Errol's Folly
Page 19
Then, for one tiny instant that seemed to last forever, she reveled in her vengeance.
Final Respite
Lyla Patrice Warner, who had never gotten comfortable with her given name and been simply Patty since the age of five, was laid to rest in a small cemetery on Sand Island. They had no body to bury, of course, so they had filled a small wooden box with some of her things and buried that. Errol sat next to her grave a year later and tried to recall the days between when she had died to when they had all gathered to fill the box and say their goodbyes. A lot had happened between Patty's sacrifice and the day they finally returned to Midway. Errol had trouble remembering it all. He remembered Jimmy being the first one back on his feet after the explosion, running to the truck despite what turned out to be a broken ankle, and finishing his hasty repairs. There had been a tense minute of piling into the truck and peeling out of the lot, the dead already starting to return to their feet. Then there was a ride back to the beach that was so uneventful, it seemed stranger than the ordeal they had just endured. He remembered Anne telling them some story about fighting off zombies that killed the radio, her hands shaking the entire time. Reg explaining why he had needed two torpedoes to sink the rogue submarine. Things only really started to clear up again with an image of Jones, the last to put something in Patty's makeshift coffin: a big flashlight that Errol had never seen before.
A hand dropped gently to Errol's shoulder, calling him back to the present. He looked around and up at his wife, Renee, her belly just beginning to swell with their first child. “Come eat,” she said. Errol nodded and got to his feet, brushing off the grass before taking another look at the markers on the ground. There were two of them side by side. The one on the left said “Pablo Elirez” and the one on the right said “Patty Elirez.”
A large bedsheet was spread on the grass outside the graveyard. Jones and Barbara were kneeling on one edge, trying to get their daughter, Patty, to eat bits of carrot. To their right, Reg lay on his back with his eyes closed and one hand stroking the back of his newborn son. Raleigh Stoneham was firmly attached to his mother's breast, and she beamed down at him. Errol smiled at her as he dropped down next to the sheet, then reached for a sandwich. Just before he took a bite, a breeze kicked up from the east. He turned his face to the wind. Though he couldn't see it, he was very aware that he was also turned toward the west coast of North America, where millions of corpses that had once wandered aimlessly on her shores were now slowly turning to mush. Some day, he thought. Some day we'll go home.