Determined To Live (10 page)

Naked from the
waist down, I check out the house and find no broken windows - except
the bedroom, which was already broke - no zombies, or any other
living people. Relaxing a little, I ask Mel where those scissors are.
She takes me to what appears to be the junk drawer in the kitchen and
I see the scissors lying right on top. After I finally get my pants
on, I take the duffel bag into the living room and set it on the
floor beside the couch.

Expecting Mel to be
right behind me as usual, I'm startled when she isn't. Looking back
at the door, I see her standing just beyond the doorway, looking very
nervous and uncomfortable.

"Baby? What's
wrong?" I ask her.

"I'm not ever
never s'posed to go in that room, or I'll get in trouble and get
hurt," she tells me in a soft voice.

Rage starts to boil
inside me again at the thought of anyone laying their hands on this
beautiful little girl. It flashes across my mind that I wish those
two disgusting idiots were still alive because I'd kill them again,
zombies or not!

This is about the
time I can count on my good old conscience to speak up, which of
course it does.

"Oh sure!
Let that rage come out. Maybe this time you'll end up killing Melody.
Oh, and stop thinking about all these crimes that you want to get
justice for. What about
you
?
How are
you
any different? Where's
your
victims' justice? Oh, that's right. You - and you alone - are the
worlds judge, jury, and executioner now."

The
rage rushes out of me in a burst of breath. Ashamed, I look away from
Mel until I can speak again. When I finally
can
manage to speak without scaring her further with my own emotional
bullshit, I look back at the sweet little girl.

"Mel,
those people can't
ever
hurt you or tell you what to do
ever
again. Do you understand?" She gives a weak uncertain nod. "Mel,
they really are gone."

I stretch my hand
out to her. "Come on, Sweetie. Come sit by me."

Slowly, she moves
toward me, each step light and shaky. As soon as she's close enough,
I grab hold of her hand and her body relaxes a little. I sit on the
couch and Mel follows, sitting close enough she'd might as well be on
my lap.

"Mel, can I
ask you some more questions?"

She nods.

"Ok.
Did these people...uh...
hurt
you in any other way?"

"They hit me
lots, 'cuz I did bad things."

"What bad
things?" I ask her.

"I
broke a plate and a glass when I done dishes one time. I can't use
the dishwasher, 'cuz they says kids are s'posed to be the dishwasher.
And I have to clean the
whole
house - but not
this
room! And they hit me when I din't get stuff clean the right way. I
have to stay in my room and I have to be really,
really
quiet and stay in there when other peoples come over. But one time I
sneezed. I tried not to, but it just came out, and I got hurt
real
bad for it when the other people went home. They told the peoples I
was their neeze, but I don't even know what that means!"

"It
would mean that they were your aunt and uncle.
Were
they, Mel?"
I
highly doubt it, but crazier shit
has
happened. For example...zombies.

"No. I never
sees them before," she tells me with a confused look on her
face. "Why did they lie to the peoples and say that stuff?"

"Mel, they did
a bad thing taking you away from your mom and dad. If anyone found
out about it, the bad people would have gotten into a lot of trouble.
So they lied. Is that all they did to you, Mel? Just hit you?"

"No! They
kicked and punched me and throwed me in the wall. Oh, and they pulled
my hair really hard too!"

"That's
awful! I'm
so
sorry they did such mean things to you, Melody. I really am. But
they're really and truly gone now, and I will do everything I can to
protect you."

Thank you God
that they didn't hurt her in any other way, although all this was bad
enough.

Seeing Mel yawn, I
grab my crutches and stand.

"Ok, Mel. Show
me that calendar you kept and let's find you something to wear for
bed. You can sleep in here with me."

Mel jumps off the
couch and - excited and proud - tells me all about how good a job
she did remembering to draw a sad face every morning when she woke
up. She also reveals to me that she'd had to draw one on the bathroom
wall this morning because she was hiding inside since yesterday after
lunch.

"Hey, Mel? You
hungry?" I ask her, irritated with myself for not once thinking
how long she could have been stuck in that bathroom.

"Yes! I could
eat a house!"

I laugh. "You
mean a horse?"

"No! I meaned
a house!"

I laugh again,
shaking my head.

She opens the door
to her bedroom and I follow her inside, stopping abruptly once I see
the too-small room. No pictures, no color. Ugly brown wood floor, no
windows, and depressing wood-paneled walls. The bed is a cot with
only a top sheet and a thin blanket over a stained and smelly thin
mattress, and at the head of the bed is a pathetic-looking thin
pillow. It suddenly dawns on me that this had probably been the
kitchen pantry at one time.

Mel runs to the bed
and pulls a ratty old calendar from under her pillow - which isn't
much thicker than the calendar. She brings it to me and I tell her to
bring it into the kitchen with us.

I have her sit at
the table while I make something for us to eat. Searching the
cabinets and then the fridge, I find bacon and eggs.

Oh, yesss!
Bacon, how I love thee!

As I cook, I glance
at the calendar next to me on the counter. I'm startled to see the
year of the calendar is last year's, until I see that her drawn on
faces start back in June and go through November, but nothing past
yesterday's date.

"Where'd you
get this calendar, Mel?"

"Mother
telled me to throw it away when I had to clean up. I 'member my mommy
had calendars and she said that she keeped track of days with it. So
I wanted to too. But if Mother and Father find me with it, I'm gonna
be in
big
trouble!"

I
nod and remind her again, when I see and hear the fear she is still
unable to let go of, that they're gone for good and she will
not
get into trouble - then I return to looking at the calendar.

June 24th. So
she's still five. And it's been just over four months since she's
been here. I wonder if her parents are still alive?

I divide the food
onto two plates and Mel takes them to the table for me.

"Mel, how did
the man and woman become zombies?"

"The man goed
outside even though the lady telled him not to, but he din't listen
and when he comed back in, someone bited him on his arm! The lady was
mad and scared and made him go to his room. She taked him something
to drink and then she screamed, slammed the bedroom door, and runned
in here. He bited her too. She was
really
mad and scared about that. I tried to stay out of her way cuz that's
when she likes hitting me, when she's mad. Then I really had to pee
so I went to the baffroom. But when I got done, I heard her growling
and stuff and she scared me, so I jumped in the bafftub and laid
down. After a long time, I din't hear her very much anymore, but I
still stayed in there and stayed quiet. Then you came! Thank you for
coming, Aunt Ana, and for saving me."

"I'm glad I
came and saved you too, Mel. I can't imagine how scared you were. You
were very brave and smart to stay in there and hide."

"I know. I
coulda been a zombie too, and you'd have to kill me too, wouldn't
you, Aunt Ana?"

"I, uh,
well...I wouldn't have
wanted
to - and maybe not, if you weren't trying to eat me for dinner."
Ugh! What an incredibly
awkward conversation. Definitely not one I thought I'd ever have with
a five year old. Hell! With anyone, really.

We finish eating in
silence, listening to the undead outside and lost in our own
thoughts. When we finish, we put the plates and silverware in the
sink then go back to her room so she can get her PJs. Once she has
them on, we go back into the living room and she helps me move the
recliner closer to the couch. Then she grabs the blankets and pillows
from the hall where I'd thrown them earlier and we make our "beds".

After
Mel settles in on the couch, I tuck her in and give her a kiss on her
nose. Then I settle in the recliner, relieved that I can
finally
put my foot up. Mel is already asleep and lightly snoring when I
reach over the side of the chair, grab the handles of the duffel bag,
and pull it up on my lap. My heart races as I stare at the bag,
afraid to open it again. But I know I have to, so I finally pull the
zipper back.

Reaching inside, I
pull out all the clothes until I get to the bottom. Then I reach back
inside and pull out the photos, newspaper clippings, and other pieces
of paper. I look at the newspaper clippings first. The first one is
dated December of last year.

Have
You Seen This Missing Couple?

Louis and Pamela
Holland have been missing since at least Tuesday of last week. Police
were called when Louis's employer went to the couple's home,
concerned when Louis missed work both Monday and Tuesday, and never
called in.

"It's very
unlike Louis - who has only missed two days of work in his
thirty-eight years of working for me - to not call me," Charles
Kutler said.

Pamela - who does
not work - had told several neighbors and friends last week that her
son, Jake, was coming for a visit over the weekend. They say she was
very excited about the visit with her oldest child, since he is
rarely able to take time off work and his parents hadn't seen him in
several months. Their youngest son, Gregory, is unable to travel due
to medical reasons. Jake, who lives in Illinois, is also the primary
care provider for his brother, as he is better able to care for him
financially.

When notified by
telephone, Jake Holland told Detective Kilgore that he had been
unable to visit due to a decline in Gregory's health and hadn't heard
from either of his parents since he called to inform them of the
change in plans last Friday night.

Jake said he was
certain his parents would never attempt to make the trip to Illinois,
as his dad was unable to drive long distances and his mother had
never learned to drive.

Detective Kilgore,
who is handling the investigation, has asked for the public's help in
finding the missing couple. If you have any information, please call
the Atlanta PD directly at 404-555-8686.

___________________

The article also
has a picture of both parents and descriptions.

So...these are
Jake's parents.

Some things just
aren't adding up in your story, Jake.

Why would he
visit them if they were so abusive? Looking at the descriptions,
their father is a small man in both weight and height - much smaller
than either Jake or Greg, even the way Greg is now. Jake had told me
he and Greg had moved to Illinois to escape the harassment and
threats from their father; yet Jake was planning a visit - a much
anticipated visit, according to his mother's neighbors and friends -
and his whereabouts where clearly well-known.

Disturbed and
confused, I put it aside and pick up the next article. Much the same,
but dated two weeks later, this article is much smaller -already old
news. Basically it just says that the couple have still not been
found or heard from, and the police are still asking for help.

I
take a deep breath before pulling out the photos that I'd gotten a
quick glimpse of earlier. When I do, I lay them on my lap as I move
the duffel bag to the floor next to me. Then I start going through
them, one by one. The first one is a photo of Jake's dad. He's shown
in a room behind bars -
a
cell?
- with a cot and a table attached to a wall. A toilet is in the
corner opposite from the cot. His dad is up against the bars
obviously pleading with the person taking the picture, tears caught
falling down his face. His eyes are bloodshot and his face - which
shows obvious fear and torment - is bruised and bleeding. His arms
and hands are reaching out in desperation for the person behind the
camera.