by C. M. Wright
Jake decides to keep his mouth shut and look for Will like I told him to. As we near the small town, desperation settles like a rock in my stomach.
"Please God, let Will be here and let us find him," I pray aloud.
Jake snorts and says, "God? Really? If there's a God, why'd he do all this?"
"Are you frikken serious, Jake? God didn't do this. People did this. And God didn't stop it - as I'm sure your next question will be - because He gave us the freedom to make our own choices, to choose our own paths, and to screw up big time if that's what we want to do. He never said He would "stop" or "prevent" bad things from happening because of our own dumb ass choices."
"But He supposedly answers prayers right? Well, you just prayed for Will to be here and that we find him. What does that say about your God if he isn't and we don't?" Jake asks with a big grin and some major cockiness.
"It says God answered my prayers."
Jake gives me a bewildered look. "Do what? What the hell are you talking about?"
"He always answers prayers, Jake. But sometimes He says, "No" and He always has a reason. And sometimes it takes a while to know what that reason is. Then there are times He decides we just don't need to know. "
Jake shakes his head. "Unbelievable. You religious people drive me crazy!"
"Religious? Hardly. I'm a Christian, Jake. There's a difference. But honestly, I don't really give a damn what you think."
"If you're such a Christian, why don't you act all perfect and shit?"
"Because I'm not perfect, only He is. When I'm dead, I'll have to face Him and deal with every single thing I've ever done that I haven't asked forgiveness for. But all the things I have done and asked genuine forgiveness for - and of course, have never intentionally done again - it's all gone, like it never happened. Every bit of it. He won't bring it up and neither will I. And believe me, neither one of us wants to go through all the crap I've done wrong in my life."
I look over at Jake and when I see his cocky arrogant grin, I have to force myself not to smack it off his pretty face. Instead, I decide to let him in on some information about me that just might do it without the need to become physical.
"Before all this zombie bullshit started, I was a Sunday School teacher, Jake."
I slowly produce my own cocky grin as I savor the satisfaction of seeing his eyes bug out, his jaw drop, and the irritating cockiness is replaced by shock. .
He recovers slightly and lets out a short nervous bark of laughter. "Those are probably some seriously screwed up people!" He laughs again, but louder and longer.
Oh, bullshit!
Ok yeah, probably.
"I was a teacher for the little kids, through third grade."
Jake's laughter turns into a loud gasp. "You gotta be freakin' kidding me! Who the hell would want you teaching their kids? Didn't they know you? Were they crazy?"
I look over at Jake and picture his head falling off his shoulders. When my mind fails to make that happen, I give him the finger and turn back to the road.
He bursts out in laughter and my irritation rises as he slaps the dash, stomps his feet on the floorboard, and holds his stomach. His eyes are streaming tears and I really can't figure out what was so hilarious to deserve that kind of reaction. I don't say a word to the damn fool. I don't need to, because when he notices the shiny black gun laying I'm my lap with one hand wrapped around the grip and my finger on the trigger, he quite suddenly stops laughing.
After a few sobering moments of silence, Jake says,"Tell ya what, if your God answers a prayer from someone like me, then I'll take a serious look at the Bible and listen to what you have to say. Until then, forget it. I don't want to hear any more shit about it and I don't want to talk about it."
I nod once in agreement and continue driving, looking for Will. Jake searches for Will on his side without a word. Or at least, I hope he's searching.
A couple minutes later, Jake turns back to me and says, "So I guess this is the big Armageddon thing then, huh?" He rolls his eyes and shakes his head.
Thought you didn't want to talk about it, Jake?
"Actually, no, I can guarantee you it's not. If it were, my parents and my Ma would definitely not be here. This is man-made. People are stupid and do incredibly stupid things sometimes." I look him up and down and say, "I know a few people like that."
"Ha, ha. You're just so freaking hilarious," he says, then furthers his opinion by sticking his tongue out at me! "Alright, here's my prayer - God, if you're really there, then let us find Will in this town, in the next ten minutes. Not eleven minutes, ten." Jake grins at me. "Let's see your God pull this one off."
"You're an idiot, Jake. I have a Bible inside my suitcase that you're more than welcome to use. I'll get it for you just as soon as we find whoever has my truck," I tell him.
Jake laughs his stupid cocky laugh again and says, "In your dreams. He hasn't answered my prayer and he's not going to. I told you the only way I'll read it is if He answers my prayer, and He sure as hell hasn't answered it yet!"
"Hey dumbass, look on top of the bank building."
Jake looks up at the old two-story brick building and smacks his head on the windshield when he jumps in surprise.
"Oh...holy...shit," he says softly and with bulging wide-eyes. He slowly turns his head my way and gulps loudly.
In a quiet tone filled with amazement he says, "I guess I will need that Bible."
Chapter Three
I stop and get out of the truck, balancing on one foot until Jake hands me my crutches. Grabbing my gun, I stick it in the front waistband of my fatigue pants, which have become a little loose.
I pray the gun doesn't fall down inside my pants and then I move toward the building. Jake joins me, and side-by-side we walk toward the bank and my husband.
Actually he walks and I do the whole broken-foot-so-I'm-stuck-using-these-damn-crutches routine.
Will silently watches us until we stop below him on the street.
"Well, isn't this nice? My wife and her lover together again. What the hell are you doing here? Come to tell me everything Sara said and showed me, isn't true? That a damn picture is lying? I'm not an idiot, so don't even try giving me that shit. Just go away and leave me alone; I don't want a damn thing to do with either of you!"
As Jake keeps watch, I call up to my husband, "Will, number one, you are an idiot if you believe that damn picture is real. I know you aren't much into computers - or technology at all for that matter - but pretty much anyone can fake a photo; it's not just the tabloids now. And there are also ways - most of the time - to tell when a photo is a fake. This particular one has some major issues, which you would have seen if you had bothered to take the time to really look at it. Thanks for the opportunity to defend myself, you damn jerk! But I get it. I understand why you would think the worst. The way Jake and I have been acting makes it pretty easy for you to believe someone like Sara - and her supposed "proof" - especially since you were already suspicious of us. But we did not have sex."
Ok, so it was close. Alright, very close. But close isn't actually doing it...right? Besides, everyone thought he was dead! Oh my god, why am I even trying to defend myself to you right now? I don't have time for this shit!
Amazingly, Jake speaks up and also insists that we hadn't had sex - which is great...if he had stopped there. But no, he just can't keep his damn mouth shut, and he damn sure isn't going to waste an opportunity to antagonize Will.
"Of course, it damn sure wasn't from lack of trying on my part. She claims to love you, or some dumb shit like that - not sure why, since your stupid ass keeps running off. But keep your ass up there, I'll be more than happy to take your place. I loved kissing your wife and once you're out of the way, she won't miss you for long. I'll make sure of that."
"You son of a bitch!" Will shouts down.
I swing around and glare at Jake. "Not freaking helping, stupid! I know you're trying to piss him off so he comes down, but...just shut up!" I hiss at him
.
At least, I thought that's what he was doing - but when he raises one eyebrow, grins, and softly says where only he and I can hear, "Is that what I was doing? I'll have to make things clearer next time" - I realize I might have been wrong.
I stare at him, shocked and speechless - though I shouldn't have been. It's Jake, after all. I turn and lift my head back up to Will, taking several seconds to remember what I was going to say.
Oh. Yeah.
"And number two, we most certainly will not be going away and leaving you alone. At least, I won't. You're still my husband, I love you, Will," - I give a quick pointed glare at Jake, who rolls his eyes in response - "and I'm damn sure not going to just walk away or let you go without one hell of a fight. You can run all you want, you can hide like a freakin' child if you want, but I'm coming after you. And I will find you. Yes, I believed you were gone once and left you behind, but that sure as hell won't happen again." I take a breath and look around. "Will, there are thousands of zombies that will be here any minute. If you don't come down, you'll just have to watch as they kill me, because I'm staying right here."
Jake quickly swings his head in my direction and says, "Wha― The hell you are!"
"So what's it going to be, Will? Does Jake really care more about me than you do?" I ignore Jake when he says he does, again only loud enough for me to hear. "I freaking know better so get your ass down here...and hurry the hell up. I can hear them!"
I see Will look behind him in the direction of the highway, and then I hear a loud shout come from the roof. "Son of a bitch!" he shouts again, then looks back down at us.
"Jake, get her back to the truck. Hurry! I'm coming down, honey. Please get in the truck."
Confident he's really coming down, I focus my attention on the sounds of the undead.
I won't lie, I'm scared to death!
I freeze, wasting precious seconds thinking I can't possibly make it in time, instead of actually moving my ass and trying to.
"Canada, get back to the truck...now! It takes you forever to move with those damn crutches and these things are fast, remember?" Jake needlessly reminds me.
I nod and start back to the truck. My body trembles with so much fear that my arms seem too weak to move the crutches. I start off slowly because of that, but when the grunts of the undead grow louder, I find some inner strength fueled by terror. And of course, it's the perfect time to fall when my crutch slips on the edge of the curb.
Down I go.
Typical.
The sound of the crutches slamming on the pavement and my short scream when I fall alerts Jake, who runs over to where I'm struggling to stand back up. He helps me to my feet again, and when I raise my head, my heart jumps into my throat.
"Jake! Run!" I give him a push toward the truck, but he resists.
"Come on, Canada! Get moving, now! That's an order," he shouts at me.
And exactly what does he plan to do if I disobey? Throw me in the brig?
Dumbass!
I'm going as fast as I can but - apparently - it's not fast enough for Jake because he swoops me up in his arms and practically throws me inside the truck. My eyes scan the area around the building for Will, but he's nowhere to be seen!
Damn you, Will!
Come on!
Please!
Just as the zombies turn onto the main street, Will runs out of the narrow opening between the bank and the post office next door. I see him turn his head in the direction of the undead, and he stumbles when he notices that these zombies aren't the slow ones we're all used to. He makes eye contact with me and I throw my door open, screaming at him to get in. I scoot closer to Jake to give Will room to do just that, but it's too late. The zombies are here.
I scream for Will. I scream because a zombie is at the open truck door, desperately grabbing for me. I turn, pressing my back against Jake, and start kicking the awful thing with my cast. His mouth comes down hard and fast on my cast. I see - and hear - a couple of his teeth pop out.
He moves his mouth down my cast, looking for something he can chew on. When he gets almost to the top of my foot, I remember I have toes down there. Bare toes down there! I jerk my leg out of his grasp and fast as lighting, slam the bottom of my foot into his face. He falls back, giving me just enough time to throw by body across the seat and slam the door shut.
My eyes search wildly for Will, and I finally see him at the top of the bank stairs - his sword out and ready. Even the runners can't quite manage to climb the stairs, though not from lack of trying. I whip my body around to Jake, the incredible terror causing me to shake, and my mind flies in a hundred different directions looking for a way to save Will. Jake grabs me and pulls me to him.
"Canada, calm down! We'll get him out of this, I promise."
I start crying like an idiot, the emotions I'm feeling are too much. I can't think of a single thing to help my husband. There are just too many zombies!
Jake crushes me against his chest, then with a palm on both sides of my face, he looks intently into my eyes. "We are going to get him out of there. Do you understand me?" His voice is so sure - so strong - that I believe every word. I nod my head, and the next thing I know, his lips are crushing my own. I jerk away from him, and the terror is now replaced with anger.
"You stupid asshole! What the hell do you think you're doing!" I scream and hit him in the chest.
He grabs my hand before I can hit him again, and grins at me.
That's right. He frikken grinned at me!
"I was getting Canada, my amazing little badass, back."
"You're an insane son of a bi― Oh."
I get it now.
I look back at Will to make sure he's still ok - and hadn't seen the kiss - but he's looking right at us.
Of course he is! Great. Just frikken great. I'll deal with that later, not now.
Jake and I quickly come up with a plan, then Jake moves to the top of the truck and I slide under the wheel. When I hear Jake's fist bang on the roof, I back the truck up, turn the wheels to the right, and jump the curb. I drive across the sidewalk until I get to the stairs, where I then back the truck into the space between the bank and the post office next door.
So what if a few bodies were run over in the process?
Will climbs up onto the railing and hesitates when Jake offers a hand to help him up. I hold my breath and watch as Will chooses not to touch Jake, and climbs up all on his own. I hear some swearing, some grunts, and the thuds of fists meeting flesh. I scream at them to stop being idiots and to get inside...then they can kill each other.
They don't hear me - or don't care - so I have to climb over the seat and stand on one foot to see them through the opening in the roof. Will's on top of Jake with his hands around Jake's neck; Jake is lying on the roof with his own hands squeezing Will's throat. Both of their faces are bright red and both are going to kill each other.
I'm gonna kill them myself, I swear!
I scream at them to stop, but they ignore me. The truck is rocking now from the zombies, and I'm just waiting for the idiotic men on the roof to go rolling off the side. Even though I'm pissed off, I'm also scared. I don't want anything to happen to them, obviously. So I pull myself up unto the roof...somehow. With all that weight from the cast - not to mention my own weight - it takes me awhile. I finally make it up, but I have to lay on the roof for a few seconds to get my breath back.
When I can breathe and move, I turn over and crawl to the guys, and find them both passed out. I shake my head, disgusted with these two full-grown morons. They're both breathing, although a little rough, but they're alive. After the fourth slap Will finally wakes up - and yes, the slaps may have been a little harder than they needed to be, but damn!
When he gets some sense back and realizes he's laying on top of Jake, he flings himself off and sits up a few feet away, rubbing his throat. I glare at him - after making sure he's ok - and turn back to Jake. I slap him only twice - yes, he got it hard too, maybe a little harder - befor
e he wakes up. He reaches for me, but I lean back out of his reach and crawl back to the hole in the roof.
"If you two moronic jackasses are done trying to kill each other, we need to get out of here. There are a whole hell of a lot more coming." Just before I duck my head down, I add, "Unless you'd rather stay up here and continue your nap and cuddle."
I knew that would get them moving, and before I can even get over the seat, they're both inside with me. Jake pushes my butt to help me over the front seat. Of course, that gets them fighting again when Will takes offense to Jake's hands on my ass. This fight doesn't last very long, probably because of the amount of zombies now surrounding the truck, making it rock back and forth even harder, and making one hell of a noise on the windows and body of the truck.
We look around at the zombies as Jake turns the screwdriver and starts the truck. We pull away from the freaky undead and they follow. I give Jake instructions to get to the highway by taking a back way. No matter how fast they are, the zombies still on the highway - which I'm sure most of them are - won't make it that far fast enough to beat us as we cross the highway to the town on the other side. Beyond that town, we can find and meet up with the others.
I pull out the picture Sara had made which has caused so many problems. At first, Will refuses to look at the photo.
"Put that damn thing away. Seeing it once was enough for me. Are you wanting me to get the hell back out of this truck?"
I sigh and say, "Will, stop being a stubborn ass! Just look at the damn thing. It's not us! Look at my head."
He finally does and sees the problem.
"Oh my God," he mumbles as he runs a hand down his face. "I'm so sorry. But I― I thought―" he struggles for the words.
"I know what you thought, and I know why you thought it. It's ok, Will. But don't do this again without at least giving me a chance to explain," I order him.
He embraces me and holds on tight, promising me he will. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him deeply. He continues apologizing to me.
