"I'll let you fry the bacon," I insist, "since there's no food I cannot burn."
Gerald acquiesces and returns to the frying pan. I fill three mugs with coffee and actually tear up as the fresh smell hits my nose. My head swims a little and I giggle.
Gerald, humming to himself, looks over his shoulder.
"What, you never cook breakfast in a bathrobe?" he asks me.
I sit, shaking my head. "no, that's not it. I've never used the word blessed before, but...I feel really lucky right now. Thank you." I inhale through my nostrils heavily and take a sip of the coffee. "Wow, that’s a good blend."
Gerald nods his agreement "Eat up, you'll feel luckier if the bacon is still hot."
I give in and fold my slice of toast over the bacon.
One minute later, there are three crumbs left on the plate and my mouth is still full of the last bite. I laugh to myself, celebrating the sheer ecstasy of a home-cooked meal. Gerald looks back and grins at my expression.
I’m so happy I actually begin to tear up.
For a moment, I feel guilty about murdering my breakfast so ruthlessly, but I quickly reconsider: I could see my ribs in the mirror. I'm going to eat all of the bacon that he has. They have. Suddenly I realize Gladys isn't eating and feel rude.
I swallow my last bite and look around. "Geez, sorry. Is your wife joining us?"
"Oh, she asked me to set her a place, but she's been having trouble with any heavy acids like coffee or oil. I expect she'll stick to fruits. We have a large stash of preserves in the basement, Gladys loves preserves." Gerald motions to the stairs behind me. "We'll head up after breakfast to say hello; Gladys said she wanted to meet you. She's been sick lately."
My alarm bell rings violently. I try to stay calm. "Do you, um, do you talk a lot. With Gladys?"
"Huh? Of course, she - oh, haha." Gerald slides several more pieces of bacon off the pan and turns to face me. "No, she's not - that kind of sick, you know? Her stomach's been acting up recently and she's been in bed the last couple of days. No bites or anything, we checked several times."
Gerald turns around and begins frying more bacon.
I nod and look over at the stairs.
"She was real interested in how you cleaned up the sofa," he said over his shoulder. "I said maybe you had some stomachache cure up your sleeve also."
"I’ll rack my brain." Something is tickling the back of my mind, but Gerald brings over the bacon and starts eating. I study him during his meal but don't see a glimmer of harmful intent in him.
Gerald hands me the toast from Gladys’ plate and piles on a few more strips of bacon. He pulls off the hairnet and smiles sheepishly while I eat. I estimate that my second sandwich lasts three seconds longer than the first one.
We eat from the giant plate of bacon and drink coffee, discussing how funny it is that this is the first time we really met. He remembers me riding around the neighborhood on my bicycle when I was very young, and I have a dim recollection of a woman gardening in front of a purple house.
"Does Gladys wear a big pink hat?" I ask.
Gerald claps his hands and chuckles. "Oh, that hat is her favorite. Hang on one second." Gerald pushes himself up from the table and walks into the room behind the kitchen. After a minute of thorough rummaging, he emerges with the exact hat I remember. Floral patterns decorate its bright pink brim. "Not much use for it now, unfortunately. We are unwilling homebodies these days." He grimaces and widens his eyes briefly.
"Well, I'm about finished with breakfast. Do you want to head upstairs and say hello?" asks Gerald. He tosses the hat back into what I assume is their storage room.
I think of the bundle out in the yard and the toilet paper I’m using. "I'd love to, I just have to get something real quick. I left it in your backyard, but it was near the fence so I don't know if it’s burned up or not. I'm going to check it out."
Gerald looks alarmed and puts both his hands on the table. "You really shouldn’t, Angela, it's dangerous."
"I know, I...need it. I'm going to check all the windows, and if it's clear, I'll dash outside from the living room and then right back in. Ten seconds, top. It’s right across the yard from the door."
Gerald shakes his head. "I’m going to see if Gladys wants some coffee." He dumps the contents of the untouched mug into the sink and refills it with a dash of steaming coffee. He walks over to the stairway, then turns back to me. "Look, be careful. If anything happens, I can't let you stay here, I can't risk it. Sorry."
"I get it. It will literally be about ten seconds."
He shakes his head again. "Alright. Be careful. I'll keep an eye on you from our bedroom and holler if I see anything." he nods over at the table. “Help yourself to the bacon, we have to eat it all today.” Gerald looks away and begins walking upstairs.
I wait until I hear the bedroom door close, then quickly scarf down several more strips of bacon and refill my coffee cup. It doesn't look like the stores will be open soon and I am happy to help Gerald dispose of the perishables.
I walk down the hallway in the living room with another piece of bacon in hand, knowing I will regret the grease overload later. Maybe sooner: my stomach gurgles ominously.
I peek out the bathroom window, the small living room window and then pull back the curtains a sliver to study the backyard. The glass doors are coated with soot, but I'm able to make out my crushed bag of clothing under the wooden fence that used to separate our yards. The fence must have been knocked over during the collapse of my house.
I don't see anything else in the yard, and quietly slide the door open.
Even though I've seen the monsters break through windows, actually opening the glass doors makes me feel exposed and helpless.
I wait another minute but still don't hear anything.
"Now." I mutter. "Now. Go. Now...go... Go!" I dash over to the bundle of clothes. The fence on top of my belongings is completely charred, but there are only a few marks on the clothes themselves. I tug at the bundle but it doesn't move.
I keep pulling, glancing over my shoulders and feeling horribly vulnerable. Adrenaline is pouring through my body and as I tug, I hear a sharp ripping noise and the bag begins to grudgingly slide out from under the fence.
A strange noise startles me and I realize Gerald is saying something from the upstairs window. His voice is too faint to understand, but I go into panic mode and start yanking on the bedsheet with a series of rapid jerks until it tears free.
One corner of my bedsheet is ripped away and I can see a blouse trapped under the fence. I can't think straight, so I just bundle up the pile of clothes as best I can and run back to the house. As I near the door, I throw the bundle inwards. I grab a few stray items that fell while I was running, dash back into the house and close the door.
Gerald is walking down the hallway toward me. I'm still amped up, but don't see anything moving in the yard outside.
Gerald enters the living room. "Hey there, are you okay?"
"Yea, yea, I'm fine. What did you see?"
"What do you mean?"
My eyes dart around the room. My chest feels tight.
"What were you shouting at me? I couldn't hear." I continue to scan the living room nervously.
"I was saying that you were safe, I didn't see anything out there." Gerald answers.
I stare at him for a moment, then laugh in relief. "Ohmygod, I heard you yelling and thought you saw a monster; I was freaking out.”
Gerald starts to chuckle and explain how safe I had been when the living room clicks into place.
"...the wife mentioned I should let you know the coast was clear." finishes Gerald.
I nod and smile at him, trying not to look nervous.
On the mantel, there are no pictures, just a small brown clock. On the walls, there is Gerald in a Hawaiian shirt, Gerald holding a fish and Gerald reclining in a lawn chair. The whole time I’ve been in this house, I haven’t seen a single picture of Gladys.
CHAPTER 11
/> My face feels hot. Gerald is staring at me. I need to say something and not look at the pictures.
I bend down quickly and pick up the tampons. I hold the box forward like it is a cross and Gerald is a vampire.
"I have to go to the bathroom!" I blurt out too loudly.
Gerald leans forward and squints at the box, then he turns away, muttering something short and embarrassed. After I watch him head into the kitchen, I pick out some clothes and walk into the bathroom.
I peer back down the hallway and examine Gerald, who is sitting at the kitchen table and sipping coffee. I know all about books and covers, but he doesn’t worry me. But then where is Gladys?.
"Excuse me?" I call.
Gerald jumps and looks up at me. He half rises from the table. "Hello. Is, um, everything, you know, okay?"
I consider carrying a box of tampons with me at all times as a way to confound men.
"Yea, I was wondering if I could use your shower? I sort of -"
Gerald swallows coffee loudly, nodding emphatically. "Sure, sure, of course, sure."
"Thanks." I close the door before I give Gerald a panic attack. I lock the door and sigh.
I need to think. I open the shower curtain and begin to undress. As I unbutton my jeans, I notice the two pictures on the toilet tank. One is Gerald cradling a roll of toilet paper as if it were a baby, which makes me giggle. The other one has Gerald standing on a beach. But the picture is too thin for its frame.
I lean closer. The picture was cut in half. I can see Gerald's arm beginning to angle away to the side of the photo and a small dot of pink at the edge of the picture that could belong to the shirt of someone standing next to him. Gladys? I straighten up to think about my time with Gerald.
I can’t remember any actual hostility, even when he was shaking bats at me yesterday. Then again, I wouldn't call him stable.
The shower asks me politely to shut up and wash my hair, so I oblige. Two scabs are still on my shoulder, and the skin around the marks is darker than I remember from when I woke up.
"Ohmygod go away!" I say to the wound. I sigh and shut off the shower. As soon as I do, I hear a choking sound.
I freeze. For a minute I don't move, staring at the back of the shower curtain.
The choking continues and I silently pull the shower curtain sideways to see two arms sticking into the bathroom through the window. The two towels are still hanging over the window, so the thing’s view of the bathroom is obscured while two arms covered with scratches and smears of blood flail about aimlessly. Each finger is grasping at the air independently.
I turn off the water and wait for a minute, but the arms keep waving around.
Moving out of the shower, I towel myself off and put on the tank top I picked out of my pile of clothes.
I use a tampon and toss the wrapper in the sink since the trash can is sitting next to the toilet.
As I'm reaching for my panties, one bloodied hand hits the picture of Gerald’s toilet paper baby and it falls facedown onto the tile with a loud smack. The glass doesn't shatter but the arms briefly pause.
I hear another choking cough while the arms resume their search, ruffling the towels in the window. After a few more seconds, they slow down and stop. I stay perfectly still as the hands recede.
Just as the arms disappear under the towel, two sharp raps sound at the door.
"Hey are you okay in there? I heard-"
"Shhhhquiet!" I hiss.
The two bloody arms shoot back into the window frantically and begin slapping against tile.
It's trying to figure out how to pull itself through the window now. I can hear it stumbling around outside and remember the first body directly under the window. Thank you, Mary Monster.
I hurriedly get dressed, snapping the button on my jeans. I check on my wallet, keys and brochure, all of which are still with me.
I reach to unlock the door when I realize I'm wearing a tank top. My unsightly wound is plain as day and looking much more infected than it had been earlier this morning.
The towels are still obscuring my view of the zombie, but I can see that its hands are beginning to push at the tile under the window at the same time. It’s going to get in.
I curse and look around, then grab my used towel and pull it around my shoulders.
I check how I look in the mirror. Sporty. Totally normal. I unlock and push the door open.
Gerald is standing in the hallway awkwardly but jumps back when he sees the arms behind me. He grabs his mouth and turns to the side as I dash past him into the living room and grab my baseball bat out of the pile of clothes.
I run back into the bathroom, past a quaking Gerald. He looks up to watch me confront the zombie. I wait patiently
"Why aren't you-" he begins.
“Wait a minute, okay?" I say. The two struggling hands find purchase briefly, but then lose grip and slide away. I hear a shuffling and then the arms reappear.
"Shouldn't you-"
"Wait a minute." I say, keeping my eyes on the towel.
I raise the bat high over my head and accidentally hit the lightbulb on my backswing, which shatters. The bathroom falls into gloom and Gerald cries out.
"Shoot. Sorry, sorry. Hang on." I say. Another smooth move, Angie. My hair is full of glass.
The hands find purchase again and I see the towel bulging in the middle as the zombie starts to pull itself inside. I bring the bat crashing down on its head and the hands slip back out of the window. The towels fall slack over the window.
I check behind me and drape my towel over my shoulder to make sure my bite is covered.
"Wow, that was very impressive." says Gerald. "Oh!" he exclaims as the two arms stick back through the window.
"This took more than one hit yesterday." I say.
Once the zombie begins pulling itself into the bathroom again, I land another hard crack to its skull. The hands slip away briefly, but return almost immediately.
We go through the grotesque routine twice more before I fail to hear any telltale shuffling from outside the window.
Gerald and I wait several minutes before I pull the right side of the towel gently and peek out.
The more recent aggressor is lying on its back with its legs over the first monster. Blood is soaking the grass to the left of its skull. Its limbs are twitching sporadically, which is uncomfortable to watch. I let the towel fall back into place.
"I think it's dead." I tell Gerald.
He stares at me.
"It's sort of...twitchy." I explain.
Gerald stares at me, then shakes his head.
"You....are a lot like Xena." says Gerald slowly, and grins widely.
"Thanks."I smile back. "And look, your bathroom isn't super gross this time!" I inspect the bathroom. There's some blood on the window sill, but it's really not that bad.
I turn to the sink and begin picking small, thin shards of glass from my hair. Gerald watches me for a moment before leaving the bathroom.
He has a broom and dustpan when he returns and begins sweeping up the glass on the floor around me. It takes me a few more minutes in front of the mirror before I am satisfied that I won’t cut my scalp the next time I brush my hair.
I turn my head to the side and sigh. I have to cut my hair; the part that burned off yesterday looks ridiculous.
I try to drink some water, but my throat squeezes uncomfortably and I cough. I feel exhausted, but my hair is irritating me.
Gerald looks through the open door and asks after my coughing.
"Sorry. I think it's - the smoke - from yesterday." I manage to say. “Do you have any sharp scissors?” I display my uneven hair.
Gerald thinks for a moment, then leaves and returns with a giant pair of bright red scissors.
“Thank you.”
Gerald nods and leaves, and I begin to cut my hair. By the time I finish, I’m not sure if I did the right thing. The hair had burned away to about an inch under my ear and by trying to even it out I’ve
taken the sides all the way up to my earlobes.
“Gerald?” I call l down the hallway.
“Oh, wow!” says Gerald as he walks back in. He looks worried at first, but quickly masks his discomfort and smiles widely. “Looks great! Very...grunge...pixie...tomboy.”
Oh, well. It will grow out. I just won’t be taking any selfies in the near future. “Thanks. Is my hairline straight in the back?” I turn around quickly.
“Hmmm...” says Gerald. “I think I can help make it a little straighter.” he says.
I pick up the scissors and hand them to him. Gerald snips for a couple minutes behind me. I am reminded of my parents cutting my hair as a child and feel silly.
I inspect what I can see in the mirror and smile at Gerald. “Thanks.” He smiles and nods, then picks up the broom and begins sweeping. I shoo him away and clean up my own mess.
Gerald insists on taking the broom and dustpan from me after I finish, so I walk toward the living room, eager to change into something more concealing.
Gerald tries to grab the towel from around my neck as I exit the bathroom but I’m holding onto it.
"Oh, sorry, I can wash that for you." explains Gerald.
"Yea, sure, I'm just going to dry my hair first."
I walk over to my pile of clothes and crouch down, ostensibly scrubbing my hair with the towel while making sure that the end of the cloth is hanging over my bite. I snag a T shirt and throw it over my right shoulder as I stand up and toss the towel behind me without looking.
I turn around and Gerald is standing there holding the towel.
"Hey, great catch.” I say, laughing. I stretch. “Thanks for letting me use the shower.”
"Oh, sure."
"And for taking that." I say, motioning at the towel.
He looks down at the towel. "Not at all, thanks for taking care of that...home invasion. I'll put this in the machine." Gerald turns around and walks away. I pull on my shirt as soon as he leaves, barely getting it over my head when Gerald pokes his head back around the corner.
"Oh! Sorry. I was just thinking...did you want to see the cellar?"
CHAPTER 12
Afterlife (Book 1): Home Again Page 5
