Ashton Memorial (14 page)

Angie looked down at herself. Her hospital
smock was torn, wet and dirty. Her whole body ached, trembling with
exhaustion.

She had to sleep. The kids had to sleep.
More than just catnaps in the car.

She looked at Park, who must have guessed
what she was thinking. He nodded to her.

Angie turned back to the
kids. “Okay, guys. We're spending the night here.”

“Oh thank god,” said
Maylee, slumping back deeper into the couch.

“I know how you feel,” said
Angie. “Let's also see if we can scavenge some clothes from Uncle
Bobby.”

Dalton frowned. “Isn't that
stealing?”

Angie blinked. “Well, yeah,
I mean, no. Not really. Bobby's family. And I'm sure he would have
given you clothes if, well, you know.”

Dalton nodded, then looked down at the
floor. He scratched the top of his head and yawned.

“Alright then,” said Angie.
“Let's go.”

She led Dalton and Maylee to the bedroom.
Park followed, leaning against the door frame and watching.

After a quick search of
dressers and the closet, they found suitable clothes. Angie found
jeans, new socks and a T-shirt of her brother's that would
reasonably fit. Maylee found jeans, a jacket and an
Ashton Tigers
T-shirt
among Bobby's girlfriend's clothes.

Then they discovered
Bobby's girlfriend had a son. Several years younger than Dalton,
judging by the size and content of his clothes, but his clothes
just barely fit. Dalton wasn't happy, especially when Angie handed
him the biggest child shirt she could find. It had a smiling panda
bear on it and big letters reading
Mommy's
Big Boy
.

“Mom!” said Dalton, looking
at the shirt and frowning at Angie. “This is a baby's
shirt!”

“What, you saying you
aren't my big boy?” said Angie, smiling at Dalton. “Besides, if it
fits, wear it. Turn it inside out if you want.”

Dalton looked at her, then sullenly back at
the shirt. Park smirked, then pushed off the door frame. He walked
back into the hallway.

“Okay, guys,” said Angie.
“You guys change in here and I'll go to the bathroom.”

“Okay,” said Maylee,
nodding. Dalton nodded, still glaring at his new shirt.

Angie stepped into the hallway, shutting the
bedroom door behind her.

Angie carried her new clothes to the
bathroom and set them down on the counter. She saw Park back in the
living room, staring at the parking lot. She walked over to stand
next to him.

Down in the lot, the corpses had thinned out
further. By morning most of them would be gone.

“You guys won't be able to
stay here for long,” Park said, not taking his eyes off the
corpses.

Angie nodded. “Yeah. I
figured we'd head back to Lakewood. If we're going to just take
some house and live like squatters, we might as well do it in our
hometown.”

Park looked over at her.

Angie looked back. “I mean
after we give you a ride to your ex's.”

Park nodded and looked back to the lot.

Angie looked at him a
moment longer, then turned back to look outside. A corpse in the
parking lot dragged its broken leg behind as it wandered in a
perpetual circle. Its ruined foot scraped the asphalt with each
step. “How old are your girls again?” she said.

“Fifteen,” said
Park.

“Twins?”

“Yeah.”

Angie nodded. They were
both quiet for a moment. A corpse in the parking lot had a long
split down the center of its chest. Ribs could be seen, stained red
and black, but slowly washing clean in the rain. “How long since
you've seen them?” said Angie.

He snorted. “Fuck if I
know. Years.”

“You know where they
live?”

“Yep. I get letters. Court
papers. We got joint custody. She's required to let me know when
she moves.”

Angie frowned at him. “You
have joint custody but you never used it?”

“No,” said Park, rubbing
his stubble. “Never did.”

“Prick,” said Angie,
quietly. She looked back to the parking lot. “A dad shouldn't leave
his kids.”

“They left me.” Down in the
parking lot, a corpse with no eyes reached around aimlessly. Its
fingers landed on other corpses, clutching at them.

“At first, maybe,” said
Angie. “You left them after.” She walked away, leaving him at the
glass door. She moved into the bathroom and shut the
door.

She went to the sink and turned on the
water. She leaned forward on the counter, watching the water run
into the basin. She cupped her hands in the water and washed her
face. Straightening, she looked at her dripping face in the mirror.
She looked tired.

Then the weight of the last twenty-four
hours hit.

Twenty-four hours ago she was getting ready
for work, and Maylee was complaining about Angie's insistence on
using a babysitter. Maylee was old enough to babysit kids herself.
Maylee was right, but Angie didn't care. Maylee and Dalton were
children, and children needed protection. And Brooke, the
babysitter, had died protecting them.

Brooke, dead.

Freeda, Angie's best friend from the
hospital, dead.

All the patients and staff, dead.

Her brother, dead.

Dead.

She wiped her face with her hands and looked
over at the shower. She sighed. She was exhausted and there was no
time for luxuries. But she had to. Who knew when she'd get the
chance again?

She stripped as quickly as she could,
tossing her hospital uniform to the floor. She noticed, for the
first time, all the dirt, scrapes and flecks of blood all over her
arms and torso.

She turned on the shower as hot as she could
stand. She climbed inside and washed herself. She moved as quickly
as she could, but slowed down with each passing second.

For a moment she cried.

Then almost fell asleep standing up.

* * *

It is the day before. Lori
sits in the car with Mom, driving home to get Gregory. “What's
wrong with Dad's car?” Lori asks, looking over at Mom.

Mom thinks as she turns
the steering wheel, then shrugs. “I don't think he
said.”

Mom looks like something is wrong. She
stares blankly at the road as she steers the car.

“Are you okay, Mom?” says
Lori.

“No,” says Mom.

Later, Lori watches her mother’s driving as
they turn up their street. She observes carefully, so she will be a
good driver when it’s her turn.

Mom sees her looking and
smiles. “What?”

Lori looks away,
embarrassed. “Nothing.”

“Here we are,” says Mom,
drawing near to their driveway.

Lori looks at their house as they approach.
Their large front window is decorated for fall. Big plastic decals,
shaped and colored like fall leaves, are carefully arranged on the
glass. It looks very festive. The garage is open. Gregory's SUV is
inside.

Mom pulls into the
driveway and pushes the shifter to park. “Wait here,” she says,
leaving the engine running. “I'll go get your father.”

Lori watches as Mom exits the car and shuts the
door. Mom walks up the sidewalk and onto the porch. She unlocks the
door and, leaving it open, walks inside.

She takes longer than Lori expects. Lori
hears a creaking noise from outside, loud enough to be heard over
the engine. She looks over and sees the large tree in their front
yard. Its thick branches are swaying back and forth in the wind.
Dry, colored leaves fall to their yard. Rain spatters on the
windshield.

Something about the creaking branch bothers
Lori, so she turns on the radio. She finds nothing that interests
her, so she turns it off. She shifts in her seat nervously. What is
taking Mom so long?

A loud “pop” comes from
the house.

Lori is so startled she jerks back in her
seat. Later she'll realize she heard a gunshot. Now, she's
mystified. The sound is nothing like the massive explosions guns
make in movies. It’s a sharp, cracking sound. Like something
breaking.

A few seconds later, Gregory exits the
house. He doesn't stop to close the door. He looks pale and shaken.
He looks as though he's headed for the garage, then he stops,
seeing Lori in the car.

For a moment Lori sees panic on his
face.

Then it's gone. He smiles, looking like it
hurts him to do it, then walks toward the car. Lori recognizes the
smile. It's the smile he uses when he's explaining something very
serious.

He opens the car door and
climbs inside. “Hello, Lori.” He shuts the door. “I'm sorry but we
have to hurry.” He pulls the shifter into reverse, without even
pausing to put on his seat belt. Gregory always uses his seat
belt.

“Where's Mom?” says
Lori.

“She's staying behind,”
says Gregory as he eases the car back out of the driveway. “I'll
explain in a second.”

Lori knows that can't be right. Mom had just
started her shift at work. Sure, Gregory ran the zoo so Mom could
skip work if she wanted, but Mom isn't the type to abuse her
position.

“Where's Mom?” repeats
Lori, a little more insistent this time.

“Please Lori, give me a
second. I'll explain.” Gregory backs out of the driveway and turns.
He backs along the road, straightening the car. He slows alongside
the open door to the house. Lori sees inside.

She sees Mom's foot, lying on the floor. The
rest of Mom is hidden from view.

“Mom!” she
yells.

Not thinking, not planning, not acting like
herself, she opens the door. The car is still rolling as she jumps
out. She hits the ground and stumbles, not thinking of how crazy
she's being. Not thinking of how she's acting more like her twin
sister than herself. Just thinking of the sight of her mother,
lying on the living room floor.

“Lori stop!” yells
Gregory, slamming on the brakes. The tires make a squeaking sound
as they skid on the wet road.

Gregory's calls come from behind her. She
recovers from her stumble, clutching the wet grass and using it to
pull herself back to standing. She bolts for the house.

She hears the car door
open behind her. “Lori!” yells Gregory, farther away as she draws
near the porch.

She hits the concrete of the porch, her wet
shoes nearly skidding. Not stopping, she runs inside.

“Lori!” yells Gregory from
outside.

“Mom!” yells Lori,
stumbling into the living room and turning.

Seconds later, she runs back out, screaming
and crying. She collapses, screaming until she's hoarse.

* * *

Lori jerked awake. She'd fallen asleep
sitting up. Her neck ached. She couldn't move her arms or legs. Her
mouth was covered with something. For a moment she panicked.

Then she remembered. She was tied to a chair
somewhere in the zoo. Tied there by her dad. By Gregory.

He stepped into view. Lori grunted muffled
obscenities at him, biting at the gag over her mouth. Then she
slumped in her chair. God, she was so tired. How long had this been
going on?

“I'm sure you are tired,” said Gregory, apparently
noticing her slump. “You've been screaming and thrashing all night
and most of the day.”

She glared at him. Her eyes blurred. She
blinked to clear them. They blurred again.

“Poor girl,” said Gregory.
“You're exhausted.”

She pulled herself straight in the chair. She would
not show weakness. Not to him.

“I bet you're starving,
too.”

Oh god, she was. The realization sent a
cramping wave through her stomach and throat.

“Aren't you?” Gregory
said.

She stared at him, then nodded. She hated
herself for doing it, but she nodded.

He nodded back, then knelt
down before her. He rubbed his neatly-trimmed beard. “I can take
off the gag. Maybe even untie your arms. But you have to understand
why I did what I did. You have to understand I had to.”

She panted into the gag, her stomach
quivering from hunger. She stared at him, saying nothing.

“Do you?”

She looked down at the floor. God, she was
hungry.

“Lori look at me,” said
Gregory. He reached out and lifted up her chin. She recoiled from
his touch. He dropped his hand. She lifted up her head and looked
at him.

“Do you understand,
Lori?”

She stared at him.

Then shook her head no.

He hung his head. He
sighed, then looked back up at her. “Fine. Do you at least promise
not to scream? Or try to hit me?”

Her stomach clenched. Her hands, tied behind
her back, trembled from exhaustion.

She nodded.

“Okay then.”

Gregory stood and walked behind her. She
felt his fingers working at the cords around her wrists. She
flinched at his touch, but did her best to hold still. A few more
seconds and her hands were free. She briefly entertained the
thought of punching him, but repressed it.

She brought her hands around to her front,
rubbing her raw and aching wrists. Gregory's hands changed to the
gag. She felt him tugging at the knot, wincing as it tangled with
her hair. The gag loosened and slipped off.

She panted and spit. Her mouth was dry and
her stomach ached.