by Jones, K. J.
“Totally. Though, I never really liked Picasso.”
“He was a little whacked.”
“Much more a Monet guy.”
“Impressionism?”
Peter shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much. I like that we can have these conversations. The redneck and the cowboy, they don’t know anything.”
“I bet Matt would know a sculptor named Remington. He did cowboy art.”
“Oh, yeah. Our Matty would totally know anything to do with cowboy shit.”
3.
“Ben, can I ask you a question?” asked Tyler.
“You can always ask. I can’t promise an answer.”
They sorted the gift wrapping material into what could be burned for the fireplaces and what would give off too many noxious vapors.
“It’s, um, sort of a spiritual question. I mean, you’re spiritual, right? That’s the right word, spiritual?”
“We’re kind of known for it. Yes, I am. And yes, that is the right word.”
“Do you believe in ghosts?”
“Like … Mazy’s ghosts? Rupert haunting us or something? I don’t think he is, by the way.”
“I dunno. Not that. What if a huge amount of people die all at one time. In the same place. Doesn’t that leave a, um, mark on the place or something?”
“I would think so. We believe that everyplace already has its own spirits.”
“Yeah, okay. But what about, um, ghosts?”
“Why are you asking?”
“I dunno.” The kid’s gaze wandered around.
“It’s the pier, huh?”
“It’s spooky.”
“Maze doesn’t want to go over there.”
“So, she feels it too?” He looked at Ben.
“So do I. The answer would be yes then. It may be haunted. You ever been to Gettysburg? Or heard of it?”
“No.”
“A lot of people say it’s haunted by the soldiers that died there during the Civil War. A lot of people died at one time.”
“Like the Trail of Tears?”
“You know about that?”
“Yeah. Cos my dad said we’re part Indian. Cherokee. I wanted to know stuff.” He shrugged as if not wanting to commit to having ever voluntarily learned anything.
“I’ve heard the Trail is haunted.”
“Heard that ,too. What do ya do about it? I mean, to make them go to Heaven and stuff?”
“Well, we have traditions.”
“Could you teach me some so I can make them go to Heaven?”
Ben smiled. “Yeah, we can work on that.”
“Cool. Thanks, man.”
4.
Tyler shared the guest bedroom with Mullen and Jayce. The big bed had been removed to some other room and three mattresses were laid on the floor. Walking paths ran through piles of clothes, comic books, and other looted treasures. Only due to Angela did they have sheets and pillowcases, or the boys would sleep on naked mattresses. She hadn’t been in the room recently to clean up the place. But they still hid certain magazines in case she did.
He laid on his bed and stared at the cross over Jayce’s bed. He remembered Jayce finding a nail and hammer to put it up, once he was released from sharing a room with his mother and sister. Jayce reminded Tyler of one of his best friends of the Before. Except Brian was his own age, not almost grown at sixteen.
Maybe if Brian lived, he’d be like Jayce. Except Brian never deviated from book worm nerd talk. Jayce did. Only when his mother wasn’t around, though.
Brian’s family was very involved in their church. Tyler had gone a couple of times. There was music and singing and all the congregation danced. But their churching went on for hours. He couldn’t handle that.
Brian’s parents didn’t like him anyway. He was the bad influence friend. They felt pity for him due to his mother and not really having a father. They let him stay in the treehouse out back after he showed up with a black eye from his mom’s newest boyfriend. Brian begged them not to call family services. They’d never see each other again if they did.
Tyler rolled over and stared at the ceiling.
Stuff was so confusing back then in the Before. It had grown easier since. He had a new family. And things were straight forward. Bad guys could be shot.
He wondered if his mom was a bad guy.
Jenny Connor.
Laying there, he decided he’d call her by her name and not mom. Angela was a mom. Jenny wasn’t.
His eyelids slid shut. Please don’t dream of her, his last thought before drifting off.
“Ya know, you should get religion. You need Jesus, Ty.”
“What do you know? You’re not here.”
Brian sat on Jayce’s bed.
“Why are you here anyway?” Tyler sat up.
Brian shrugged. “I was the last one of us to die in front of you.”
“I tried to save you, Bri.”
“There was no way. You need to relinquish those feelings. Forgive yourself.”
“Relinq-what?”
“Relinquish. It means letting go.”
Tyler shrugged. “Not so easy, bro.”
“At least Jenny isn’t here. I agree. You should refer to her by her name.” Brain looked around the room. “Do you not see your purpose now? All you went through?”
“What’s death like?”
Brian shrugged. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“There’s people out there.”
“Other dead people?”
“Dude. I am not going to be the guy who sees dead people.”
“News flash. You are that guy.”
“No, I’m totally not.”
He was suddenly standing outside the wall of the house.
“Oh, c’mon,” he protested.
“Let us walk,” said Brian.
“Remember the time you were shoved in the locker?”
“I forgive those boys.”
“Nice of you. I’m glad I got back at them. They were such assholes. Wait. They’re not going to be here, too, are they? I don’t think I can use a cherry bomb on dead guys.”
“They aren’t here.”
“Where we going?” Tyler stepped aside as a person walked by. “It’s crowded out here.”
“A lot of people died here.”
“A lot of people died everywhere, dude.”
The people walked the sidewalks. They went in and out of houses.
“It’s like Sim Dead People out here.”
“They don’t know they’re dead.”
“How come?”
A man pushed a wheeled garbage can to the curb.
“It was too sudden.”
“Should I tell them?” Tyler cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled. “Hey, y’all are dead. Go to the light.”
No one reacted to him.
“That was impolite.”
“Should I have said please and thank you?”
“It would be an improvement.”
Tyler followed Brian to the cruise ship pier.
“No, dude. I don’t like this place.”
The cruise ship was upright and above water as if it was new.
He then spotted Phebe standing there.
“She’s not dead.”
“She’s asleep too.”
“No way. Are we sharing a dream? That’s so rad. Remember, we gotta bring radical back? Remember that, Bri? Remember Bill and Ted? We watched the movies. Then the new movie when they were old and Keanu Reeves’s face looked funny. Remember? Wait. That’s Syanna with her. I should say hi. C’mon, Bri.”
“That’s stupid!”
Tyler jerked awake at hearing people near him.
“Nia, stop following me.”
“No. You’re stupid. Why don’t you clean up this room?”
“Why do I have to have a sister?”
“Jayce Jackson! That’s bad to say.”
“Shh. Ty’s trying to sleep. He had guard all night.�
�
“So did you. At the door. Why aren’t you sleeping too?”
“I don’t sleep too much. Do you?”
“I don’t know.”
Tyler kept his eyes closed. The dream faded fast. He wanted to cling to his friend and he tried to fall back to sleep and will Brian back.
“I see people all over the place,” she said.
Tyler sat up. “You do too?”
“You startled me, you idiot.”
Jayce said, “You couldn’t tell he wasn’t asleep from his breathing?”
Nia ignored him. “You see people outside when you sleep?”
“Yeah,” Tyler answered.
“So do I.” Jayce plopped himself down on his mattress.
“Why do we see them?” Tyler propped up on his elbows.
“Mama and Matt go out there and pray,” said Nia. “Dr. Jenkins and Karen do too. We make a prayer circle and pray for the dead to go to Heaven.”
“You do?” Tyler looked up at the cross above Jayce. “They get the dreams too?”
She sat beside her brother. “Yup. Everybody does, I think.”
“It’s freaky.” Jayce leafed through a comic book. “I keep the door. Mama can’t make me go to the pier.”
“The pier’s totally freaky, dude,” said Tyler. “Hate it. But I always end up there in the dreams. Do you?”
Jayce nodded.
“I do, too,” Nia said. “Daddy some times make me go.”
“What do they want?”
“Who knows,” said Jayce, continuing to flip pages.
“No, they want to warn us.”
“About what?” Tyler asked her.
“They’re just dreams,” Jayce demanded. “They’re stupid and meaningless. Our subconscious working us.”
“Nuh-uh,” Nia retorted. “They’re warning us.”
“Whatever.”
“You’re an idiot, Jayce Jackson.”
Chapter Two
1.
Dr. Jenkins and Karen argued loudly when she declared she was moving to a neighboring house to sleep and guard the seedlings. The Jenkins family had moved over the Star Gate House for protection after the murder of Robert and Manual.
Emily had begun the agricultural project. She used the houses directly neighboring the Star Gate House.
Because there was an insurmountable problem...
Food and supplies continued to be transported from the cruise ship. But there was the problem…
The rat population multiplied daily.
While the group was supposed to guard their territory against healthy and zom alike, personnel had to be diverted to rat guard detail. Tyler excelled at this. He became Captain Rat Killer. A slingshot helped.
Tyler brought into the Star Gate House kitchen a dozen rats carried by their tails.
“Lord have mercy, Tyler Connor,” Angela reprimanded. “Stanton just walked out. If he learns what meat is in the food, we will never hear the end of it.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re supposed to ask first. Not too many people can stomach this.”
“They really need to get over themselves.”
Everywhere, the rats infiltrated. Any looted foods not in cans had to be put in plastic containers, then in plastic bins.
2.
Emily wanted to have a bonfire of all the things in the Nazi room. But practicality took over. Instead, the flags and uniforms were ripped up and used for fires. Emily took great delight in using a swastika flag as a torch to force rats to run from her seedlings. “Burn Nazi rats!” Everyone heard her yell from the next house.
“I’m so glad the government killed off of seventy-five percent of nature.” Emily threw herself down in a chair at the dining room table for lunch.
“Were you bit?” Brandon reached for her hairy leg.
“Yeah. Again. On my hand, too. They are aggressive as shit.”
“Did you kill ‘em?”
“As many as I could.”
“Where’d you put the bodies?” Tyler asked from across the table.
“In that bin, Captain Rat Killer.”
He nodded.
Matt came to the dinner table.
“She was bit again,” Brandon told him.
“Shit. This has to stop. I had one in my bedroom last night. I beat the fuck outta it with my lantern. Motherfucker stood up at me. Bold as shit.”
“She’s gonna catch something from them. R140 isn’t the only thing out there.”
“Well aware, Brandon. Em, did you clean and disinfect?”
“Of course.”
“Maybe don’t wear shorts over there.”
“It’s hot. It’s supposed to be hot for the seedlings.”
Two dining tables. A transplanted one sat partially under the archway leading into the front living room. They had needed more seating for everyone. The chairs were mismatched.
“It’s raining,” Ben announced as he entered.
“Emily’s getting bit more,” Brandon said.
“Bran.” She scowled.
“Maybe someone has an idea.”
He announced it as Peter and Phebe entered.
Phebe said, “Let’s make some gaiters. Ya know, those things around the shins? Maybe out of thick jeans.”
“Can we sew that?” Emily asked. “Domestic goddess Ange isn’t the best at sewing.”
“I’m getting pretty good at it.”
Ben sat down with Band-aids all over his fingers.
“Rat bites?” Brandon asked.
“No. Fucking around with metal over at the gay house. Wish I knew how Stanton’s dad made the machine gun chain. The dude was very into these things.”
“How’s it going with reuses?” Peter stretched his arm over the back of Phebe’s chair.
“Not bad. Slow.” He sipped water from an expensive green glass. “Arrows are going well. How’s your target practice with the bow?”
“Good. Stopped being spastic and I’m actually hitting the bull’s eye consistently.”
Voices from the kitchen of the Jackson family. Angela insisted her children help her for dinner so they could touch base as a family.
Men’s voices came from the direction of the staircase. The doctor with Chris.
Soon everyone who was coming was there. The Jacksons and Stanton brought out the food.
Grace was mandatory under Angela’s dining command. She just never called on the disbelievers or the weird believers to say it. Everyone had to hold hands and bow their heads.
3.
Phebe pulled up her shirt in front of the full-length mirror and examined the pooch of her abdomen. She had begun to show. Slightly. Or else it was gas from all the beans.
“Phebe Teressa!” Peter’s voice bellowed from downstairs. “Front and center.”
“What the hell does he want?”
She left the room and took the stairs down.
He stood in front of the altar in the living room.
It had begun with Mazy’s looted votive candle stand and shrine items of the Mother. Then people began placing on the table objects representing their dead. The altar expanded onto the fireplace mantle, crowding Rupert’s sculpture piece. Not everyone participated. Matt declared it pagan, while Angela called it hoodoo.
“What the fuck is that?” Peter pointed.
“It’s for your brother and grandpa.”
“I did not give you permission for this.”
The red mustang Match Box car sat there with his rosary and the prayer cards.
“When are you going to talk to me about your brother?”
“When hell freezes over.”
“You do realize we are married and having a baby together?”
“That does not give you permission to invade my privacy.”
“Wow. I have no privacy, but you want privacy on something as huge as losing a sibling when he was eighteen.”
“You read the obits.” His fingers ran through his hair. “I should’ve known you snoop all over the Mol
ly.”
“Actually, I was looking for maps to rescue your dumbass. All of this was in the map thing in the wheelhouse. You do realize, now that you and I are family, MJ is my brother-in-law.”
His jaw tightened until the muscles looked like taught sinew bulges. “Whatever.”
“No. Not whatever. You need to tell me what happened.”
He left the room.
“Peter!”
Returning, he opened a large Ziplock bag and placed the items in it. “No, Phebe. We’re not going there.”
“Your list of who not to talk about is growing. You won’t even mention Julio.”
He yelled, “There’s no fucking reason to talk about them. Goddamn it, Phebe.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, but –”
“No. There’s no but. Leave my dead alone.” He sealed the bag and walked away with it.
She was surprised he left Julio’s things on the altar. Maybe he saw it as belonging to everyone, for they all knew him. But MJ’s death was strictly his own.
4.
“The engines will never turn over,” Peter said. He stood on the bridge of the cruise ship. “There are huge holes on the port side.”
“Would the batteries work?” asked Mazy.
“Actually, a ship like this would have a generator to keep the electricity on when the engines aren’t running.”
“Would that then work?”
“The only way to find out is to get eyes on it.”
She blew out air.
“Something wrong with that, Maze?”
“Gators.”
“Okay. They’re everywhere.”
“They’re in the water below deck. Mullen. Ya know.”
“Ah. I recall he claimed it was alligator teeth that cut him. But I didn’t believe him. Mullen? Facing off with a gator? Not seeing it.”
“It really happened. More of an attack then a face-off.”
“We got gators below deck?”
“Swam right through the gaping holes in the port side.”
“Good times.” He looked around at the crooked bridge. “Not seeing an alternative.”
“What if we brought the Nazi’s genny over here?”
“We could hook it up. But why are we doing that?”
“Access the water tanks, also below deck.”
“You want to know if they’re intact and full from here?”
“A better option than the possibility of another gator attack on our people.”
“But it’s computers.” He gestured to the numerous computer monitors throughout the bridge. “Even with electricity, there will be user names and passwords.”
