“What’s that tell you?” Jeb asked.
“You play rough basketball.”
“No,” Jeb said. “Fuckin’ Manny is a lunatic.”
“Manny?” Robi laughed in ridicule. “Why are you blaming this on Manny now?
“The one without the injuries.” Jeb shrugged.
“Wait. Are you saying Manny did this to you?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re fuckin’ whacked and a big liar, that’s what I think.”
Jeb laughed. “Have to admit, it’s odd though that Manny doesn’t have any injuries.”
“Why is that?”
“Why is it odd?” Jeb shrugged. “Because we all …”
“No,” Robi interrupted “Why doesn’t he have injuries?”
“He ran.”
“He…ran?” Robi questioned.
“Tate was charging down the court full speed, Manny saw this, spun and took off … hey…” In the middle of his sentence, his demeanor changed and Jeb, engrossed in thought, walked to the window. “Why is Tate wheeling Greek down the street on a dolly?”
Robi’s head jerked up. She glanced out the window and then flew from the small in-home doctor’s office. “Tate!” she cried out.
Robi cringed as Tate did a fast spin around of the dolly containing the injured man.
Loudly, and nearly singing it, Greek called out, “Morning, Robi!”
With a gasp, hand covering her mouth, and trying not to lose it on Tate, Robi approached the pair.
His entire body—including his arms—strapped to the dolly, Greek still smiled.
“What is going on?” Robi asked.
Greek answered, “We’re going for a walk. I would have waved but …” He nodded his head to his restrained arms.
Jeb caught up. “What’s up?”
“Morning, Jeb!” Greek said extremely cheerful. “We’re taking a morning stroll. Wanna come?”
“Can I wheel ya?”
“Yep,” Greek nodded.
“No!” Robi snapped.
Jeb ignored her. “Can I do it … fast?”
“Yep,” Greek answered.
“No!” Robi screamed. “What in God’s name is the matter with you?” She spun to Tate. “And you!” She poked him hard in the chest.
“Ow!”
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
Tate replied, “I went in to check on him, he said he felt fine, wanted to see the town. I thought this was a great idea. Since, you know, his legs can’t bend.”
“He feels fine?” Robi asked. “He seems stoned. How many morphine tablets did you give him to make him feel fine?”
“None. I didn’t give him anything. Maybe Doc did.”
Greek nodded. “Doc gave me one. I told him how good I felt. He sniffed me, said “fuckin Aliens” and gave me one.”
“Sniffed you?” Robi reiterated. “For booze?”
“Lilacs.”
“Lilacs?” Robi asked then leaned into Greek and sniffed. Her head jolted as if she were offended by something. Her eyes widened.
Tate looked at her curiously, “Lilacs?”
“Um … no. No.” Robi shook her head.
“Liar,” Tate said, “I sniffed him.”
Jeb stepped forward. “He smells like the baby?”
Slowly Robi nodded. “Yeah and shit … shit.” She spun to Jeb. “Asshole. Thanks a lot. I forgot about the baby.” She took off running down the street.
Jeb shrugged. “Why is she blaming me?”
Sloppily, and drugged, Greek winked. “She likes you.”
Jeb grinned. “Oh, yeah.”
<><><><>
“Sour grape gum,” Bishop said to Nick. He lifted Martha from the table and held her. “That’s what I think.”
“Dude, yeah.” Nick snapped his finger. “You’re right. I knew it was something.”
“I have the nose.” Bishop winked. “And speaking of nose, that’s one hell of a bruise you have happening on yours.”
“Jeb nailed me with the ball.”
Bishop winced. “Ow! Rough game?”
“But fun. It was even better watching Sparky chase Jeb.”
Bishop nearly choked. “You let Sparky out of his cage?”
“Yeah, to chase Jeb, he bet that he could out run the dog.”
“And I’m guessing he did.”
“Yep. Sparky had him cornered though. Jeb climbed the basketball court fence. Man, was it funny. And while I’m on my dog, I better go check him.”
“Yeah, you haven’t been the boy with his dog lately,” Bishop commented. “Lose interest?”
“Can’t do much with him on the road. And when we were at the Hoyt farm, they wouldn’t let me let him out of the cage.”
“With good reason. Go check on him.”
“I’ll be back.” Nick turned.
Just as Bishop lifted Martha to eye level, Robi flew in the house in a frantic state.
“Oh,” she wheezed out. “She’s OK. I forgot I left her on the couch.” Robi grabbed her chest.
“She’s fine. Nick and I came in when you ran out after the dolly.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“Apparently not,” Bishop said. “Martha’s changed. She doesn’t seem hungry though.”
“You changed her?” Robi asked.
“Oh, yeah, I’m pretty good with babies. So, if you need help…”
“You know a lot about babies?”
“More than Jeb and Tate,” Bishop replied. “Actually, anyone knows more about babies than them two.”
“True.” Robi balanced Martha on her hip. “I’ve been insensitive. Did you have children?”
“No.” Bishop shook his head. “No nieces or nephews, but lots of friends with kids. I was the one they called to babysit—Five God Children.”
“Wow. Impressive. I may take you up on your offer of help.”
“Any time.”
Robi started to leave the room and then turned to Bishop. “I’m gonna feed her. Wanna join me?”
“Can you feed me?”
“Not physically, but if you’re hungry …”
“I’m joking.” Bishop said as he followed. “I can feed her if you want.”
“Actually that would be a great idea. I have to clean up the clinic portion of this house. I was in there stitching Jeb.”
“Not a problem. I’ll feed her. Hey, Robi,” Bishop walked in the kitchen behind her. “I changed a lot of diapers in my time. Have you … have you noticed how weird her poop smells?”
Robi stopped and tuned around.
“It smells like sour grape gum.”
“Sour grape gum?” Robi laughed. “God. Not you, too?”
“Who else thinks her poop smells weird?”
“Nick,” Robi answered. “And it smells like baby poop! Gees. There, take her.” She handed the baby to Bishop. “I’ll make her some cereal.”
Just as the baby passed hand to hand, the back door opened and Nick raced in.
“Mom!” he breathed heavily, a worried look on his face. “Something’s wrong with my dog.”
“And you’re just realizing this?” Robi asked.
“No, seriously, something is wrong.” Nick raced back out of the house.
Curious and concerned, Robi followed, trailed by Bishop with baby in tow.
Outside, the steel dog crate perched on a back wall. It didn’t strike Robi that perhaps something was amiss, until she neared the cage.
“See?” Nick pointed.
Sparky lay on his side. His breaths were labored and wheezy. His eyes stared blankly.
“Have you fed him?” Robi asked as she peered in the cage. “I know he’s not been top priority lately.”
“I fed my dog. I think he’s dying.”
“Well …” Robi was apprehensive in speaking. “Nick, you know …” She approached the cage, “that might not be a bad thing. The dog had the mutated virus.”
“I know,” Nick said.
Fro
m a short distance, Bishop commented, “It may have just run its course. In fact, maybe all the dogs are about to have the virus run its course.”
“End of a species,” Robi muttered. She really did feel bad looking at Sparky laying there looking pathetic. She crouched close to the cage. “His breathing is slowing.”
“What do you mean?” Nick asked.
“Listen. There are longer pauses between them. I’m sorry, Nick. I think he is going to die.”
“Is he suffering?” Nick asked.
“He may be.”
“Can we do something? At least stop his suffering.”
Robi exhaled. “There might be something inside I can give him. Morphine, something.” She stood up. “I’ll go get it.”
She was not even a step away, or completely turned, and when she heard Sparky whimper, and then there was silence.
Nick gasped, “Aw, man.”
Bishop stepped closer. “Is he gone?”
Robi shook her head and returned to the cage. “He doesn’t look like he’s breathing. I think he is. Sparky?” She called him. “Sparky?”
No response.
“Check him,” Nick requested.
“No, I’m …”
“Please?” Nick beckoned.
“Fine, but if I get bit, I’ll have one of the men kick your ass.” Robi reached for the cage.
“Want me to check?” Bishop asked.
“Nah, I got it.” She looked at Sparky for a moment. Not moving, eyes closed. With a bit of trepidation, Robi unlatched the cage. Sparky didn’t budge. Slowly she reached in, and with a cringe, gently touched Sparky.
Still Sparky didn’t move.
After feeling a few more times, with an exhale, she withdrew her hand. “He’s not breathing, no pulse. He’s dead.”
“Man.” Nick lowered his head.
“Dude,” Bishop said consoling. “Sorry about your pet.”
Nick nodded.
“Sorry.” Robi grabbed the edge of the cage and began to close it. “Maybe I’ll get one of the Hoyt brothers to …” She screamed when Sparky’s eyes popped open and slammed the cage door.
“What?” Nick asked. “What?”
Robi looked at Sparky. “Nothing. But … just to be sure.” Hand shaking, she locked the latch. “It was nothing. Probably a post mortem muscle response.”
“What was?” Nick questioned.
“His eyes opened,” Robi answered, “but he’s not moving. He’s dead.”
“You think he didn’t die?” Nick questioned.
“No, he died,” Robi answered. “No pulse. Dead. But when his eyes opened...” she mumbled, “I thought … oh, nothing.”
Bishop snickered. “You thought he came back to life?”
Nick chuckled as well. “Like a zombie?”
“Dude.” Bishop joked. “Night of the Living Terrier.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” Robi said. “Funny. It just startled me that’s all. But … look at him.” She folded her arms. “Dead.”
Just as she finished saying the word ‘dead’ Sparky sprang to his feet. He let out a long demonic growl, and then lunged with full strength at the cage. Not quite the dog he was a moment earlier. His lifelessness was replaced with a vicious vigor.
Robi jumped back. “Shit.”
Sparky remained loud. Crazy. Unstoppable. His growls mixed with strained barks as he continued to bite and leap at the cage.
“Uh!” Nick shirked. “My dog!”
“Dude,” Bishop pulled Nick back. “Run and get a Hoyt.”
“What!” Robi screamed. “Don’t call them. God, I can handle this.” She reached behind her. “Shit. I left my gun in the house.”
Bishop looked at Nick. “Go.”
Nick nodded and took off.
Robi stepped back from the cage. “What the fuck just happened to his dog? He was never like this.”
The cage bent some, then with another vicious attempt, Sparky rattled he cage so hard it toppled from the wall. Like a hamster in a ball, Sparky moved that cage against the concrete patio as he continued his frantic lunging.
“Holy shit.” Robi moved next to Bishop.
“Can he get out of that cage?”
“I don’t think so,” Robi said. “But the question should be …” she said as she and Bishop hopped back when the cage neared them, “What kind of damage can he do from the cage?”
“Do you think that’s what happened with the other dogs? Maybe that was why Sparky was so different. He had to die to become an attack dog.”
The cage move side to side inching violently toward Robi and Bishop as Sparky continued to go wild.
“He didn’t die,” Robi said. “He went into a zone.”
“A zombie,” Bishop laughed. “You proclaimed him dead.”
“I was wrong,” Robi replied. “Does that dog look dead to you?”
“He doesn’t look alive.”
“Please.” Robi snickered. “This is insane. Look at this.”
With a laugh, and in a bit of shock, Jeb uttered, “Fuck me,” as he walked in the backyard with Tate and Nick.
“Oh, my God.” Tate started laughing. “Look at Sparky the Zombie dog.”
Robi rolled her eyes. “He’s not a zombie.”
Seriously, Jeb looked at her. “So Nick was wrong? He didn’t die and come back to life?”
“He just looked dead,” Robi answered.
“Uh-huh.” Jeb nodded and took a deep breath. “No sense prolonging this. Why don’t you three and a half go in the house? Me and Tate will handle this.”
Robi scoffed. “Yeah, right. Is this a macho thing? I can handle this.”
Jeb stepped to her. “I’m sure you can. But I would like to and seeing how anything could go wrong, fearing for the safety of you and my baby …”
Robi rolled her eyes.
“Will you go into the house?” Jeb asked.
“Fine.” Robi tossed up her hands. “I’d prefer Nick not see you taking care of this. It could be disturbing and Martha needs fed.” She opened the screen door.
“I didn’t get to pick any lilacs!” Jeb called out as they all went in.
Tate and Jeb were alone with the determined dog.
“Jeb, man, look at him.”
“Pretty wild,” Jeb said.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Tate asked.
“I believe.”
“Yeah.” Tate nodded. “It is gonna be so much more of a fuckin’ challenge for you to out run this thing.”
“Never ran away from a challenge.”
“True, but have you ever run away from a Zombie dog?”
“There’s always a first.”
“Three second head start,” Tate said and walked behind the cage. “Go!”
Jeb did manage to outrun the high speed insane dog. Of course, Tate having left Greek strapped to the dolly in the middle of the street, and Sparky’s stopping to gnaw on his super plaster legs, held up things. Jeb had to regain Sparky’s attention again before the pursuit continued.
It finished at the basketball court, and the single gunshot that rang out through the dead town signified that it was over.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
July 3rd
Brownsville, Tennessee
Because of the fact they had to lay Greek across the backseat to the rear of the Humvee, Bishop crouched by Greek, while Doc was moved to H-1, the vehicle Robi drove. H-1 and H-2 were the names they’d given to the Humvees that would take them—hopefully—across country.
Doc nodded in approval, looking content squashed between Nick and the car seat. “Can you hit the repeat and play that song, again there Jeb?”
“Sure thing.” Jeb reached for the radio.
“No.” Robi stopped him. “Eight times. Eight times in a row we have listened to that stupid song.”
Jeb gasped. “You blaspheme.”
Doc reached up and flicked at Robi. “How in God’s name can you say that? You’re talking about an American Icon. Play it again.”
“No!” Robi barked. “I refuse to listen to Elvis’ rendition of ‘The Impossible Dream,’ one more time.”
Jeb shook his head. “It doesn’t inspire you.”
“No, it doesn’t inspire me.”
“Cranky,” Jeb said. “Nick, why’s your mom so cranky?”
Nick shrugged. “Don’t know. Mom, why are you so cranky?”
“For starters, we’re detouring to Memphis.”
“Graceland.” Jeb corrected. “And you were outvoted. Everyone wants to stop at Graceland.”
“Better,” Doc said from the back, “before them aliens destroy it.”
“See.” Jeb pointed at Doc. “He’s got a point. Goddamn aliens will destroy it.”
Robi looked cross at him. “You’re an ass. Plus, I’m hot. It’s fuckin’ hot in here.”
“Turn up the air,” Jeb suggested.
“I can’t turn up the air, we need gas. We’re using gas because you decided to take canned goods from that town.”
Jeb chuckled. “Souvenir babe. They make canned goods there. Plus, they had dumplings in a can.”
“You grabbed a luxury,” Robi argued, “not a necessity.”
“No, I grabbed dumplings in a can,” Jeb corrected. “Have you ever had dumplings in a can? They are a necessity.”
“I have,” Doc replied. “Tasty.”
“See,” Jeb said. “Worth the stop. Besides, you took stuff from that town.”
“Tampons.”
“Luxury items.”
“Asshole,” Robi said disgusted. “Fuck. It’s hot. We need gas.”
“You need more than that,” Jeb mumbled. “OK, exit’s ahead, pull off. We’ll pump gas, let you have your air, and maybe if you’re nice, I’ll let you have a can of dumplings. That should cheer you up.”
“No, getting you out of this Humvee will cheer me up.”
Nick had to ask, “Why do you hate him riding with us? He’s not that bad.”
“He’s big,” Robi snapped. “Big, eats up all the cold air and causes hot air. He makes the car hot.”
Jeb laughed. “Turn here.”
Robi signaled.
The two lane country road would have brought about another complaint had the overturned farm truck not appeared about a mile in the distance.
At first, Robi believed it was left over from the drop, but as she neared it and slowed down, she saw that might not be the case.
The Last Mile Trilogy Page 11
