by Bryan Way
“Good…” Anderson responds.
“Oh. Must’ve been exciting.” Melody quips. I snicker.
“We got our computers and our instruments… we got shot at, almost wrecked a car, and came back… anything else?” Anderson snips.
“You got shot at?!” Helen spouts, her eyes snapping toward Anderson as he attempts to shrug it off.
“It happens.”
“John…” Helen starts. “It doesn’t just happen…”
“I’m just sayin’… sometimes you’re gonna get shot at.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Yeah, the guy he took out!” I blurt.
I chuckle as Anderson grins, but Helen is clearly unimpressed.
“Look, ah…” Anderson starts, trying to change the subject quick enough to avoid Helen’s reaction. “They might’ve followed us back…”
“Who?” I ask.
“The Zs.”
“…okay?”
“So we should keep a lookout.”
“I’ll take care of ‘em.” I reply.
“…yeah.”
I detect something I don’t like in his voice. I can sense my subconscious brain trying to snuff out my rage, but on a day like today, I’m not prepared to roll over.
“Excuse me?”
“I said yeah.” Anderson responds.
“I heard you. And?”
“…what?”
“Don’t bullshit me.” I insist.
“…just let it go…”
I slam my tray on the table as I stand, ensuring a silence that echoes throughout the cafeteria. Melody runs her hand along my arm awkwardly as I watch Anderson’s rage boiling up to match mine. “You had somethin’ to say in the car today. You’ve got somethin’ to say now? Spit it out.” Anderson drops his hands on the table and stands, bringing his diamond-sculpted cranium and steely glare a foot from my face.
“You’ve lost it.”
“…what?”
“Every time you go out there you’re a liability. Ever since Julia you’re acting like a fucking nut… you wanna tell me why?”
“Yeah, Jeff…” Helen starts.
“Was someone talking to you?” Melody snaps.
“Don’t talk to my girlfriend that way.” Anderson replies.
“Oh, is that what she is? Well, if you’re gonna have this conversation for her, tell her not to butt in.”
“Who asked for your opinion?” Helen asks.
“Shut up. What do you do besides sit in the ‘security closet’ and pull him around by his dick?”
“Hey!” I shout, pushing my voice up. “This is between me and him. You were saying?”
“Look…” Anderson sighs. “It sucks for all of us…”
“I think it sucks just a bit more for me…”
Anderson’s eyes drill deep into mine.
“Don’t ever say that to me again.” He whispers. “You weren’t on the reservoir. You think the guys I was out there with were crash dummies!? I knew every one of ‘em. Strollzy… Cardone… Gorski… Petriello… Steve Siatskas was two feet in front of me… I watched one of those things take a bite out of him. His blood hit my face… and then it came after me… I shot it, and I shot Steve. You don’t get to tell me how bad you have it.”
“Great story…” I start. “And… maybe I’ll never understand. But I’m not in the Guard. So I don’t want to hear another word about it… I don’t care about sniper certification, combat exercises, what Patton had to say… your pal Steve sacrificed his life. How’d you repay him? You went AWOL.”
“God DAMMIT!”
Anderson lifts his tray and snaps it over his knee. The silence that ensues is physically exhausting. “We’re done talking about this, psycho.” I take a deep breath and sit down to resume eating. Anderson yells some more expletives as Helen watches in terror, and after he’s kicked and punched enough walls to wear himself down, he returns to the table. I glance back at the door just in time to see Jake duck away and run up the stairs. Anderson rapidly shoves food in his mouth as the rest of us continue to eat slowly and quietly. “We can’t keep doing this.” Helen says softly. It may be the first time I’ve ever agreed with her.
“Let’s just hope we regret it enough to move on.” I reply.
“I don’t have any regrets.” Melody opines.
“…what?”
“I don’t have any regrets.”
“You mean… about what just happened?”
“About anything…”
The sense of reconciliation I felt a moment ago is stanched as my blood steams up to a rolling boil.
“Then you must give shitty apologies.” I sneer.
“What?” She replies.
“You don’t regret anything? Never done something you were truly sorry for?”
“Of course I’m sorry for stuff, I just don’t regret it…”
“When you say ‘I don’t regret what I did’, you’re saying you’d do it again the same way…”
“Yeah, I don’t believe in regret, I just learn from things…”
“…but if you’d do it again, you’re not sorry…” I insist. “You never looked back and wished you’d done something differently?”
“Yeah, that doesn’t mean I regret it…”
“That’s… exactly what it means…”
“I wouldn’t change it…” Melody replies, getting irritated. “…that’s what I mean when I say I learn from things… like, now I know not to say that around you… I don’t regret saying it.”
“This is, like, the worst example…” I continue. “I mean… if you slapped your mom… how do you not immediately regret it? What do you ‘learn’ from something you don’t regret? And don’t say ‘not to slap my mom’…”
“…Jeff, calm down…”
“Better than that… Anderson just said we all lost someone… what did you learn from abandoning your parents…?”
Melody slaps me so hard I forget where I am. She lifts her tray as she stands, slamming it on a countertop as she starts toward the door.
“Just so we’re clear…” She continues. “I don’t regret that…”
“You’re just pissing off everyone today…” Anderson grumbles.
“You know… FUCK!” I scream.
I pick up my tray and launch my leftovers into the wall on my way out the door. “That’s a waste of food…” Anderson shouts at my back. I peel through the doorway and rush toward the main hallway, turning back to see Melody chasing me down. “That was a shitty thing to say.” She calls after me.
“I know.” I mutter.
“Do you regret it?”
“Not yet.”
“Jeff…” She shouts, stopping me. “It wasn’t pretty… but it was honest.”
“Very constructive…”
She grabs my shoulder and spins me around.
“No, it was ugly, and sometimes it’s like that!”
“I can’t talk about this.” I interrupt.
“Why not?”
“I can’t stand when someone says they have no regrets… like you don’t make mistakes… it’s bullshit!”
“Look, you’re not gonna change me…” Melody continues. “I believe what I believe and that’s it.”
“Great… since you know everything, I won’t bother to argue next time.”
Melody scoffs, turns, and marches down the hallway.
“What?” I call after her.
“I don’t know what planet I’m on!”
“Earth!”
She turns back and comes at me.
“Asshole… you know what I meant…”
“No, I really don’t!”
“You’re opening your mouth and words are coming out, but you’re not making any sense… what’s wrong with you?”
“Look outside!” I shout. “That’s what’s wrong with me…”
I only have a few seconds to absorb the shock in her face, but it’s more than enough. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say.” She puts her h
ands on either side of her nose and shakes her head.
“Jeff… you’re the only one who’s tried to make me feel welcome here… I wanna help.”
“…help me what?”
“What Anderson was saying… about Julia…”
“…you wanna help me get over it?”
“Of course!”
“…HOW?!” I scream.
“I don’t know! And you don’t know either! You’re sure as hell not gonna solve anything by taking it out on them…”
“You’re one to talk, what’d you solve by sleeping around?”
I thought the last slap hurt, but this time she belts me so hard I can’t even remember what consciousness is.
“STOP that!” I sputter.
“WHAT… IS YOUR… FUCKING… PROBLEM?!”
“Are you gonna stop hitting me?!”
Melody turns away, putting her hands on either side of her nose as she takes several deep breaths. “Child molester.” She says loudly enough for me to hear as she walks away. “WHAT?!” I shout back. She turns. “You heard me. I never screwed around with a freshman. I never cheated on anyone. You don’t get to judge me. If that’s what you want, you can go fuck yourself. You must be good at that.”
When she turns away again, I start walking behind her. “Don’t follow me.” She calls over her shoulder. “We’re both going the same way!” I retort. She mutters something as she spins around and stomps past me in the other direction. When I pass the cafeteria doors, Anderson and Helen look up. “Show’s over.” As I make my way up the steps, I realize that I have no reason to return to my room, so I instead walk over to the security office. The hum of TVs in the darkness is both inviting and unsettling, and in spite of the copious amount of time Helen hides here to avoid other duties, the screens are covered with dust. I recall placing a dust cloth and glass cleaner in here, and I find both unused. After cleaning the screens, I have a seat.
How did I get myself stuck with this bunch of pricks? I don’t remember anyone bitching about the leadership when it was saving their skin. I don’t remember anyone telling me it was bad for morale to kill Zombies before. I sigh hard enough to fog one of the monitors in front of me. Using my sleeve this time, I wipe away the condensation just as the camera autofocuses poorly, revealing a moving discoloration in the bottom left corner.
I look at the rest of the monitors; when Anderson and I positioned the front cameras, we made sure we wouldn’t have any blind spots. Sure enough, another color monitor confirms the presence of a walking corpse shuffling across the lawn. I grab the public address mic. “Alert condition one. I’ve got it. Someone monitor.” I jog over to the keep and open the door to the darkened room, catching Elena as she brushes the sleep out of her eyes. Mursak has an arm around her, but he’s completely out.
“It’s okay, hun, you can go back to bed.” I say, walking into the weapons closet. “I heard a noise…” She coos. I click on my belt, grab a pair of binoculars, and shut the door behind me. “Bug problem.” I hear her verbalize her disgust as she lies back down. We’ve accepted as a group that we can’t forever shield Elena from the undead, so Mursak chose to explain the situation to her in a way that the rest of us don’t fully understand, and using her insect aversion to keep her unaware of the danger was masterful.
Once I have my trench coat, I turn on my radio and head directly for the rope ladder. Judging from the lack of light outside, it must be heavily overcast. After squeezing my way between the bus and the wall while donning a pair of gloves, I quickly identify the aforementioned discoloration and manage to sneak up behind it, removing her head with one clean stroke. Noticing that my victim’s clothes are spotless and stench-free, she must have died of either dehydration or a medical condition, meaning the odds favor my not touching her any further. I pull a swatch of ripped t-shirt out of my pocket, carefully wipe my blade, sheath it, and use the cloth to pick up her severed head by the hair.
I walk past one of the long-since siphoned generators to the statue of a colonial Quaker who likely bears no resemblance to the real Thomas Massey. I swing the head over my shoulder and bash it on his bronze knee, then toss it in the direction of the body; fortunately, the grass is high enough to keep her concealed until we need to remove more bodies.
“He’s clear. Over.” Jake announces on the radio.
“Confirm? Over.” Anderson asks.
“Confirmed. Alert condition zero.” I reply.
“Don’t go out alone next time. Over and out.”
I lower the radio to my waist and look back at the school, quickly spotting two figures on the auditorium’s highest point. I pull up the binoculars and easily make out Melody and Jake via the cherries on their cigarettes; Jake pretends not to notice me and Melody ignores his glances. I turn back to the street and stroll to the sidewalk, kneeling as I approach. I take a long look in both directions with the binoculars, seeing nothing of interest until something passes in front of the lens.
I jerk them away from my eyes; it was a snowflake. Taking a deep breath, I cast my gaze skyward to take in the silvery billowing clouds as more skinny dots drift down from the heavens. I wait for a minute, closing my eyes to listen. When I open them, the ground has been powdered, and a final look in either direction reveals lessened visibility. I stand up and walk back.
Once I’ve returned my sidearm to 218, I pull the queen mattress I’ve been sleeping on through the door, turn right, make a left down the first hallway, and pull it into room 212. I push three of the wide science desks together in the middle of the room, then push them toward the back cabinets and drag the mattress on top, being careful to avoid the stacks of paper. I then get all of my clothes, unused bedding, Julia’s ashes, and various other items out of the keep, make the bed, find drawers for my clothes, and continue tidying up until I’m satisfied. I take the rather large rug out of the teacher’s lounge one floor below me, push the stacks out of the way, and spread it out beneath my new bed.
When I return to my computer, I put the prom picture of Julia and me on top of my tower. I consider playing a game, but my phone catches my eye first. It’s officially been a crappy day, and though my talk with Ally will stand out as a bright spot, I should probably get the phone messages out of the way before I do anything else. I glance at the clock as I dial my voicemail number. It’s 4:45.
“First Message: October 9th, 2004, 8:47pm.”
“Hi Jeffy, it’s mom. I just wanted to be sure you got receipts for gas when you went home. If you pay with your debit card I’ll transfer however much you need back. Call me back if you need any more money, sweetheart. Love you, bye.”
“Message erased. Next Message: October 9th, 2004, 10:29pm.”
“Yo, Grey, it’s Anderson, it’s about… 10:30. I know you’re probably at Bandrome, you bastard… just calling to say what’s up and make sure you tell everyone I said hi. It’s like the usual bullshit goin’ on around here… I could be there, but they’re puttin’ us to bed so we can wake up bright and early to roll around in shit. Whatever, I don’t have anything. Call you tomorrow.”
“Message erased. Next Message: October 10th, 2004, 1:36am.”
“Hi Jeff, this is Mrs. Marino calling… I don’t know if you’re with Julia now, but if you are, or you know where she is, I need you to call me back… she didn’t come home tonight and she’s not answering her phone. If you’re with her or you’ve seen her… tell her we’re not mad, we just want her home as soon as possible, please. Thank you.”
“Message erased. Next Message: October 10th, 2004, 11:32am.”
“Jeff, it’s mom… Susan just called and said they were saying something on the news about protestors in Broomall? Have you heard about this? I tried calling the house but you didn’t answer, and I don’t know if you’re home, but they said you’d be better off locking your doors and staying quiet. Please call me back when you get this, it’s very important, Jeff… I love you, call me back…”
“Message erased. Next Message: October 10th, 200
4, 12:01pm.”
“Jeff, it’s mom again, Susan called back and said it’s a bad idea to stay in the house, but I don’t know where else you should go?! Dad and I are looking on the news but we can’t find anything about this… Jeff, you have to listen to me, they said that the protestors… they said that some of them were attacking people. Jeff, you have to call me back as soon as you get this, I don’t know if you turned your phone off when you went to sleep… oh god, Jeff, just please pick up the phone… I’m gonna get David to call you. Look, when you get this, unless you’re already back at college, I want you to get out of Broomall. Go over to Susan’s house, but if you’re at Temple, don’t go back home for any reason, and call me back! I love you… call me…”
“Message erased. Next Message: October 10th, 2004, 12:15pm.”
“Yo, Jeff, it’s your brother… mom just called saying that there were rioters or protestors in Broomall attacking people or some such business? I mean, have you heard anything about this? We just want to make sure you’re all right, but I guess you’re probably still asleep… well, as you can imagine, mom is freaking out… I’ll probably just call back later, but if you wake up and get this, call me, but call mom first, all right? Later dude, bye.”
“Message erased. Next Message: October 10th, 2004, 12:35pm.”
“Jeff, it’s Anderson, I’ve only got a few seconds… uh… we’re deployed in Broomall. There’s some kinda… riot… thing… I dunno, it just, ah… hold on…”
His voice is followed by thirty seconds of fumbling and silence with Anderson talking in the background.
“…alright, my ass’d be court-martialed if they heard this, but listen up. My company’s being deployed to a Check Point on 252 at the reservoir. We’re supposed to cut off anyone tryin’ to escape, but we’re helping civilians. You get in your car and drive the fuck out here, just pretend you’re tryin’ to leave. Approach the check point slow and get out with your hands in the air, you can bring Julia or whatever… I’ll say I know you, but you didn’t hear any of this shit from me, you understand? It’s a giant fucking shitstorm… Jesus Christ, you better not be asleep. Don’t call back… we’re headed out. Later.”
