He simply smiled and waved me to continue.
“Aren’t you coming?” I asked, suddenly realizing that fear had crept into my voice.
“No, I have to ensure that the troops clean up the mess you made,” he smiled as though he had made a joke between two friends.
I was still unable to not push aside my distrust of Colonel Granger and was considering the distinct possibility that I might be walking into some sort of trap when I caught the sound of Christina’s laugh.
“That’s not how you play, silly,” the little girl squealed.
Instantly, all thoughts of a possible trap vanished. I rushed up the remaining stairs. The handle for the door at the top of the stairs squeaked loudly as I pushed it down and yanked the door open.
I found myself in the main area of the terminal with ticketing counters, boarding gates to the ferries, benches, vending machines full of snacks, and a multitude of shells.
I was immediately surrounded. Even as the undead things, the shells, the zombies ripped into my flesh, I heard a voice.
“That’s not how you play, silly!”
With some difficulty, I managed to twist my head around to see what had once been Christina. She looked much paler and was stuffing something red and stringy into her mouth. When we made eye contact, she dropped whatever she had been holding and lunged at me. I screamed as her teeth sank into my throat.
“I thought you wanted to get back to your family,” the colonel said, trying unsuccessfully to hide his impatience.
I stared blankly at him for a moment before responding, “Yes, of course… Yes, I want to get back to my family.” I stammered. “I was just thinking about them.”
“Well, your daughter certainly seems very proud of you,” he smiled genuinely and I returned the smile. “She told me several times ‘My daddy is the best reporter at the Marin Gizzard and maybe even the whole world.’” He chuckled, but I was no longer paying attention.
The image of Christina saying those words brought a flood of emotion, and I turned and sprang up the stairs. The handle for the door at the top of the stairs squeaked loudly as I pushed it down and yanked the door open.
I found myself in the main area of the terminal with ticketing counters, boarding gates to the ferries, benches, vending machines full of snacks, and a number of people. I looked around frantically for someone I recognized.
I didn’t have to look for long. A few seconds later, Christina ran in from the side and threw her tiny arms as far as they would go around my waist.
“Kevin! How come you’re all wet? Did you go swimming? Anyway, finally you woke up!” Christina giggled as if she had made some joke. “The gen’rule said you were tired and taking a long nap.”
A little boy with dark hair and big dark eyes bumped in behind Christina. “I never heard of a nap that long.”
“Shut up, Mikey,” Christina scolded him. “He was very tired after protecting us and getting us here.”
The boy seemed to shrink as she reprimanded him.
“Oh, Kevin, this is my friend Mikey. Mikey, this is my daddy, Kevin,” Christina introduced us. Mikey returned to size, and I stood tall as well hearing Christina refer to me as her daddy.
“Nice to meet you, Mikey,” I said, extending my hand.
The little boy took a step back and regarded my hand with some suspicion.
“Aren’t you gonna shake?” Christina asked. “Sorry, Kevin, Mikey is a little weird.”
“I am not weird!” The little boy shouted. “You’re weird!”
He lunged forward and grabbed my hand in both of his small but strong hands and shook it vigorously.
“Nice to meet you, Kevin,” Mikey said with more determination than sincerity.
The little scene had caught the attention of the other people in the terminal. Many faces turned toward us. Most of them displayed expressions of concern and curiosity.
Kat rushed out of the crowd to meet me.
She threw her arms around me and surprised me with a strong, passionate kiss. “I have been waiting for you.”
“Don’t look, Mikey,” Christina said, covering the little boy’s eyes.
Taylor walked over in the slow, smooth manner that only teenage boys can master. “How’s it going, Kev?” he asked.
I wondered at the change in Taylor’s attitude but quickly saw the reason as I spotted a pair of teenage girls in the crowd near him.
I stepped forward to embrace him, but his expression showed me that this was not a welcomed gesture. Instead, I extended my fist for a bump and saw relief in Taylor’s eyes as he touched his fist to mine.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Turner,” a tall older man in a well-worn dark blue business suit said, having appeared out of nowhere. “I have certainly heard a great deal about you.”
I shook a cold, bony hand and replied, “And you are?”
“I am Samuel Winestone. Before all of this mess, I was the Commissioner of Transportation for the Marin-San Francisco Joint Projects.” The words were spoken with a pride that had obviously outlived the Marin-San Francisco Joint Projects.
I tried to show suitable respect for his position by nodding with humility.
“Kat tells us you have run across something that may help us get rid of these, uh, these zombies, for lack of a better term,” Winestone continued.
I glanced at Kat to find her smiling proudly and recalled the hesitancy I had earlier regarding letting the general know about the poison. I could only hope that Winestone would prove to be more deserving of my confidence.
“I believe that I may have, but we need to have the means by which to distribute it to a wide area. I suppose that would mean getting it in the hands of the military, but I don’t…” I paused, glancing at the door through which I had just come and trying to find the words to communicate without making me sound completely paranoid.
Fortunately, the old man recognized the reason for my hesitation. “Don’t worry, son. I share your lack of trust in our military companions. However, I do recognize them as a necessary component of a functioning society.” He nodded knowingly and I nodded back.
“Yes, I have to admit I’m a bit wary of turning this over to the General, knowing how the military has a way of utilizing tools as weapons and only in situations which will benefit a chosen few,” I welcomed the chance to speak honestly about my concerns. The speed at which Winestone had won my trust was remarkable.
He smiled knowingly. “Well, your discovery will remain a secret among us until we find a way to use it for the greatest benefit. Now, let’s see what we can do about getting you dried off.”
I got escorted by Winestone and Kat through the crowd. Taylor had returned to the pair of teenage girls, and Christina was off chasing Mikey around the terminal.
The others regarded me with a sort of curious awe. I was not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed. The group of about fifty people in the terminal was made up of a wide range of types. Some looked to be shell shocked by the experience. Others seemed to be taking everything in stride. There were some people who looked to be of Arabic descent who spoke little English. I immediately noticed that they seemed to be shunned by the others
I saw a couple of dirty-looking children who refused to make eye contact. In one corner was a group of about five middle-aged women, looking straight at me and whispering.
I was led to the men’s restroom on the far side of the terminal.
“I apologize that we don’t have much in the way of comforts, but there are sinks and paper towels and a hand dryer inside.” The old man motioned for the others to stop. “Let’s give him some privacy, shall we?”
I glanced behind me to see the others watching. I had never had such a large audience for my entry into the restroom, and the idea caused me to chuckle as I went inside.
The restroom was large and tiled on the floors, walls, and ceiling like a million other restrooms in which I had been. Still, this place was nice in that it gave me the chance to get clea
n and dry and maybe feeling a little bit more normal.
I stripped out of the damp clothes and wrung them out the best I could before draping them over the numerous sinks. I turned on the water and was delighted to be rewarded with hot water.
I scrubbed myself, first with my hands and second with a paper towel and some of the liquid soap from a small metal dispenser on the wall next to the sink. I scrubbed my skin raw but cleaner, and to tell the truth, the sting was enjoyable. I sprayed some more of the soap in my hands and lathered my hair. Finally, I filled the sink with hot water and stuck my head under as far as it would go. My face and head tingled from the heat and the soap. Finally, I squatted under the hand dryer on the wall and got as dry as possible.
I must have been in the restroom for quite some time as Christina yelled over the roar of the dryer. “Are you gonna stay in there all day, silly?”
I pushed the button to silence the dryer and answered, “I’ll be out in a few minutes, silly.”
I listened for a moment to the little girl’s giggle at my answer before going back to drying myself.
Once done, I held the clothes under the hand dryer. They never got completely dry but at least less cold and clammy. I redressed and brushed my hair as well as possible with my hand. My reflection was not exactly the picture of charm, but my appearance must have improved greatly since my initial entry into the terminal.
I walked slowly back into the terminal. Kat was waiting by the door for me.
“You clean up real nice,” she said with a giggle.
Enjoying the sight of the young woman happy once again, I answered, “Well, I do what I can.” I looked around the room at the others who appeared oblivious to my presence. “It sure didn’t take you guys long to fit in here.” I realized my words came out with more of an edge than intended.
Kat’s smile faded into an expression of hurt confusion. “Well, they’re nice people, and there are kids for Taylor and Christina to play with.”
I immediately regretted causing Kat any pain. The expression you always hurt the ones you love popped into my head and caused me to hesitate for just a second before rushing over to hold her. You always hurt the ones you love was still bouncing around my head as I pulled her close and kissed her, first tenderly and then with more passion.
Did I love her? I don’t know. I cared deeply about her and wanted to be near her and keep her safe. I felt happiest when I was with her. I added up all these phrases in my mind and the sum seemed to equal love. I held her as close as possible, but even so something made its way between us. It was the image of Bonnie.
The memory of her flooded my mind, in that underground garage pinned between two cars, cars with which I had killed her. But now she was not dead. She stretched out her torn, bleeding arms, trying to pull me closer so that she could sink her bloody teeth into my flesh. In the next instant, she became Bonnie again, the wife I had loved for many years. She remained pinched between the cars, but it appeared that she didn’t notice.
“Kevin, I’m always going to love you, and I know that you will always love me. But we both know that life does not always work in the ways we want. Sometimes you simply have to keep moving and find new places where happiness can be found. It doesn’t mean you still don’t treasure the past and carry it with you.”
I was instantly out of the garage and back in the ferry terminal with my arms wrapped around Kat.
“I love you,” I whispered into her ear. I suddenly felt afraid of what her reaction would be and started to loosen my embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispered back and pulled me closer.
This was not quite the full-throated endorsement for which I had hoped.
Kat suddenly pushed me back. “What brought that out?”
I smiled at her and tried to come up with some clever reply but only managed to say, “I don’t know. Just wanted to tell you. Is that a bad thing?”
“No, I like it,” Kat said, trying to reassure me. “I guess it kinda took me by surprise.” She smiled and watched my reaction closely.
I didn’t know exactly how to respond. I had been reduced to a preadolescent who had professed his love to his first crush and been rejected.
Kat must have sensed my feelings as she tried to pull me back to her, but the moment had passed, and I backed away.
“Kevin, I don’t—” she started to say, but I cut her off.
“It’s okay. Under the circumstances, I let myself get carried away, and I’m sorry.” I turned and walked quickly to the other side of the terminal, looking for a place to escape the eyes of the others and Kat.
I found my refuge in a small room, not much bigger than a closet and dimly lit. Clearly, it had once been a designated smoking area. Old-style ashtray stands were arranged next to chairs along the walls of the room. I plopped into one of chairs, believing I was alone. A moment later, I saw a man sitting in one of the chairs across from me. He was reading an old, yellowing newspaper. I heard the crinkle of the paper and smelled the print, and it made me a bit nostalgic.
“Any good news in there?” I asked, trying to break the silence which suddenly seemed awkward.
The man did not say anything at first but then lowered the paper to reveal a wrinkled and scarred old black face lit up by a broad smile of teeth so white they seemed to glow. “No, not much good news in here, but that don’t stop me from looking!” He let out a loud, genuine, contagious laugh that seemed to come from deep inside and was impossible to resist. I laughed with him and felt good like the act of laughing scrubbed my insides. That sounds a bit corny, but it’s the best way to describe the sensation.
We laughed together for what seemed like a good long time, before the old man stopped the laughter with a question. “You used to be a reporter, right?” He asked the question in a tone that showed he already knew the answer.
“Yes, I worked at The Marin Gazette.”
He nodded at my answer. “Good enough. Okay, this is The San Francisco Tribune. Do you know what the date on this thing is?”
He looked at me like he expected an answer. I just shrugged, which did not appear to please him.
“It’s from March 30, 2013.” He looked at me for a reaction, but only saw a blank expression. “Considering how things have gone for the world lately that seems like a damn long time ago, ancient history. Way before anyone had any idea about any sort of new kinda cold or any other shit like that.” The old man’s words were quickly being overtaken by his anger. “Still, before any of this damn, rotten business began, there’s no good news in the newspaper. I mean, there must’ve been some good stuff happening, right? Some decent people doing good deeds for others, right?” The old man had now begun shouting. “Where is the good news?” He glared at me, waiting for an answer.
I considered the question and could only say, “Good news doesn’t sell papers. In the newspaper business, there’s a saying that goes if it bleeds, it leads. Good news doesn’t sell newspapers or get television ratings. It’s all a business. It’s all about making money. No one ever picked up a paper with the idea of learning what’s right with the world. It’s all about seeing what terrible things are happening. Things that might be connected to you somehow. But mainly, it’s about seeing what terrible things are happening, so you can be thankful that they’re not happening to you. Some country that you couldn’t find on a map is having a civil war? Oh, glad I don’t live there. Some grocery store got robbed and a clerk died? Lucky I don’t shop there. Some company had to lay off half its workers? Sure wouldn’t want to work for that company. Some kid walking downtown got killed in a random drive-by shooting? Good thing I never go downtown.” My voice had reached the same screaming level as the old man’s. I looked over at him to find him regarding me with clear concern.
“Son, you need to calm down.”
I smiled at his advice.
He gazed at me for a few seconds. “All I was sayin’ is that people focused so much on the negative stuff that nobody noticed the multitude of good
people and good things they did. Instead of enjoyin’ the blessings of the world and the people in it, we wasted all of our time focusing on and elevating the bad stuff.” He paused and looked over at me and shook his head as if suddenly exhausted. “Shit, sometimes I think maybe we deserve everything that’s happened to us.” When he finished speaking, the old man raised the newspaper back up, covering his face.
I wanted nothing more than to run over to the old man, rip that newspaper out of his hands, and shout, “No! Don’t every say that! No one deserves any of the terrible things that have happened. No one deserves to see loved ones be ripped apart. No one deserves to be forced to kill things, zombies that have taken over the bodies of those we loved.”
I wanted to shout that and a lot more, but I did not. I sat there staring at the old newspaper, realizing that I did not want to accept the world as it had become. I could do something about it and would.
It was time to get the rat poison into the hands of those who’d put it to good use and perhaps make things a little better for everyone.
“Fuck you, old man,” I muttered as I left the little smoking room.
Chapter 13
If I could find anything to be thankful about regarding my encounter with the spiteful old man, it would be that it put things in perspective for me. Leaving that smoking room, I was no longer concerned with the bad experience I had had with Kat and professing my feelings. The whole thing seemed rather petty when confronted by the opinion that the world deserved the sort of hell it was now experiencing. I actually laughed about how badly I had reacted. The first thing I wanted to do was talk to Kat and let her know that no matter how she felt about me, it did not change things. With the world going to shit, I could not afford to lose someone who made me happy.
I looked around the terminal but did not see her. There was some sort of commotion with people running to the windows. I heard a loud rumbling sound outside.
The Most Uncommon Cold (Book 5): Surviving Beyond the Zombie Apocalypse Page 15
