Chris looked out at the clouds and the graying sky. Once more, he glanced down at the dead below. He sighed, rubbing his temple with one hand, and his other in his pocket fiddling with a banjo pick. If only he had something that he could play. That would at least make him feel normal for a few minutes. He thought of tour and some of the great shows that he and the guys had played. Reflecting on it, he found it odd that the shows he enjoyed the most were the ones that sucked. They just seemed to stick out as more memorable. You always met some crazy people at those.
The thought of Stephanie came to him.
He swallowed hard, feeling like he had really messed things up with her. Maybe it was just that he had moved to fast. He replayed the situation in its entirety. He felt like such and idiot. How romantic could one get?
First kiss, overlooking a horde of the living dead. Nice move, man… Nice!
Chris turned away from the undead mob below and leaned against the rooftop rail. With his back to the dead and his focus on the rooftop door ahead of him, he hoped that Stephanie would walk back through that door leading out to the roof and run straight into his arms. He knew better than to assume it would be that easy.
Just like that, the door kicked open. His heart skipped and he smiled for a second. It faded just as fast.
“Hey Chris. Stephanie told me that I could find you up here.”
“Hi, Father Clark. What’s going on with you, dude?” Chris’ disappointment echoed out in his voice.
“I just wanted to check on you. Haven’t seen you with any of the others all afternoon. Is there something on your mind?”
Chris turned away from the priest and looked down at the dead. “Seriously, Father? How could there not be anything on my mind. Look down there!”
They both stood overlooking the putrid scene for a moment in silence.
“So, how’s Steve holding up,” Chris asked.
“He’s holding up just fine. Going to be sore for a while. But I hear that happens when you’ve been shot. Medication is low, as you know. No reason why he shouldn’t be up and moving about by tomorrow morning, I would think. But I’m no doctor. He honestly could move around now if he wanted to, but our resident nurses are being pretty hard on him. He did lose a lot of blood. The more rest the better. Praise Jesus that the bullet missed his heart or he’d be down for the count.”
“Cool, I’m glad he’s doing okay.” For a minute, Chris just looked down at the ground between him and Garcia, the roof’s cement and rubble under his feet. He couldn’t bring himself to look into Garcia’s eyes. He knew he would lose it. He needed to be strong for everyone, but he just couldn’t do it. He was losing it and he knew it. What was more hard on him than anything was forcing himself to be a warrior on the outside when there was nothing but questions on the inside.
Chris sobbed, and for a while, the tears just wouldn’t stop. Once they started, it felt good. He needed the emotional release. At least, he wasn’t doing it in front of Stephanie.
Father Garcia Clark reached out and as Chris cried softly, he rested his hand on his shoulder. After Chris settled down, Garcia said, “Everything is going to be okay, it really is. Have faith.”
Chris pushed Clark away. “Like hell it is. It’s not going to be okay, because it’s not okay! My fucking cousin is dead! Do you hear me?” he screamed. “He’s fucking dead. One of those things! Mark is never coming back and it’s all my fault!”
The zombies below grew agitated with the sudden noise of Chris’ voice reaching their dead ears.
“Not only that,” Chris continued. “My best friend got shot and almost died! I should have been the one to go into that gas station. Not him.”
“But he didn’t die, Chris. Be thankful.” Father Clark put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the railing. “You are a lot stronger than you give yourself credit. It was you that, from what I’ve been told, that got your friends to Stephanie’s house, saved Brady and Nan from their room, and got everyone here in one piece. Don’t beat yourself up. You’re a good man, Chris. Steve will be fine.”
“Hell, from the looks of it, dying would have been better than living through this hell! And on top of it all, Stephanie…She just…” Chris sighed. “Ahhhhh!” His hands went into the air with defeat.
“Stephanie, what?” Father Clark asked.
“Nothing, you wouldn’t get it.”
“I understand love, Chris. I wasn’t always a priest. That is actually, why they had me doing this restoration project. Felt like I needed to prove a thing or two.” The short Hispanic man turned around against the railing and began to look out at the clouds.
The clouds were getting darker and closer. It looked like it might rain soon. With both hands out of his pockets and his arms resting against the railing, he rubbed his left hand for a second. It was then that Chris noticed the indention and fading tan line on the short man’s ring finger. It was the impression of a recently worn wedding ring.
“I thought priests couldn’t be married,” Chris said.
“Her name was Sarah Elise,” Father Clark said. “We met when I was about your age actually. We met at a Willy Nelson concert of all places. She was something special. She really was. One of those ladies that commanded attention when she entered any room. We were big partiers back then. Had it all figured out, you know. Party hardy, rock and roll. Life was our playground. The skies the limit and all that. We actually got married right after she got pregnant.” His eyes swelled with painful memories.
“What happened?” Chris was truly interested. This guy didn’t seem at all like he had experienced much of anything. Sure enough, Chris had been wrong about the holy man. He was terrible at reading people, which was probably why he was terrible when it came to the opposite sex.
“We got married and moved into a real nice house in the wrong neighborhood. Not even six months into the pregnancy and our marriage, some people broke in. They did terrible things. Unspeakable violence. Unknowingly, those people robbed me of more than material things. The guilt was what drove her to death. We lost the baby and it wasn’t even a year into our new life together as husband and wife before she took her own life. She felt like maybe it was her fault those men did what they did. Took our baby from us… That is all behind me now. It was hard to forgive them, but you must in order to have peace. I have God. And that, my son, is all you need. Afterward, I turned to the only thing I had left. My faith and God. The faith of my parents and their parents before.” Garcia sighed and patted Chris on the shoulder, forcing a smile. “The church knows that even though her death was many, many years ago, I am still struggling with it. At times, it tests my faith. This restoration project was not only to restore the school, but also to restore my soul. Supposed to allow me to honor her memory by helping others in a time of dire need. Maybe to allow me to let her go. That’s what you need to do, Chris. Let it all go. This new world may not be a pretty one, but it has made you a new man. A stronger man. A man that your friends have grown to rely on. You just need to step back and see that.”
“But how in the hell could you have faith in a God that let all of those things happen; let all of this happen?” Chris waved down at the rancid walking flesh below.
“Chris, it isn’t the things around you that give you a lack of faith. Well, in your case a lack of hope rather. It’s your lack of ability to do anything about it that drives you to the edge. Nothing you could have done would have stopped any of these things from happening. Think of it as God’s test. I have watched you from a distance, like I have all of you, and I see it in you.”
“See what?”
“The need to fix things and people. You aren’t the answer and you don’t have to be.”
Chris kicked some rubble at his feet. It skirted across the roof and then came to a stop after colliding with the railing on the opposite end. “That’s just it, Father. I have been so used to being in control my whole life. Everyone has always depended on me for everything. I’m the go to guy. The guy with the answe
rs. And here I am looking out at the city, at those things right outside this school and I’m lost! I don’t know what to do. I always come up with the plan. Now, I just don’t know and because of me, Mark’s dead and Steve’s hurt. Something needs to happen and it kills me to be pushed to my back like this. For crying out loud, I don’t even have a weapon. Your dumb cop buddies helped with that one. This place is not at all a safe place to be. At least, I don’t feel that way. We can’t stick around here. We don’t even know if the National Guard is coming.” Chris looked out past the sea of zombies below and ran his fingers through his curly hair. He just wanted to get past them and drive. “But fuck all of that. I just want to get home!”
“You say it’s your fault that people are suffering. That doesn’t sound like the same story that Brady and Nan have told me, need I remind you. Actually it seems quite the opposite.” Father Clark rested his hand on Chris’ shoulder again, forcing Chris to look him in the eyes. “You’re a lot stronger that you think. You’re just thinking too much. You know what to do and you’ve been doing it just fine. Your friends are alive thanks to that.”
Chris huffed. “Just forget it, man! You don’t know anything!”
Chris stepped away from the ledge and went toward the door leading back downstairs. He didn’t know why, but as much as he thought that Clark was going to make him feel better about things, he just made things worse. He knew that Clark meant well, but it had all been too shocking. There was just too much to grasp.
Just as Chris opened the door and began to slam it shut behind him, he heard Father Clark say, “Every coal must be pressed into a corner before it can be turned into a diamond, Chris!”
* * *
“Looks like it’s gonna rain,” Brady said. Brady had his rifle propped on one shoulder while holding the strap in one hand. He was smoking a cigarette. His gaze was concentrated on the dead outside past the parking lot. He could see them from where he stood. Milling about in vastly growing numbers, they looked lost and confused. They all just stood around waiting, waiting get into the school.
One thing the dead had for sure was patience.
After Chris had spent close to half an hour walking around and dwelling on what Father Clark had said on the roof, he bumped into Brady. Chris found the old hunter still wearing that same blue flannel long sleeve shirt from yesterday. He was standing by the main courtyard entryway. Am I really being fashioned into a diamond? To relieve pressure, one does have to add pressure, Chris agreed, staring to feel a little better.
The weather had definitely taken a sudden turn for the worst. Brady had been right. Didn’t look like a storm coming in or anything, but it was definitely about to start raining hard. The muted sound of distant rumbling in the clouds reached the courtyard. A flash of light in the distance followed.
As Chris walked up to Brady, he intentionally snapped a loose twig under his feet. It broke in two under his weight. “Hey, Brady. How’s the afternoon treating you?” Chris asked, sounded more hopeful than when he was on the roof. “So how’s the guard watch thing going?”
Brady puffed a cloud of smoke, dropped the butt to the ground and stepped on it. “It’s all right, I reckon. Don’t much see the point in much a none of this. Just feel better with my rifle.” He patted the gun with his free hand, satisfied. “If those things were gonna get in here, it would a happened by now. As much as I didn’t like that Phillips fella at first, he seems like a straight shooter to me. We wrote down which guns belonged each person. That made me feel a bit better about it all. Just glad to be gettin’ ‘em back later.”
“Cool deal. I’d still watch my back with that guy though. Never trust a red head, I always say. So where’s Nan?” Chris scanned the courtyard.
“Still assisting that grieving lady I suppose. Figure if she needed somethin’ she’d come get me.”
“Think she’s all right? She looked like she was coming down with something,” Chris said.
“Old age, my boy. Stress is a lot harder to deal with when you get to be my age. She’ll be fine. Just needin’ some down time, is all.” Brady raised a brow at Chris. “You all right, son?”
“Yeah,” Chris sighed. “I was hoping to talk with Nan about Stephanie. I took her advice and things kind of blew up in my face. Major backfire.”
“Ha . . . What happened?”
“Well, Nan said I should just man up basically and make my move. It’s a long story, but I made my move and think I just made an ass out of myself. Starting to think she likes Steve more anyway.”
“Really?”
“Honestly, I’d rather talk to Nan about it, if that’s okay, Brady.”
“Makes sense to me. Talk to the ladies ‘bout the lady stuff,” Brady smiled. “No tellin’ how much longer she’s gonna be. That one lady was pretty hysterical after that man shot himself. Damn shame. You saw her. She lost it something fierce.”
Chris nodded at Brady’s remark, but also toward Officer Phillips, who was walking up to them. His short red hair was bright, even with the gray clouds overhead drowning out the sunlight. It seemed like a halo of fire or like his head was on fire. Chris chuckled to himself.
“Looks like it’s going to get rough here pretty soon,” Phillips grinned. “Any activity over here, Brady?”
“Nope. Nothin’ special.” Even with that, they could hear the moans of the dead in the air. “They ain’t gettin’ in.”
“We just got a radio call from the National Guard and I was hoping to steal you for a few minutes, Brady.”
Brady eyed Chris for a second and then looked back to Phillips.
“He can come.” Phillips said, nodding at Chris.
They walked out through the parking lot toward a small trailer next to the fence line. They walked past several cop cars and other vehicles. Chris looked hard at Stephanie’s pink car. It seemed too long ago that they had been riding around in it.
The trailer was the type used as an office during reconstruction jobs. Chris thought of Father Clark and how he mentioned the school being rebuilt in the coming months. The trailer was right next to the fence line. It was uncomfortably close to the dead creatures trying to get in and that made Chris grateful that they couldn’t climb. As they made their way past the parked cars toward the small trailer, over five dozen zombies stood beating against the rails. The mutilated creatures flailed about with irrational anger. They knew that there were people in that trailer and it excited them. As Chris followed Brady and Officer Phillips into the trailer, he felt the first of several raindrops hit his shoulder. He looked to the sky, the heavy gray clouds slowly starting to open up right over him. Thunder crashed unexpectedly nearby. The sky flashed white with rumbling clouds. It was getting dark fast and it wasn’t even past six o’clock yet.
The trailer’s interior was cluttered, making the room appear much smaller. There was just enough room for two chairs, a single couch, a desk littered with papers, construction blue prints, and notes scattered everywhere. As they entered the small temporary building, there were two men already inside talking. One of them was Jesse. Chris waved at the gruff looking, tattoo covered man, who in turn waved back. Chris didn’t recognize the other man standing with Jesse. On the floor at the far side of the desk were stacks of ammunition of all kinds. Chris felt his anger stir at the sight of it. He felt like it was stupid to deny people the ability to protect themselves.
“So, when am I going to get my gun back?” Chris asked, looking down at the ammunition.
“That’s actually what we are here to talk about…umm…” Phillips hesitated, while snapping his fingers.
“Chris . . . my name is Chris Commons.”
“Right, Chris,” Phillips nodded. “We have a bit of an issue. We have had communications with the National Guard . . . kind of.”
“What ya mean, Kind’a?” Brady hissed, taking a seat on the couch.
Chris sat down, still taking in the room’s contents. The walls were bare and there was a small radio set on the desk. It was old and bust
ed up. If this was the radio they had been using, then it was no wonder they were having issues with it.
“They can talk to us, but we can’t talk to them,” Jesse said. “They don’t know we’re here!”
Chris and Brady both stared at the Irish looking cop. Phillips’ freckles stood out against the florescent lighting.
“It’s true,” Phillips said. “The receiver works on this thing, but we can’t call out on it. It’s broken.”
“But wait a second. Don’t you have radios in the cop cars or something?” Chris took out his banjo pick and started chewing on it out of habit. It was something he did when he was overwhelmed before a big show.
“We don’t know why, but for some reason those radios aren’t picking up the right frequencies we need to reach the National Guard.” Phillips seemed irritated, as he waved one hand in the direction of the parked cars outside. “The last transmission we received from them said that if they don’t reach anyone at this location within the next forty-eight hours that they weren’t going to stop at all.” He picked up some papers on the desk. They looked like maps of some kind, Chris wasn’t sure. “We asked you in, Brady, because we need to go out. If we are going to be rescued, we have to do something drastic and fast. Someone needs to alert the Guard that we’re in here.”
“And what the hell do you expect to do, just walk out there past all of those fucking things like it’s nothing?” Chris shifted in his seat. “Soon as you open these gates, those creatures are going to pour in like a flood of ants. That would be suicide.”
“We know and that is exactly what we are here to talk about. We have come up with a few ideas. Brady, we didn’t bring you in here to ask you to go. Unlike some of us here,” Phillips pointed at Jesse and the other man with them. “We don’t have our loved ones here with us. Nan is lucky to have you and we don’t expect you to leave her behind.”
Epidemic of the Undead: A Zombie Novel Page 15
