by Russ Watts
“My Peter tried the guitar for a while,” said Erik as they walked across to the storm drain. “Freaking useless. I had high hopes he would be the next Springsteen. Turns out he wasn’t. Not even close. He has many talents, but music is not one of them. Takes after his father, I guess.”
“You don’t like music?” asked Mara. They reached the edge of the garden, and she bent down to pick at some weeds.
“Sure, I do. More your old school rock like Springsteen or Hendrix. I didn’t get much time for it with the day job anyway. Work and kids soon put paid to any free time I had. I think the last CD I bought was some fluffy pop stuff for Freya.”
“A CD? What, had they sold out of old 45’s? Erik, I doubt Freya even knows what a CD is. Nobody buys music anymore,” said Jonas.
“Nobody buys much of anything anymore,” said Erik wistfully.
“What did you used to do?” Mara asked Erik. She looked him up and down. “Laborer? Something like that?”
“He was a cop,” said Jonas. “A damn good one at that too.”
“Oh, right,” said Mara bluntly.
Jonas thought he picked up on something in her tone, something that suggested she wasn’t too comfortable around a cop, but he dismissed it. Most people felt nervous around a cop, even if they had nothing to hide. Quinn had been like that, too, at first.
Mara cleared her throat. “That’s the tool shed over there,” she said, pointing to a large brown building. It had a door at either end with heavy looking padlocks and dirty, dark windows. “It’s full of crap. There are a lot of hand tools, some gardening equipment, and a couple of ride-on lawnmowers. We used them to keep the course in shape, but we don’t tend to bother much anymore. It’s just a waste of gas, and there doesn’t seem much point really.”
“What’s that?” asked Jonas pointing to a smaller shed. It was painted a lurid white color, with ivy growing up the walls and clinging to the tin roof.
“Nothing of use, unless you plan on televising the end of the world. The media crew stored their gear in it. You can see the top of the TV tower from here. Gabe goes up there sometimes to look around, make sure the dead aren’t getting too close. You can smell them sometimes. It’s the smell of death. It just comes over the fence, and you know they’re there. You can’t see them, but they’re there. They’re always there.” Mara shuddered. “Look, you’re welcome to have a walk around the course, but I should go find Gabe. We have a lot to sort out today.”
“For sure,” said Erik. “We’ll take a look around and come help you later.”
Mara nodded and smiled, but Jonas felt as if it wasn’t sincere. Perhaps her encounter with the two drifters a couple of days back had her on edge, wary of strangers. It was understandable.
“I’m going to take a shower, Hamsikker. I’ll see you later.” Mara looked at Jonas as she left. He wasn’t certain, but she definitely hadn’t been comfortable since finding out Erik was a cop.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say she has the hots for you,” said Erik.
“That your expert opinion?”
Erik shrugged. “Just thought I picked up on something. Something feels a little different about her. I don’t know.”
“They seem fine, but we just have to be careful. They must be nervous having a bunch of strangers crashing their private party.”
“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten they took our weapons too. I’ll have a word with Gabe about that later. I’d feel a lot better if I knew where they were,” said Erik. “Just in case.”
Both of them started walking toward the TV tower, away from the clubhouse. Jonas was contemplating climbing it and taking a look over the fence. Would it make him feel any better knowing the dead were gathered there instead of just thinking they were? He decided it could wait. There was a lot to plan, and he needed to go and talk to Dakota. As they walked, Erik began humming a tune.
“What is that?” asked Jonas. “That song you’re so badly humming. I think I know it.”
“Oh, just a little something by the Boss. I took Pippa to see him last year. Man, he rocked.” Erik smiled and continued humming.
“Wonder what he’s up to now,” mused Jonas. “You think he’s a bad-ass zombie killer or six feet under?”
“Ain’t no question, Hamsikker. Springsteen is out there somewhere kicking some mother-fucking zombies back to mother-fucking hell.”
Jonas laughed, and Erik joined in.
“Shit, I remember listening to Springsteen when we were back in high school. He has longevity, I’ll give him that.”
Erik nodded as their laughter died down. “What about Slash?”
“You need to ask? Please,” said Jonas. “Zombie-killer all day long.”
Erik clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue while he thought. “Okay, I’ll go with that. How about the piano-man?”
“Billy? He’s toast.” Jonas raised his hands in the air and shrugged. “Don’t blame me, I didn’t waste him.”
“The Dixies?” asked Erik. “Those country chicks know how to handle themselves.”
“Dead.”
“Taylor?”
“Deader.”
“Kenny?”
“Even deader. Don’t you watch the news, Erik? He went before this whole thing started. Shit, he’s probably back shuffling around looking for Dolly so he can take a nasty chunk out of her neck.”
Jonas clacked his teeth together and stretched his arms out, mimicking taking a bite out of something. “I can see it now, his eyes all glazed over and his tongue hanging out while Dolly bats him away, still trying to apply some lipstick before he severs her jugular vein.”
“Ha.” Erik laughed. “I guess the gambler lost in the end. What about all those action heroes? Remember those films we used to love? You ever think what they might be doing now?”
Jonas drew in a breath. “Well, Arnold and Sly undoubtedly are dead. I mean, come on, what are they going to do, defend themselves with their pensions?”
“Oh, tough call,” said Erik. “You know, I like to think John McClane is out there, picking off the bad guys, still kicking butt for us.”
“You know who is still kicking butt?” asked Jonas.
“Who?”
“Bruce. He’s fought off an army of the dead already. This is a walk in the park for him.”
“Bruce is indestructible, I’ll give you that. So who would win in a fight? Ash or McClane?”
“Seriously?” Jonas rubbed his jaw. “No. There’s no way they would fight each other. More likely they would join forces. Imagine that, the two of them side by side armed with a chainsaw and a magnum.”
“Yippee-kay-ay,” said Erik.
The two men laughed some more, and Jonas noticed the air was cooling as they talked. At one point Pippa came out to check on them, saying that Peter and Freya were having a wash, and she suggested Erik do the same. He shooed her back inside, promising that he was fine, and that they would wash later. It seemed like they finally had a chance to relax. Back when they were hiding in Erik’s place, there was no time for idle chatter or friendly reminiscing. It had been about survival back then. Jonas knew their future was uncertain, that this peace probably wouldn’t last forever, but he wanted to enjoy it while he could. For all their talk, they never covered anything serious, and Jonas knew he was going to have to bring it up. There was one thing eating away at him, and the sky was threatening rain. If he didn’t speak honestly with Erik now, he might not get time later. They reached a bunker, and Jonas sat down on the grass, inviting Erik to join him.
“So what is it? You’re about as hard to read as Freya’s pop-up books. I can tell you’ve something on your mind, so get on with it.”
“You’re too smart to be a cop, you know that?” Jonas sighed. “I just don’t know. It’s hard to decide what’s right and wrong anymore. I thought life was simple, but now…I’ve killed people Erik.
“We all have, Hamsikker.”
“No, not like you mean.”
Erik fr
owned.
“Back in Jeffersontown,” explained Jonas. “At the garage, when we were ambushed. Anna, Mary, and James were killed by the zombies, but Cliff…”
“What about him?”
Jonas looked down. He had to get it out, but he didn’t want to see Erik’s face when he told him. As much as he felt guilty for killing Cliff, he felt just as ashamed for letting his friend down. He didn’t want Erik to hate him or think less of him, but Jonas hated himself for what he’d done. He had to let it go, otherwise it would just eat him up.
“I killed him,” said Jonas. As soon as the words were out of his head he couldn’t stop, and the rest came rushing out in a torrent of relief. “I was so mad. I was so fucking mad at him for setting us up like that. All I could feel was this anger building up inside of me. Then I saw his smug face as he stood over Mary’s body. He wasn’t sorry for what he did, not one bit. So, I beat him. I beat on him until Tyler pulled me off. I wanted to beat Cliff’s face in until he was broken. When his face was smashed in, I took Tyler’s gun, and I was going to put a bullet in his brain. I thought I’d better save the bullets though, so I took my axe and…
“Jesus Christ, I killed him, Erik. I mean he was messed up, but he could’ve lived. He could be with us now. What’s been going on since then, well, it screwed me up. That wasn’t me. My head was all over the place. You know that, right? At the garage, the things I saw, what happened there, just…”
Jonas remembered his father’s body and how it had climbed out of the casket at the funeral. His father had been put down, too, except he was already dead. There was a difference. There was a big difference between taking down a zombie, and killing a man in cold-blood. Jonas wasn’t sure he would ever forget it. Somehow he had to forgive himself, though. He had to find a way to move on.
“Get over it, Hamsikker,” said Erik plainly. He drew in a deep breath before continuing. “Cliff was a liability from day one. You had to make the call, I understand that. I don’t know if I would’ve done what you did, but you did it, and I’m in no place to pass judgment on you. Only He can do that, and He’ll wait until he’s good and ready. I for one am pleased you’re around.”
“That’s it?” asked Jonas, unsure if Erik was just waiting to argue, waiting to pull him up and castigate him for cold-blooded murder. “I’m not proud of what I did, you know. I still see Cliff in my dreams. I can picture myself kneeling over him, pounding my fists into his face over and over and over. I see his eyes closing and his nose breaking. I can feel his teeth rattling in his head, and the feel of his skull as it smacked back against the concrete.”
There were so many things Jonas wished he could change, but he couldn’t. He wished he had bought the velvet-lined coffin for his father. He was starting to realize that, starting to accept that he couldn’t control everything. After Cliff had died, he had wanted to take charge of everything. He’d lost his mind for a while there, and now that he was back he was determined not to mess up again. The only way he could start afresh was to be honest, with not just the others, but himself too.
“I don’t think I could do that again,” said Jonas. “Killing a man is easy in that second right before you pull the trigger. It’s the easiest thing in the world, but afterwards? There’s no law now. There’s no clear path anymore. What is justice these days? Without Dakota, I…”
Erik pulled a slim piece of licorice out of his pocket and examined it. “This is my last one. I was trying to save it, but seems like I may as well light it up now.” He tugged at the end and plucked a piece off. As he chewed on it, he offered a piece to Jonas.
“No, thanks.”
“Right and wrong? That’ll depend on who you ask. Pippa and I chose a path a few years back. We follow Him and are thankful that we have Him to guide us. We have our prayers, our children, and that is all. I can’t say if you should do the same, that’s up to you, man, but it works for us. As for Cliff – forget about it. I don’t see the need to spill any tears over him, and I sure don’t see the need to tell anyone else about this. We’ve all seen and done some crazy shit. I’d never let anyone get in the way of getting my family to safety, and I know you’re the same, Hamsikker. If you hadn’t stopped Cliff who’s to say where it would’ve ended? With him getting more of us killed, probably. What’s done is done.”
Jonas leant back and looked out at the golf course illuminated by the dim light. It was serene and quiet, a world away from what lay beyond the fences. “I could do with a cigarette.”
Erik laughed. What started out as a chuckle developed into a full-blown belly laugh. Jonas watched on, bemused, as Erik finally regained control of himself.
“I tried going cold turkey a few years back. It didn’t go so well. I was a pain in the ass, and I was horrible to Pippa, just horrible. I hated myself, but we got through it.”
Jonas looked at Erik as he took a bite of licorice.
“It tastes like ripe tar on a hot day,” said Erik grimacing. “It’s foul, absolutely no doubt about it, foul.”
“Didn’t you develop a taste for it?” asked Jonas.
“Are you kidding, Hamsikker? I’d rather chew on Cliff’s bloody bones right now, but it’s all I got. I don’t miss the cigarettes anymore, and I ain’t going back. I’ll be pleased when this last one is finished. Then I’m clean.”
“You’re certifiable, Lansky.” Jonas remembered how he had left his father, and his mind presented an image of his father spread out on the stone floor with his brains splattered everywhere. Jonas and Dakota had run out of the church listening to Mrs. Danick shooting the place up. If Erik hadn’t stopped then to pick them up, where would they be now? A long time dead, probably. He owed Erik. They had saved each other countless times since then, but he would never forget that. Erik could’ve driven away. He had his own family to take care of, but he had still stopped to make sure Jonas and Dakota were okay.
“I’m certifiable?” Erik sighed and shivered. “You’re in a fit of rage, about to kill a man, and you stop to save the bullets? I don’t know how you’re wired, Hamsikker, but I can only assume Dakota keeps you grounded, or you’d be floating around in space by now.”
“You want to go back inside?” asked Jonas. “It’s going to get cold soon. You feel it? I think there might be a storm coming.”
Jonas could feel the last rays of sunlight trickling through the trees surrounding the golf course. More and more clouds were appearing overhead, and the temperature was dropping quickly. It could barely be mid-morning, but it was as if the evening was drawing in.
“No, let’s stay a while and just sit. We’ll go if it starts raining.” Erik sucked quietly on his last piece of licorice. “I want to enjoy the peace and quiet for a bit.”
Pippa, Peter, and Freya were tucked up safely inside. It had been a long time since Erik could leave them alone and relax, and Jonas knew that. He felt it too. This place was a haven, and they needed it. The zombies were securely locked out behind strong fences, and everyone inside the clubhouse was pulling in the same direction. It seemed the corner had been turned, and they could actually relax. Jeffersontown could burn to the ground for all he cared. All that mattered was that they kept their heads down. He could go with Gabe to Canada, bring back Janey, and leave the killing behind him. Erik would find out soon enough that Jonas was planning a trip back outside, and there was no reason to break the peaceful atmosphere yet. The nightmare was over. He’d talk to Erik later.
Barely half an hour had passed before the first raindrops splattered down, and quickly Jonas and Erik were running back to the clubhouse, laughing like schoolboys. The wind swept the rain into their faces and drenched their clothes.
“Now that’s what I call a proper Bluegrass storm,” said Erik as they made their way inside. He shook his thick shaggy hair, scattering water over the hallway.
“Guess there’s no need for that shower now,” said Jonas as they made their way to the bedrooms upstairs. There was no heating, so he wanted to get out of his wet clothes and check
on Dakota. They raided the gift shop and found a heap of polo shirts, jeans, and even Saint Paul’s branded underwear to change into.
“Good, you’re back.” Quinn met Jonas and Erik on the staircase. “We need to talk.” She followed them into Jonas’s room and waited as he changed.
“How was it? You check the fence?” asked Erik.
“Yeah, yeah it’s fine,” said Quinn. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea leaving that TV tower up, it’s a hazard if you ask me. Looks like a strong wind could take it down. I’d also recommend we clean up the body that’s still out there. We don’t want anyone getting sick. Look, I can take you round later, but right now, Erik, I think you need to have a word with Peter.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“Nothing really, but that’s not how Gabe sees it.” Quinn pulled out a chair and sat down. “Pippa let Peter take Freya for a shower.”
“Yeah, I know, Pippa told me.”
“Well he probably should learn to knock first. He walked in on Mara.”
Jonas caught Erik’s eye and couldn’t help but laugh.
“Can it, Hamsikker,” said Quinn. “Gabe wasn’t too pleased about it.”
Erik began to laugh too. “Look, it was an accident, right? So, no harm done. I’m sure Peter didn’t mean anything by it. I’ll talk to him, make sure he apologizes. Anything else we missed?”
Quinn shifted in her seat nervously. “Well…”
“Well what?” Jonas dried his hair on a blanket. He wasn’t feeling too concerned about the shower incident. Peter had copped an eyeful, and Mara was good-looking, so good for him. It was a lot of fuss over nothing.
“Terry and Mrs. Danick have been checking the place out. Mrs. Danick was looking at the pictures on the walls, reading about the golf club’s history and stuff.”
“Great,” said Erik. “Think we can go to my room now? I need to get changed.”
“Hold on. You need to hear this. She said she couldn’t find a single photo of Gabe anywhere. You’ve seen this place. They must have a hundred photos on the walls, and yet he’s not in any. Mara neither.”
