A Gray Life: a novel (17 page)

For
weeks, we were able to hide out in a nearby cottage. When we ran out of food, I told True we had leave. On our travels, we saw plenty of odd creatures and bad men. We kept out of sight. Looking for food and shelter, we dared to knock on every door we came across. Sometimes the houses were empty, and sometimes they weren’t. Some of the people inside were hospitable, while others would help us in exchange for…favors.”

“Oh.” Michael said.

“I never let them have True, but I did what I had to do for the both of us.”

Louise said, “We’re not judging you, Gloria.”

“Thanks” I could hear her fake smile from where I was. “Besides demons and vagrants, we found cannibals. We barely escaped with our skin from the house of one man who wanted to eat me, and keep True as his pet. He wasn’t the last crazy bastard we happened upon. We were on the run from yet another crazy when we saw your mailbox. Thank God for that, and thank God your husband was kind enough to let us into your home.” I heard Gloria’s voice thicken with tears.

Being unable to see her performance, I thought that the tone of her story wa
s just that; a story. One storyteller-can-spot-the-next sort of thing.

* * * *

“Can you let me drive now? This is ridiculous.”

They hadn’t stopped driving since they had left the hotel. Juniper’s arms and her back were getting sore from leaning over to steer. One look at Christopher’s mashed up eyes convinced her to curb her personal pain complaints. In the backseat, the dog was sleeping. Juniper envied the animal’s lack of worries.

“I don’t want to stop until we’re out of the city.” Christopher said.

“Okay, but don’t take the goddamn highway. Take the back roads.”

“You’re the one steering, sweetheart.”

“Right. Baby, your eyes…what are we gonna do?”

“Let’s make it to the back roads first.
Shouldn’t be much longer.”

Only, it was much longer. While a few of the roads have been devoid of cars, the majority were packed with them.

Numerous times, Juniper had to yell, “Brake!” or “Slow!”.

Then she would steer the car around the hunks of metallic obstacles. Cars were one of the many things littering the roadways. Crumpled papers, diapers, and furniture decorated the sidewalks and streets. Clothes and food containers were strewn about too. It was as if people had panicked, thought ‘
Fuck it’, and tossed all of their belongings from their car windows. There were bodies along the roadway as well, sometimes just body parts. An arm here. A leg over there. A severed head every-which-a-where!

Juniper wished for more bullets.

The ride got to be too depressing for Juniper. Part of it was her husband’s disfigurement, and part of it was the state of the city. When the way was clear, Juniper freed one hand, leaving her left hand to steer. Christopher heard her switch on the radio.

“There hasn’t been a broadcast since the power went out.” Christopher reminded her.

“I know. I’m checking anyway.”

Juniper
turned the dial. Static prevailed, until she heard whispers. She turned the dial to better receive a signal. Finally, she heard muttering. When she turned the sound up, a man’s voice could be clearly heard through the car’s speaker system.

“What are they? What
are they
? God only knows. Huhuhuh. God; huhuhuh.” His laugh had a bubbling quality, but not in a cute way. It was devoid of joy, and borderline hysterical.

“Jeanie and Mom are dead. Fucking
ate
them. I can’t, uh, I can’t, uh, can’t broadcast much longer. Generator’s runnin’ low. I’m sure you’ll miss me, loyal listeners. Huhuhuhuhuh.”

Juniper reached over to switch off the radio.
Distractions. Who needs ‘em
, thought Juniper. Christopher didn’t say anything about the odd radio transmission. For another two hours, they drove. They passed many gas stations. Their gas tank was still three quarters full. Twenty minutes later, the road changed from brick to asphalt. They had made it out of the city.

To keep them both from falling asleep, Juniper talked. She talked about their college days, and how they had loved each other even then. She reminded Christopher of their embarrassing stories, already recanted several times over the years. The enthusiasm Juniper felt for the stories blinded her to Christopher’s lack of response.

He leaned back in the seat, relaxed except for his foot on the gas pedal. His breathing was a series of wheezes. Juniper had not heard the wheezing before.

“Are you all right?” she asked, thinking,
Dumb question
.

“I don’t think I can drive much longer.”

“Brake then.”

Christopher slowly eased his foot on the brake pedal. Juniper steered the car onto the shoulder of the road.

She undid her seatbelt, talking to herself. “Gotta figure out how to move you without hurting you.”

“No worries.” Christopher wheezed. “I’m done.”

Juniper had been going around to the driver’s side door.

As she surveyed the
smooshed-in door, she asked, “What’d you say?”

“I’m done.” Christopher repeated.

For the first time, Juniper really looked at him. Glass bits were pocketed on his face, most prominently in his eyes. Blood had dried like war paint on his cheeks. His lids were particularly bad; glass had sewn his eyes shut, stabbing through the closed lids to decimate his sight forever. There was one piece of glass Juniper had not noticed from the passenger seat. It was about two inches long. And it was lodged into the side of Christopher’s neck, just below his ear. That explained the wheezing. He might have survived the blindness, but the shard in his neck was no bueno.

“God damn it.” Juniper said.

She couldn’t see straight through her tears. If Christopher hadn’t heard another car approaching, they both would have died.

“You have to go. There’s a car coming.”

Juniper’s tears were streaming down. “What? I don’t see---,” A blink later and she did see a car.

The long straight road allowed her to see the vehicle moving towards them almost a few miles back.

“Go, I’ll be fine.” Christopher lied.

“You just said you’re done.”

“We’ll both be done if you don’t hide.”

Juniper squinted and sniffed. “Looks like a cop car. Maybe they can help us?”

Christopher smiled his last smile. “Don’t be naïve. That’s my job.”

Juniper didn’t return the smile. “I don’t…I can’t…”

“Hide under the car. There’s no time.”

“Do you want the gun?”

“You keep it, baby.”

“I love you.” Juniper said.

“I love you, too.” Christopher rasped.

Then Juniper got down, hiding underneath the car. She prayed the driver of the other car hadn’t seen her.
Otherwise, she would make for easy sport underneath the car. There were many cars on the side of the road, but most were dusty, stripped of wheels and other parts. Christopher’s car looked brand new in comparison, except for the dent on the driver’s side. The driver of the police car took note of all the details. When a dog perked up in the backseat, the stranger pulled over to investigate.

Juniper heard the car stop close by. She was terrified for the first time in a long time, more so after
‘feeling’ the guy out. There wasn’t much to feel. Blackness made up the majority of the man’s range of emotions. At his center was a red ember. That was never a symbol of good intent. It was a seed of merciless pleasure that engulfed the man when he saw others in pain, or inflicted the pain himself. Juniper had only met two men that had been like that. One of them was dead

[
gut you like a fish]

and
the other was walking towards the car.

“Hey there.”
Peter’s voice was official. Though times had ‘a changed, he was still playing the part of concerned police officer.

Christopher must have turned towards him because
Peter whistled. “Whewie. You’re
all
fucked up.” Up above, there was a creak of leather, and then a click. “Want me to put you down?”

“Go ahead.” Christopher said.

“I’ll be honest, I’d have done it whether you were fucked up or not.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause it makes my world go round.”

Christopher did not reply.

The man went on. “Still, leaving you to suffer might be more interesting, but I am not, as they say, a complete monster. So I’m gonna shoot you in the head like a responsible denizen of the law. First, I gotta ask you somethin’, buddy. Was there anybody with you?”

“Just me and my dog.”

“Just you and your dog. Right.” He popped his tongue.
Click, click, click
. “Well, I don’t have the time to torture it outta ya. I’ll just get to the shootin’. One quick pop in the head.”

“Sounds…good.”
 

“Mind if I take your dog?”

“Go for it.”

“Mind if I fuck it?”

A raspy cough. “Me minding wouldn’t change your actions. A dead man can’t object.”

“Right you are.”

POW!

In the silence, the shot took over. No birds sang
, no traffic noises sounded, no music or conversation rang out. Through the car, Juniper saw Christopher’s brilliant blue light shatter. She gasped. Luckily, the echo of the gunfire covered up her shock.

Keys jangled. The purr of the automatic window engine
reverberated the entire undercarriage of the car.

“Hi, doggie.”
Peter’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “I’m not really gonna fuck you. I was just messin’ with that asshole. What I’m
gonna
do is take you home and make a nice doggy steak outta ya.” Juniper heard him open the back seat. “C’mon, boy.”

She saw black shoes and paws on the pavement.
Peter walked the mutt to his car. He talked to the dog, his voice becoming fainter and fainter.

“You’re a good boy.
Kinda cute under all the dirt. Maybe I won’t eat you. Naw, I probably will.”

Another car door slammed, twice. A car engine started. She heard
Peter’s car drive away. Juniper badly wanted to get out from under the car and see Christopher, but she wasn’t willing to risk it. Waiting was the key to her survival.
Peter could be waiting for me to come out.
After fifteen minutes, Juniper left her hiding spot.

She carefully shimmied her way out from under the car. Her hands and knees were bleeding from scraping them along the road, but she felt fine.
Fine for the moment.

Juniper got up on her knees in spite of the pain. Blood was splattered along the driver side door. There was a big chunk of red on the rearview mirror.
Maybe it’s a piece of brain tissue. God, don’t look. 

However, she stood up.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

She looked. “Don’t look.” She whimpered.

She looked away. She looked again. She looked away and vomited. The carcass of her husband shocked her so that she couldn’t even cry. Tears were in her eyes, but they wouldn’t fall.

Christopher was dead. Juniper was alone. Not even a fucking stray dog to take comfort in.

Comfort….she could have
some
comfort. Because she had a gun. Four bullets would be ample. Three for Peter (two in the groin, one in the brain pan) and one for herself. The new world was a shithole, and her husband was dead.
No need to stick around.

But, she would kill
Peter first. Not because he had killed her husband. (Though she couldn’t admit it yet, she would tell herself later that Christopher wouldn’t have made it anyway). Not because he had slapped her around in the past.

Juniper finished her
mother’s favorite saying aloud.

“It’s because one shall not suffer an asshole to live.”

****