by Mark Clodi
Shrugging, Randy mirrored her movement. "I understand. I'm a little tired too."
Katie embraced him, he returned her affection and they both turned back to the spirit bodies on the floor. Examining them Katie said, "I think I can get in on his legs. Can you help out on his head?"
"I love you Kim Tonya Tucker."
"I love you Randal Justin Stevens."
When they latched onto Sentry's form, the yelling of the four people became a torrent of sound.
Stewart's voice rose above that of the others, "…throw this fucking asshole into that goddamn hole!"
"I can make you gods!" Sentry yelled.
"We're already dead, you stupid son of a bitch!" Stewart retorted.
Randy, shouldered Stewart out of the way, breaking her grip. She gave him a baneful stare as she tried to get back into position.
Randy looked her in the eyes and said, "Go."
"I got this. Get out of here." Katie told Max. Aubrey looked on and started to loosen her grip on the thrashing Sentry. "Sorry honey, or should I say mommy?" Katie said in a sickly sweet voice, "This is a three person job. It looks like you get to come with me on this last trip."
"Fucking figures." Aubrey looked on at Max, whom Stewart was trying her best to drag away, "Just go, Max."
Max and Stewart fled.
It was a bright night in Iowa. Bill's wife Tricia was woken to the sounds of young voices talking. 'Those kids! Don't they know its…two a.m.? Good God what are they doing up so late?' Tricia climbed wearily out of bed to investigate what the kids were up to. She checked the bedrooms and with growing alarm realized some of the kids were missing, Nick and Jessica, Max's kids. She was about to wake Claire to help her track down the missing children when the sound of voices caught her ear again through the open window near the back of the house.
Quietly Tricia eased herself passed the dogs, who were alertly watching the back door but strangely silent, and into the back yard. The two kids were standing in the full moonlight, not too far from where Bill and John had put up the solar collector. She moved forward to collect the kids, but at the last second held her tongue and just moved forward into the dark shadow of the house to hear what they were saying.
Both children were crying, not sobbing, but in the moonlight Tricia could see their tear stained faces clearly. Nick was bare-chested and Jessica was in a long, thin night gown, both kids were standing in the field barefoot and sporting the mussed hair that only sleep produces.
"Why dad?" pleaded Nick.
If anyone answered Tricia didn't hear it.
"We don't want you to go!" put in Jessica, imploring the thin air.
"I don't care about that. I don't care about everyone else, I just want you!" Nick said again, punctuating his short speech with a sob at the end.
Tricia still couldn't see anything in the empty field, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of movement. Turning she barely stifled a gasp as she saw, Stewart, that cop who came with Max, standing right next to her. Only she wasn't all there, Tricia could see through the vinyl siding through the other woman's body. Stewart was watching the drama unfold in the field as well.
"You know this isn't a dream." Stewart said offhandedly, "He is really there and I am really here."
Tricia didn't trust herself to talk, fearing that even starting to say anything would result in a scream.
"I thought you were religious? Isn't this covered by the 'holy spirit' clause?"
Tricia shook her head.
"No? How about we are just good old fashioned ghosts? Does that work?" not waiting for an answer, Stewart continued, "We lost our bodies, you could say we died. Tonight. In Florida. We aren't coming back."
"Bill?" Tricia asked, finally finding her voice.
"Last I saw he was fine, the old man was carrying him to safety, but Max and I didn't quite make it out on time." Stewart jerked a thumb in Max's direction, "He wanted to see his kids. I came to see you. We've got to be going after this."
"Wha-why?"
"To let you know we aren't coming back. To let you know your Bill is as much of a hero as we are. To ask you to look after Max's kids and to prove to you that we were really here."
"I–I, well I think I might still think this is a dream."
Stewart leaned in close, "No, you won't. His kids are going to be worked up over this, you'll all be awake for a while, I predict. I told him this would happen, but you know Max."
Tricia laughed a little.
"What?"
"You sounded just like his wife."
"I'm not sure if that makes me feel good or bad."
"Good. It should make you feel good. She was a good woman and had her hands full with him. Just like I do with Bill. Is Bill…is Bill really okay?"
"Yeah, this is about that proof I was talking about. Bill got shot in the stomach in Doctor Sentry's clinic. You know it before it becomes public knowledge. When you hear it, you'll know you weren't dreaming."
"Oh my God! Shot in the stomach!" Tricia's hands rose to her mouth, she felt nauseas.
"He's fine. Tricia, he, well, he's a different man now. How different I can't say, but he'll live through the bullet and I think he'll make it back here, if anyone is bullheaded enough to do it, he is."
"Now you sound like me."
Stewart nodded.
"Max! We should go. I don't think you are making it any better." Stewart called out. The kids didn't turn or acknowledge her in the slightest.
Stewart seemed to listen to a reply that Tricia could not hear and then nodded.
"What did he say?" Tricia asked Stewart.
"He's telling them we have to go, that we did the right thing and sometimes the right thing requires a sacrifice. One day they will understand. He's saying that you are their new mother now and Bill is their new father…" Stewart's voice trailed off.
Tricia watched as both children crawled up into seemingly thin air to be held there embracing something she couldn't see.
"Why can't I see him?"
Stewart shrugged, "Heck if I know. He isn't here for you maybe."
"Then why can I see you?"
"Because I am?" snorted Stewart, "We've got to go Tricia, we won't be back. I feel thin, pulled out and worn, like an old set of shoes. It's all I can do just to be here now."
"Take us with you!" cried Nick in a moment of desperation.
Stewart shook her head and turned away from the scene, "I can't watch this, bad enough that I have to listen to it. Consider yourself lucky that you don't hear Max. Tricia, take care of the kids. I know I don't even have to ask, but I am anyway. You know, I think I could have been your friend."
"Of course! I don't…I, Stewart! What's happening?" Tricia pointed at the children. A white light was forming between them.
Stewart turned back to the scene and yelled out, "Max! What are you doing?"
The light went off like a flash and both kids were dumped on the ground in a crying heap. For a moment Tricia thought she saw Max, a thin pale outline a few steps away from the kids, his arms were held wide towards his children. Stewart rushed to his side and both of them flared briefly before fading from sight. The cries of the kids brought her eyes away from where the figures had disappeared and she rushed to them.
They were a mess, sobbing from the experience with their father and bloody from falling into a thistle patch on the ground when he dumped them.
"Nick, Jessica, c'mon, let's get you inside."
"Our dad was here!" Nick said, sobbing. "And he left. And he wo-wouldn't takes us with him!"
"It's okay Nick. I know. I know everything. You'll be okay. C'mon, let's go in."
— END~
Author's note
Thank you. Really that is all I want to say. More specifically thanks to the supporters who have dedicated countless hours to helping me in all my writing. In no particular order thank you to:
Kirk Allmond, Mike Keleman, Josh Detwiler, Michael Picco, Jessie Masoner, Shabbir Safdar, Anne Clodi, Ricard
o Morales, Cassandra Stryffe, Chris Philbrook, Elina Kelley and all the guys on the 'First Eyes' website.
If you see your name up there and don't know why, well, you may have just given me a bit of encouragement when I was down or made me laugh when I needed it. Or maybe you even provided the name for this latest 'The Zombie Chronicles' book (Kirk). Some of the names are old, some of them are new, but to all of you I owe a debt of gratitude. Thank you. Oh and if you think your name should be up there, drop me a line, that is the wonder of digital copy, I can fix things pretty quickly and will do so if I've overlooked anyone!
For the record I started writing this book on August 7, 2010 and finished on April 25th, 2011. Not too shabby for 8.5 months and 110,700 words. Hopefully you've enjoyed this book; it is the last one that Max and Stewart appear in, but not the last one in the series, not even close.
Mark Clodi
April 26th, 2011
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