by P. J. Post
Cam looks at Holly Hawk’s missing arm. He’s very careful not to look at her fucked up cheek. She’s lost her bandages. The scar is still ugly and red, running from her mouth nearly to her ear, but it won’t be so bad once she’s healed.
“What happened?” he asks.
“Bit.”
He nods, immediately understanding the ordeal she’s been through. “What’s your name?”
“Hawk.”
“A paladin in the making?”
It’s like a director shouting action, her tough side shows up; she folds her arms across her chest the best she can, her eyes narrow and the badass emerges. “I’m already made, thanks.”
“I like you,” Cam says, and Holly’s tough side melts into blushing grins again.
“And who are you, Piggy?” he asks.
“Casey. I’m going to be a paladin too. What’s a pala-din?”
Cam smiles at her. “Good guys, they kill zombies.”
“Is that the same as Button Eyes?” she asks.
“Is that what you call them?” he asks.
“We have some catching up to do. The end of the world got pretty fucking cinematic over the last week or so,” I say.
“It did indeed. Here.” He hands me a plain white undershirt and a thick River Something Yacht Club sweatshirt.
“Holly, help everyone get new clothes, not too big. Get more packs if you can find them, but don’t go downstairs. Check for shoes too, anything we can use. This place is still fresh. Find me and Jem coats.”
She grins at Cam one last time and then she’s off, getting Casey and Jem to help her open and look in boxes.
Samantha pats me on the back. “All good.”
She pulls my Ray Bans off.
Cam pauses, the knee-jerk reach for his pistol barely noticeable.
I pull on the clothes Cam found, and replace the sunglasses before grabbing a bottle of water and draining it. I drop my cigarette butt in, seal it up and toss the bottle into the rubble.
Samantha kisses the top of my head and then leans against my back, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.
“So who’s Daft Punk?” Cam asks, pointing to Larry and Shinji standing in the hall behind me.
Last I saw they were trying to act tough, menacing even.
“Just waiting to get loose from Lane, the fucking asshole,” Shinji says.
“Asshole? Not a fan? Dude, heads up, he’s not a fan. Wait, Lane? The Ghost has a name?”
“Fuck off,” I say.
Samantha laughs.
I can imagine Shinji getting more and more pissed as his insult goes ignored.
“Lane, a manly name, aye,” Cam says.
“Well, aren’t you a regular Chuckles McChuckles these days,” I say.
“Hey, life’s short, like really short, just look at this squirt,” he says and grabs up Emily again, who yelps in surprise before falling into another fit of giggles.
I missed Cam.
Teddy’s head falls out of her pocket and Cam stops. “Whoa, is this Teddy?”
“He got blowed up,” she says.
“I think…hang on…”
He reaches into his pack and rummages around for a minute and then pulls out a shiny brass bullet, a huge-ass bullet, maybe six inches long, and it’s got one of those quick release key chains fastened to it. “Give me Teddy.”
He takes the chain and releases one end and then shoves the bullet up through Teddy’s neck until it pops out between his ears.
“Cam! Don’t hurt him!” Emily shouts, her face suddenly wounded as she reaches out for Teddy.
“Do you trust me?” Cam asks her.
She nods.
“Then trust me,” he says, and works the top of the bullet far enough out to reattached the chain and then pushes the bullet back inside so that just the chain in sticking out. “The bullet is like an anchor, um…like a nail, fastening Teddy to the chain.” He wraps the chain tight, removing most of the slack and then shows Emily how to work the clip before attaching it to her belt. “See?”
Teddy bounces off her thigh.
“Now you won’t ever lose him.”
Emily’s eyes get glassy. “I’m sorry, Cam. Thank you, so much. Hey, Pixie Girls, look, Teddy got nailed.”
Me and Cam and Samantha try not to giggle.
“Cool idea,” I say. “And thanks for not blowing my head off a minute ago.”
“I have my moments,” he says, and winks at us.
Samantha slips over to Cam and hugs him. “Yes, you do.”
§§§§§
“I don’t like crowds,” I say.
We’re standing on a shadowed third-floor balcony with carpet that looks like oriental rugs, and walls draped in French Quarter wallpaper. Intricately forged iron columns and carved railings overlook what must have once been an indoor mall slash boardwalk slash food court, all white and blue and silver and clean. Based on the number of Button Eyes lining the windows, I guess it’s still a food court.
Thousands of refugees are milling about under the massive, snow-covered skylights, more are sitting along the tables and boxes that have been piled up against the windows, either for protection or to block out the unpleasant sights, I can’t tell which.
A veneer of tension, like the frost on the Bower Girl that morning pervades everything here. All they need is a match.
I really don’t like crowds.
Crayton soldiers stand guard at the exits and at the front of the food counters below us. I can see the signs promising low-calorie yogurt, pizza and assorted fried shit. Maybe they still have supplies in the back.
The room is divided into the hopeful, the good townspeople of Freemont, dressed as if this was a school or business outing that ran out of chairs, and the beaten down — everyone else. I even recognize a few of the caravan refugees…
It hits me like a sucker punch, but I don’t know what I was thinking…wasn’t this always waiting for me at the end of the road. But it’s still confusing, it hurts and I miss her already.
Christ, it hurts.
It’s Jem’s mother, and some of the other women from the U-Haul trailer. I don’t see Jess and Jackie.
“What’s wrong?” Samantha asks.
“Momma!” Jem screams.
A hundred women turn their faces to the sky, suddenly hopeful — and just as quickly relive their losses all over again.
Jem’s mom spots her, though, and leaps to her feet, along with the other women from the U-Haul.
She sees me too, the hate is consuming, but she focuses on Jem and that’s all that seems to matter. She raises her hands, as if beckoning her.
“Jasmine!” she cries. “My Jasmine, praise God!”
Jem glances at me with deep sorrow, and then runs for the stairs, Pixie hot on her heels.
“Larry, oh, Larry!” another voice rises from the group.
Larry races after Jem without hesitation.
No one calls for Shinji, but after a nasty look, he shoves his hands in his pockets and heads down the stairs too.
Casey stares up at me, her lips quivering as she fights the tears, and turns her back on the people below. She leans against the balcony and bounces off it, like a bored little kid.
But she’s not bored and that’s on me.
I feel Samantha’s hand on my arm.
“Is that her mommy?” Emily asks.
“Yeah, Punkin’, it is.”
It doesn’t take long for Jem to hit the main floor, fighting her way to her mother, a mom fighting her way to her daughter.
This was what I set out to do, all of those days ago — to find her kids, to find all of their kids. Two is better than none.
Two better.
The other mothers from the U-Haul continue to look up, wounded souls with dirty faces and soured muscles learning to hope anew. But it’s just another cruel joke.
Your kids are still dead.
Tough break.
Fate says to go fuck yourself.
I feel the tears f
orming again.
I’m a basket case.
“Is Jem coming back?” Emily asks.
“We don’t know,” Samantha says softly.
I don’t know what I expected; I guess I didn’t think about it, about this day ever happening. I didn’t even know this day could happen — that I was capable of ever feeling like this about…anyone.
But it’s here now.
I guess they’re not my girls after all, they never were.
Holly Hawk leans her good cheek against my arm and hugs me. “It’ll be better when it stops hurting.”
Observant fucking kid.
I see Cam’s sharpshooters at the far end of the hall.
Cam presses between me and Samantha and throws an arm around me too. “You did a good thing here, Lane. You returned two of the ankle biters to their families. This may be the only time that’s happened since the world ended. You should be proud.”
I’m sure he’s right, but it still hurts like a motherfucker, and I’m not proud, I’m full of…anger, loss, regret, all mixed up in a way that can only be described as evil.
The human heart is an asshole.
I watch her mom hug her and kiss her and Jem hugs her back, all reunited and shit. Momma pushes Jem’s new beanie off and runs her hands through Jem’s long white hair as she examines her face…her eyes?
Fuck me.
“We need to go,” I shout as I race down the stairs.
I hear raised voices turn to screams and then to wails as I skip down the stairs, by the time I get to the main floor a small circle has opened up in the middle of the crowded room.
“Where is my daughter? What have you done with her?” a voice accuses from the far side.
“Momma!” I hear Jem cry, and as I push to the front, I see Jem standing in the middle of the circle, alone, abandoned — her shoulders shaking, heaving with little kid sobs.
“What evil sorcery is this?” her mother screams — her eyes are wild.
She’s fucking nuts.
“What did they do to you, sweetie?” Larry’s mother demands.
Larry whimpers and shakes his head.
The other women are lined up around Momma, terrified and yet still wearing hateful expressions.
It’s all fucked up.
“He did it,” Shinji says, pointing to me.
And as if on cue the buzzing is back, jabbing at my brainstem.
Momma turns and sees me.
“You!” she shrieks.
The other women take a step toward me just as Samantha, Cam and the other kids line up beside me.
A quick glance at them doesn’t help my cause.
Apart from Cam, like Jem, we all have blue-ish eyes now, and all of us, from Samantha’s buzz-cut to Casey’s cute as fuck pigtails, to Holly Hawk’s medusa nest of braids — have silver, going on white, hair.
We’re all armed to the teeth, the Feed store sucked for supplies, so we’re a weird mix of clean and war-torn, some of us bleached and some of us still covered in blood and gore — survived misery. And while the refugees around us look beaten and scared, used up, the Pixie Girls look scary, confident and ready to fuck up anyone that gets in their way.
“Please, Momma, I’m me, it’s me…please,” Jem cries. She’s got her hands on both sides of her head like she’s trying to keep it all inside.
Emily has her .38 out and walks to Jem.
“Sis,” she says as she eyes the crowd.
Jem turns and points at the women. “It’s Momma…she don’t want me.” And then she faces her mother again. “Why?” And then she drops to her knees in agony, her hands over her ears. “Get out of my head!”
The buzzing is getting louder for me…Pixie is walking like a bulldog, plodding around Jem toward her mother, her head is constantly moving, from Jem to me to Momma and back to Jem.
What’s she playing at?
Does she even understand what she’s doing?
Emily kneels down and puts an arm over Jem’s shoulder as Holly and Casey walk into the circle.
I’m hoping they won’t shoot kids…and then I remember that me and Samantha are kids too.
Cam’s crew pushes through to the front. I hope they’re on our side.
“He killed Carlton,” Shinji screams. “And Timmy. I watched him cut Allen’s head off, right in front of us.”
Now Cam’s crew looks uncertain.
Larry joins in. “It’s true, it’s true! I saw it.”
Fucking great.
A detached part of me wonders if I look like someone capable of actually cutting off the head of a teenager. And I know the answer before I even think the question.
Fuck, yeah, I do.
I can see it in the eyes of the crowd as they take an instinctive step back.
“You did this to my Jasmine, you did this. You killed her and replaced her with this…with this abomination.” Momma begins stomping toward her daughter, her fists clenched and shaking. “You can’t be allowed…this won’t be allowed, in the eyes of God this will not be tolerated! Praise Jesus!”
She pulls a knife out of her jacket while the crowd just watches…are they really going to watch this fucked up woman kill a second-grader?
It’s all happening in slow motion, like shit always seems to do for me — I’m working out the angles, who might shoot next, who do I shoot first — how many have to die this time?
I pull out my .45 and take a step forward. “That’s far enough.”
She screeches and breaks into a run as a single gunshot goes off, echoing around the steel and glass enclosure.
The crowd ducks in unison like the fucking wave in a stadium as blood and meat spray into the air.
Momma hits the ceramic tile hard, her fight ending on her back, a pool of blood growing around her head.
“Momma!” Jem wails, and crawls to her side.
She slides to her knees, and raises her hands for a moment, as if deciding what to do. And then she leans over the corpse and rocks her mother’s head, crying so hard it looks painful.
The other women have moved back, fear overcoming their need for vengeance or whatever the fuck this is all about.
Emily follows Jem into the pool of blood, staring at the adults around her, guarding her friend, her sister.
I lower my gun. “Who fired?” I ask Samantha softly in confusion.
“I think, oh my God…I think it was Jem,” she says as she heads further into the circle.
I take my turn behind her, staring every face down with the threat of instant death if they defy me.
Go ahead fuckers, I fucking dare you.
“Kill him! Kill him!” Shinji screams, jumping up and down like a little kid having a temper tantrum.
Some of the other adults, the ones with guns, puff out their chests.
Here we go, I’ve seen this shit before too.
“Kid, just put down the gun,” one of them says to me, motioning for me to drop it like I’m a moron. He looks like a junior high gym teacher.
“Don’t talk, shoot him…shoot!” Shinji has lost his mind.
“Lots of witnesses here, kid,” another adult says to me, this one wearing a designer camo get-up, as he raises his hands and steps in front of the others. “Let’s end this. The army is here, they can handle this.”
I notice that he’s right; Crayton has gotten a little closer, but at the same time, not too close. I’m guessing they could give a shit how many refugees off each other; they’ll just clean up the mess if it needs cleaning when it’s over.
I hope.
Shinji is possessed, screaming and pointing and jumping up and down, he’s full up with hatred, like a poison.
The other adults near him are getting excited too as the whole mob thing begins to take hold, they’re pulling out their guns along with their manhood.
Larry jerks free from his mother. “He gave Patty Ebola...he killed her too.”
Shinji jumps in front of the other men and pulls a small gun I didn’t even know he had, and mo
ves on Jem and Emily.
He raises the gun to Emily’s head.
Why would he…
“See how you like it,” he shrieks.
I’m out of position…the buzzing becomes nearly unbearable again.
I raise my .45, but I’m late…
Emily turns and looks back at me, big blue eyes full of sadness and resignation stare out from her bright little kid face.
And then two shots ring out.
Boom.
Boom.
The men give way as Shinji joins Momma on the tile floor.
Holly Hawk lowers the small gun, pointing it at the floor.
“Did that kid say Ebola?” a voice comes from deep in the crowd.
“Ebola?” another echoes.
“Someone is infected with Ebola? Like that shit from Africa?”
Panic races through the room as the refugees try to get away from anyone they don’t know, which is practically everyone.
No one gives a shit about us anymore except the remaining U-haul moms and the gym teacher.
Cam steps into the circle. “Who’s next?” He’s got his assault rifle leveled at coach.
But I’m not sure anyone is listening to him.
Another gun shot goes off at the far end of the room, and then the circle begins to collapse as the pushing and shoving get serious. More shots echo off the glass walls.
It’s getting out of hand fast.
Jem is as traumatized as I’ve ever seen her. She’s still holding her .38, slamming it into her mother’s stomach, demanding her to be alive, to take her back.
“Get the girls,” I tell Sam, and then I bend over Emily and pull Jem from her mother.
She screams at me, “No! Put me down, Momma!”
This isn’t what I wanted.
This isn’t how I wanted this to go.
But you’re getting what you wanted just the same.
Fuck, I hate myself.
“Come on, Jem,” I say softly.
She continues to scream, hitting and slapping me. Her eyes are murderous, and then they soften. “Lane?” She whispers, and then wraps her arms around my neck, hugging me as tight as she can.
“I’ll never let you go,” I whisper to her.
“Promise?”
“And hope to die.”
I pick her up and head for the stairs, while Cam guards our rear.
Samantha has the other girls. They’re all upset. I need to talk to Holly Hawk; Shinji was her I-can’t-live-without-him boyfriend all the way back to yesterday. And she just killed the fuck out of him.
