by Deyo, Jason
Once again he thought about how to respond. He wasn’t hungry, but he also did not want to make her upset. “Sure I could eat. Thank you.”
“My husband…” The words shook her for a second, but it flowed easily and seemed right. Pictures of Jimmy, Keith, and Amelia were hung from the walls, so he was bound to notice them eventually. “My husband used to cook over the fire all the time and he bought all this cast iron cookware.” She paused. “I need some things done that I don’t know how to do. They’re small things really, but I need some muscle to do them. Once those things are done and we finish eating, you can leave.” Mason was visibly excited, so she continued, “One of the things I need you to do is fix the door you broke.”
He smiled at the thought of actually leaving. “I will. I’ll do it right away.” He got up and was about to begin working on the door.
Kim stopped him, “You probably shouldn’t do anything right now, but maybe after they wander off. My husband has all kinds of tools in the basement and I’m sure you could find something to fix it.” She got up from the stool. “Let’s eat first though.”
Mason stopped immediately not wanting to upset his captor. He wanted to try to make this situation the least hostile as possible, so he shrugged his shoulders and tried to show a semblance of a smile. “That would be great.”
Mrs. Kim picked up two cans of ravioli that the men had pulled from the cabinets. “We can eat these,” holding up the red can so he could see. “I have plenty of them.” She put the Coleman stove on the table and began fumbling with the can opener that was secured to the side of the stove by a thin chain. “Would you mind?” she asked. She grabbed the shotgun and backed away as he approached.
“Mrs. Kim,” he said cautiously, but was immediately interrupted.
“You don’t have to call me Mrs. I’m not that much older than you.”
He nodded. “Where is your husband?” He cleared his throat and began opening the cans. She did not respond, but stared at him. Mason felt as if he made a mistake by asking. He knew many people had lost their loved ones and should have assumed, since no man was around, she had lost hers. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” He was ashamed, so he looked down at the task in front of him to break the uncomfortable staring contest.
He wasn’t asking because he knew she was married, but asking because the house felt as if a man once lived here. Kim was surprised he hadn’t noticed the pictures, but there was no point in hiding the fact that Amelia was married. There were signs of a man in the house, especially with all the camping supplies resting on the dining room table and she did mention her husband having a lot of tools. “He didn’t make it.” She thought she might as well tell him about her son too, except for the part about him being sick and trying to make him better by feeding human meat to him. “I had a son too. He was part of the initial group that changed.”
“Oh, Mrs. Kim”
“Kim,” she corrected.
He nodded at her correction. “I’m really sorry to hear about your family. I can’t begin to try and understand how difficult this is for you.”
“I’m making do. I think knowing there are other people in the world going through what I’m going through helps. It helps that I have people to talk to as well.”
“Oh, so there are others here? You have friends here?” Mason asked.
Mrs. Kim smiled. “I have friends. They’re close by. If you stay here long enough you may get a chance to meet them.”
“I shouldn’t have asked about your husband. I apologize. It’s none of my business.” He finished opening both cans and poured them into a pot on the stove. “I have a few friends who lost family members as well; husbands, wives, children.” He lit the stove and began awkwardly stirring the cold ravioli.
She silently pondered where this young man came from. She wondered if Mason was part of the group that Keith had found. It was very unlikely, but possible. These two men could have met Keith when he found shelter at that farm. She began to feel waves of emotion roll over her all at once. A very powerful mixture of fear and loneliness and depression engulfed her. She must have looked upset because Mason asked her if she was okay.
“He left us. He had to leave,” she said quickly. She lit the paper of a fire log in the fireplace.
“He had to leave?” He couldn’t believe he just asked her that. “You don’t have to answer. Sorry. I don’t want to stir up bad memories. Never mind. Forget I ever said anything.” Once again he felt he couldn’t stop digging this hole.
“Is there anything but bad memories anymore?” She pulled one of the chairs out and sat at the cluttered table. When she sat, Mason was able to make out a couple family photos on the living room wall. He saw the man and immediately recognized him.
“Kim was your husband’s name um…Keith?” he asked.
She did not answer, but slowly nodded.
“Oh Mrs. Kim, your husband is with us. There are a lot of us at a barn not far from here. We have food and protection and everything you would need.” He spoke with new life in his voice. “Your husband didn’t leave. He’s with us. I know he wanted you to come with him. Please, he is probably there waiting for me and…” He waved his hand outside referring to his recently deceased friend. “Keith will be so happy if I bring you back with me.”
Kim did not respond. She picked up the black pistol Mason had placed on the table earlier and examined it silently. She focused on the pistol and not his words.
“This is so wonderful. He is going to be so excited.” Then he started remembering the story Keith had told him and the rest of the people at the farm. He looked back at the family portrait and saw the young child sitting on Keith’s lap with a large smile that spread from ear to ear. Amelia stood behind Keith with her hands placed on his large shoulders. Keith had told everyone that his son had changed. He was one of the very first who were sick and he tried to convince his wife to come with him. Keith had told everyone that she would not leave her son and could not face the fact that he was no longer the son they once had.
“Kim, I am so sorry,” he said, moving from behind the stove and around toward her. Mason moved slowly with his arms spread slightly away from his hips with his palms forward trying, to show he was not a threat. “He told us about your…”
Kim jumped up, kicking the chair out from under her and pointed his pistol at him. “Sorry! Sorry for what?”
Her outburst shocked him and he ducked with this hands out in front of him in response to the pistol. He tried to shush her, but she paid no attention.
“Keith left because he had to. He wanted to. He wouldn’t allow me to bring my son. Our son. What kind of mother would I be if I abandoned my son?”
“Mrs. Kim, you’re right. It wasn’t right for him to ask you to do that. He should have never put that much pressure on you.” A loud thump came from upstairs. Mason looked up at the ceiling and then began stirring the ravioli, trying to hide his shaking hands. “I can only imagine how hard it was to decide to stay.” He scratched at the bottom of the pan, breaking up some of the ravioli that had burnt to the bottom. Mason was trying to act normal but couldn’t pull himself together. “I think it is done now. We can probably eat if that’s okay with you?”
“Don’t let him leave Momma,” Jimmy said, standing at the bottom of the stairs.
She stared at him not saying a word. Mason could tell she was not thinking about their conversation and was somewhere else deep in thought. Oh honey, this man is just helping out around the house. He’s going to keep us safe. He’s going to fix the back door for us, so none of them can get in.
Mason grabbed two bowls from the table and spooned the food evenly into both of them. “Here you go.” He slid a book bag and some other objects over to make room for her bowl, but still had to place the bowl very close to the edge of the table. The movement broke her silence.
“Why don’t we eat in the living room,” she said in calm acknowledgment of the limited space. She spoke as if the conversation regarding
Keith had never happened, then stood and walked into the living room. She sat on the brown suede loveseat and Mason placed her bowl on the coffee table in front of her. Kim placed both guns on the loveseat, then pulled the table toward her as Mason was about to sit on the couch.
Kim put her hand out before he sat. “Pull up a chair from the dining room.”
Mason looked back at the brown suede couch and saw a very large dark stain that almost entirely covered two cushions.
“Sorry, I tried to get the stain out and it might still be wet,” Kim apologized.
He did as instructed and sat across from her. Mason tried to focus on his food, but had a hard time ignoring the stain on the couch. The dark stain flowed over the side of the cushions and onto the gray carpet. The dark stain resembled a large wet spot in the brown suede with no significance, but there was no denying what it was from the color on the carpet. A pool of drying crimson colored liquid peeked out from under the couch.
A human had been slain on the couch. It was not a black stain that would result from killing a ghoul, but was a crimson color from a fresh barbaric kill of a healthy living human.
Kim could see from across the four-foot long coffee table that his eyes were straining to his left to stare at the stain on the floor, as he shoveled food blindly into his mouth. She could feel his anxiety and needed to address it. “That is why Keith had to leave,” she said pointing to the couch with her fork.
Kim continued, “Keith was such a kind man. For such a large guy he was a true teddy bear. We saw two people, a man and woman, walking around the neighborhood and going into vacant houses stealing food, kind of the way you did.” She pointed and gave a mock frown. “We watched them run across the street toward our house and before they could try to get in, Keith opened the door and invited them into our home.” While Kim talked she began to fiddle with Mason’s gun. She released the magazineand pulled the slide, ejecting the bullet in the chamber. She started thumbing the bullets, unloading the magazine.
Mason looked up at her, but Kim could tell it was strained. His mind raced wildly with thoughts.
“I told him it was a bad idea. It was a horrible idea, but he always did what he wanted to do. He tried to convince me that if he didn’t they were just going to kick in the door, so I okayed it. So now a strange man and woman were sitting in my living room. The man couldn’t keep his eyes off the gear on the table and the woman bartered with me for food. Keith agreed to give them a few things, but didn’t offer anything we couldn’t do without. The man became physical with Keith, so he let him have it. The man pulled a knife and they began to fight. The woman tried to jump in and that is when Keith no longer tried to merely subdue the man. Keith wrestled the knife free and stabbed the man in the gut. He fell back onto the couch and bled to death right there.” She pointed again with the fork. “The woman ran away and I haven’t seen her since, but that’s why this shotgun never leaves my side.”
Mason sensed that something was wrong with the story and whatever she was saying was probably nothing close to accurate, but he knew better than to probe further. The house was free of dust and debris, except for the large stain on the couch and pool of blood visible underneath. She kept a very clean and tidy house. This was demonstrated by her placing each bullet in even rows standing up on end.
After a few minutes of silence, he asked, “Mrs. Kim, what was that noise that came from upstairs?” He waited for an answer, but none was ever given.
“Could you help me?” A thought popped into Mrs. Kim’s head.
“Kim you are the one with the gun. I am going to do whatever you want me to do.” He tried to make a small joke, but be serious at the same time.
She laughed and he quietly forced himself to chuckle. “I don’t want you to feel that you have to stay because I have a gun. I just don’t want you to be like that man and try to take advantage of me. It’s not like I can call 911 anymore. Can you help me get rid of this couch and bring another into the house? The next door neighbors just bought a new furniture set and their old one is in their backyard.”
Don’t let him leave Momma. I want him. Jimmy’s said at the bottom of the steps.
“If you could help me bring that one in and replace this one I would be so very grateful.” Kim asked. He’s not going anywhere, honey. He will meet you tonight, she told Jimmy.
*****
The white farm-stitched couch was wider than her old one and covered the stain on the carpet perfectly. Mason was surprisingly strong and moved both couches with ease. He dropped the neighbor’s couch as he carried it through the yard, leaving a large grass stain on the left armrest, but Mrs. Kim didn’t seem to mind. She was happy to be getting the blood-covered suede one out of her house.
As he dragged the old couch outside, she stood behind him with the shotgun, the barrel constantly threatening him. Mrs. Kim was careful not to allow Mason to get too comfortable. She still needed him.
Kim and Mason noticed his partners’ silver revolver as they walked back to the house. As Mason made a wide arch around the blood-soiled remains of his friend, Mrs. Kim grabbed the gun. She opened the cylinder, allowing the bullets to drop onto the bloody pile of clothes and then tossed the gun into the woods. Mason looked defeated, as she had purposely dropped the bullets knowing he would not retrieve them.
They walked into the basement with flashlights and Kim directed hers onto the ceiling where mason jars of various sizes were secured to the joists. Keith had put two screws into each of the mason jar lids, filled the jars with nails and other small things (Kim didn’t know half of what he stored down in his man cave) then screwed the mason jar to the ceiling.
Their house was a rare find in Georgia. They had a crawl space, but Keith needed more room, so a few friends from the quarry began to work on it with him. They opened it up and finished the small area to make a nice little workshop. It was just big enough for him to create his little prepper’s dungeon and workbench.
As Mason was looking through the jars, Kim looked at the workbench. Keith was in the process of making a plant potter out of an old pallet that he’d probably taken from his work. A small ballpeen hammer sat on the workbench. She grabbed the hammer and put it into her pocket head down, so it wouldn’t fall out as they walked. As she pocketed it, Mason found a screwdriver and a hand full of screws.
“You good?” Kim asked.
“I think so.”
*****
Mason secured the wooden board quickly. It was very nice having a strong young man in the house. He also replaced the curtain rod, which Kim thought was kind of him, given that Keith always fought with Amelia about hanging pictures and curtains.
Mrs. Kim tried out her new couch. She was very happy about having the new furniture even though it didn’t match any other piece in the house. She ran her hands over the gold trimmed white upholstery. “What do you think?” she asked Mason, who was now sitting on the loveseat and peering out the front window.
“It doesn’t really match anything in here, but it is definitely better than what you had.” He turned his attention back to her. He looked down at the brown shotgun that rested on its own cushion to her left.
Mom I need him to come up to me. I need him to come up. I need something to stop this pain. I hurt so bad.
“Mason.” She stopped rubbing the new couch.
Something about the tone or inflection of her voice sent a warning through his body. He immediately knew she was going to ask him something that he did not want to do. It was beginning to get dark and he had a gut feeling that he would have to try to escape if she did not free him soon.
Mason hesitantly responded. “Yes.”
“Would you like to see what my husband did?”
“You know Mrs. Kim, I think I should be getting back to the farm.” He smiled uncomfortably. “That is unless you need something else from me tonight. I can always come back or even get a couple of extra hands to really help you out. Maybe fix a few more things for you. We could probably get a
window and put it in the back door for you. Hell, we could probably just replace the whole door.”
“Mason, you are so sweet.” She grabbed the shotgun and sat forward. “You know, my son is fine. He’s not what Keith told you and your friends.”
Mason sat back on the loveseat and raised his hands defensively, palms out. “Mrs. Kim I really didn’t know Keith. He came by and told us some stuff, but I was always out running. I can honestly tell you I never followed any of his stories.”
“Then come with me. Let me show you what he did to my son.”
“Mrs. Kim, I…please, I’d like to leave now,” he pleaded.
Kim stood up and grabbed her shotgun. She put the gun’s safety on and held it in front of her. “Here.”
Mason hesitated, confused, but didn’t take it.
“Take it and come with me. I just want to show you, so you can tell your friends I’m not the monster Keith told you I was.”
He gently grabbed the shotgun and waited for her to let go. “Like I said Kim, he never said anything negative. You don’t have to show me anything.”
Now she pleaded with him. “Before it gets dark, please come upstairs with me.” She let go of the gun and put her left hand softly on his chest.
He nodded. “Real quick.”
She put her hand out toward the stairs and he started to walk. He took the first few steps quietly, but then stepped on the one that always sounded in alarm whenever anyone touched it. As soon as the step groaned under his weight, another groan answered it. He stopped and was about to turn around. “No Mrs. Kim, I’m not going up there.”
“I have gone up here every day since this occurred and I am just fine. A big guy like yourself with a gun will do fine. Please. For me.”
He shook his head and continued to walk. At the top of the stairs a single door was closed. He examined the door, looking at the crack that went down the middle like a lightning bolt, and then noticed all the blood stains on the main hallway’s carpet.
