by Boye, Kody
“This is where we’ll run into trouble,” Steve said.
“How come?”
“There’s blood on the door. See?”
The rusty smear needed little explanation, much less to be pointed out. “You think whoever did that is still here?” Dakota asked.
“Yep. Probably in the shed,” Steve nodded. “There’s fingerprints on the edge.”
“What do we do then?”
“It wouldn’t be locked from the inside…unless someone rigged it up, but I highly doubt that.”
“Why?”
“If something were chasing him, you’d think there’d be more blood on the door.”
“Unless the blood on the zombies was dry.”
Steve reached up to scratch the stubble on his chin before grabbing the door handle. “Ready?”
“Whenever you are,” Dakota said, raising his gun.
The door opened.
A wave of sawdust pooled out.
“Fuck,” Steve gasped, waving the air before him in a fit of coughs. “I didn’t—”
He stopped. Something moved inside the shed.
Dakota kicked his foot out toward the door just in time to trap the corpse between the shed and its door.
“Motherfucker!” Steve gasped, driving the butt of his pistol onto its head. He hit the creature again, slammed his foot into the base of its spine, then lowered his gun to its head, preparing to fire before Dakota lashed out and grabbed his hand.
“Don’t!”
“Dakota!”
“If there’s more, they’ll hear us.”
Nodding, Steve slid his revolver into its holster and gestured Dakota forward, applying extra weight to the corpse’s back in order to keep it from moving. Though decayed nearly to the point of being skin over bones, Steve obviously knew better than to relinquish his hold on it, as it continued to flail and hiss beneath him.
Dakota took a shovel from the corner of the shed and passed it to his friend.
“Batter up,” Steve said.
He drove the blade into the creature’s neck.
“You said you got it?” Erik asked over the CB.
“We’ve got it,” Steve said, glancing up at Dakota. “We had to deal with a corpse, but we got her taken care of.”
“Is the street clear?”
“It’s clear.”
“Good. I’ll send Ian up in the truck to help you load it up. Can you take the hinges out from there?”
“There’s no ladder.”
“I’ll have him load that up too. Hold tight. Over and out.”
“Guess that solves our problem,” Steve said, handing the radio over to Dakota.
“I’m just glad I kicked the door in time.”
“I shouldn’t have let my guard down. Stupid mistake on my part.”
“It could’ve gotten you killed.”
“I know. Which was why I said it was stupid.”
Dakota stepped forward, pressed a hand to Steve’s arm, then leaned into the shed, clucking at the lack of useful equipment inside. “Pretty shitty storage shed if you ask me.”
“What’s in there?”
“Nothing, really. Grain, hose, tools…probably nothing we could use.”
“We can always come back if we need it. Jamie’ll probably want it anyway. Always good to have extra stuff on hand, even if you don’t think you’ll need it.”
“You’ve got a point there.”
“Don’t I always?”
Dakota slapped Steve’s arm when he received a stupid grin in response. Down the road, the truck started up, slid out from between the gap in the wall, then started toward them, its progress slow and with hardly any sound. “At least Ian knows how to keep the truck quiet.”
“You’d think people would be smart enough not to make noise.”
“Good old machismo,” Dakota snorted, at which Steve chuckled.
They leaned back against the shed and waited for Ian to make his way up the road.
“Knock knock,” Jamie said.
“Go away,” Erik grumbled.
“You’re in my room, you know?”
“Fuck you.”
“What if I need to get something?”
“Get it later.”
“Let me in, Erik.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll kick the door down.”
With a flurry of swears, the bedsprings creaked and the chain on the door clicked and slid out of place. Shortly thereafter, the door opened, revealing Erik in all his pissed-off glory. “Hurry up.”
“Why are you in such a bad mood?” Jamie asked, pushing into the room without waiting for Erik to move.
“Maybe because you’re treating me like a kid. You ever think of that?”
“You’re sick, Erik. This is the first time you’ve been out of bed the whole week.”
“And now you’re treating me like a dick. Thanks, Jamie, it’s much appreciated.”
“Erik,” Jamie sighed. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t what? Argue? Fight? Act like an asshole?”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t, but you were thinking it. I can tell.”
“And how is that?”
“Because every time you talk to me like this, it’s because I’m—”
“Being an asshole?”
Erik’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak. Jamie smirked at his friend’s lack of a comeback. “Look,” he said, crossing the short distance to the desk, “I’m just worried about you. You haven’t had problems with your headaches since Iraq.”
“That was stress, Jamie.”
“And this isn’t?”
“I…” Erik shook his head. “It’s not the same thing.”
“What’s going on, Erik? There’s more to the story than you’re letting on.”
“No there isn’t.”
“Yes there is. I can tell. You never have a short fuse.”
“Says who?”
“Says the guy who’s been your best friend for the past fifteen years.”
Again, Erik chose not to reply. Instead, he settled down on the bed, closed his eyes and dropped his face into his hands, kneading the globes of bone on the sides of his head with his thumbs.
Come on, Jamie thought. Don’t do this to me.
“You can tell me if something’s wrong, Erik.”
“I know.”
“What reason do you have to keep things from me?”
“Because I’m losing my head, Jamie. I’m not sure how much more I can take.”
Jamie slid his fingers around his father’s portrait. Thumb gracing the corner of the frame, he looked over at Erik just in time to see a tear slip between his friend’s fingers.
“I don’t want to lose it again,” Erik said. “Iraq was bad enough. That dark room, that cell…God, Jamie, I don’t think I can take it.”
“You’re not gonna lose it,” Jamie said, crossing the room just in time for Erik to burst into tears. “It’s ok, Erik.”
“No it isn’t!”
“Yes it is. Erik, listen to me,” Jamie grabbed his friend’s face and tilted his eyes up. “See? It’s ok. Nothing wrong. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
“I failed one little test and they put in a black room.”
“You were stressed, just like you are now, and they were working you to the bone by expecting you to perform miracles.”
“All those little kids, Jamie. That bomb…”
“Don’t think about it right now. You did all you could.”
Erik managed a shake of his head, but didn’t even bother to fight as Jamie pushed him back onto the bed. “I know. I did.”
“You did.” Jamie clasped his friend’s shoulder. “Get some rest, buddy.”
Taking a few steps back, Jamie waited for Erik to respond, to crack a joke or hurl a friendly insult.
When he didn’t, Jamie sighed and closed the door.
This wasn’t just a temporary thing. That he already knew.
“Motherfucker,” Ian breathed, bracing himself on top of the ladder as he reached up to wrap his other hand around the screwdriver. “This thing won’t fuckin’ budge!”
“Try it again,” Steve said.
“I’ve been tryin’, Steve.”
“Then let me do it.”
“You fuckin’ kiddin’?” Ian howled. “If I can’t do it, you think you can?”
“Maybe you’ll have loosened it enough for me.”
“Wait! I…I got it!”
“What!”
“I got it!” Ian cried, tearing the screw out of place and nearly flinging himself from the ladder in the process. He lashed out with his free hand to steady himself on the shed’s gate while the ladder finished shivering below him. “One of you, catch.”
Dakota held his hand out. The screw plopped into his hand almost perfectly.
“Nice catch, Dakota.”
“Thanks,” Dakota said, sliding the object into his pocket. “How many more are in the top one?”
“Just one, but there’s four hinges.”
“This’ll take a while,” Steve said, sliding his hands into his pockets.
“Hey!” Ian laughed. “At least we know I can get these out, right?”
“Unless you kill yourself before you finish,” Dakota chuckled.
“I’ll be fine. Trust me, I’ve worked on a few ladders in my time.”
“It sure looks like it,” Steve chuckled.
Dakota laughed. Ian raised his middle finger before driving the screwdriver into place.
“How is Erik?” Desmond asked.
“Erik is…will be fine,” Jamie said, gesturing Desmond out of the hall and into the living room. “We just talked.”
“I heard you guys fighting and wasn’t sure if I should say anything.”
“When it comes to Erik, you’re better off not saying anything unless absolutely necessary.”
Desmond sighed. “You probably don’t want to hear a sob story after what you’ve just went through.”
“What’s up?”
“It’s nothing important really.”
“The phrase ‘sob story’ and ‘nothing important’ don’t go well together, bud. I thought you already knew that?”
“I guess.” Desmond shrugged.
“Tell me what’s up,” Jamie said, seating himself beside the boy.
“It’s just…I don’t know. I’ve felt a bit useless since we got here.”
“How do you mean?”
“You guys put the wall up, Dakota and Steve went out to get the gate. I shouldn’t be complaining, considering I haven’t had to do any of the hard work, but I don’t feel like I’m contributing enough.”
“To be completely honest, there’s not a whole lot you could’ve done to help with the wall,” Jamie said, leaning back in his seat. “I mean, if we had another ladder, you could’ve helped mix the concrete, but even then that’s usually a one-man job. As to the gate, well, Steve volunteered them to go, what with Erik and all.”
“I know.”
“Tell you what, bud, you’re good at cooking, a hell of a lot better than anyone else probably is around here. Why don’t you make all of us dinner tonight?”
“All of us?”
“All of us, including Kevin and his kids. See if you can make something special, and try not to worry about the supplies. I think we deserve a little break, considering everything we’ve gone through.”
“You sure?”
“Let’s live a little.”
“We’re feeding nine people.”
“I know. We’ll have to go back into town to get supplies. I already know that. For now though, I don’t want to worry about it. We’re already strung out as it is.”
“Erik hasn’t just been dealing with headaches, has he, Jamie?”
“No,” Jamie admitted. “He hasn’t.”
“I heard something while you guys were talking…something about him getting locked up.”
“He had a nervous breakdown while we were in Iraq, but keep it between the two of us. I don’t want Erik to know that I told anyone.”
“I won’t. You know I wouldn’t.”
“I know.” Jamie slung an arm across the boy’s shoulders. “You’re a good kid.”
“I try to be.”
“Considering what’s happened,” Jamie said, “you’re doing one hell of a job.”
“You guys got it,” Jamie said, laughing as Ian eased the truck in through the gap in the wall.
“We sure did,” Dakota said.
“Bitch trying to get it in though,” Steve said, jumping out of the truck.
“Careful!” Ian cried. “I’ll run your fuckin’ foot over if you jump out like that.”
Steve took a few steps back.
Dakota sat still as Ian continued to push the truck into the enclosed space. With the gate balanced against the back of the cab, it was almost impossible to see anything behind them, but somehow Ian managed. With a grunt and a twist of the steering wheel, he applied a bit of pressure onto the accelerator, then stopped directly in front of Jamie’s front porch.
Dakota leaned forward and gripped the man’s shoulder. “Good job,” he said.
“Thanks,” Ian said, reaching up to wipe sweat from his hairline. “For a minute there, I thought I was going to hit something.”
“You did good,” Jamie smiled.
“I appreciate it, boss.”
“Now all we have to do is put it up,” Steve said, hooking his thumb into his waistband. “We doing this now or later?”
“Now would probably be best,” Jamie said.
Taking his cue, Dakota jumped out of the truck and made his way around the back of the vehicle, careful not to bump into the tailgate for fear that the disassembled door would fall on top of him. He cast a glance at Jamie, who simply smiled before he came forward and gripped the side of the gate.
“You want some help?” Dakota asked.
“We’re good for now. Ian, help me get this out.”
“Sure thing,” Ian said, taking the opposite side of the gate.
Once sure they each had a secure grip, Jamie and Ian lifted the gate out of the truck and carried it to the opening. There, they leaned it against the wall, took a few deep breaths, then turned their attention to Dakota, who quickly retrieved the screws from his pocket and set them in Jamie’s hands.
“This won’t take too much longer,” Jamie said, counting the screws and then the number of holes in each hinge. “All we need now is an electric screwdriver.”
“Which is here,” Erik said from the porch. He set the tool down on the railing and looked out at them.
“Hey,” Dakota smiled. “You feeling better?”
“Better,” Erik nodded. “But still not one-hundred-percent. I’m usually not such an asshole.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Steve grinned.
“Besides,” Ian added. “You don’t have to apologize for something you already are.”
Erik flipped him off. Ian laughed and saluted the gesture right back. “It sucks being sick,” Erik said, the hint of a smile appearing on the corner of his lips. “I feel like a dick for having been such a bitch to you guys on the way up here, but there’s not much I can do except apologize.”
“Like Steve said, don’t sweat it.”
“I’m not.” Erik handed the electric screwdriver down to Jamie. “Better hurry up with that gate. Desmond’s making cake and a whole bunch of other shit.”
“Cake?” Dakota asked.
“How the hell’s he making cake without milk and eggs?” Steve laughed.
“The kid’s a magician,” Jamie chuckled. “Didn’t you know?”
“I do now.”
“We better hurry then,” Ian said. “I want some of that cake, whatever the hell it’s made from.”
They cleared the dining room of all its unnecessary contents and added three more chairs. Seating rearrange
d, a china cabinet pushed and arranged into the living room, an American flag removed from its golden poles, but never allowed to touch the ground—it was this process that struck a chord in Dakota’s chest and played Mozart across his heart as he watched Jamie fold the flag into a triangle and place it into its embossed-wood display case. The name Carter Marks briefly winked back at him, but didn’t remain in view as Jamie wrapped his arms around it and pressed it against his chest.
His father’s, he thought, watching his boyfriend leave the room with a sense of guilt in his heart.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have done this here,” Steve sighed.
“He’s ok,” Erik said, gripping Steve’s shoulder. “It’s not easy to take a flag down, especially when it’s for someone you loved.”
“Have you had to do it?” Dakota asked.
“Once. For my uncle. That was different though…he died here, at home. Not at war.”
Dakota pushed the conversation into a different direction by commenting on how large the dining room was and how it would be nice to have everyone sit down for dinner just in time for Jamie to return to the room. While Steve and Erik continued to talk—Erik retelling a story from his and Jamie’s childhood, Steve nodding and commenting as needed—Jamie sought Dakota’s eyes from the threshold and smiled when their gazes met.
“Sorry about that,” Jamie said, drawing all eyes in the room toward him. “I forgot it was in here.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” Ian said.
“We know it’s tough,” Steve said.
“Thanks, guys, I appreciate it.”
“Desmond says dinner’ll be ready in ten,” Ian said, sticking his head into the room. “One of us needs to go get Kevin and his kids.”
“I’ll do it,” Dakota said, stepping toward the threshold. He stopped in midstride to run his hand along Jamie’s arm and lace their fingers together. “You gonna be ok?”
“I’ll be fine,” Jamie said, kissing his hair. “Go get ‘em. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Dakota squeezed Jamie’s hand one last time before heading for the door.
The cold, early-November air snaked along his body and curled around the base of his neck as he made his way across the front lawns and toward the third house. The wall now freshly-raised, the barricade from the outside world in place, Dakota felt peace as first his foot fell onto a stepping stone, then landed on the grass. Like an Olympic runner pulled from the track and placed in the woods, each stepped seemed foreign, strange and alien in a world that shouldn’t seem to exist. It felt odd to feel safe after months of feeling as though his life trembled on trapeze wire.
