     With so much time to just sit and think, I certainly should have realized that the world we had built for ourselves was about to crumble.

Chapter 2

     “We need to get more gas for the generator,” Kelly said.

     I had opened the door of the apartment at six thirty on a Tuesday morning to find him standing in the hallway. It was certainly a surprise since he had not been to the apartment after the night that Lawrence had almost killed him. But there he was outside the door on this Tuesday morning.

     My surprise must have been clear, as he said again, “We need to get more gas for the generator.” After a moment, he added, “I usually do it myself, but this time we need to go further to get it.”

     “I want to go,” Taylor offered as he pushed closer to the doorway.

     “Nobody’s goin’ anywhere!” Lawrence called from behind me.

     We all automatically looked toward the voice.

     “We need to get more gas for the generators,” Kelly said once again.

     “Where do you usually get it?” Lawrence asked.

     Kelly was clearly irritated at being questioned and answered quickly, “I usually get it at the supply store at the end of the alley, but it’s gone now.” He glared at Lawrence for a moment before turning his eyes toward me. “There’s another store and a gas station a few miles east of here. I would just go myself, but I figured the more people to carry the fuel the better off we’d be.”

     I nodded. “That makes sense. We should get as much as we can to store. That way we don’t have to worry about gas for a while.”

     “Let’s go then!” Taylor’s enthusiasm was clearly not shared by Lawrence.

     “We ain’t gonna just rush the hell outta here without thinking about it first.” The cop’s suspicion was obvious as he continued, “Just makes me wonder why you never mentioned this before.”

     Kelly let out a sigh. “If you don’t want to have power that’s fine. I didn’t realize that the supply of gas was getting so low. That’s why I haven’t mentioned it before now.”

     “If we want to have lights and stuff, we need to get some gas,” Taylor said almost pleading with Lawrence.

     After a second, the big cop chuckled, “Damn,

I never realized you were so ascared of the dark.” He smiled at Taylor before continuing,  “Of course, I like having power. It’s just that I don’t think it’s smart to go charging off half-cocked to search for gas.”

     “Have you got a better idea?” Kelly asked. “Like I said, there should be some gas at that station just a few miles away.”

     “That sounds like a plan to me,” Taylor added with enthusiasm. “We can just swoop in there, get the gas, and swoop back out!”

     The boy’s energy was nothing if not contagious. “Sounds like a whole lot of swooping!” I laughed.

     The laughter coming from Lawrence held no humor. “Well, I suppose if you really want to go, then go ahead.” He gave Kelly a long look as if trying to figure out what the maintenance man had planned. “Somebody has to stay here with Christina.  So I guess that’ll be me.” He flashed a wide grin.

     Kelly started to say something but then squeezed his mouth closed. Lawrence did not miss this.

     “Don’t you think it would be a good idea to have your help in case we get into trouble?” I asked him.

     He shrugged and answered, “I think you guys can handle it.” With that, he turned and walked back into the living room where Christina was waiting for him with one of her books.

     Taylor and I exchanged expressions of confusion. Kelly was staring after Lawrence as if he had just been insulted.

     “What the hell was that all about?” I asked looking at Kelly.

     He shook his head and said, “Well, looks like it’s just the three of us.”

     “No problem. Let’s go!” Taylor had lost none

of his enthusiasm. “We can do this without him.”

     “Well, let’s go get some gas!” I offered with all the energy I could muster. 

     Even as we followed Kelly back down to the basement to collect the empty gas cans, I could not help thinking that I had not been out of the building without Lawrence for several months. Doing so now felt very strange and a bit ominous. The fact of the matter was that having Lawrence with us would make us safer. The bad blood between Kelly and the big cop had to take a backseat to staying alive.

     We were almost to the back corner of the basement which housed the generator when I said, “Look, Kelly, I understand that you’re pissed at Lawrence, and I’m sure the hell not gonna say you don’t have a good reason to hate the guy.” Kelly was silent except for the puff of air he let out at my words. “Anyway, as ridiculous as it sounds, you have to put all that stuff aside. We need him. The only thing that matters right now is staying alive.” I paused for a moment to find him looking at me with curiosity.

     “That sonuvabitch put a gun in my mouth!  You saw that!” His voice was shrill as if he had lost any shred of control. “He was ready to splatter my brains on the floor! Do you think I want to be anywhere near that prick? Do you?”

     I waited a few seconds to reply in the hope that Kelly would calm down a little.

     “No, of course, I don’t think you or any of us want to be anywhere near that prick.”

     Taylor giggled at my response. As odd as it seems, the sound drained a lot of the tension out of the room. Kelly did not actually smile, but his face loosened from it previous scowl.

     “But even though we don’t want to be around him, we need him around,” Kelly said. “It’s like my brain knows you’re right and all, but my gut still wants to tear the guy apart.”          

     The laugh that followed rattled my teeth and should have sent me some kind of warning about what was going to happen, but it did not. I simply listened uncomfortably to the high-pitched sound that erupted from the maintenance man. Perhaps just as disturbing was the sight of Kelly’s instant change from rage to laughter.

     I was both startled by and thankful for Taylor’s question. “So where exactly are we going?”

     Kelly turned toward the boy and regarded him as if seeing him for the first time. “Well, like I said, there’s a gas station and a supply store across from each other three miles or so from here. I figure we oughta find some gas there. But we need to get the cop to go with us.”

     “He’s right,” I commented. “Sorry, Taylor. I know you keep getting stuck inside, but this time we need him along in case we run into any of those things.”

     Taylor’s disappointment could not have been more clear. “Oh, c’mon! We can do this without him. He’ll just slow us down,” he pleaded.

     “Who’s gonna slow you down?” The voice from the top of the stairs made us all jump.

     Moments later, Lawrence and Christina walked down the stairs.

     “It’s very stinky down here!” The little girl complained. She looked even smaller dressed in a puffy pink jacket.

     “You’re right, honey, but we’re only gonna be here for just a minute.” Lawrence looked at Kelly and continued, “I couldn’t let you guys go out and have all the fun.”              

     The tall maintenance man grinned in response.

     Taylor’s shoulders sagged as he shuffled toward the stairs. “Come on, Christina.  I’ll read you a story.”

     “What are you talking about?” Lawrence asked. “I thought you wanted to come.”

     The boy looked up as if he was not sure whether he was being tricked. “I do, but somebody’s gotta stay with Christina.”

     “I’m not a baby!” She cried.

     “I know you’re not,” Lawrence answered. “She’s coming with us.”

     The look of disbelief on our faces must have been clear to the detective, because he said, “Think about it. I mean, she’s gotta go outside sometime, right? Why not today?”

     It took me a moment to find the words, but I finally responded, “Are you serious? It’s safer for her to stay here.”

     “It’s okay, Detective Lawrence,” Taylor said forcing his lips into a weak smile. “I’ll hang out here with Christina.”

     “No! We’re all goin’!” The detective barked out the command. His cold glare put a chill into the room before melting into a broad grin. “You wanna get outside, right?”

     “Yeah,” Taylor answered with obvious suspicion.

     “Well, then it’s settled. We’re all goin’ on a gas run!” Lawrence looked absolutely thrilled as he smiled at Kelly.

     The blank expression curled into a smile. “Well, the more the better.”

     I simply stared at them in disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about? This isn’t some family picnic! In case you haven’t noticed, the world has gone to shit. And you two are making jokes about risking all of our lives. How about you just shut the fuck up and concentrate on getting this gas without anybody getting killed!”

     The others turned their eyes to the floor of the basement as if they had just been scolded by a teacher. Lawrence and Kelly quietly went to work on gathering the gas cans. Taylor and Christina stood together at the bottom of the stairs watching me.

     After a moment, the little girl whispered, “Kevin said a bad word.”

     Taylor looked down at her, smiled and said, “Yes, he did, because he’s very angry.”

     She looked over at me with fear clear in her eyes. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. The fear vanished.

     I walked over to Lawrence and asked, “So what do you think. Is it better to drive one of the cars to the gas station and risk attracting every shell in the city, or keep quiet by walking the distance?”

     “Definitely the car,” Kelly quickly replied.       

     Lawrence looked at him for a moment then answered, “Yeah, I hafta agree with him on this. The car is safer.”

     “Well, I guess we really should have thought about replacing that radiator hose on our car,” I said, wondering how we could have forgotten this.  “I don’t suppose you have a car, do you?” I asked Kelly.

     “I have a van,” he answered.

     I had to stifle my laugh at the thought that I should have known the old hippie would have a van.

     “Better yet!” Taylor said. “So we won’t have to squish ourselves into a car with all the gas cans.”

     “Well, if we’re gonna take the van, I’ve gotta unload it.” He looked around at our expressions of curiosity. “I sorta had it loaded up with supplies just in case I had to take off in a hurry.”

     I wondered for just a second at what precisely he thought might force him to take off in a hurry. Before I had a chance to put my thoughts into words, Lawrence spoke up.

     “Somehow I’m not surprised you have a van,” he chuckled. “So I guess we should get going.”

     He turned and took Christina’s hand while the rest of use grabbed gas cans that Kelly had lashed together in threes with twine through the handles.

     We followed the thin maintenance man through the door leading out to the alley.

     “My van is parked behind the next building,” Kelly said as he led us down the alley. “Like I said it’s kinda messy, but it’ll get us where we’re going.”

     This disclaimer did nothing to build up my expectations of the van we were going to find.  I pictured a beat up old van, maybe gray-primer colored.  This mental image made the reality of what I was to see more startling.

     We waited as Kelly unlocked the gate at the end of the alley. He relocked the gate as soon as we had gone through. He then led us to another large solid metal gate a few hundred feet away.

     “This was where alla the store employees parked. I figured it was the safest place to park my van,” Kelly said as he unlatched the gate.

     He swung open one side of the gate to reveal a surprisingly large parking lot.

     “Well, there she is!” Kelly announced brightly and turned to relock the gate behind us.

     What I saw certainly blew my expectations out of the water. Perhaps, it was my preconceived notion about an old hippie with a van that set me up, but the well-kept, large, white campervan in the parking lot caught me by surprise.

     Lawrence clearly shared my feeling, and he exclaimed, “Damn! That is sure not what I was expecting!” He glanced over at Kelly and then at me. “When you said van, I figured you meant some broke down, psychedelic piece of crap. This is something else. What is it, a twenty footer?”

     “Twenty-five.” Kelly grinned despite himself.   

    “Wait! You had this tricked-out campervan just waiting, and you stuck around here?” Taylor shook his head with disbelief. “I woulda been so outta here!”

     “Dude, don’t think I didn’t consider it,” Kelly said and paused a moment as if thinking about his words. “But the thing is, where am I gonna go? I mean, who knows if there is any place safe anymore. I thought maybe later after things settled down then…” He let the words trail off without finishing.

     I looked at him, wondering just how close he had come to leaving us behind.

     “Well, let’s get going,” Lawrence commented as we reached the van.

     Kelly kept his eyes on the detective as he unlocked the door at the rear of the van. Taylor pushed closer to get a better look inside.

     “Hey, I can’t see,” Christina complained as she was blocked out.

     I moved over and lifted her high enough to see inside the van. From that vantage point, she could see several filled burlap bag piled on a gray couch along one side and the sink, small refrigerator, and stove on the other.

     “Let’s go camping in the mountains!” The little girl squealed.

     Kelly looked over at her and said, “Sorry, not

this time.” He pulled out the folding metal steps from beneath the door and climbed inside the van.

     Taylor sprung up and through the door next.

     Lawrence went next. He turned and his big form filled the doorway as he helped the giggling Christina up into the van.

     Once the way was clear, I stepped into the van. I turned, lifted the stairs, and closed the door. The sound of the door closing seemed to startle the others, and they turned quickly toward me.

     “What?” I asked.

     “Uh…just jumpy from being in small spaces, I guess,” Lawrence answered.

     No one else said anything but simply went back to looking around the campervan.

     Taylor opened the small refrigerator to find that it was stuffed with a variety of packaged food. In fact, he had trouble reclosing the door as some food fell out.

     “Yuck!” Christina said, picking up a pack of tofu.

     “That’s good for protein,” Kelly said as he grabbed the food from Christina. “Just leave it alone!”

     After a moment of paralysis, she wailed, ran to Lawrence, and buried her face in his stomach. The big cop was taken by surprise. Once he regained his composure, he glared at Kelly and began stroking Christina’s blond hair.

     “It’s okay, honey. I’m sure he didn’t mean to yell at you.” His glances at me and Taylor and even Kelly made it clear made it clear how uncomfortable the situation made him.

     The little girl continued to keep herself pressed into the detective’s big body even as he moved over to sit down on the couch. It was comical to see her shuffling in time with the big cop’s movement, and I had to stifle a smile.

     None of us wanted to be the first to disturb the scene by moving. Instead, we simply stood and watched.

     Finally, Christina raised her head, sniffled, and looked over at the bags piled next to her. “What are those things?”

     “Just some bags, honey,” Lawrence answered.

     She sniffled some more as she looked from the bags to Lawrence. “What’s in them?”

     “I’m not sure.”

     Both of them turned to look at Kelly for the answer. The thin man was standing near the driver’s seat of the vehicle.

     “None of your business,” he replied with obvious irritation.

     The words sent Christina back into tears and back to Lawrence’s stomach.

     “It’s okay, Christina. Kelly’s gonna apologize for being mean to you.”

     The detective again glared at the maintenance man. This time there was a difference. Lawrence’s scowl was met be an expression of pure loathing from Kelly. If he was taken aback, nothing in Lawrence’s expression showed it. For several seconds that

seemed to drag on forever, nothing changed except for the growing tension.

     Finally, Kelly’s lips curled into a grin even as the fury remained in his eyes. “Sorry, Christina. Those bags are just filled with clothes and towels and stuff.” He did not wait for any further response but turned to sit in the driver’s seat.

     After a moment, the van’s engine roared to life. The entire van vibrated with the idling rhythm.

     “Someone needs to go out there and open the gate,” he declared. 

     No one jumped up to accept the job, so I found myself saying, “I’ll do it.”  Even as the words came out, I felt the tingle of regret moving from the back of my neck all the way down to the pit of my stomach.

     Kelly swiveled around in the driver’s seat to hand me the key to the gate.  I took them from his outstretched hand and looked at the plastic orange tag reading “Everything for the good life! Barstow & Sons’ Sporting Goods and Camping Supplies”. Something about the happy message made me smile, but the smile quickly turned to sadness as I wondered what had become of Bartow and his sons.

     When I looked up from the tag, I found that my changing expressions had drawn the attention of my companions.

      “Are you okay, Kevin?” Christina asked.

     I smiled at her and said, “Oh, I’m fine, Christina. Thanks for asking.”

     “I hate to interrupt this warm and fuzzy moment, but we need to get moving, dude,” Kelly said.

     “I’m on it!” It took all of my energy to sound confident as I strolled to the back of the van and out the door.

     I shut the door, and the van began turning around toward the gate. The rumble of the engine was loud and deep. I trotted to the gate and grabbed the padlock to insert the key before noticing the slight rattling sound.

     I looked down at my feet as a hand and the arm stretched under the gate toward my ankle. Fortunately, I jumped back before the fingers could close around me.

     “Fuck me!” I screamed to no one.

     I kicked at the arm, and it quickly retreated back under the gate.

     I had a moment of pure uncertainty. Should I go ahead and open the gate even if there were shells on the other side? Should I run back to the van? Or was there something else to do?  I looked through the slight opening in the gate hoping that the answer might present itself. Unfortunately, I could see nothing on the other side of the gate.

     The next thing I saw was my hand reaching over to grab the padlock once more. The key slid in and was turned. The shackle popped open, and the lock was removed from the lengths of chain welded into either side of the gate.        

     Suddenly, the only sound that my ears could pick up was the deep rhythmic rumbling of the van’s engine. In the next instant, the gate flew open and the wave of shells spilled in. They were on top of me before I could so much as turn. The hands and fingers and teeth sank into my flesh. I opened my mouth to scream. As I did, I looked down at my hand and everything else vanished.

     In my palm was the key with the bright orange tag reading “Everything for the good life! Barstow & Sons’ Sporting Goods and Camping Supplies”. I looked behind to see the van.  Inside, everyone was near the windshield watching me with expressions of curiosity. I nodded to them and turned back to the gate. Without further delay or distraction, I unlocked the gate and yanked both sides open.

     Somehow the sunlight seemed a lot brighter on the other side of the gate. The glare caught my eyes by surprise. What at first appeared to be an empty street in front of me revealed something else as my vision cleared. On the ground a few yards away was partially-decomposed shell dragging itself toward me. I focused on the gleaming whiteness of its skull before being distracted by movement caught in the corner of my eye. Off to the left was a group of about twenty shells shuffling toward me.

     I spun around with the idea of running back to the van to find it was already moving up right behind me. In fact, it was coming up so fast that for a moment I thought it was going to run me down and jumped out of the way. Maybe they had decided that I was not contributing much to the group and everyone would be better off without me. It is certainly funny how such ridiculous things can find their way into your mind during times of stress.

     The van stopped suddenly as it filled the space left by the open gate. The back door opened, and Lawrence stuck his head out. “C’mon we don’t have all day!” He barked.

     I scrambled around to the door and jumped in. Before I was completely settled, Kelly hit the accelerator and the van jumped forward. The result was that I very nearly tumbled back out the door. I probably would have if Taylor had not grabbed my arm and pulled me forward.

     “Thanks,” I said once I had gotten my balance.

     “No problem,” he answered and grinned.

Chapter 3

     Kelly turned left and drove straight through the mob of shells. The van shuddered and

rocked as it struck then ran over bodies.

     “Bouncy!” Christina squealed, sitting on the couch with Taylor blocking her view of the windshield.

     He turned to her and laughed.

     Kelly was not laughing as he yelled, “Damn, there’s a lot more of those things than I thought!”

     Lawrence moved up front into the passenger seat. I started to follow him, but then stopped and said to Taylor, “Why don’t you play a fun game with Christina…uh…so she doesn’t get bored.”

     The boy nodded, showing he understood what I meant.  “Christina, I’m thinking of an animal. Can you guess what it is?”

     “Does it have claws?” She asked with a giggle.

     I turned to look through the windshield, and what I saw felt like a punch in the stomach. There were shells everywhere. As far as I could see down the street in front of us, those undead things were shuffling around, rocking back and forth, but mostly they were moving toward us.

     “Any ideas?” I asked weakly, expecting no answer which is what I got.

     I looked down at Kelly and happened to catch sight of the fuel gauge showing a full tank. I felt so stupid that it had not occurred to me before. “Shit, why the hell didn’t we just syphon the gas out of this thing? We could have gotten enough gas to last for months!”

     Lawrence looked up at me and then turned to Kelly. “Seems like he’s got a point.”

     Kelly stared out at the street for a moment without saying anything. “Are you guys fucking kidding me? If we drained this thing, we’d have no chance o getting away.” Before either Lawrence or I could say anything, he announced, “Better hold on to something, this might get pretty bumpy.”

     He stomped his foot on the gas pedal, and the van lunged forward.

     There was a thud from the back, and Christina yelled, “Ow!”

     “Hold on tight, you two!’ Lawrence called

out.

     “Thanks for the--” Taylor was cut off by the bounce of the van as it moved over the first body.

     Over the next few of minutes, the van alternated between the thuds of shells being struck down and bouncing over the bodies. 

     Taylor and Christina made a game of bouncing with the van like it was some sort of bucking bronco. A strange game to be sure, but the boy was a genius for keeping the girl and maybe himself from realizing the horror of what was happening outside the van.

     From where I stood staring through the windshield, it was impossible to escape the unreal carnage that was taking place. They just kept moving forward as the van sped toward them. They made no attempt to avoid the oncoming vehicle. I wondered if they did not realize that the impact would break them in two, and I wondered if they knew but did not care. Maybe something inside the shells welcomed the end, a halt to their endless slow shamble. Who knew? Or maybe I should have asked who cared?  After all, it was a waste of time to ponder a question to which the answer did not matter in the least.

     I emerged from my thoughts just in time to see a woman in a nurse’s uniform with one arm missing stumble into view. In the next instant, she disappeared under the van, and I felt the shape of her body as the wheels rolled over her.

     Finally, the van rolled clear of the mass of bodies and into an empty street.

     “Well, I gotta say that was a loada fun,” Lawrence said, sounding especially tired.

     Kelly was silent for a minute before a huge laugh burst from him. “I knew those things ain’t nothin’ that this baby can’t handle!” He petted the dashboard with affection.

     “I can’t argue with that!” Taylor commented as he walked up to the front of the van.

     “How much further?” I asked.

     “Just a couple of blocks, up here on the right,” Kelly answered as he slowed to take a look at our destination.

     Up ahead, we could see one of those little gas station-convenience stores on the right side of the street.  I assumed the older two-story brick building across the street was the supply store Kelly had mentioned earlier.

     My honest impression was that we had risked a great deal for what appeared to be not much in return. I started to put my impression into words but stopped myself. Lawrence did not.

     “We really came all this way for that?” He asked. “Are you kidding me? There must be a better gas station around here.”

     Kelly showed no reaction to the words other than a heavy sigh as he pulled into the driveway of the gas station. Instead of pulling up to the first pump, he drove around to the side of the small convenience store where there was a row of pumps that were not under a canopy as the others. It was obviously designed for large vehicles.

     As if sensing the curiosity of those around him, Kelly said, “This row of pumps has a clear shot back to the street, just in case we need to get out of here in a hurry.” Without saying anything else, he jumped out of the van and started walking toward the store.

     “Taylor, you stay here with Christina,” Lawrence commanded before opening his door and leaving.

     I nodded to Taylor as I headed out the back door of the van.

     “Okay then, I’ll just stay here with Christina,” Taylor said to no one.

     I trotted to catch up with Lawrence. “Not sure what makes this place so special,” I said to show him my agreement with what he had said.

     Instead of giving some response that I expected, the detective shushed me and put a finger to his lips. I felt the irritation rising up inside but stayed quiet. A moment later, I saw Kelly squatting below the big front window of the store. 

     “I heard some noise inside,” he whispered as

we squatted down next to him.

     Lawrence took his gun from his pants and stood up slowly to get a look inside. After a few seconds, he lowered himself back to our level. “I don’t see any--” The crash of something falling inside the store cut off his words.

     None of us moved as we waited for the next sound. After a minute of nothing, the three of us raised up trying to catch a glimpse of what had caused the noise. Other than the store having no power and the glass in some of the cooler doors being smashed out, everything looked normal.

      “Well, I guess there’s no sense waiting,” Lawrence said as he strolled over to the door.

     Kelly and I looked at one another, took our guns out, and followed him into the store.

     The silence of the little place made it clear how much sound normally fills a convenience store. From the constant whirring of refrigerator motors to the hum of fluorescent lights to the swoosh of cash register drawers, sound is a constant presence. But here it was silent and still.

     To get our attention, Lawrence waved and pointed to the floor. A huge puddle of blood glistened in front of the checkout counter. From the left side of the puddle, a trail of smeared blood led to the back of the store. We crept along the trail bracing ourselves for what we might find.

     It did not take long. In a corner near the cooler doors surrounded by fallen cases of soft drinks was the shell of a small Middle Eastern man. It would be more accurate to say what was left of the shell of a small Middle Eastern man. Despite appearing to have been torn in two, the shell continued to thrash around and grab hold of anything within reach. The shell’s movement became more frantic after we came into view. Blood splattered everywhere, especially just below the waste where the shell ended in a tangled mess of flesh and organs. Although its legs were missing, that did not stop the shell from trying to stand. It climbed up the side of the wall as if it did not realize that there was nothing there to support it. The result was that the torso would move up the wall as far as it could and then slide back down to the floor, leaving a streak of blood and pieces of flesh.

     “Do you think that’s the only one?” I whispered.

     Lawrence shrugged as he stepped carefully closer to the shell. The broken glass from the soft drink bottles crunched beneath his feet. Under normal circumstances, the sound would not have drawn much attention. But these were not even close to normal circumstances. In the silent store, the crunch of glass sounded like a roar.

     The torso’s movement stopped immediately, and its gaze froze upon Lawrence. He had been looking down at the floor and was surprised to find himself the object of the thing’s attention. A long time seemed to pass as the two of them simply staring at each other, but it was probably only a few seconds in reality. The crash from inside the cooler shattered the eye contact.

     A moment later a tall, thin shell of a Middle Eastern woman came stumbling out of one of the cooler doors. Kelly and I were still standing near the counter about twenty feet from the cooler. The shell was on top of Lawrence before he knew what happened.

     Before I had even managed to move, Kelly was next to Lawrence pulling the shell off of him. In the same instant that I got there, Kelly put his gun next to the shell’s head and fired. For the second time in my life, a gun fired near my head left me unable to hear any sound other than a loud buzzing. 

     I stumbled back a few feet. Clearly, my companions did not realize that my hearing had been taken from me. I looked up to find them both moving their lips in what appeared to be excited speech. All I could do was shake my head and try to clear my ears of the ringing.

Unfortunately, the shaking did not help to restore my hearing and only made me feel dizzy. When I stopped shaking my head, I looked up once again.

     This time I found two guns pointed at me. Behind the guns, both Kelly and Lawrence appeared to be shouting and gesturing angrily at me. I expected the guns to go off, sending their bullets into me at any second. For some reason, I felt strangely calm. Then again, calm might not be the best way to describe my feeling. It was more like I was absent of fear and simply curious.

     The only thing in my mind was a question; what did I do to make them so angry?

     A second later, the guns roared. At least, I assumed they roared. I did not hear them, but rather I felt them fire. It all took place in slow motion like straight out of some B-grade crime flick. Flames shot out of the barrels of the pistols and the bullets flew across the room toward me. The air seemed thick and warm. I felt the sting of one bullet as it nicked my shoulder and the other as it whizzed by my ear.

     I felt a wild laugh burst from my throat at the crazy notion that both bullets had missed, and then Kelly and Lawrence were rushing toward me. I turned to run away. That is when I discovered something behind me.

     I immediately ran straight into the chest of a large Middle Eastern man, or rather the chest of a shell of a Middle Eastern man. I was more surprised than anyone that the shell simply fell to the floor as I hit it. In fact, I nearly fell with it. As I looked down at the shell, I saw the bullet holes in its chest and forehead. All of a sudden, I realized that Kelly and Lawrence had not been shooting at me but at the thing behind me.

     Lawrence looked at me and moved his mouth.

     I answered by yelling, “I can’t hear you. The gun fire messed up my ears.”

     Lawrence nodded and, for the second time that day, put his finger to his lips to quiet me. This time the gesture did not make me angry. Instead, I actually smiled.

     The detective closely watched my expression with some curiosity. I am sure he must have been wondering just what I could find to smile about after such a terrible experience. I tried to explain it to him.

      “I thought you guys were going to shoot me!”

     Kelly walked back from the corner where the torso had been thrashing around.

     They looked at me as if I were insane.

     After a minute or so, the sound started to come back. I could hear the words they were saying.

    “In case you dudes don’t know it, ain’t no way to pump the gas without power,” Kelly said, sounding more than a little condescending. “This is the reason why we came here instead of some bigger station.” He pulled back a sliding door at the rear of the store to reveal a large closet containing a newer-looking white generator.

     The sight of the generator made me feel like a complete idiot. Of course, we needed to go to a station that had a generator. I had not even considered this fact. I looked over at Lawrence to see him grinning as if he was feeling much like I was.

     “Damn, Kelly, I’m sorry for ever doubting you,” Lawrence said. “I never even thought about needing power.”

     Kelly smiled without humor and said, “Well, let’s get this thing fired up so we can get the gas and over to the supply store before we attract too many of those…” He looked over at me and grinned before continuing, “Before we attract to many of those shells.”

     All at once, Christina screamed. We rushed to the front window to see three shells shuffling around the van. One of them was pounding on the side. We could see Christina and Taylor frantically looking out of the side window.

     Lawrence watched and muttered, “The gunshots must’ve attracted ‘em,” 

     “We’ve got to find a quiet way to kill them,” I commented.

     “This worked pretty well,” Kelly said as he walked over and pulled a screwdriver out of the

head of the shell in the corner. “Quiet and fast.”  He walked over and set the bloody screwdriver on the counter.

     Lawrence looked at the tool for a moment and then replied, “Yeah, but you gotta get up close and personal.”

     Christina screamed again.

     “The first thing we hafta do is get the little princess to mellow out,” Kelly said. “If she keeps screaming her head off like that, every one of those things within a mile is going to be on top of us.”

     I expected Lawrence to at least give Kelly a glare and a warning not to talk about Christina like that, but he simply opened the door and walked outside.

     I glanced over at Kelly to find him grinning like an idiot.

     Lawrence walked quickly to the side of the store near the van. Christina could be seen in the window. He waved until Christina waved back. She left the window for a moment and returned with Taylor. The little girl pressed her finger against the window to point to Lawrence. Taylor saw him and waved back. The detective then put his finger to his lips. I had to smile at the realization that the gesture must be one of Lawrence’s favorites. Both Christina and Taylor nodded to show they understood.  He waved again to the van, and they returned the wave. However, this time Taylor waved with his other hand. In that hand, he was holding a pistol.

      “Oh shit! Where did the kid get a gun?” I asked as I walked up next to Lawrence.  

     “I don’t know. He musta grabbed it outta one of the bags,” Kelly said.

     “You had fuckin’ guns in the van, and you fuckin’ didn’t tell anybody?” Lawrence hissed.

      “Hey, I didn’t figure I’d have a bunch of kids hanging out in my van!” He hissed back.

     “If he starts shooting, those shells are going to swarm in here,” I said.

     Lawrence gave me a look that said no shit and then turned back to the van. He walked quickly toward the van and behind a short, pudgy shell near the back door and plunged the screwdriver into the back of its head. The shell collapsed immediately to the ground.

     He then moved behind the next shell, a muscular black shell in shorts and a bloody green t-shirt. This time the screwdriver did not slide in as easily, and the shell spun around to face him before crumbling down. The result was that the screwdriver popped out of Lawrence’s hand. The remaining shell, a heavy black shell in a light blue halter top and short black miniskirt that was way too small, was drawn away from the van by the nearby movement.

     Lawrence was trying to turn the body around to get at the screwdriver when the shell reached him.

     Fortunately, I reached him at the same time. My gun was the only weapon I had, so I brought the butt of it down on the shells head as hard as I could.  The impact made a dull thud. The blow was not enough to stop the shell, but it definitely changed its focus. It twisted around to see what had happened behind and saw me. I looked into its dead eyes and found nothing but coldness.     

     It moved toward me as I stumbled back. Then Lawrence was behind it. I heard a squishing sound as he plunged the screwdriver into the back of the head.

     “Damn! These things move faster than I realized!” Kelly exclaimed.

    Lawrence turned toward him and started to say something but then stopped.

    “You okay?” I asked. “You didn’t get bit or anything, did you?”

     “No, I’m alright. I was just thinking that this was second time in a matter of minutes you guy had to save my ass.” Lawrence looked incredibly tired.

     Before he could say anymore, Christina was calling to him from the backdoor of the van. “Lawrence! Lawrence, did you get hurt?”

     The detective brightened at the sound of her voice. He walked to the back of the van and answered, “Of course, I’m not hurt. How about you?”

     She shook her enthusiastically and let her long hair swing from side to side. “No, silly, I was inside the van with Taylor!”

     He laughed and lifted her out of the van. Lawrence started to set her on the ground but then caught sight of the bodies nearby and held her in his arms. He looked up at Taylor in the van and asked, “You okay?”

     “Sure. How about you?”

     He smiled and said, “You oughta know it’s gonna take more than these creepy motherfu--… more than these creepy things to hurt me.” He looked at Christina and asked, “Right?”

     “Right!” She answered with a giggle.

     “Now, I need you guys to wait in the van for just a little bit more, okay?” He set Christina back in the van. “It’s still not safe out here.”

     “Okay,” Taylor answered unenthusiastically.

     As if it had just occurred to him, Lawrence asked, “Taylor, where’s that gun?”

     The boy smiled proudly and turned to get it. He came back, holding the gun up.

     “Give it to me,” Lawrence commanded.

     The smile instantly disappeared, and he looked at Lawrence with disbelief. “Why? I know how to use it.”

     “Give it to me,” he repeated.

     “Why?” Taylor was trembling as he extended his arm to hand the gun to Lawrence. “I’m old enough to use it.” He sniffled, andI realized that the boy was crying.

     Lawrence took the gun and said, “I’m not saying you’re not old enough. But if you start shooting, there’s a good chance you’ll shoot yourself or somebody else.” He looked over at Christina sitting happily on the couch. “Besides any gunshot is likely to call every one of those things right here.”

     Taylor gave no response other than more sniffling.

     “Okay, I’m just gonna wait outside here while you get the generator started for the gas,” Lawrence said to Kelly and me as well as to those in the van.

     We turned and walked back to the store.           

     Once we were inside, Kelly said, “Don’t you get tired of taking orders from that pig?”

     The question caught me by complete surprise, and I was not certain if he was being serious. When he turned to face me. it was clear that he was serious.

     “I guess he can be pretty demanding some-times,” I replied. “But if it hadn’t been for Lawrence, I would have been dead more times than you know.”

     Kelly shook his long gray hair and chuckled. “Dude, that’s just what all those bastards want you to think. To protect and to serve, right? But they don’t say they’re only protecting the man and only serving themselves!”

     I tried not to laugh aloud at the hippie rant. “Well, I don’t know about any of that. All I know is staying alive these days has gotten a whole lot tougher, and the more people around to help the better.”

     My answer did not appear to satisfy Kelly, but he nodded and walked over to the generator. He knelt down and unlatched the front panel.

     “Lucky for us, this thing looks like it’s been taken care of,” he commented.

     Kelly pushed a green button to his left, and the thing roared to life.  In reality, it did not actually roar. The sound made by the generator was about the same as a car idling. But once again, the silence of the store serve to amplify all sound, and now the store was filled with light and sound. The sound was not only from the generator but also from the whirring of the cooler motor, the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, the electronic beeping of the cash register, and the hiss of a small television behind the counter.

     Kelly looked at me as if he was considering saying something but finally said nothing and just turned to leave the store. I followed quickly after him as he walked to the gas pumps.

     Lawrence was leaning against the back of the van talking to those inside. He stood up as Kelly approached.

     “So we’ve got power,” the detective commented. “We oughta get this done before those things start coming.”

     Kelly simply grunted in response as he pulled a hose one of the pumps.

     “Taylor, hand me those gas cans!” Lawrence called through the door of the van.

     The sound of banging around inside the van was clear. A moment later Lawrence took a few of the cans over to Kelly and unlashed the twine connecting them.  I grabbed the next bundle of cans and carried them to the pumps. In a couple of minutes we had all fifteen gas can sitting around the pumps.

     The maintenance man opened a can and started filling it. Just then the first of the shells appeared in the street a hundred yards away. Several others shuffled out from between the buildings across from us.

     “They’re coming!” Taylor yelled from inside

the van.

     We all looked up to see that the number of shells moving toward us had grown to about twenty.  

     “We need to get going!” Taylor yelled again.

     “C’mon, Kelly!” Lawrence barked.  “You need to go faster!”

     Kelly’s entire body tensed at the words.   He stopped moving as he glared at Kelly. “You think you can do it better, pig? Here!” He yanked the nozzle out of the can and tossed it at Lawrence’s feet.

     With the handle locked in place, the gas continued to spray out and cover the detective’s shoes and pants.

     “What the fuck, Kelly!” He screamed as he grabbed the nozzle to stop the flow of fuel. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

     The thunderous laughter bursting out of Kelly’s mouth carried madness rather than happiness. Suddenly, he stopped laughing, and his voice was surprisingly calm. “Of course, I’m not trying to kill us. I’m just trying to kill you.”

     Lawrence handed me the cans he was holding and turned to Kelly. I quickly took the cans to the van and went back for others. The smell of gasoline stung my eyes. 

     “We don’t have time for this, Kelly,” the detective spoke in a soothing tone. It was the same voice he had used to talk jumpers away from the edge of bridges. “If you and I have a problem, we can work it out. But this is hardly the place to do it.”  

     Kelly did not seem to even hear what Lawrence said or notice the shells that were now just a couple hundred feet away. “You put a goddam gun in my mouth! Did you think I was just gonna forget about that? Did you think I would just go on being a good soldier?”

     “Kelly, we can talk all about this but not right now,” the detective was now pleading with him. “We need to get out of here.”

     “Oh, one of us is getting out of here. The thing is, only one of us is leaving.” All of a sudden, Kelly had his gun out and pointed at Lawrence.

     “Kelly, what the hell are you doing?” The soothing voice was gone, and it was clear that Lawrence was angry. “You’d better think twice before you--”

     Whether Kelly fired the gun on purpose or by accident, I am not sure. The bullet hit Lawrence in the left side of his stomach and knocked him off his feet.

     Without realizing it, I had pulled my own gun out and pointed it at Kelly. He turned toward me, and I fired. Although I was sure I had aimed at his chest, the bullet just grazed Kelly’s shoulder.

     “Hey, man!  What are--” He never got a chance to finish as the bullet hit him just below the chin. His knees buckled, and he fell face first on the concrete. The knock of his skull on the pavement was like a slap in the face, and I suddenly realized how close the shells had gotten.

     “Get outta here!” Lawrence yelled.

      I ran over to where he was sitting on the ground. “Give me your arm so I can pull you up and get you to the van.”

     “Not gonna happen. Now get outta here while you can.” He looked up and smiled at me before spreading his arms so that I could see the hole in his stomach and the pool of blood in which he was sitting.

     “I can’t just leave you here. Now come on,” I demanded.

     “You need to leave me here right now!” The detective yelled with all the strength he could muster.

     I looked over to see the shells had reached Kelly’s body and were tearing it apart as I ran to the van.

     “Take care of those kids!” Lawrence yelled as I  climbed into the driver’s seat.

     I started the van and shouted, “Hold on!” I stomped on the gas pedal, and we sped out of the gas station and into the street.

     “Where’s Lawrence?” Taylor called from behind me.

     Even as we were speeding down the street trying to avoid the undead things that were shuffling around, I wondered how I should answer that question.    

     The sound of gunfire that I assumed was from Lawrence’s pistol rang out again and again and again and then only silence.

     The series of gunshots made up my mind as to how the question should be answered.

     “Lawrence stayed at the gas station so that we could get away.” After a moment, I added, “And Kelly stayed to help him.”

     “We have to go back and get him!” Taylor was suddenly standing next to me. “We have to go back right now!

     “We can’t! Now go sit down and hold on! Take care of Christina!”

     He spun around and went back to the couch.

     I weaved through the shells that appeared to be moving up the street toward the sound of the gun shots.

     “Lawrence!” Christina’s cry made it clear that Taylor had broken the news to her. 

     I was wondering if Christina would ever recover from losing another person who was close to her when I hit the shell of a large black woman in a pink sweat suit.

     The impact did not stop the van, but it shook it pretty hard.

     “You guys okay back there?” I asked.

     “Yeah,” Taylor answered shakily.

     “Yeah,” Christina answered though sniffles.

     I hit another shell and said, “Sorry.”

     I was only driving at about twenty miles an hour, but even at that speed it was hard to avoid the shells in the street. Fortunately, as we got further away from the gas station, the fewer shells we saw.  When we had gone about two miles, the air exploded, and the street shook. I stopped the van and walked to the back.

     From the door, we could see the flames shooting into the sky from what used to be the gas station. Even at this distance, the heat was unbearable.

     I walked back to the front of the van and dropped into the driver’s seat. Taylor and Christina were silent. I knew they were both thinking of Lawrence.  A picture of the big cop forced its way into my mind.

     I could see him sitting on the pavement with blood pouring from the wound in his stomach. The shells were creeping closer. He winced from the pain. Lawrence wanted nothing more than to raise the gun in his hand to his temple and pull the trigger. He wanted nothing more to stop the pain and stop having to endure the sight of these shitty dead things walking around. The thought made him smile, but he knew that he could not do it. He needed to do whatever he could to help Christina and the others. Finally, he did the only thing he could. He said, “Eat shit, you fucking shells” and fired at the propane tank next to the store.

     I shook the image out of my head and started the van. The street ahead was empty of shells, and we moved quickly. I really had no destination in mind. I was simply driving to get away from this place.

Chapter 4

     “Can you open some windows?” I asked.

     The smell of gasoline from the cans was strong. There were eighteen cans piled in the path running down the middle of the van. It made moving around difficult, but Taylor managed to step around them as he slid windows open. The fresh air quickly swept the fumes away and gave me an idea.

     “What do you guys think about a road trip?”

I had pulled the van over to the side of the empty street and walked to where my new charges were sitting very quietly.

     They stared at me blankly for a moment, before Taylor asked, “What do you mean?”

     “Well, I think it might be a good idea to get out of the city for a while, and it seems a shame to let this fully-stocked camper go to waste. So we could--”

     “Go camping?” Christina asked quietly.

     “Well, I guess, maybe, if we can find a good place, then we could go camping,” I said and smiled.

     “You hear that, Taylor? We’re going camping!” The little girl could not contain her excitement. A moment later, her frown returned, and she whispered, “I wish Lawrence was going with us.” The tears started rolling down her cheeks once again.

     I watched her for a moment before saying, “You know, some people believe that even when someone you know dies you keep them alive in your memories. So that means as long as we remember Lawrence, he will be with us.” I am not sure exactly how I came up with this idea, but it seemed to help Christina and Taylor.

     The teenager answered back, “Well, I just know that Detective Lawrence helped me out when I needed… even though he was kind of  a jerk about it.” Taylor started to smile but then looked away as if the memory was too much for him or else he felt guilty about calling Lawrence a jerk.

     Christina quickly slid over on the couch and gave Taylor a hug. “My mommy used to give me a big hug whenever I felt bad,” she said between the sniffles that soon grew into full sobs.

     I did not feel comfortable with interrupting the moment of grief or joining in with it, I just

waited until the crying ended and said, “I’m sorry for your mommy, Christina, and all the other people who are dead because of, uh, because of whatever is happening. But the best thing we can do is keep going, remember them and keep going. That is what they would want. right?”

     Everything was quiet for a few seconds before Christina turned her tear-streaked face toward me. “Right,” she said quietly and smiled weakly.

     “Right,” Taylor answered with surprising energy. “If Lawrence was here right now, he’d be yelling something about how we had to stop being a buncha crybabies and get moving.”

     “I bet he would,” I said as I sat down and started the van. “So let’s go find somewhere nice to camp.”

     “Sounds awesome!” Taylor added, putting a little too much energy into his words.

     I looked over at him to find that his shaky smile was crumbling. I started to say something but thought better of it and focused on the street ahead. The way was littered with empty cars. At least, I assumed they were empty. To tell the truth, I avoided looking closely inside the vehicles. Many had doors left open, stretching out toward us like claws.

     Thoughts about the owners of the cars found their way into my mind before I could stop them. I saw a well-dressed young man sitting in a newer blue BMW honking his horn impatiently as traffic came to a stop. Suddenly, just as he  pushed the horn for a third time, a heavy black man in a  dirty white undershirt and blue jeans yanked the car door open and pulled the driver out of the car.

     It is a very strange observation to make, but seeing the shells shuffle around was becoming somewhat normal. I realize how ridiculous that must sound. Somehow, corpses refused to

remain still and were instead slowly skulking up and down the streets and sidewalks. Every once in a while, a scream or some unintelligible shout would ring out, making me jump. But as I said, the repetition of these terrible sights and sounds drained the power from them.

     Maybe it was the power of the human brain to make sense of the world by finding patterns and making new situations more familiar that quickly made the sights and sounds around me seem normal. The terror that had gripped me at the sight of the shells was no longer present. There were no more questions swirling through my mind about the reality of the world around me. The unbelievable had become believable, and the only thing left was for me to somehow deal with it. Adding to my new-found clarity was the realization that I was now responsible for the safety of two others.

     I listened to the quiet voices and giggling of my new charges. The sound made me smile and feel hopeful. A recognition of the truly incredible  adaptability of human spirit flashed through my mind, and that thought prevented me from reacting quickly to the person darting in front of the van.

     The man slapped the hood. He looked at me with bloodshot eyes and screamed, “Stop this thing!” I did not notice the baseball bat until he swung it down upon the hood. “Let me the fuck in!” 

     I stared at the small dent left by the bat. The spattering of blood and flesh and bone covering the bat sprayed across the hood.

     In the next instant, Christina screamed and I hit the accelerator. The man bounced off the van and hit the pavement. I watched in the mirror as he slowly got to his feet.

     “Aren’t you gonna stop?” Taylor asked. He was now standing behind me.

     Without thinking, I slowed the van.

     “We have to go!” Christina yelled.

     In the side mirror, I could see the man starting to limp quickly toward us. He was waving wildly. And then I saw the group of shells moving up on him from all sides.

     “We have to let him in! Those things are gonna get him!” Taylor was screaming. “We have to help him!”

     “No! We can’t!” Christina pulled on the boy’s arm as if to emphasize her words.

     Taylor moved away from her touch and glared at her before going to sit back down.

     The little girl was shocked by his reaction and stared after him.

     “Christina, go sit down!”

     My voice startled her, and she did not move for several seconds. Finally, she turned and went back to the couch.

     I looked out to see the man had managed to get within about ten yards of the van before the shells closed in. He swung the baseball bat and knocked the shell of an older woman wearing a dark blue business suit to the ground. He pulled the bat back to swing again, but it was stuck. The man spun around to find the bat being held in both hands of a tall, black man in nothing but plaid boxer shorts. The mass of

shells closed in on him, and he was simply swallowed up within the squirming bodies.

     “Taylor,” Christina said quietly. “What’s wrong?”

     There was no answer.

Chapter 5

     We drove through the city for what seemed like hours. The shells seemed to be just about everywhere. Fortunately, there did not appear to be communication between them, and they did not block our way by gathering in large numbers on the streets. For the most part, we moved past them before the things had time to react.

     There was no sound from the behind me, and I worried about that. I considered pulling over to check on them but did not want to take the chance. Better to keep moving. Always keep moving and then nothing bad could catch you, right? I thought of the man with the baseball bat. If he had just kept moving instead of stopping in front of the van, the shells would not have caught him.

     Finally, the onramp to Highway 101 North and the Golden Gate Bridge appeared before us. My excitement got the better of me and I took the turn too fast. I heard a thump as something hit the wall, and, a moment late, Christina cried, “Ow!”

     “Are you guys okay back there?” I called out.

     After a few seconds, she answered, “I hit my head, but I’m okay.”

     I waited for Taylor’s response but heard nothing.

    After the moments of silence, Christina burst out, “Taylor, aren’t you going to answer?”

    “I’m fine,” he snapped. “Okay?”

    “Well, you don’t sound fine,” she commented before stomping up to the front of the van and throwing herself into the passenger seat.

     Watching the melodramatics, I had to struggle to keep a smile from face. “What’s the matter?”

     She looked at me with an expression that was comically serious. “Taylor is being a complete grump!” 

     “I am not,” he said from the back. “I just think that we need to help people.”

     “Taylor, I agree with you,” I answered. “We should help anyone we can.” I paused for a moment, trying to catch any sign that he was listening. “But I have to think of keeping us safe, and that guy did not look like good news to me. I’m not going to risk you and Christina by stopping to pick up some psycho with a baseball bat!” The growing frenzy of my voice made it clear that I was trying to justify my actions to myself as much as anyone else. 

     The young man slowly made his way up to stand just behind the passenger seat. He looked out the windshield for a moment without saying anything. Finally, he hit the back of the passenger seat and leaned over it to look down at Christina.

     “So who’s a complete grump?” He asked before starting to tickle her. She squealed with delight.

     The van curled around a bend in the road, and we were facing the toll booths at the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge. I slowed to a stop as we gazed silently at the famous-but-now-deserted span.

     Taylor broke the silence by saying, “My class was supposed to take a field trip next month and walk across the bridge.”

     Nothing could be said which would do justice to the idea things would never be the same again. The finality to the idea  that was depressing and frightening. If the world had forever changed, into what exactly had it changed? It was not a question to which I had the time to find an answer.

     We simply had to keep moving and, right now, moving meant heading across the nearly deserted bridge. I say nearly deserted, because, from where we sat, a few shells could be seen moving aimlessly between the several cars sitting on the bridge. I was not really concerned about any problem getting around the scattered cars or shells that we could see. What scared the living hell out of me was the image in my head of the van coming over the rise in the bridge and heading down into a vast horde of shells. The bridge would be an inescapable trap. We would never be able to get off before the van was surrounded and engulfed by the

mass of bodies.

     “Ready to go?” Taylor asked.

     I attempted to push the image from my memory before I replied, “I don’t know. How about you, Christina? Are you ready to go?”

     “Ready to go!” She shouted and giggled.

     “Well, let’s go then!” I responded with every bit of the enthusiasm I could muster.

     I pressed the accelerator, and with that we left the city and the past behind to head off across a bridge into the unknown.

Chapter 6

     The van was filled with a sense relief at leaving behind the horrors we had experienced over the last  months.  Unfortunately, the feeling only survived a few seconds.

     As I swung the van into the open lanes leaving the city, I could not keep my eyes from moving to the right and the toll booths on the opposite side of the dividers.  Numerous cars were scattered around the lanes. It looked as though a couple of drivers had recognized the danger and tried to turn, only to find themselves trapped by those in the next lane. One car, a black Jeep Cherokee, had attempted to drive right through the tollbooth but got struck on the remains of one wall.  My eyes teared up at the overpowering smell of gasoline or maybe they teared up at the thought of so many people driving into a slaughter.    

     Through the blur of watery eyes, I saw a man and woman sitting in the black Jeep as it slowly approached the toll booth.

     “Slow down before you hit somebody!” The woman yelled as she crossed her arms in exaggerated disgust. “I told you we should have left the house earlier.”

     The heavyset man in the driver’s seat turned slowly toward her and sighed. “I know that’s what you said, but then you spent twenty-five minutes putting on your makeup.”

     “Don’t you dare try to blame this whole thing--” The woman’s words were cut off as a tall man burst through the window of the car door and yanked her out the same way.  Her screams were cut off abruptly.

     “Linda!” The man screamed as he turned toward the place she had been just seconds before. His hands frantically tried to open the fastener of his seat belt. In his frustration, the driver’s foot came off the brake pedal, and the car began to creep forward.  He noticed the movement and stomped down on the brake. However, in his frenzy, the man’s foot found the gas pedal. As a result, the Jeep lunged forward into the toll booth and nearly out the other side. The driver continued revving the engine even after the car was unable to move. There was nothing changed for a few moments, then the engine died and the driver forced the car door open. He climbed out and stood unsteadily next to the car. In the next instant, he was surrounded by bodies that closed in until he disappeared beneath them.

     “Uh, I think we’re gonna need to go a little faster if you plan on getting off this bridge,” Taylor said with the kind of sarcasm that only a teenager can provide.

     Not that I was not grateful for the words that brought me back to the present and the realization that the van was moving at about six miles an hour, but the sight of him standing next to the passenger’s seat shaking his head disapprovingly irritated me beyond belief.

     “Why don’t you just have a seat,” I snapped, stomping on the gas and grinning a little as the force made him stumble back. 

     Taylor grabbed the back of the seat and made his way into it.

     Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him looking at me as if he wanted to say something.  I concentrated on what was in front of me and that was a few cars and shells wandering aimlessly between the bright orange traffic cones dividing the lanes.

     “Do you think we’re gonna find anything?” The boy paused for a long time. “I mean do you think we’re gonna find anything or anyone that’s normal?”

     I got the definite feeling that my answer was very important to him, so I considered my words carefully.   “I wish I could answer that question. Shit, we've all seen lots of stuff that was… definitely not normal.” I watched and was glad to see a slight smile curl his lips. “I guess all we can do is keep going and hope that things get better.”

     Taylor nodded slowly and said, “It’s not like we got much choice, right?” He turned quickly and looked out the window. I could hear his sniffles and see his body trembling slightly.

     After a few moments, he continued, “I can almost hear Detective Lawrence yellin’ about how we hafta get tough.” Tears filled his eyes at the mention of Lawrence.

     “Who has to get tough?” Christina asked as she walked slowly up behind Taylor. She climbed onto his lap and looked at his red eyes.

     “We do!” I answered with as much energy as I could muster. “We have to get tough, ‘cuz when the going gets tough the tough get going!”

     Christina giggled, and then Taylor slowly and quietly added, “My uncle used to say that.”

     “Well, your uncle sounds like--” I stopped speaking as we crested the top of the bridge. Heading down the other side into Marin County, what lay ahead knocked the air out of me.

     The shells seemed to be everywhere. This was the first time I had seen so many bunched together. There were a few cars scattered around, but the shells filled every space between.

     I instinctively stopped the van a few hundred feet from the mob.

     Taylor was silent as he stared at the group filling the bridge in front of us. His face had lost all color.   

     “Damn! Look at those fucking things,” he looked over at me and seemed to be near tears.

     “Taylor said a bad word!” Christina tattled.

   “What are we gonna do?” Taylor asked, ignoring the little girl.

     I looked out at the slowly approaching shells before answering.

     “Christina, you need to come and sit up here with Taylor.” I waited while she got on his lap and he buckled the two of them into the seat. “Now it looks like we have a choice. We can either turn around and head back the way we came. Of course, it might have gotten worse by now. The other thing we can do is get this thing moving and plow forward, hoping that we don’t get stuck.”

     There was only silence as we watched the shells continue to shuffle toward us.

     “Let’s go!” Christina broke the silence. “That’s what Lawrence would want.”

      Taylor let out a surprisingly strong laugh and

said, “I have to agree with her. Let’s go!”

     I smiled at the optimism and stomped on the accelerator. The van had pretty good pickup for a big vehicle. There was a big crash from behind us as some of the bags fell on the floor and hit the back wall.

     We watched through the windshield as the van sped ahead. I started noticing the individual shells that made up the enormous mob. There was a tall muscular black shell of a woman with very short hair wearing a dark blue business suit. Its arms dangled limply by her sides, and a brown briefcase was clasped in one hand. Not far away was a short, chubby shell of a Mexican teenage boy with its face tilted downward so  it that appeared to be concentrating on the ground. I briefly wondered at what exactly was so interesting there, but an instant later it raised its head to look at me.

     The emotion I felt at the sight of the shell’s bloody face wiped all logic from my brain. In the seconds it took the van to cover the distance to the shells, I pictured the teenage boy at school, laughing with his friends, talking about cute girls, and dreaming of a life filled to the brim with possibilities. The idea that this illness, zombie plague, uncommon cold, or whatever one chose to call it…the idea that it had stolen every hope and dream from this teenage boy enraged me. This being that I imagined to have been a typical teenager full of life had been drained of everything until all that was left was the empty shell with blood dripping from its mouth which I saw in front of me.

     I heard Taylor yelling my name a second before the van collided with the shell of the Mexican boy. The impact was enough to rock the van violently and rattle my teeth. Judging by the cries from Christina, it had shaken her badly. Fortunately, the van had not hit the shell head on but rather just glanced off as he crumbled under us. As a result, we had not come to a full stop.

     “We can’t run them all down!” Taylor shouted. “There’s too many!”

     I did not answer but concentrated instead on keeping the van moving through the mob of shells. They were all around us. In a few seconds the slaps on the outside of the van began.

     “They seem to be moving out of the way,” I said in a surprisingly calm voice. “If we just keep going, we should be okay.”

     I am not sure if my words were believed by anyone, but outside the van the shells did seem to be moving out of the front of the van in an effort to get to the sides and find a way in to us.  The slaps grew louder and more numerous. With nearly every one, Christina let out a moan.

     Taylor was holding her so tightly that I wondered how any sound managed to escape her. “It’s gonna be okay. Those things can’t get in here as long as we keep moving.”

     The pounding on the outside of the van echoed around us. For the most part, the shells moved out from in front of us and slid to the side. Others chose to stand their ground as the van moved toward them. As a result, every few seconds the van would bounce wildly as it moved over the body of a stubborn shell.

     Taylor watched Christina as she stared straight ahead at the things on the bridge. Her body was nearly limp, and she seemed to make no attempt to stop herself from bouncing with the van’s movement.

     “Christina,” he said quietly and then more loudly. “Christina! Hey, snap out of it!” The teenager turned her toward him so that he could look at her face. The little girl’s eyes continued to stare straight ahead as if they could see something in the distance. “There’s something wrong with her,” Taylor cried to me.

     I glanced over at her before returning to the shells through which I was slowly navigating. “I don’t know, maybe she’s in shock or something.  I…uh… well, we definitely can’t stop here to look. Just keep talking to her and we’ll figure it out.”

     His voice was shaky as he said, “Christina, you have to wake up. You need to be strong.” The boy began sniffling and trying to keep the tears from coming.

     “Christina!”  I shouted suddenly, causing Taylor to jump. “Stop playing right now!” Where my irritation came from I am not sure.  Maybe it was the idea of coming this far just to have the little girl crumble.

     As it happened, the source of my feeling did not matter. The only thing that mattered was the effect of my action.

     All of a sudden, Christina turned toward me. Her face was shockingly pale with cold, unblinking eyes that seemed focused on something behind me. We froze like that for what felt like a long time.  In fact, the scene was only broken by the slap of a shell on the side of the van.

     Without realizing it, I had let the van stop in the middle lane of the bridge. As I pressed the gas slowly, I looked back over at Christina to find that tears had begun pouring down her cheeks. After a moment, her lower lip began to tremble.

     “I want my mommy back!” She bawled while still staring forward.

     Her cry drew my eyes away from the bridge ahead of us to her ghostly white face. At first, I saw her eyes were still unfocussed and unblinking, but soon they returned to their normal vibrant blue and looking solely at me.

     “I want my mommy back,” she said quietly.

     I know you do,” I answered and turned back to the windshield.

     The sight of three shells straight ahead startled me and caused me to stomp down on the gas pedal  harder than I intended.  The van lunged forward, throwing Christina back in the seat against Taylor.  I caught just a glimpse of the shell of a young Asian shell with long black hair hanging from beneath a pink baseball cap disappearing under the van along with the two other shells. A second later, the van bumped roughly over the bodies.

     Christina was crying more loudly. “I…I hit my head!”

     I glanced over to see her rubbing the side of her head.

     “Oh, don’t be such a big baby,” Taylor said, tickling her until she giggled.

     “Taylor, you’re bleeding,” she said once she caught her breath.

     “What?” He asked, not fully trusting what Christina was saying but touching his face to check for blood nonetheless.

     The smile immediately left his face as he looked to see the blood covering his fingers. The teenager stared at his fingers in disbelief before his face contorted as if he was going to start crying.

     We were almost at the end of the bridge, and most of the shells seemed to be behind us.

     “Taylor, you’re not going to die too, are you?” She asked in a trembling voice.

     “No, he’s not going to die!” I quickly answered. “You must’ve hit him with your head when you fell backward. That’s all. No one is going to die.”

     “That’s right. No one is going to die,” Taylor echoed.

     I wondered how much of his response was genuine and how much of it was an attempt to convince himself that it was true.

     Christina remained unconvinced. “Taylor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please don’t die.” She started sobbing once more.

     “I’m not going to--” Taylor’s words were cut off by a strong slap on the side of the van.

     And with that we were off of the Golden Gate Bridge.

Chapter 7

     With the sunshine gleaming off of Highway 101 North heading into Marin County, it was easy to pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary in the world. However, even as the idea formed in my brain, I felt the anger welling up inside. I flashed on an image of my wife Bonnie, or the thing that looked like my wife Bonnie, draped across the hood of my car.      All at once, the overhead light sparkled off of something that caught my eye.  It was the gold ring with small diamonds that was on a dead finger lying on the car’s hood a few feet from the head. The idea of leaving Bonnie’s wedding ring on the finger of this repulsive creature was unthinkable.  At that moment, the only thing I knew for sure was I had to have the wedding ring. 

     Without thinking any further, I grabbed the hand from the hood.  It was shockingly cold and sort of wet feeling. Touching it made me queasy, but I forced myself to continue.  The ring felt stuck at first.  Then after forcing it around with my thumb and forefinger, it finally turned a little. I continued to spin the ring until it turned freely.  I slid the ring up the finger until it stopped at the knuckle. It refused to go any further.  With my right hand pressing the dead hand down on the hood, my left hand tugged on the ring. The force pushed the skin on the finger into a bunch around the knuckle but did not free the ring. 

     I stopped tugging and considered what to do.  In my head, I told myself, “It’s just a ring.  Not worth spending all this time over.”   But even as the words were still echoing inside, I knew this was more than simply a ring.  That little gold band with the tiny diamonds was all I had left of my past, my normal past.  I did not try to kid myself into thinking it was such a wonderful past, because I knew it had not been. Better than some and worse than others. Still, it was my past, and from what I had seen so far that day, the future might not be all that great. 

      Of course, I was assuming there was even going to be a future.  In any case, the wedding ring was the one tangible thing I had to show that the world had once been a more reliable place.

     This was the discussion occurring somewhere inside of me, but right then I heard none of it.  I was acting without considering my actions. I held the hand down on the hood and tugged on the ring as hard as I could, but it would still not move over the knuckle.  With the same consideration one would give to picking up a twig and breaking it, I grabbed the finger and pulled it back as far as it would go.  Other than making a satisfying cracking sound and leaving the ring finger pointed up in an obscene manner, my effort yielded no useful results.  I stared without moving for a moment.  I started to reach toward the finger once more, but then stopped and trotted to the back of the Jeep. 

     I lifted the door and looked at the old newspapers, fast-food wrappers, and coffee-stained paper cups.  I cleared them, pulled up the plastic hook to lift the carpet, and revealed the spare tire and tire tool.  The black metal tire tool had a lug nut socket on one end and a sharp edge for prying tires off the hub at the other end.  It was this sharp edge that brought a twisted smile to my face. 

      I brought the tool back to the front of the car and to the smashed body of the disgusting imposter.   I set the tool down next to the car and looked again at the wedding ring. The finger was still bent back at a strange angle but stayed down after pushing it with all my might. I picked up the tire tool, put the sharp end at the base of the finger where it met the palm, and moved it until the tool was perpendicular to the hand.  I took a deep breath and threw all of my weight on to the tool forcing it downward.  There was a sort of fart sound and a scratching noise as the tool contacted the metal of the hood.  I moved the tool to the side in order to look at the results of the effort.

     The skin looked pinched almost all the way through.  In the next moment, I raised the tire tool directly over the same area of the finger and brought it down quickly and forcefully. 

     At the instant that the tire tool made contact with the finger, the eyes on the Bonnie-thing flew open.  I saw this and dropped the tool. It clattered loudly on the concrete floor of the garage, but I hardly noticed as I stumbled back from the Jeep.  My mouth was open in an expression of absolute horror.

     The dead eyes stared fixedly forward.  Just when I nearly had myself convinced that the eyes opening was simply some reflex, the eyes shifted toward me. The mouth opened and then closed.  A few seconds later, the mouth opened again.  The lips quivered, a sort of groan came out, and then a string of sounds that was gibberish.  The mouth moved continuously and then with clear effort words were formed. 

     “She nee... needed a r-r-r-ide to the dru-u-u-u-g-store.”  The words came out slurred and flat.  After the words stopped, the mouth continued to open and close, open and close, open and close.

     I watched as long as I could stand it.  Finally, I grabbed the metal tire tool from the floor and moved close to the Jeep with the black metal bar raised above my head.  With surprising ease and little sound, the sharp-edged end of the rod slipped through the skull and inside the head of the Bonnie-thing.  The eyes opened wider and the mouth flew open but then nothing else on the face moved. 

     My hands instantly came off the tool as if it had become unbearably hot. 

     “There’s a truck coming!” Taylor’s words snapped me out of the scene playing in my head. It took me a second to realize that I had stopped the van in the middle of the freeway. Which, although traffic was non-existent, was not a safe place to be.

     “There’s a truck coming!” Taylor repeated more loudly.   

     I looked up to see a big red three-quarter ton pickup truck about a quarter mile away and heading straight for us. Something about the windshield pulled my eye to it. The early afternoon sun glistened off the glass and made me squint. I continued to stare trying to see through the glass into the cab. The strange thing was instead of giving me a view of who was driving the truck the windshield only reflected a picture of me behind the wheel of the van.

     I swerved to the right and the truck mirrored my movement.

     “It’s still aiming at us!” The boy screamed.

     The terror in Taylor’s voice was echoed in the sound of Christina’s crying.

     As the truck sped within a couple hundred feet of us, a head emerged from the passenger window.  The young man’s long brown hair fluttered out behind him in the wind. He extended his arms to show a pistol in one and a beer bottle in the other. His face was stretched back in what was either a smile or a grimace.

     Even through the closed windows, we heard his whoops of excitement. “Fuck yeah!” He yelled. A moment later the beer bottle bounced off the hood of the van as the truck roared past us.

     The sound startled Christina causing her to scream. She was still sitting on Taylor’s lap, and he pulled her back closer to him.

     “It’s okay. There gone now,” he told her. After a few seconds, he turned toward me and asked, “So what do you think was up with those guys?”

     I shook my head before saying, “I’m not really sure. Maybe someone just needs to have more parental supervision.” My words forced a burst of laughter from me. Taylor joined me a second later. Christina joined in although she clearly did not understand the reason for the laughter.

     Once the laughter had died away, we drove in relative silence for a few minutes. Finally, Taylor

asked,  “So do you have any ideas about where we should go?”   

     I thought about it for a moment and then answered, “Well, first of all, I want to go by the newspaper where I work…worked…uh…and then we’ll make a plan about what to do next. Sound okay?”

     “Sounds okay to me,” he answered.

     “Sounds okay to me,” Christina echoed and giggled.

     A few minutes later, we reached the exit for the newspaper and exited the deserted freeway.   

     McKinley Boulevard was still except for a few scattered shells shuffling between parked cars and along the sidewalk. I glanced at them without really giving them much attention. A second later, the thought hit me that the presence of shells had actually become normal. The notion caused me to actually look at the undead things moving slowly around the area.

     Shuffling down the street on the left side of us was the shell of a heavyset older man wearing dirty blue coveralls like those of a mechanic. The movement stopped only for a second as the cold dead eyes turned our way.  On our right was a pair of shells huddled over a shape on the sidewalk. As the shells of a skinny woman with curly black hair and a little girl with pigtails turned toward us, I saw the shape on the sidewalk had been a small dog and that it’s blood was dripping from the mouths of the shells.

     Hoping to prevent Christina from seeing what was left of the dog, I asked, “Do you know any songs Christina?”

     She spun toward me and said, “Of course I know some songs, silly! How about B-I-N-G-O? Do you know that one?”

     I chuckled at her enthusiasm. “That’s the one about the dog, right?”

     “Right!” Christina squealed. “Okay, I’ll start.” She took an overdramatic deep breath and began singing. “There was an old man who had a dog and Bingo was his name-o! B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, and Bingo was his name-o!” The little girl gave Taylor her sternest expression and said, “C’mon, Taylor, I know you know this song. You sing it and then clap in place of a letter each time. Like this,” she instructed and then took another deep breath. “There was an old man who had a dog and Bingo was his name-o! (clap) I-N-G-O, (clap) I-N-G-O, and Bingo was his name-o!” This time Taylor joined her as did I. The irony of singing a song about a dog to distract from the sight of the dog being devoured outside was not lost on me, and a twisted smile fluttered across my lips.  “(clap)- (clap)-N-G-O, and Bingo was his name-o!”

     The area was made up of office buildings and a few banks. I was beginning to feel a bit of the comfort that comes with being in a familiar place. That vanished as I caught sight of a shell in a dark blue suit staggering toward us from a hundred feet away..

     “(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-G-O, and Bingo was his name-o!”

     With the parked cars lining the curb, I had no choice but to continue on toward the end of the street.

As we got closer to the shell moving toward the van, my heart jumped into my throat as the wind was knocked out of me. I gasped to catch my breath. My powerful reaction was enough to catch the attention of the others.

     “Kevin, are you okay?” Taylor asked.

     “Yeah, Kevin, are you okay?” Christina echoed.

     It took me a moment to put the words together. “I…uh…I know that guy.”

     “Which guy?” he asked.

     “The one in the dark blue…” My words trailed off as I looked up to see that the street in front of us was empty.

     I turned to look at Taylor and Christina and said, “There was a guy there in a dark blue suit, and I could have sworn it was someone I used to work with. He was--” The horror in the little girl’s eyes interrupted my words just before Taylor’s scream.

Chapter 8

     Somehow the shell in the dark blue suit had made its way around to my door and stood staring at me with its face pushed up to the glass. Pinkish saliva from the shell’s mouth smeared on the glass as it pushed into the window. The thing appeared somewhat confused at being stopped from getting to me. It continued sliding its face around the glass as if trying to find where the barrier ended. Finding no break, it moved back from the window.

     In the next instant, the shell lifted its eyes and seemed to stare directly at me. A jolt shook my body. I was looking into a pair of dead eyes, but there was something more. I had seen that ashen face many times. It belonged to Michael…Michael…something.

    I did not even know his name. He had been part of the newspaper’s legal staff, and we had shuffled  passed one another in the hallway numerous times, mumbling greetings. Now, here I was staring into that face again. I searched for some glimmer of recognition. At first, there was nothing just blankness.     After a second, I thought I saw a flicker of something. It must have been my imagination as in the next instant the shell lunged forward and smashed its face into the window.

     The glass cracked, and Christina bawled.

     “What does he want?” Taylor yelled.

     I had no answer to his question but knew that I did not want to find out. The van sprang ahead, leaving the shell behind.

     “The newspaper building is just around the corner,” I said although no one was listening as we turned left.

     I looked over to see Taylor and Christina both had their eyes fixed on the window next to me.

     “Why is this happening?” Taylor asked in such a lifeless voice that I wondered if he was in shock.

     “According to what we saw on TV, there was some new type of cold.”

     Christina perked up at the chance to contribute to the conversation. “My mommy had a cold.”

     I looked at the little girl and could not help but smile. “I know she did, honey. It seems like some people like us were okay, but other people got so sick they died and came back like…”

     “Came back like something else,” Taylor finished the thought through tears.

     Christina looked at the teenager for a moment before putting her hand on his shoulder and saying, “It’s gonna be okay, Taylor. Kevin won’t let those things get us.” She looked over at me and said, “Tell him that it’s gonna be okay.”  

     “I am never going to let anything happen to either of you.” Not until the words came out did I realize how much I truly meant them. Never having been a parent or having had any real desire to be a parent, I was surprised to feel such a wave of protectiveness wash over me.

     “See, Taylor, we’re gonna be fine!” Christina said with a smile.

     The boy looked back at her and did his best to return the smile. “I know that. I was just feeling bad for all those people who got sick.”

     I turned into driveway for the parking garage beneath the Marin Gazette building. It was a corner block four-story building. Moving from the brightness of the street down into the darkness, I wondered at the wisdom of what I was doing. The thought did not remain long as the deserted attendant’s booth appeared before us. In all the time I had been working at the newspaper, this was the first time I could remember seeing the booth when it was not occupied. I slid my window down and looked for any signs of the attendant but saw none. Fortunately, the railing that normally stopped incoming cars was stuck up like a solitary finger testing the direction of the wind, and we drove straight through. I glanced into the booth as we passed but saw only scattered papers on the floor.

     Entering the parking area, the sound of a car alarm rang out, shattering the silence. My eyes had not yet adjusted to the change, and I squinted into the darkness searching for the source of the alarm and whatever triggered it. The intermittent blaring of the car alarm echoed through the parking lot. The flashing headlights on the small pickup truck revealed a few other cars and some shadowy shapes but nothing that was moving.

     “Noisy,” Christina complained as she clamped her hands over her ears.

     “So what do you think set that thing off?” Taylor asked.

     I looked over to judge his state of mind before answering, “Well, I’m not really sure, but we’re not going to stick around to find out. I’m going to spin this thing around and pull up close to the stairwell. We can walk up to my office on the third floor. With any luck, we can get some idea about what’s going on and find some place safe to go.”

     “Sounds good,” Taylor replied with more optimism than expected.

     “Yeah, sounds good,” Christina echoed.

     “Well then, I guess we have a plan,” I answered and even managed to sound energetic.

     I turned the van around quickly around and pulled up next to the double glass doors at the back of the parking lot that led to the stairs.

     The click of Taylor’s door opening caught my ear.

     “Stop!” I commanded loudly enough to scare both of them. “We need to wait and watch for a minute before we go out there.”

     He nodded and pulled the door closed. We gazed out the window at the glass doors and the stairs beyond. Everything appeared still, but I knew it could all change in an instant. I looked around the dark parking garage and imagined that there was something unseen about to leap out.

     After a couple of minutes of waiting and watching, nothing, we saw nothing no movement. “Wait here,” I whispered as I slowly opened the door. The click of the latch seemed to echo throughout the garage, and the images of things leaping out of the darkness again

filled my mind. I held my breath, but nothing moved. I nudged the door open slowly. It moved with a squeak, and I slid from inside the van to the cool, dark of the garage.

     Once I was standing on the firmness of the concrete floor, the dark world of the parking garage lost some of its ominous atmosphere. I strained my eyes and ears, but there was nothing to indicate that there was something lurking out there in the dark. The only thing I heard was the humming of some machine.

     I moved around to the passenger side of the van and opened the door. “Okay, you both need to stay close to me, right?” Two heads nodded. “My office is up on the fourth floor. We can walk up, but we need to be careful, okay?” Again, there were nods, and once again, the feeling of protectiveness bubbled up inside me.

     Taylor helped Christina out of the van and turned to me for direction.

     Right then, the humming of machinery, which I had noticed without considering, flashed brightly in my mind. The humming had to be from a generator. It made perfect sense that there would be a generator here. The newspaper could not afford to halt production due to a power outage. I must have known this subconsciously. It was another reason to come to this place. When my internal dialogue ended, I found Taylor and Christina watching me impatiently.

     “Sorry, I…uh…I just realized that the building has a generator. I’m not sure why the lights are off down here, but the power should be on upstairs. We should be able to check out what’s going on around here and find some place that’s safe.”

     “Okay, let’s go,” Taylor answered.

     “Okay, let’s go,” Christina echoed.

     I started toward the stairs and looked to see the two following closely behind me. We walked slowly to the glass doors, listening for the smallest sound. I put my hand up to stop the others as I gently pushed the left door open a few inches, waiting for any movement from within. When there was none, I nudged the door a few more inches. Finally, I pushed it open all the way and we went through.

     The small room held a couple of vending machines and the stairs up to the building’s first floor. Christina moved to the front of one of the machines which held various candy bars and brightly-colored bags of snacks. I suddenly occurred to me that we had not eaten anything since early in the day. My lack of parenting skills were shameful.

     “Can we get a snack?” Christina asked with the hopeful tone of voice that kids have.

     I instinctively stuck my hands in my pockets searching for change. There was nothing but lint to be found. “I…uh…don’t have any change. Sorry.”

     Taylor chuckled and shook his head as he looked at me before walking up to the vending machine. “I think this machine is old enough,” he said before starting to push buttons.

     Starting in the middle of the column of buttons, he pushed all of them going up and then pushed a few going down. He turned toward me as he pushed and held the silver change return  lever. After a few seconds, he released the lever. A look of confusion flashed across his face as nothing happened, but a moment later the jingle of coins falling into the coin return slot began.

     “Yes!” Taylor exclaimed and began taking coins out of the machine.

     “Well, that’s a nice little trick,” I laughed.

     He looked at me with some pride, before the expression vanished. “I don’t think Detective Lawrence would think so.”

     “I bet he would be proud of you for stepping up and doing what needed to be done,” I replied, and Taylor smiled just a little. “Okay, Christina, would you like to eat?”

     The little girl moved up close to the vending machine and searched through the display of

offerings. “Anything?” She asked as if being offered delights of which she had only dreamed.

     “Anything,” Taylor and I both replied and laughed.

     She went back to searching through every row of treats. “A pack of those cookies?” Christina pointed at a wrapper showing a picture of a big cookie and asked as if still not believing her good fortune could be true.

     Taylor took a handful of the coins out of the return and put them into the machine. He smiled at the girl as he pushed the numbers of her selection. We all watched with some enjoyment as the silver corkscrew behind the cookies turned and forced the bag from its shelf. There was a thud as the bag landed in the slot at the bottom of the machine.

     “Are you going to get your cookies?” Taylor asked.

     Christina rushed up to the machine and knelt down trying to see in the cookies. After a moment, she slowly pushed in on the black plastic cover. It swung in, and her face lit up. She quickly grabbed the cookies and turned toward Taylor.

     “Thanks, Taylor!  Thanks, Kevin!” She ex-claimed.

     “What else?” I asked, and she looked toward me as if I was joking. “Your friend Taylor is a genius, so we can get whatever we want.”

     Taylor grinned and looked at his feet in response to the compliment.

     In a gesture that I have to admit got me a little choked up, Christina walked over and offered him a cookie which he took.  She then offered one to me. I took it and smiled at the little girl.

     I looked over at Taylor and said, “I don’t suppose you know any magic tricks for the soda machine, do you?”

     He grinned at me before saying, “Well, I’m not sure about magic, but this might work.” The teenager walked over and quickly rocked the machine back and forth. Within a few seconds, we heard the thud of a falling plastic bottle. He reached in the slot and pulled out a bottle. “I hope orange juice is okay.”

     “Sounds good!” Christina said as she took it out of his hand.

     We sat on the stairs and enjoyed a feast of chips, cookies, candy, cake, juice and soda. Not the most nutritious meal but very enjoyable nonetheless.

     By the time we were done, all of us seemed much more relaxed and ready to face whatever waited for us up the stairs.

Chapter 9

     Taylor was the first to stand up. “Well, you guys ready to see what’s upstairs?”

     Christina stuffed the last big piece of chocolate cupcake into her mouth and answered, “I’m ready!”

     “You might want to finish chewing that first,” I laughed and then turned serious. “Now, remember what I said about staying together. Most of those things move pretty slow. We’ll be okay as long as we stick together.”

     Taylor and Christina nodded in unison. 

     I started up the stairs and motioned the others to move closely behind me. At this point, the staircase was dim but not too dark. However, as we moved up between the first and second floors, everything grew darker. I stopped to listen for any sound, and Christina walked straight into me.

     “Careful,” I said quietly.  

     “Sorry,” she whispered back.

     The only sound I could make out was the ever-present hum of the generator. I wondered if someone had failed to turn all the breakers on the machine which accounted for the parking lot and stairs lights being off. I considered going back down to check the generator, but quickly discarded the idea.

     As we passed the door leading from the stairwell to the third floor offices, I stopped again. This time Christina stopped at the same time. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Well, that certainly is not right. Everything was out of the ordinary. A better description would be that I heard nothing to indicate there were shells nearby. Anyway, it was quiet.

     We continued slowly up the stairs. Without looking, I knew that Taylor was impatient to reach the top and get out of the stairwell. Maybe it was the series of heavy sighs or maybe it was just that teenagers seem to give off a scent which signals impatience.

    Finally, I turned toward him. “Take it easy, Taylor,” I said in a hushed tone. “We’re almost there.”

     He looked at me and nodded without replying.

     Christina was right beside him, breathing heavily.

     “Are you alright?” I asked.

     She nodded and said, “Yes, no problem.”

     I wondered about her difficulty in climbing three flight of stairs and how the little girl would fare under more demanding situations. I quickly realized that it did no good worrying about such matters now and pushed on to the door to the fourth floor.

     The landing which held the dark metal door was not large, but Taylor and Christina managed to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the door. I stood just to the right of it, straining my ears to catch the slightest sound coming from the other side.

     There was the faint gurgle of liquid and the hum of some electric machine. I waited for any hint of footsteps or something similar.

     I guess I waited too long for Taylor, because he moved next to me and said, “We’re never gonna get anywhere standing around like this.” He grabbed the door handle and yanked the door open before I could stop him. He stood in the doorway looking at the office beyond.

     The force with which I shoved him was more than I intended to use and must have taken him by surprise. In the next instant, he was pinned against the door frame with my forearm against his throat. The expression of complete shock and fear on his face could not be missed. I wondered if he could see my own look of extreme surprise as I realized what I was doing and quickly released him. Even as I loosened the pressure, the fury was still burning within me.

     “What are you thinking?” I hissed. “You’re going to get us all killed. Is that what you want?” He looked down to avoid meeting my eyes which served to infuriate me further. “Do you want Christina to die… to become one of those cannibal bastards? Because when you do stupid things like open  doors without checking them, that is what you are bound to do.”

     Taylor looked up at me for just a second, but it was enough for me to see that he was crying.

Christina stepped forward to touch his arm and glare at me.

     “It’s okay, Taylor. You just need to be careful.”

She tried to make eye contact with him, but the boy avoided her gaze. Finally, she looked toward me and said, “It’s gonna be all right. I know Kevin is sorry for being so mean to you. Right, Kevin?”

     The thought that I had not been reprimanded like this since the third grade caused my lips to curl slightly and defused my anger. “Sorry Taylor. I just want you to be more careful.”

     He looked up and said, “Okay.”                           

     In contrast to his statement, I saw a hint of fury shining in his eyes which made me doubt that he felt things were okay.

     Such considerations were brushed aside as I looked through the doorway at the office beyond. Other than a few chairs knocked over and some papers scattered around the floor, the place looked the same way it always had. It looked the same way besides the fact that I had never seen it so still. On a typical day, the room would be filled with phones ringing, keyboards clacking as reporters pounded out stories to beat a deadline, runners dropping packs of research material on desks, and a variety of other activities. Memories of the people who normally occupied the newspaper office filled my mind and held my attention until I felt a tug on my arm.

     “I have to go to the bathroom.”

     I looked down to see Christina’s pinched face as she bounced up and down.

     I smiled despite the tension squeezing my entire body. “Okay, the restroom is just down the hall. You have to hold it for a minute, okay?”

    “I don’t think I can,” she whined.

     Taylor stepped to her side and said, “You can, because you’re a big girl, right?”

     She looked up at him and replied, “Yes, I’m a big girl!”

     I put my finger up to my lips and said, “I know you are, but we need to be quiet right now, okay?”

     “Okey-dokey,” she whispered.

     I turned back to the office, still feeling the paralysis which comes from being in a once familiar place which has somehow become unfamiliar. The maze of cubicles that used to be filled with busy salespeople hustling for advertising were now empty and still. The phones which seemed to ring constantly were now silent. The three television sets mounted high on the wall in the back corner were now just showing static snow.

     I motioned for them to follow and took a few tentative steps forward. There was no other sound besides the humming of fluorescent lights and faint whirring of some machine. I looked back to see Taylor and Christina creeping along behind me.

     We all nearly jumped out to the ceiling when a loud voice rang out.

     “And we are back on the air,” a smooth, deep voice announced. “Sorry for the dead air. I am told that one of the generators powering the station decided to take a break, but no matter. We are back now and ready to provide listeners with all the latest and greatest details on our ever-changing world.” The laugh that burst from the speakers mounted at the top of the office walls was harsh without an ounce of genuine humor. “I sure wish I could report one of those feel good, warm  and fuzzy stories about people helping others or some other crap like that. But we all know none of that matters anymore. Nothing matters beyond the fact that there are these mindless thugs roaming our streets killing anyone they encounter.”

     I took a deep breath and continued toward the hallway on the left side of the office. The voice from the speakers continued to ramble as we moved slowly toward the restroom. Christina did her best to remain quiet, but I could sense her impatience.

     The door to the restroom was just a few feet away when I looked back at the little girl. She was no longer bouncing up and down with urgency. Instead, Christina was now standing still and quietly whimpering as she gazed down at her feet. My eyes followed hers to the puddle of yellow on the floor.

     “It’s okay,” Taylor comforted her quietly. “I happened to me before.”

     “Let me check the restroom then you can go in, okay?” I said and smiled, trying to cheer up the little girl.

     “Okay,” she answered without

enthusiasm.

     I watched her for a moment before turning to Taylor and saying, “I’m just going to take a look inside to make sure it’s empty. Wait here and be careful.”

     He nodded in reply, and I pushed the restroom door open very slowly. I paused just before it was fully open and listened. There was the trickling of an open faucet into a sink, the hum of overhead lights, the water running in one of the toilets.

     Something touched my arm, and I nearly wet my own pants.

     “Hurry, Kevin,” Christina whined, pulling on my arm.

     I simply nodded and stepped into the restroom. My shoes squeaked on the tile floor and froze me. I imagined the shells pouring from the trio of toilet stalls on the right wall. Fortunately, the movement was limited to the confines of my mind. The restroom around me remained still.

     I walked slowly over and opened each door to the stalls to find that nothing was waiting inside. Nothing was inside other than white toilets. One had some blood on the floor and walls. I gathered a handful of the paper towels stacked near the basin and quickly wiped it down the best I could.

     I looked around the restroom once more before opening the door to let Christina inside.

     The empty room waiting on the other side of the door stabbed me with a fear that went to my core.  It was not a fear which spurs one to action. Rather, it held me and squeezed me until all I could do was murmur “Christina”. Just as panic brushed away the grip of dread, a head covered with blond hair peaked from behind one of the desks. 

     I rushed forward without giving it a thought. I picked up Christina and hugged her tightly. Taylor watched and grinned a little confused and a little embarrassed.

     “I thought I’d lost you guys,” I said.

     That was when I saw something moving.

     It took a moment to recognize the shell shuffling toward us from the hallway leading to the lunchroom. The pale, twitching, bearded face had once belonged to Vince Perino. He had been one of the best photographers at the newspaper. Somehow, Vince had always managed to get the perfect pictures to capture the essence of any story. Now as I looked at what remained of him, I saw none of the spark that had always burned in his eyes. These dead eyes just seemed to stare off into the distance.

     “Vince, what happened to you?” I asked not so much of the shell but of the world in general. “What the hell happened to you?” I asked with growing rage.               

     The shell seemed surprised by my words and stopped a few yards away. Its mouth moved as though trying to speak, but nothing came out beyond guttural sounds.

      “Vince, do you know who I—”

     The shell’s sudden movement toward me cut off my words and revealed Taylor standing behind it. He had something in his hand, but I could not tell what it was. Even as I moved back out of the grasp of the shell, I saw Taylor moving closer to it.

     “Taylor! Get away!” I yelled.

     The boy ignored me and hit Vince’s shell on the back of the head. Rather than spinning around to grab him, the shell simply crumbled to the floor. As it fell forward, I saw the scissors sticking out from the back of its head.

     When I looked up from the floor, I saw a disgusted-looking Taylor staring down at what he had done.

     “Thanks for saving me,” I said, but he did not appear to hear the words. Instead, he continued to stare down at the body.

     “Can I go to the bathroom now?” Christina asked quietly.

     “Taylor, you okay?”

     My question pulled his attention from the body, and he stared at me blankly for a moment before answering, “Yeah, I’m good.”

     Nothing in his expression or tone made me believe his words, but I did not know what else to do.

     “Okay, Christina, you can go inside,” I said, and the little girl was through the door before I finished the sentence.

Chapter 10

     Taylor started back on his contemplation of the body at his feet. I wondered about his thoughts and worried that he would not be able to push the image out of his mind.

     “Thanks again. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve been a goner,” I said as I touched his shoulder. I expected him to stiffen and pull away as usual, which is why his response took me by complete surprise.

     The teen trembled and moved closer to me. I put my arms around him as he began sobbing.

     “We’re not going to get out of here,” Taylor choked out between sobs. “I’m so scared.”

    “Me too. You’d be crazy if you weren’t scared,” I answered as I pushed back a little to see his face.

     He grinned a little and then a little more. “So does that mean I’m not crazy or that maybe we both are?”

     “Let me think about that one,” I replied. “Right now, let’s find out what’s taking Christina so long.”

     As we headed inside the restroom, we were immediately aware of the sound of crying.

     “Christina, what are you crying about?” Taylor called.

     Silence filled the room and then sniffles could be heard.

     “I wet my pants like a little baby,” she cried.

     “It’s not your fault,” Taylor said, trying to comfort her through the stall door. “You couldn’t get to a bathroom. No big deal”

     Silence was the only response.

     After a moment, I blurted, “I wet the bed until I was eleven years old.”

     Taylor looked at me with curiosity.

     The door to the stall opened slowly, and the little girl stepped out. “Really?” Christina giggled.

     “Yeah,  I used to pee my pants in school too.” I watched her smile and said, “And I have to admit that I almost peed my pants in the last couple of days.”

     “Me too,” Taylor offered.

     “It’s like a club!” Christina exclaimed.

     I snickered and said, “The pants pee club!”

     We all laughed for a long time, and it helped make us feel better.

     “We can stay here tonight. I have some extra clothes in my desk. Christina, you can wear those while we let yours dry.” I said once the laughter had died away.

     Taylor was quick to reply, “I don’t think you two wear the same size.”

     Christina giggled and said, “Yeah, Kevin. I don’t think we wear the same size.”

     I shook my head and replied, “Okay, so I have to deal with a couple of smartasses here. What I mean is that you should be able to wear the t-shirt until your clothes dry.” I rolled my eyes in exaggerated disgust.

     With our spirits surprisingly high, we left the restroom and made our way down the hallway to another large room. My desk appeared to have changed very little in the weeks since I had been here. A layer of dust covered the top of the desk and the stacks of papers piled there.

     I saw my notes scribbled on the calendar about a meeting at SFO and an interview with the superintendent of schools regarding an increase in school violence. I had completely forgotten about my plan to speak with Superintendent Wilson about a recent upsurge in fighting in schools from elementary to high school. Of course, at the time I saw no connection between the two appointments. Looking at it now, I easily recognized how the two were possibly related. Not that any of it mattered at this point.

     I opened the large drawer and found the bag of clothes I kept there. Looking into the bag at the sweatpants, t-shirt, socks, and sneakers, I was instantly reminded of my first week of reporting at the newspaper. In the course of five days, I had found myself covering stories on the numerous bodies of dead animals being dumped in vacant lots around the city, the effect of a sanitation worker strike, and the lack of toilets for the city’s homeless population. None of which lends itself to staying clean so I had learned to keep a change of clothes in my desk. The alternative was to sit in the office and listen to the snide comments  of my coworkers  about the smell. 

     I handed the black Rolling Stones t-shirt to the girl. “This should work as a dress for you.”

     She held the t-shirt out at arm’s length as if examining something that was completely strange to her. Finally, the little girl asked, “Who are these guys? They look pretty weird.”

     I shook my head with exaggerated disbelief. “They look pretty weird? Those guys are The Rolling Stones, the world’s greatest rock ‘n roll band!”

     “Hmmm, they still look pretty weird,” Christina giggled.  “But I guess I can wear this.”

     Taylor stepped up to say, “Well, at least it should smell better!”

     The little girl looked at him and tried to give him a stern look, but she could not maintain her serious expression and was soon smiling.

     “Okay,” I said, feeling like a referee, “go change so that we can take a look around and then head back down to the van to eat.”

     As if she had no care in the world, Christina skipped into the restroom to change. The sight made it impossible for me not to grin. I looked over to see that it had the same effect on Taylor.

     “I think she likes her new shirt,” he said. “I hope you weren’t planning on getting it back.”

     “No, I think my Stones shirt is a goner,” I agreed and laughed. “But I guess it’s worth the sacrifice if it keeps her happy.”

     After a couple of minutes, the little girl paraded out of the restroom as if she was making her way down a runway in Milan. 

     “Nice outfit,” Taylor commented.

     Christina feigned surprise at the compliment as if she had forgotten she was wearing something different. “Oh, thank you.”

     “Now that you’re all freshened up, we can head down to the break room. I think we can find a plastic bag for your clothes and maybe some food.”

     “Sounds like a plan,” Taylor said.

     We headed down the hallway into the adjoining room, which was pretty much a copy of the room we had just left, and to the door at the back.

     It is funny how a place about which you have never felt anything special can suddenly become a powerfully touching site. That is how it was when I looked into the break room. As soon as I stood in the doorway, a wave of memories crashed down on me.

     The sound of laughter rang out. The six long tables in the room were suddenly filled with people. I looked around at all of the familiar faces. There was the round, chubby face framed by curly black hair of Brenda, the receptionist. Next to her was the short young man from sales whose name I could never remember, Gary or Jerry or something. Then there was Larry, the self-important assistant editor. My mouth curled into the same reflexive, insincere smile that it had every time I saw Larry. Looking to Larry’s left, I saw the muscular body of Ben Thomas, the editor of the sports page. He was engaged in what looked like a lively discussion with a tall, unhealthily thin man with gray hair. It took a moment for me to place the person. I think his name was Jim. He had been one of the editorial page writers before I had started at the paper, and he had been diagnosed with cancer within months of retiring. Behind them was Sally Green. Sally had been at the newspaper for longer than anyone. While she was still honored at various events for her longevity in the business, her writing skill had noticeably deteriorated. Next to her, I saw my editor Carole. As usual, she had the harried expression of someone who was late for an appointment and trying to get away.

     I stood in the doorway just looking for a moment. Finally, I stepped inside, and a sudden silence filled the room as every head turned to look at me. I gazed around the room at the faces and was crushed by the realization that most or all of these people were now dead. As soon as grim reality pushed its way into my mind, my coworkers began to fade from sight like smoke until they were nothing more than faint memory.

     “What’s the matter?” Taylor whispered as he moved to look around me.

     “Just remembering something,” I mumbled and stepped into the room.

     The people who I had just seen were no longer there, but the memories of numerous meetings and casual lunches were still flooding my mind. I could not clear away the thoughts of chats with Linda and Roger, the college interns, reprimands about missed deadlines from Carole, heated discussions about the direction of the country, and a variety of other meetings that took place within the room.

     “It’s stinky in here!” Christina exclaimed as she marched into the room.

     “Shhhhh!” Taylor and I hissed at the same time.

     She turned and looked at us, and I was sure that she was going to cry again. Instead, Christina simply nodded and said, “Okay.” She saw Taylor’s expression of curiosity and asked, “What?”

     Taylor just smiled and said, “Nothing.”

     “Let’s see if we can find something to eat in this place,” I said and motioned the others to follow as I walked toward the refrigerator at the back of the room.

     There was a bundle of woman’s clothes at the front of the silver and black refrigerator. Taylor seemed to be mesmerized by the pile.

     “What’s the matter, Taylor?” Christina asked with genuine concern. 

     He was silent for a few seconds before bursting out, “Nothing! There’s nothing wrong.” He spun around and walked over to one of the tables where he threw himself into a chair and stared at the floor.

     Since I had no desire to get caught up with exploring the source of his teen angst, I focused instead on finding something to eat. 

     The inside of the refrigerator was covered by dried juice, and the rancid smell made me gag.

     I had turned to go through the cupboards above the small sink when Taylor said to no one in particular, “My mom used to have a dress with flowers like that.” He nodded toward the pile of clothes near the fridge.

     “My mom used to have a dress with flowers like that,” he repeated.

     I turned back toward him and looked at his blank face as tears began streaming down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I said as I put my hand on his shoulder.

     The boy looked up at me with something like gratitude in his eyes. In the next instant, he pulled away as if embarrassed.

     “I’m okay,” he muttered. “I never even liked that dress. It looked stupid. Let’s just find some food.” The teenager jumped up and walked quickly to the other side of the room where there was a door to a tiny storage room.

     Christina ran after him and said, “It’s okay, Taylor. It makes me sad when I think about my mommy too.”

     He glared at her before saying, “I’m not sad. It’s just an ugly dress. Why would I be sad about that? I’m not a stupid little girl!”

     Christina was caught off guard by Taylor’s words. Her small face scrunched up and she took a step back. “I’m not a stupid little girl! You’re a… a big… stupid butt!” She screamed and ran out of the room.

     The expression of guilt was clear on the boy’s face as he watched her leave. I knew that I should say something wise to him about how to treat others or the difficulty of dealing with women. But nothing came to mind so I simply sighed and followed after her.

     I panicked for a moment as I could not find her. Then I saw her messy blond hair.

     The little girl looked tiny sitting in the big black leather office chair. Her frown made it clear that she had been expecting Taylor to run after her.

     “You know he didn’t meant it, right?” I gave a chuckle in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood.

     She stared blankly at me for a moment before spinning the chair around. “I don’t even care what he says,” she said as the front of the chair came back around to me. She kicked the floor to send the chair spinning again. “He’s a stupid boy!” Christina kicked the floor again.  The chair spun as she cried out, “Taylor is a big stupid boy!”

     It seemed to me like the whole room was spinning as the little girl in the chair continued to turn round and round as she repeated, “Taylor is a big stupid boy!”  I was overcome with vertigo as she revolved along with everything in the room. “Taylor is a big stupid boy!” The only thing that mattered to me at that second was getting everything to stop turning. I needed the world to be still.

     I took a step toward the spinning black chair. “Taylor is a big stupid boy!” My hand stretched out towards the black leather at the back of the chair. Christina giggled as she spun the chair again and sang, “Taylor is a big stupid boy!”

     My fingers pressed into the leather but did not stop the chair as I felt it slid away. I moved closer and pressed harder until the chair came to a sudden stop.

     “Hey!” Christina protested.

     In the next instant, we heard the scream.

Chapter 11

     Christina started to say something, but I cut her off. “Get under the desk and don’t come out,” I whispered with as much parental authority as I could manage. She climbed out of the chair and under the desk. “I’ll be right back.”

     I moved as quickly and as quietly as I could to the break room. The gun was in my hand as I slowly went through the door, not knowing what to expect. I was holding my breath.  Every muscle in my body was tense and ready to snap. That is what made the stillness of the room something of a letdown. I am not sure exactly what I would rather have seen, but an empty break room was not it. My muscles relaxed a little. I wondered where Taylor had gone, and why he had screamed.

     I heard a shuffling sound from the storage room and walked quickly to the back of the room. The door was closed, and I stood next to it, listening for a few seconds before opening it. There was no sound. I reached out and grabbed the handle and yanked the door open.

     I held the gun in both hand in front of me like I had seen in so many cop shows. It was heavier than I thought and my arms got tired as I pointed the pistol into the room. It was not much of a room, about the size of a walk-in closet and the single light bulb hanging from above was off.

     Taylor stood facing me. His face was shockingly pale, and I could see that he was trembling.

     Lowering the gun, I asked, “What’s wrong?”

     He just stood frozen for a moment before trying to answer. “I… uh… I…was--”

     I took a couple of steps toward and stopped. Taylor was not alone in the small room. There was someone behind him.  I could see just a bit of a bare elbow pressed close to his back.

     “Well, it doesn’t matter,” I continued to speak while slowly walking toward him and trying to get a better look at who was behind him. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

     As I got closer, it was clear that the teen was trembling. His mouth was moving as if he was trying to say something but was unable to form the words. Without giving it a second thought, I grabbed Taylor’s arm and yanked him forward. He stumbled to my right side, and I raised the gun to face whatever was crouching just behind the place where the young man had been standing.

     My finger tightened on the trigger as I watched the disheveled creature. It was not much bigger than Christina and was huddled low at the dark back of the storage room. I could not see the thing clearly, but it was certainly different than the shells. It was shaking in a way that reminded me of a rattlesnake about to strike. My curiosity kept me from simply firing the gun into the room. I squinted into the shadows and studied the shape until without realizing it I had lowered the pistol and taken a step forward into the darkness.

     “What are you doing?” Taylor asked from behind me.

     Suddenly, Christina was next to me, pushing her way to see what I saw.

     I turned to push her back, and at that instant the thing sprang out of the darkness. The movement was caught in the corner of my eye. I spun around as I raised the gun and fired. 

    My gun skills were practically non-existent, and my quick spin certainly did not help matters. The result was the shot went far to the left by about a foot. The sound of the gunshot shook the room and made Christina scream. Or perhaps the scream was caused by what she saw in the storage room.

    The small shape had now moved out from the back of the room and was in the fetal position quivering just a few feet from where I stood. 

     “What is it?” The little girl asked.

     “Get back!” I yelled at her.

     Without looking at me, she slowly backed out of the room.

       Once again, I slowly raised the gun and pointed it at the thing on the floor.  It was wearing a big green hunting coat, but there was nothing wear the head should be. Whatever it was, I intended to kill it before it could hurt us. I shuffled a little to the left to get the best possible shot at the top of its body.

     “Please, go ahead and shoot me.” 

     The words were muffled and low, but I heard them clearly. My shock could not have been greater if the thing had stood up and started tap dancing. I lowered the gun.

     “It can talk,” Christina said, once more standing next to me.

     “Get outta there!” Taylor barked at her. “Remember, Kevin said he heard some of them talk?”

     I raised the gun unsure of what to think about the thing in front of me.

     “Say something else!” Christina exclaimed.

     “Like what?” came the muffled reply as the thing sat up and moved its head from inside the over-sized green coat.

     Although I could not remember her name, I immediately recognized the young woman as one of the college interns that worked at the newspaper. Her face was smeared with dirt, and her long black hair hung in her face like greasy string. Any doubt as to whether she had bathed recently was immediately brushed away by the strong, sour, gag-inducing body odor.

     I stepped closer and reached out to touch her shoulder. Her eyes darted back forth from the doorway to my hand. As my fingertips came within an inch of touching her, she lunged toward the doorway where Christina was standing. The little girl appeared to be pleased that the woman was charging toward her. She smiled and stepped directly in the path of the approaching stranger.

     “Red Rover, Red--” Christina began to sing.

     The young woman paused for just a second before lunging past the little girl who was pushed to the ground.

     “Hey!” Christina responded.

      The woman scurried away. Taylor glanced at the girl on the floor before running after her attacker.

     “You okay?” I asked, helping her up from the floor.

     Before the girl could answer, we heard a thud and a loud grunt from the hallway.

     “C’mon,” I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her after me. “I thought you were going to stay under the desk.”

     Her step slowed as she answered, “I was worried about you and Taylor.”

     I stopped to look at her. “Thanks for being worried. but you have to keep yourself safe, okay?”

    Her small face scrunched up as though she was going to cry, but instead she just nodded.

     We were through the break room and looking into the hallway before we saw the source of the sounds. Taylor was kneeling on the floor. Beneath his knees, two arms were pinned, and the woman was on her back staring up at him.                       

      I could not keep the smile off my face.

     Taylor looked over his shoulder at Christina. He smiled and said, “You need to say sorry for knocking her down.”

     The intern stared blankly at Taylor as if he were speaking a foreign language. She shook her head slightly before answering, “Are you serious? You want me to apologize?”

     He looked again at Christina who was smiling with obvious enjoyment.  “Yeah, I want you to apologize to her.”

     A humorless laugh came from the floor. “Okay, I’m really, really sorry. How’s that?” 

    Taylor glanced back to see a nod from Christina and moved off of his captive. He stood as Christina ran over and hugged him. The expression of feigned discomfort could not hide his affection for the little girl.

     “You two oughta get a room,” the young woman commented, sliding over to lean against the wall.

     Taylor and Christina looked at her, confused by the meaning of her statement. I was not confused and glared at her, wondering how anyone could be such a bitch.

     There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before the woman spoke.

     “You really don’t remember me, do you, Mister Kennedy?”

     I looked at her with a mixture of emotions, one of which was curiosity. “Of course, I remember you. You are… were an intern in the features department, right? Uhhh--”

     “Kat,” she provided.

     “Kat! You’d think I would have remembered that,” I smiled. “So, Kat, have you been holed up here since--”

     “Since the shit hit the fan? Yeah, been right here the whole time.” She looked around the room, avoiding eye contact with any of us. I could see that she wanted to say more but was not sure if she should. When Kat’s eyes met mine, it was clear that she was fighting to hold back tears.

     I thought about reaching out to comfort her, but I did not want a repeat of what had happened in the storage room. Instead, I simply stood and waited until she was ready to continue.

     “I wasn’t here by myself until three days ago,” she paused and brushed off the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Paul…Paul from advertising…Do you know him? Chubby little Asian guy?” She looked over at me and saw the answer in my blank expression. “Funny, I don’t even know his last name. Spend weeks together, twenty-four hours a day. All that time together, and I don’t even know his last name.” She smiled as a memory came to her. “Anyway, Paul was here until three days ago. He said he could just run out to a nearby store and bring back some food…uh…I hope that he just decided not to come back here. I do.  I really hope that he got outta here and figured there was no good reason to get stuck here with me again.” She forced a smile to her mouth and moved her eyes around the unoccupied parts of the hallway.

     “It’s okay,” Christina announced as she marched over to where Kat was sitting and leaned down to give her a hug. This time the expression of discomfort at being hugged was much more sincere. Finally, the little girl stepped back and said, “We all think about somebody that’s not around anymore.” She looked over at me and then Taylor and then back to Kat. “But the most important thing is now we have each other.”

     “How old are you?” Kat asked.

     “Six…almost seven,” she answered proudly.   

     “Great! A six-year old kid is giving me advice,” the young woman replied with a forced, fake smile. “Could my life be any more fucked?”

     “Hey!  That’s a bad word!” Christina com-plained.

     A sudden wave of parental concern washed over me, and I said, “Yes, it is. Now, why don’t you stand over by Taylor for a minute while Kat and I talk.”

     Christina flashed a knowing grin as she slowly walked over near Taylor, all the while keeping her eyes on the young woman.

     I moved close to Kat so that I could speak quietly to her. The smell of body odor forced me to take a step back. “These kids have been through a tough time. They don’t need any more…uh… any more crap to deal with.”

     Kat stared at me as if not sure she understood what I had said. “Well, I don’t think any of us need to deal with any more crap.” In case I missed her sarcastic tone, she used her fingers to make air quotes around the words “any more crap”. Kat smirked as she continued, “I mean, we’ve all had a whole fuckin’ bunch to deal with.” She grinned as if her words were particularly clever.

     At that moment, I wanted nothing as much as I wanted to smack that smug look from her face. Instead I took a deep breath that should have helped me to calm down but did not and hissed, “I need to make this real clear. I promised Taylor and Christina that I would protect them from those things, and that’s what I’m going to do, no matter what else happens.” I watched Kat to make sure she was catching the meaning of my words.

     She started to say something but then stopped and just nodded slowly.

     I continued with vehemence, “Now, if you want to help out, I’m glad to have you.  Otherwise, get the fuck out of my sight!”

      I must have spoken more loudly than intended, because I glanced over to see Taylor and Christina staring at me.

     I turned back to Kat and, for just a second, thought I saw a break in her hard expression.  In the next instant, any sign of genuine emotion was gone. and the scowl which had been affixed to her face since our first meeting was back.

     The scowl curled into a humorless grin, and she said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Kennedy. Sure don’t wanna mess with your little family here.” The grin grew. “But the fuckin’ thing is, I was doin’ just fuckin’ fine here by my fuckin’ self before you fuckin’ got here.” Kat stood straight and defiant as she looked straight into my eyes.

     I heard a snicker behind me and turned to find Taylor and Christina watching with obvious amusement. Their reaction did nothing to reduce the rage that filled me. I turned back to Kat. One look at her pale, smirking face pushed the rage beyond my control.

     The flood of rage swept me out of the office building and back to my classroom at John Adams High School.

     “So we’ve all heard the To Be ot Not to Be soliloquy, right?” I looked around and grinned at the rows of desks filled with students in various stages of disinterest. “Well, it is perhaps the most discussed excerpts of literature of all time.”

     “Does that fuckin’ mean you’ll stop talkin’ about this shit then?” The question came from the occupant of a desk at the back of the room.

     Without having to look, I knew from precisely where the comment had come, and my feet reflexively walked to  the side of the desk.

     The grin was still plastered on my face, concealing the fury which bubbled throughout my body. I looked at the slouched figure of

Michael Campbell. My words escaped slowly and carried a chill that contrasted with my burning rage.

     “Mister Campbell, I assume you realize that you are in English class, and this is where we read, discuss, and write about literature.”

     The boy stared straight ahead for a moment before chuckling and saying, “Well, I guess I’m in the wrong fuckin’ place!” He smirked as he raised himself from the desk and moved close to me. “So fuck this school, fuck this class, and fuck you!”

     Surprise flickered in his eyes for an instant as I shoved him back toward his desk. The sneer had just returned to his face when my fist hit his cheek.

     Just like that my mind sent me speeding back to the office of the Marin Gazette.

     Christina was at my side, pulling on my arm. “Kevin, it’s okay. She can help us.”

     I suddenly became aware that I was standing over Kat who was curled up on the floor in something like a fetal position. It was clear that she was trying to protect herself from me. The realization made me sick, and a wave of nausea swallowed my entire body. I turned away from the sight and looked straight into Christina’s eyes.

     “What happened?” I asked without really wanting to hear the answer.

     Taylor chuckled as he said, “What happened is you smacked the sh—, uh, smacked the crap out of her.”

     I turned to look at him, and his grin instantly disappeared. “I…uh…I hit her?” I asked

     Kit spun around on the floor to glare at me and yelled, “Yes, you hit me! What the fu--” Her words were cut off by the crash of something falling to the floor in the office.

     We all spun around to look at the door leading to the hallway leading to the office. Christina let out something like a moan and a whimper. Taylor was immediately next to her.

     “It’ll be okay,” he whispered, pulling the little girl closer to him.

     I took a few steps over toward Kat who made a show of backing away before I offered my hand. She took it slowly and got to her feet. The glare never left her face, and I did my best not to make eye contact.  Right now, we had bigger concerns than the problems Kat and I were having.

     I moved near the door and strained to hear any other sounds from the office. There was a sort of muffled scratching sound.

     “The accounts receivable ledger should be in the file cabinet,” a chillingly calm male voice said. 

     The sound froze me in place.

     In the next instant, Kat was pushing by me into the hallway. “That’s Paul! He came back!” She trotted down the hall toward the office.

     “Kat,” I hissed as I ran after her.

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     You want to hear something funny?

     I kind of looked up to Joey. It was not like I had to stand on my toes or anything. I mean, he was about five six, and I am just about six foot tall. That was supposed to be a joke.

     Anyway, I looked up to him in the sense because of his lack of restraint. Joey did whatever popped into his brain. He gave no thought as to right or wrong or what other people might think or who could get hurt. That is absolute freedom, and it sort of made Joey and I complete opposites. Besides the fact that I am a lot taller than him, Joey looked sort of Mexican and I am too thin and too white. We definitely made an odd couple. But the difference went deeper than just appearance. I was always worried about doing things that I knew were wrong and then worried about getting caught for doing things which I knew were wrong. But like I said, Joey did not care about anything except doing what he wanted to do.

     Most of us have a voice inside telling us something we are doing or thinking about doing is wrong. Whether you choose to call the voice a conscience, a higher authority, or communication from aliens, most of us pause to consider the message of the voice.    I say most people, but Joey was not like most people.

     Either the voice was absent from his body or he managed to completely disregard it. I am not sure which it was. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is Joey never even hesitated. When he felt like doing something, he just did it. Of course, so far today the things he had felt like doing had resulted in three corpses, and the day was still young.

     We wasted no time crossing the empty lot at the back of the store. By the time we got to the car parked on the other side, I had pretty much resigned myself to going along for the ride. Going along for the ride was exactly what I had always done.

     Of course, it was not as if a whole load of other options were available to me at that point. I do wonder about it though. The question is if I had known how weird and messed up things were going to get would I have gone along with Joey and Louis Stoaffer? But I guess it doesn’t do any good to think about “what-ifs”.  Like they say “you can’t change the past”.

What matters is that I got into the car.

     It was a big old light blue Lincoln Continental with white interior and suicide doors. We had swiped the car out of a church parking lot the previous afternoon. The license plates we put on the Lincoln came from a little car in a shopping mall.

     Joey opened the rear door on the passenger side and the old guy slid inside. He looked at me and grinned before sliding inside next to him.

     That left me to drive. I had no problems with driving, but the idea of having a crazy old man sitting behind me was not exactly pleasant.

    “Where to?” I asked as I glanced into the rearview mirror. Joey was looking out the window like he was checking to be sure no one was following us. That certainly made good sense.

     What didn’t make sense was the look of absolute delight as Louis Stoaffer looked straight at me in the mirror and said, “Oh, we should go to the beach!”

     Joey’s head spun away from the window to glare at the old man. Stoaffer had calmed down quite a bit from the shaky speed freak I had seen a few minutes before. Still, there was something not normal, not natural. I could not quite put my finger on it. All I was sure about was that the old guy made me feel really nervous.

     “First, just get us away from here.” Joey said without taking his eyes from Louis Stoaffer. “Then as we’re goin’,  we  can figger out if this old man’s body is gonna be thrown out along the road.”

     The store was not far from the highway which was why we had picked it. It was very convenient. Joey looked out the window in all directions to be sure we were making a clean getaway. We were on the highway headed north before anyone said anything else.

     “Okay, old man, I want to-” Joey began before being interrupted.

     “Louis Stoaffer. That’s my name.” The old man reintroduced himself with some pleasure as if meeting new friends. “If we are going to be spending time together, I think we should know each other’s names.”

     He looked toward Joey expecting some sort of introduction. The response he got didn’t quite seem to be the one he had been expecting.

     “Fuck you, Louis Stoaffer!” Joey immediately showed why he was a role model for psychopaths everywhere. “We ain’t gonna be buddies, and we ain’t gonna be spendin’ time together. Jus’ tell us what you were talkin’ about in the store, and we’ll let you outta the car. Otherwise, jus’ shut the hell up!”

     You would have thought that Stoaffer had just been told that his puppy died. All the energy seemed to drain from him. His shoulders sagged and his lower lip pushed out. For a few moments, I honestly thought  he was going to cry.

     When he made eye contact with me in the rearview mirror, he appeared to get some of his energy back. “Louis Stoaffer,” he announced to me hopefully

     “Yeah, so I heard.” I wasn’t trying to be a jerk, but the old guy still gave me the creeps.

     I kept driving north with no destination other than a place that was not here, but it was hard to keep my eyes on the road instead of looking at our strange passenger in the rearview mirror. The world directly outside the car offered little in the way of distraction.  The dry foothills were covered with dead weeds and

scrub oaks with a few bony horses and scrawny cows shuffling through the dust.

     The old man kept his eyes down for maybe thirty seconds before suddenly raising them and smiling energetically again.

     “Oh, well, never mind. We will have time to get to know each other later.” His eyes darted around at Joey and me. “The important thing is we’re off on a grand adventure now.”

     “A grand adventure”, the phrase nearly caused me to laugh out loud. A grand adventure is definitely not what I would call this.

     While I repressed my laughter, Joey made no such attempt, and a roar burst from his chest. “A grand adventure!” He had to stop to catch his breath before continuing. “Yeah, that’s right! Here we are startin’ a grand adventure! Jus’ three guys on a road trip!” Joey’s explosive laughter echoed throughout the car.

    The sound did not have the calming, light effect of most laughter. I had seen Joey’s laughter turn to brutality in a heartbeat so many times that it now caused a sense of dread to grow within me.

     His body continued to shake with the ripples of giggles and chuckles for what seemed like a long time.

     Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “Whoa, okay now that we had a good laugh, it’s time tuh figger out what we’re gonna do next.”

    He looked closely at the old man next to him for a moment before saying anything.

     “Well, Lou?” Joey grinned. “Where’re we headed on this grand adventure?”

     The old man didn’t respond instead he was perfectly still just staring straight ahead with a big smile on his face.

     “Hey!” Joey roughly prodded Louis Stoaffer’s shoulder. “Where’re we gonna make this ‘huge killin’’ you were talkin’ ‘bout in the store?”

     There was still no response from him for a few seconds. All at once, the old guy took a huge gasp of air like he had just come from under water or something. He looked around with obvious confusion in his eyes. It was the same kind of look as somebody who has been awakened after a drunken night in a strange place with no memory of how he got there. Considering the fact Louis Stoaffer was obviously no stranger to the bottle, such a reaction should not have seemed out of place. But then again, somehow nothing about the strange old man seemed right.

     In a matter of seconds, he seemed to recover his senses and become comfortable once again.   The old man looked at Joey with  a  wide  grin  on  his  face  but  said  nothing  as  he  popped

another peppermint Lifesaver in his mouth.

     Finally, after shaking his head in disbelief, Joey asked with a humorless chuckle, “Well, have you got any idea where we’re goin’, Lou?  Or was the whole story jus’ a buncha bull shit?”

     Stoaffer’s grin grew to the point where it seemed like his face would be torn in two. His eyes shifted to the rearview mirror to make contact with my own before looking back at Joey.

     “Don’t worry, my friends.” Something about the way he said friends and smiled made the back of my neck tingle. “You just need a little faith.”

     Like I said before, I had known Joey for a long time and seen him react to situations in some shocking ways. Right then, none of that mattered. I was never shocked more than by what he did next.

     After a moment in which nothing within the car seemed to move, my short, dark partner in crime threw back his shaved head in utter joy and let loose a roar of genuine, unbridled laughter.

     “Ah, this guy!” Joey exclaimed as he moved to Louis Stoaffer, threw his arm around the old man, and pulled  him closer. With his other hand still holding the gun, he tussled Louis’s already wild gray hair. “You hear that, Thomas? ‘You just need a little faith’!” He jerked his head back again and howled with laughter.

     I watched in the mirror as his body continued to shake with glee. Louis Stoaffer remained still and simply kept staring back at me with a smile glued to his wrinkled face.

     Once Joey appeared to have regained control of himself, I said, “Joey, we don’t have time for this shit. We need to figure out what we are going to do.  Right now, we’re headed nowhere.

     So  let’s  make  a  plan  and  then  get  off  the  road  as  soon  as possible.”

     I didn’t bother to look in the mirror to see what was going on behind me. The silence from the backseat gave me a picture of Joey pouting, because I had not shared in his delight.

     After a moment, he grumbled, “Okay, you’re right. So where to, Lou?”

     I looked in the mirror to see Joey glaring at the old man. Stoaffer seemed completely unaware of the scrutiny as his ever- present smile broadened once again.

     “Well… I suppose we should head south.” The uncertainty was pretty obvious in his voice.

     I felt my body tighten with anger at having been taken in by this crazy old man. My irritation continued to grow, but it was nothing compared to the rage burning in the backseat.

     “You’ve got no fuckin’ idea, do yuh old man?” With Joey’s face was so close to Louis Stoaffer’s, I’m sure he felt the heat of Joey’s breath.

     In a flash of movement, Joey’s face was replaced by the Glock. Louis Stoaffer’s smile was still on his face, but now the expression was distorted as the barrel of the gun pressed into his cheek.

     “Yuh better come up with somethin’ right now or else we got no use for yuh!” Joey’s body was trembling with anger.

     I fully expected to hear the explosion of the gun at any moment. Instead, Louis Stoaffer chuckled as he said, “Oh, that’s not necessary. I told you I knew of a place where we could make a killing, and that place is near the beach in San Pietro.” Joey slowly removed the gun from Louis’s cheek, and the old guy sat back with a look of smugness as if there couldn’t possibly any further doubts about his plan.

     “Tell us more about this place.” I said still not willing to give this man complete trust.

     “I’d rather show you.” He said quietly in an almost soothing way.

     “Tell you what, Lou. I’d rather you told us all about this place right now. Before we toss you outta this car. We’re not gonna drive eight hours to San Pietro only to find out you’re full of shit!”

     Joey nodded in agreement with what I said.

     Stoaffer’s smile faded to be replaced momentarily by an expression of irritation.  Then the smile returned.  He sat still for a few seconds before reaching into his pocket. His dirty, trembling hands held another roll of mints. He popped one into his mouth and said, “As you wish.” He said as if he was a genie making dreams come true. “San Pietro is where I used to live. You may not believe this judging by my present appearance, but I was once a successful businessman.”

     I found to very hard to believe. A grunt from Joey signaled shared skepticism.   Despite the response, Stoaffer continued, “I was wealthy enough to have a large home in a very exclusive development along the beach in San Pietro.”

     Watching the old man’s face in the mirror, I could see the memories had not been recalled in quite some time. He seemed to lose himself in the visions of his past. His lip curled somewhat into the hint of a smile, and he nodded a little without being aware of his movement. The question from Joey yanked him out of his happy place.

     “So what the hell happened? I mean, you ain’t  no businessman now.”

     Louis Stoaffer looked a Joey but was silent for a few seconds as if contemplating the question. The only sound he made was the clicking of the mint rolling around in his mouth.

     “No, I would have to agree with you. I ain’t no businessman now.” He chuckled without humor. “But as  to  what happened…” The old man paused as if trying to sort out the answer in his head.

     Before he could continue, the sound of a siren distracted us all. We all looked around to locate the direction of the sound. Within seconds, two white and green Butte City police cars appeared in front of us and sped by.

     “Looks like there must be some trouble in town.” Stoaffer commented with something close to giddiness.

     “Let’s just hope that they have the good sense to do as they were told.”  I commented flatly.

     Joey added, “I guess we’ll know soon enough. Right now we jus’ need tuh get outta here.” Then looking at Stoaffer, he said, “So as you were sayin’…”

     “Yes, you wanted to know how I went from being a successful, wealthy businessman to … to ...uh… to the person you see before you.”

     I found myself very interested in what Stoaffer had to say and straining my ears to catch every word. A glance into mirror showed that my interest was shared by Joey.

     “I suppose it should come as no surprise that a woman played a key role in my tumble downward.”

     A chuckle from Joey distracted Louis Stoaffer for a moment. The old man smiled at him before continuing. “Yes, it’s certainly not a new story. All the way back to the Garden of Eden, right?” He looked to Joey for confirmation, which he got in a nod. “However, this woman’s name wasn’t Eve, and she definitely wasn’t offering apples.”

Even in the rearview mirror, Stoaffer’s hesitancy to call up the deep,  painful  memories  was  obvious.  He  squeezed  his  eyes tightly closed for a few moments.  When he reopened them, the strange old guy was smiling the same weird, sort of glowing smile that I had seen in the grocery store. His smile seemed to pull everything into it. It was like his smile was the only thing that mattered.  I could not avoid gazing at the old man’s smile.

     I am not sure exactly how long I stared into the smile on Louis Stoaffer’s face.

     “Hey! Watch the road!” Joey’s voice brought  me  back behind the steering wheel of the old light blue Lincoln Continental with white interior and suicide doors which had drifted into the gravel on the shoulder of the road.

     I quickly put us back on the road while being careful not to let my eyes float back to the rearview mirror.

     “The woman of whom I speak is named Theresa.” He paused for a few seconds as if saying the name had drained him of energy. When he continued, his voice was very quiet. “We were married for four years. Not every minute was wonderful, but most of them were.” In an even quieter voice, “At least, that is what I thought.”

     Despite my uneasiness about Louis Stoaffer, I again found myself hanging on each of his words. I did not like waiting as he took a long pause.

     Finally, he took a deep breath and continued with renewed energy. “All I can is that the woman was a lying bitch!”

     Joey showed his support by exclaiming, “Fuck the bitch, Lou!”

     Stoaffer turned to him with a slightly-twisted grin curling his lips. “Thank you for your support, my friend. As I was saying, I was under the false impression our state of holy matrimony was in fine shape. My business was doing quite well allowing the two of us to enjoy a very comfortable life.”  He paused again as his mind ran through memories of good times.

     Looking into the rearview mirror, I was struck by how different Louis Stoaffer was from the old drunk I had first seen in the grocery store about an hour earlier. I should have been disturbed more by such a distinct change. Most likely, I would have been if I had not gotten so caught up in the story he was telling. Fortunately, nothing crossed the car’s path during that time, because I seriously doubt  I would have seen anything.

     “We had a nice big house on the cliffs overlooking the ocean, drove the newest luxury cars, vacationed in various exotic locations, and lived a fine life.” His smile faded away, and he stopped for a few seconds. “Of course, everything changes. My life started to change one October night in 1996.” Stoaffer’s face grew a bit paler, and he shook his head.

     “Theresa and I went to dinner at the home of another couple, my business partner and his wife, Gary Blake and his wife…uh…Linda. I met Gary in college and thought of him as a brother. I would have done anything for him or given anything to him. We had been roommates, and I knew Gary better than any person I’ve ever known. Lots of late nights spent talking over beers instead of studying gives you a good look inside of a person. The problem did not lie in how well  I knew  Gary. Rather, the trouble was in how poorly I knew Theresa.”

     “Hold on,” Joey interrupted. “I gotta pee. And as much as I’m enjoyin’ the story, we gotta figger out what we’re doin’ here.”

     Louis Stoaffer nodded and was quiet.

     “So, Louis, if you would be kind enough to point us in the direction of a gas station.”  I said.

     Stoaffer looked a bit confused. The clicking of the breath mint sped up, and finally he answered, “I really haven’t the slightest idea. I mean, I’m just passing through the area like you.”

     Before I had a chance to ask Louis what he meant, Joey blurted out, “There’s a gas station!” He bounced around the backseat.

     The small rundown mini-mart offered a couple of self-serve gas pumps. But considering it was the only building we had seen in the last few miles, the place must have seemed like an oasis to Joey’s bladder. I pulled the car next to a dusty old payphone about fifty yards away. He was out of the car and trotting toward the store before the car had stopped.

     I had no reason to use the phone, but I figured a couple of guys parked next to a payphone appeared more normal. That’s me, always thinking. As I glanced around the area in every direction other than the backseat, I noticed a yellowed piece of paper taped to the payphone - “Out of order”. So much for looking normal.

     Despite the apparent transformation Louis Stoaffer had made from blathering old drunk to coherent human being, I was still disturbed by the sight of him. However, my uneasiness did not stop my eyes from flying to the backseat at the sound of his voice.

     “Well, I’d have to say that our friend Joey is quite the hothead.” He made the observation in the same bright tone that someone would comment on good weather. “The term sociopath comes to mind.”

     I turned to face him with the idea of challenging his opinion, but my idea went out the window as soon as I made eye contact. Something about the deep blueness I found in the eyes made me forget what had been planning to say.

     “He seems a bit… uh… unpredictable.” Stoaffer did not attempt to hide his amusement. “Of course, it’s not my place to say, but don’t you think his lack of control could get you into a world of trouble, Thomas?”

     Without thinking, I shot back, “Joey has always been there for me.  He’s the best friend I’ve ever had.”

     “As the saying goes, with friends like that who needs enemies?” The old man paused and stared as if memorizing every feature of my face before he said, “You know the things Joey does are wrong. We could easily start this car, drive away, and leave the darkness far behind.”

     I stared at him for a moment trying to figure out if he was mocking me. The words he had just spoken perfectly matched a thought which had run through my head many times since I had met Joey. The shock of hearing my thoughts voiced aloud froze me.

     Before I could recover from my verbal paralysis, Louis Stoaffer  continued,  “This  could  be  your  last  chance  to  save yourself.”

     I was still staring at Stoaffer when Joey yanked open the rear passenger door and piled in.

     “The clerk in the store was watchin’ TV. Looks like our friends at the store got loose and are talkin’ to the police. Didn’t hear no description.”

     I stared at Stoaffer for a few more seconds before looking toward Joey and saying, “Well, we’ve got to decide what exactly what we’re doing next. It’s not a real good idea to be just cruising around like this.” The irritated tone in my voice was not missed by the others.

     “Thomas, you need tuh lighten up.” Joey grinned at me. “Everything looks okay. Now we’re headin’ south with our new best friend. Right, Lou?”

     Louis Stoaffer gave me one of those looks that say “this is exactly what I’m talking about”. With his mouth, he said, “Right!  Let’s go to San Pietro!”

     The enthusiasm bubbling up from the backseat was too much to resist, and I found myself smiling against my will. But even as a smile came to my face, a sense of dread was developing inside of me.

     I spun the car around and headed south back the way we had come.

     As we got closer to the scene of our recent crime, the car grew quiet. None of us could resist turning to gaze down the street leading to the grocery store. About a quarter of a mile down the street was a mass of cop cars, ambulances, and blinking blue and red lights.

     As I stared in that direction, a clear picture of a dark-haired, middle-aged woman with blood oozing from holes in her chest and cheek on the floor beneath the cash register floated into my head. I resisted a sudden strong urge to press the gas pedal to the floor and speed far away from the place as fast as possible. Apparently my temptation was obvious as Joey’s hand touched my shoulder as if to let me know I had made the right decision.

     “I think we cud all use a little distraction.” Joey commented. “Lou, keep goin’ with yer story.”

     Louis smiled as if he had just gotten a huge compliment. “Well, let’s see, where was I?”

     “You went to dinner at your partner’s house.” I offered quickly in hope the old man’s story would indeed distract me enough to keep images of corpses out of my brain.

     “Thank you, Thomas. Yes, Theresa and I had gone to have dinner at Gary’s home. It was just about ten minutes away in the hills above San Juan Capistrano.” He smiled at the memory. “It was a lovely place.” His smile twisted. “It turned out to be a little piece of hell for me though. As soon as we got there, I felt something wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on it right then, but I’ve had plenty of time to play things over and over in my mind.” His eyes looked as though they were staring off at something in the distance.  “Plenty of time to play things over and over in my mind. So much time in fact maybe it’s driven me crazy.”

     His eyes suddenly became clear again. They jumped around the car as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. Stoaffer’s eyes eventually rested upon the rearview mirror, and eye contact with me seemed to calm him. He gave me a broad grin before continuing his story.

     “As I was saying, something didn’t feel right that night. Even on the short drive over, Theresa was unusually cheerful. She had never hesitated about voicing her negative opinion of Gary and Linda or ‘Gutless Gary and the mouse’ as she referred to them. On this night, I remember that she had only complimentary things to say. This was another strange thing that I did not notice until much later.

     “From the moment Linda met us at the door, she seemed afraid to look me in the eye. Although we were never close to one another, but I could see that something was bothering her. Her smile was forced, and she spoke too quickly. Theresa must have seen it too, because she whisked Linda into the kitchen. I continued through the large entryway toward the bar where I knew I would find Gary. He was behind the dark oak bar filling a large crystal decanter with Scotch.

“‘Putting out the cheap stuff?’ I joked as I walked toward him. I must have really startled him, because he jumped spilling some of the liquid on the black marble slab which topped the bar. His eyes shot up to meet mine and then at once moved away.

“’Uh, no…I was just getting ready…making sure we had enough to keep you happy.’ Gary forced out a laugh as he grabbed a small bar towel from the counter and began wiping up the spilled whisky. After a few seconds, he abruptly dropped the towel on the bar and walked around to me. ‘It’s really great to see you, Louis.’ He said this and then gave me the kind of hug given by men who haven’t seen one another for years or don’t expect to see to see one another for years to come.

“The embrace definitely took me by surprise. Gary wasn’t the type of person given to emotional displays or physical contact. In fact, that was what made him such a good business partner. He didn’t have a temper. He never got overwhelmed by stress. He always showed up when he was expected. ‘Even keel’ was the perfect description of the Gary I knew. His behavior on this evening certainly didn’t fit. Then everything suddenly made sense to me.

      “The obvious cause of the evening’s strangeness was  that Gary and Linda were having marital problems. It certainly explained Linda’s avoidance of making eye contact with me. She felt guilty. As for Gary, many guys get over-emotional when dealing with problems at home. After coming to what seemed a plausible understanding of the situation, I was feeling a bit superior. Dropping into one of the dark leather barstool, I watched Gary as he went back to wiping up the spilled whisky.

     “‘Oh, well. You know what they say, don’t cry over spilled Scotch. I made the comment without trying to be particularly clever. However, Gary’s response came as roaring laughter which continued far too long.

     “The whole thing had me a bit uncomfortable. Gary was filling the awkward pauses by humming as he cleaned up the mess and finished arranging the bar. I remember that part very distinctly because it struck me as strange that he would be humming that old tune ‘Happy Days Are Here Again’.”

     At the mention of the song title, a picture of an earlier Louis Stoaffer looking at me from the back of the storage room as he hummed that same tune flashed into my mind. My head reflexively jerked around to look at him.

     As any DMV handbook will tell you, reflexively jerking your head around to look at someone in the backseat is never a good idea while you are driving. The result of my reaction was that the Lincoln drifted off the solid pavement of the road onto the loose gravel of the shoulder. I yanked the steering wheel in an effort to get the car back on the road.

     The car’s movement after this is difficult to describe. What must been only a few seconds seemed to last minutes. The Lincoln spun around showing blurred objects through the windows. The only thing staying sharp to me was the image of the old man’s smiling face. I couldn’t see Joey from where I sat. The car seemed to shudder for a moment like a dog trying to get dry. Then with a sudden thud, the car came to a jarring halt at a slight angle.

     The shock of the abrupt stop froze everything for a few seconds.  There was silence.

     Then like a swimmer just coming up from under the water, Joey burst out, “What the fuck, Thomas?”

     Stoaffer began giggling nervously.

     It took me a moment to catch my breath and let the fast pounding of my heart slow.

     “Shit.” I commented under my breath as I turned off the car and pushed open the door.

     My comment did not do justice to the situation before me. The reason the Lincoln had stopped so suddenly was obvious. The back of the car had come to rest on top of a tree stump.

     I looked around at the wide area of gravel that made up the shoulder. Except for a few soda cans and other pieces of trash tossed out of cars speeding by, it was clean, bare, and flat. In fact, the only thing that could have any chance of slowing a car whatsoever was the lone tree stump upon which the Lincoln was sitting.

     Joey had rolled out of the car and was standing beside me. He stepped close to the car and fell to his knees with his back to me. For a second, I thought he was praying, but he was checking under the car.

     As he raised himself gradually to his feet, he was slowly shaking his head. A flash of rage hit me as I heard him chuckling. “Damn, Thomas! You could finduh turd in a fielduh diamonds!” The chuckle grew into a full-throated laugh.

    That rage I had felt for a brief moment was gone. I could not help but join in with Joey’s laughter. It felt good to laugh. Maybe it was the release of tension. Maybe it was a way of letting go of some of the horrible images of death that had been stuck in my head.  Maybe it was a way of spitting in the face of an  absurd  twist  of  fate  that  would  put  us  here  on  an  empty highway beside a car stuck on a tree trunk.

     Even more absurd was the idea of Louis providing the voice of sanity. “Perhaps it’s a bad idea to be standing here beside the road drawing attention to ourselves. We need to get moving.”

     We both stopped laughing. Not because of what the old man had said but because of the strong smell of gasoline.

     As if on cue, the three of us tilted our heads to the side and stooped over to look under the car. The source of the smell was clear as we saw a small stream of gas trickling from under the car to the ground.

     “Son of a bitch!” I yelled.

     “You got that right.”  Joey commented. “Now what?”

     “It looks like we have a slight change of plans.” Louis Stoaffer observed. “However, in any case, I think our first order of business should be to get away from this road.”

     I was surprised to find myself agreeing with the old guy. “Right, even if the cops are following a bogus description from our friends in the grocery store, they’re going to be fired up and moving through the area.  Not a good idea to be around.”

     “Okay, so we gotta get outta sight, but where to?” Joey asked. Louis Stoaffer answered with surprising enthusiasm.  “If I am not mistaken, just over these hills is a little town called Chrystal Springs. We can hike it in a few hours and then hideout nearby until it gets dark. I am assuming that one of you is talented enough so that after dark we can appropriate another vehicle.”

     “Lissen to you! I’m pretty sure by ‘appropriate another vehicle’ you mean steal ‘nother car.” Joey jumped in. “Yer a regular criminal genius, Lou!”

     “Well, I have to say that you’re making a lot of sense, Louis.” I said a little begrudgingly. “We should push the car outta sight and then get going.”

     The old man got in the car and put it into neutral while Joey and I pushed from behind. The car refused to budge in the slightest despite all of our efforts. I didn’t like leaving the car out in the open for anyone to see, but after a few unsuccessful attempts at pushing it off of the stump we had to admit defeat.

     Stoaffer was behind the wheel. Joey and I were leaning against the back of the car trying to catch our breaths and come up with other ideas.  The white and green police car had pulled onto the gravel of the shoulder twenty yards away from us before any of us had even noticed it.

     As the crunching of tires on gravel announced the cars arrival, Joey’s head jerked toward the sound and then his eyes darted to the backseat of the Lincoln where his gun sat. As I saw his reaction, my stomach dropped and I pictured a shoot out there on the side of the road.  The picture did not bode well for anyone.

     To my utter astonishment, Stoaffer popped out of the car and strolled quickly over to the patrol car. I say he strolled, because he seemed to bounce as he walked. It was like he was going to meet some old pal.

     The tall thin cop was starting to climb out of the car. As Louis Stoaffer reached the car, the officer must have felt somewhat pinned in by the old man standing directly in front of him. Instead of getting out of the car, he fell back into the seat and looked out at him.

     “Good afternoon, officer.” Louis’ greeting seemed genuinely enthusiastic. “As you can see, I had a bit of car trouble. Already called a friend for some help.  He should be arriving in no time.”

     Even from the distance, Louis Stoaffer’s smile lit up his whole head.

     “You sure you don’t need anything?” The cop glanced over at Joey and me.

     The old man answered slowly, “No, like I said we’re just waiting on a friend. Besides I hear you’ve got some big problems in Plymouth.”

     “Yeah, it makes you wonder what the world’s coming to.” The cop paused and shook his head for a moment. “Little town like Plymouth, stuff like this isn’t supposed to happen.” He paused again as if considering whether or not to continue. “Those were good people who got killed for no good reason.” Another pause. “But we got the sons of bitches that did it! That’s something I guess.”

     I shot Joey a rather confused look at the cop’s words.

     “Well, if you sure you got it under control, I should head back down the road.” The cop said to Louis.

     “Thanks, officer, we don’t want to take up any more of your time.” Louis answered and the added, “Glad to hear that justice was done!”

     The cop didn’t say anything in reply. Instead he simply nodded and as soon as Louis stepped away from the car pulled the door closed. He glanced over in our direction as the patrol car swung back onto the highway.

     “Lou, yer one smooth old basterd!” Joey walked over to smack Stoaffer on the shoulder.

     The old man looked at me and noticed my clear expression of unease.  “Thomas, what’s troubling you?”

     “I’m just wondering what he meant by sayin’ that they got the sons of bitches that did it.”

     “Oh, Thomas!” Joey looked at me and shook his head. “Yuh need tuh lighten up. Yuh heard the cop, right? That means nobody’s lookin’ fer us.”

     “I just wonder who the cops got, that’s all.” I answered a little apologetically.

     “It don’t matter!” Joey looked at me and chuckled. “Maybe those fag models from the magazine yuh showed ‘em picked the wrong day to visit the area.”

     “You’re right!” I said forcing myself to feel  optimistic. “What matters is that we have a little breathing room.”

     “I’m glad to see that we’re all putting on our happy faces, but we still need to get to San Pietro.” Stoaffer commented. “I suggest that we keep to the plan. Hike over these hills  to Chrystal Springs and then lay low until dark.”

     “I agree.” Again, my agreement with Louis surprised me to the point that I had trouble getting the words out of my mouth. “We can’t wait around for someone to start feeling guilty and change their story to the cops.”

     “Let’s stop talkin’ ‘bout it then and go!” Joey added impatiently.

Thanks again for reading!  Don’t forget to discover other books by Jeffrey Littorno at http://www.amazon.com/Jeffrey-Littorno/e/B004UMNNVW