Dwellers of the Night: The Complete Collection (81 page)

“Oh,” Mark says. After a moment, “Don’t worry. He doesn’t like me very much, either.”

“It shouldn’t bother me,” Anthony says.

“But it does?”

“Yes. Back at the church, I fit in. I was happy. Well,
somewhat
happy. But now…”

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Mark bites his lip. “But your friends from the church… Some of them…”

“I know they’re here. But
he
is in charge now. And he loathes me.”

“He isn’t in charge…”

“No,” Anthony says, staring at him. “He
is
in charge. It just hasn’t been verbally acknowledged. If we’re going to survive, we have to band together. He’s threatening to fucking
kill
me. I’m sorry if I might be overreacting, but I can’t be safe when the leader of the pack wants me dead.”

“He doesn’t want—’’

“Doesn’t want me dead? Did you hear what he said last night?”

“He was just… flustered.”

“He’s insane. Did you see how easily he killed Cameron?”

Mark pushes the chair back, props the back against the wall, throws his feet onto the table. He crosses his arms in his lap, interlaces his fingers. “The man is compassionate and caring. Deep down, he’s a decent man. I don’t know much about him. We honestly don’t talk about our hopes and dreams and ambitions and all that shit. Frankly, none of that matters anymore. But I know that before the plague, he had a fiancé. He was going to get married. And he loved her. We stayed at his house for a while, and all over the walls he had pictures of the two of them together. He actually
smiled
. And they were
real
smiles. ‘Once upon a time’. But his fiancé was taken from him, and he wasn’t able to deal with it. He’s become cold, a calloused shell. Dealing with death, dealing with what’s happened… He doesn’t know how to do it. He says he’s dealt with it, but his ‘dealing with it’ is still in its infancy stage. This new world that we live in, it has poisoned him. He doesn’t want to get close to anyone, because he fears that they’ll be taken. His fears are well-founded.” He glances towards the open doorway into the living room. No one else is in the house. “Chances are, Anthony, none of us are going to get to Alaska at all. We have to come to grips with that.” He returns his gaze to Anthony, and he speaks with no emotion save for acceptance: “We’re all probably going to die.”

Anthony doesn’t say anything else after that. Mark can see the pain etched over the boy’s face. Anthony had all but dealt with Karen’s demise when the revelation of her pregnancy had smashed him in the face like a brick. And now Anthony feels lost, totally alone. Mark remembers his sociology class, the professor speaking: “Some species live alone, while others have learned that if you form a tribe, you can share the work, have protection, and live more safely.
Homo sapiens
are a part of the latter, tribal species. While living in a tribe
does
have its costs, since you have to abide by shared rules and cannot do whatever you wish, evolution has shown that the benefits far outweigh these costs, and now we are pre-programmed, biologically, with a deep need to belong that drives us towards forming and joining tribes.” One of the professors in his associative PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION class told him, “Religions teach that mankind has the innate need to belong due to the imprint of a Higher Force—call it God, The Ultra-Mind, whatever—upon the soul. Christianity teaches that God is a Trinity, bound in relationship, and so human beings, made in the image of God, are relational in nature as well… Saint Augustine said that the heart is restless until it finds its home in God; but the Christian scriptures teach that the human heart is restless until it has all its relational needs met—

including but not limited to the need for a relationship with God.” All these memories dance through Mark’s mind as he watches Anthony poke through the cabinets.

“Maslow’s Hierarchy,” he mutters under his breath.

Anthony pauses, turns. “What?”

“Nothing,” Mark says. Maslow’s Hierarchy was a pyramid diagram, showing human needs. The need to belong came directly after the need for health and safety. Maslow placed it there because he recognized how fundamental belonging is to the human psyche. Mark remembers that a Anthony Barnhart

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psychological experiment was done where infants were separated from tender love and care at birth, and every one of them died.
The need to love and be loved saturates our being. Without it, we die
. He watches Anthony, who has returned to his search for food.
If Anthony doesn’t find it, he will die. It’s the
world that we live in. This time last year, we just died emotionally without belonging. Now, on our own, we
will die emotionally
and
physically
.

Emotional

Death.

Physical

Death.

Mark doesn’t know which is worse.

“People deal with this differently,” Mark says. They are sitting at the table, and the boy is eating cold canned corn. “Some of us accept it and move forward. We overcome the obstacle of unbelief, grief, and sorrow. We accept the fact that things have changed, that we must change with it or die. There are others who refused to accept it. They couldn’t accept that things have changed, that they couldn’t change themselves. And so they died—almost always at the end of a knife or amidst the noose. Others refuse to accept what happened but change to live accordingly. They say that they’ve accepted it, but in their hearts they haven’t. They’re still living in the past. You and me… We’ve accepted what’s happened. We’ve changed. Our acceptance didn’t just magically happen. We went through hell and came out alive. We wrestled and we struggled and we endured cognitive dissonance—our perceived reality of the world smashed upon the rocks as reality, in all its true splendor and majesty, was thrust upon us in the twinkling of an eye. But the man who threatens to kill you… He still lives in the past. He still thinks of his fiancé often. He has symbolically erased her memory from his mind, but she is still there, always at the forefront, always whispering. He hears her in the day, sees her at night. Some part of him still believes things will change, still believes that the world will come back together. Maybe he believes that he will one day wake up and realize this is all a dream. But until that day comes, he’s a bitter and hardened man, shoving people away from intimacy and caring only about himself.”

“He waits for a day that will never come.”

“Yes,” Mark says. He sighs. “But he doesn’t know that.”

“Maybe you should tell him.”

“He doesn’t even know he’s waiting for that day to come. He’s living a delusion.”

V

Everyone sits in the living room. It is nearing early evening. 4:45 PM. The man stands before them all. Sarah, Katie, and Kyle sit together on the sofa. Mark sits in a chair, and Anthony sits beside the Christmas tree. The man draws several deep breaths and tells them of his plans for Alaska. “I never intended to bring all of you along. It was just supposed to be me.” He doesn’t mention any of the others recruited, for he doesn’t wish to breed animosity between them. “But now that we’re here, I can’t just leave you guys behind. But I’m not going to force you to come along. I plan on going to Alaska. It’s cold, loosely populated, filled with vast wilderness and small towns, lots of natural resources. Things should be decently okay there. It’s going to be a long road, but I’m determined to make it. If you wish to do something else, then that’s your choice. But the Explorer is coming with me. I’ll let you have some of the weapons if you decide to go your own way.”

No one speaks for a few moments.

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The man continues: “When we were at the church, we bathed in complacency. We had no purpose. Now we
have
a purpose. We have something to strive for. Maybe not all of you share my sentiments, but I don’t think these dark-walkers or zombies or whatever the hell you want to call them will just ‘die off.’ Evolutionary history has proved such hopes to be nothing but delusions. Waiting at the church for them to just die off was idiotic. The church was located in a denselypopulated city with thousands upon thousands of dark-walkers. Harker’s plan was a great idea, but it failed pragmatically. The dark-walkers won’t die out. They’re thinner than they were in December, but I’m afraid that they’ll grow stronger and start reproducing.” The idea of them reproducing is new, but no one laughs or chuckles. No one says anything. “All right,” the man says. “We’ll spend the night here again. And hopefully,” he says, eyeing Anthony, “we won’t have any more…

incidents. Tomorrow we’ll set off.”

The man begins to leave the room when Katie raises her hand.

The man shakes his head. “You don’t have to raise your fucking hand.”

Her face blushes red. “What route will we be taking?”

The man doesn’t understand her embarrassment. “We’ll go down Interstate 75 to 74. We’ll follow 74 to 465. We’ll merge onto 70, and—’’

“Interstate 70?”

“Yeah,” the man says. “Why?”

“Why don’t we just… Why don’t we just take 75 north to 70 west?”

The man pauses. “That would take us through Dayton. I want to avoid big cities…”

Sarah looks over at Katie. “Wait a minute. You told me Elizabeth lived in Dayton…”

The man asks, “Who’s Elizabeth?”

Katie glares at Sarah, hangs her head low. “Elizabeth is… was… my girlfriend.”

The man doesn’t say anything. No one says anything. Anthony finally breaks the silence. “My sister went to school at Anderson University. It’s right off Interstate 70. Just a few miles off one of the exits. It’s secluded, and—’’

The man realizes what’s happening, and he interrupts: “No.”

Anthony begins to stand in protest, but the man’s glare sets him back down beside the Christmas tree.

“Absolutely not,” the man says. “We’re not going to be gallivanting all over the country.”

“It’s on the way,” Katie pleads. “All we need to do is go through Dayton…”

“I already have the map laid out. If you want to go visit your dead relatives and lesbian lovers, do it on your own time.”

Katie’s face turns maroon with rage.

A knot forms in Anthony’s throat, and he fights down tears.

Mark curses under his breath, stands. He walks up to the man, whispers in his ear. They leave the room.

They stand in the kitchen. Mark speaks in a harsh whisper. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Every minute we waste going here and there is time that we can’t get back.”

“It’s not like we have a deadline.”

“
I
have a deadline. I want to be out of here as soon as possible.”

“That’s fine and grand, but we should respect their wishes…”

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“Why?” the man growls. “Why the hell should we? Katie’s lesbian erotica is probably hiding in the buildings of downtown Dayton, salivating at the mouth. And Anthony’s sister? What’s the chances that she’s survived? Slim to none. The college will be filled with dark-walkers, and the city…

We’ve seen what the cities are like. We fucking lost Cameron.”

“Fine,” Mark snaps. “But don’t treat their emotions like shit.”

“Like hell I did.”

“Just make a few provisions for them, all right?”

“Hell no. If I back down, it’ll look like I have no backbone.”

Mark runs his fingers through his greasy hair. “You’re aggravating.”

The man smirks. “You’re soft.”

“Look. They need to find closure with these things, just like you did. Just like I did. You flew all the way to Cincinnati from
Germany
to see if Kira was all right…”

“That was my scheduled flight. And it happened
after
we left Germany.”

“Whatever. My point is that even though
logic
told you that she was dead just like everyone else, you held onto hope that things would be different for her, that she would be safe just like you. Anthony and Katie, they have the same hopes, as illogical as they may be. I’m just asking that you have a shred of decency and selflessness to tack an extra day of driving onto our little tour around north America so that two of our friends can—’’

“Friends?” the man coos. “They’re not my friends.”

“Fine. They don’t have to be. But they’re
my
friends.”

“They can go by themselves. I’m not forcing them to come with us.”

“But you’re forcing them
not
to,” Mark says.

The man doesn’t say anything.

Mark says, “If you refuse to treat them like human beings, if you refuse to actually
act
like a human being yourself, then I’ll go with them. And you can take whoever else with you. But chances are, you’ll be traveling alone. You’re a jackass, and everyone knows it. No one wants to be around you. I’m not insulting you. You’re fine with that fact. But face the reality: your selflessness pushes people away. And guess what happens when you take off all alone? You’ll die. Or you’ll go crazy and become a nut, talking to a soccer ball called ‘Wilson’ the rest of your life. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

The man is quiet.

“Good,” Mark says.

Mark reenters the room. Everyone stares at him.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” he says. “Katie, we’ll take you by Elizabeth’s place in the morning. Anthony, we’ll go to Anderson University in the afternoon, or the day afterwards if we have to. And then we’re going to Alaska. Does anyone have any objections?”

No one says anything, no one raises a hand.

“All right,” Mark says. “We head out of here in the morning. Say your goodbyes to Maranatha Street.”

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Anthony Barnhart

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Chapter Twenty-Six

The Beauty of Forbidden Desire

“There is only one happiness in life: to love and be loved.”

- George Sand (A.D. 1804-1876)

I

They leave at the crack of dawn. No roosters crow. There is no parade, no farewell. They quietly make their way out into the street. They find their assorted places within the Explorer, crammed tightly together—there is room from where Cameron had sat. The man takes his place behind the steering wheel, ignites the engine. The gas is on ¾. He curses. There must be a leak. He puts the Explorer in gear and begins the drive down the street. The sign reading MARANATHA STREET is speckled with dew. No one looks at it as the man rolls past the stop-sign and ascends the hill leading towards the highway.