Ever Onward (6 page)

Her head hurt. Her back hurt. In point
of fact, after Pussbag got through working her over there were
precious few parts of Shirley Bates that didn’t hurt. But he hadn’t
touched her face. He’d seemed very concerned about that. Shirley
had been too for a while, but after several punches to the small of
her back and the third or fourth kick to her ribs, she really
didn’t give a fuck. After a while all Shirley Bates wanted was to
dry up like everyone else and just blow away.

And now the monster was back. He
didn’t look like a monster, but Nurse Shirley knew he was --- for
only a monster could so easily and joyfully inflict such
pain.

She tried to turn away, but he knew
just the right nerve to pinch, just the right amount of pressure
needed to set her squirming like an eel but not pass out. Oh, yes,
he was a monster all right! He may look like a man, but underneath
was a foul-breathed, maggot-filled creature from hell!

Shirley summoned up the courage to
spit in his face, hoping he’d get angry and snap her neck. The
monster grinned and licked the saliva away with his tongue. Shirley
fainted.

Pussbag stood looking down at the
bundle clothed in white. He nudged it with the toe of his combat
boot. Stupid cunt! Just like all the rest! But He’ll like her! If
not, there’s always the Closet!

Pussbag yanked the
unconscious nurse over his shoulder and went off in search of the
Dark Stranger.

First Lieutenant Sam Waterson sat in
what was left of the Officer’s Mess nursing a stiff drink and a
savage headache. Second Lieutenant Walter Pinkton sat close by,
nursing a full bladder and an even fuller blown case of the shakes.
Private George Sampson paced back and forth, nursing an ongoing
nervous condition that was rapidly approaching the psychotic. From
his place behind the bar, Jocco Wellington, silent and deadly,
watched the trio with cold indifference.

Suddenly George stopped his pacing,
scrubbed at his shaven head, and swore. “Jesus Christ, Jocco, what
the fuck are we going to do?! I mean, shit man, everyone is fucking
DEAD!”

Jocco sipped his drink, then nodded
towards the open space that had until recently been the fourth wall
of the Officer’s Lounge. There, standing in the growing dark, was
Pussbag Smitty. Hanging over his shoulder was the limp form of
nurse Shirley Bates.

“Not quite everyone, Georgie-boy,”
Jocco said.

George followed Jocco’s gaze. “Holy
shit! Who the fuck is that?!”

Pussbag shuffled forward, his eyes,
fastened on Jocco, were big and bright. Madness danced just beneath
their surface. He dumped Shirley at Jocco’s feet and fell to his
knees. “’Follow me and I shall make thee great’”, Pussbag chanted.
“’A promise is a promise. Trust me.’” Those wild eyes took on a
dog-like luster. “I followed, just like you told me to. I worked
hard, just like you said.” He glanced down at Shirley’s crumpled
form. “I even brought you a present. Can I stay?”

The silence hung in the three sided
room like stale sweat. No one moved. No one even seemed to breathe.
Then Jocco broke the spell --- or perhaps deepened it.

“Yes, my friend, you can
stay.”

The smile on Pussbag’s face would have
warmed all but his mother’s cold heart. “Thank you!”, he sighed,
then he knelt down and kissed Jocco’s muddy boot.

Chapter 7
: HOME

Mt. Hawthorn

Lake Champlain, NY

June
23

Once past the interstate, 9N continues
east towards Lake Champlain, that great, hundred mile long slash in
the land between New York’s Adirondacks and Green Mountains of
Vermont. As you approach the lake the land flattens and farms begin
to appear. The odd deer is replaced by herds of cattle. Tiny,
sleeping villages give way to hustling, bustling towns.

Only now the hustle was over and the
bustle had dried up and blown away.

As he drove, Josh glanced over at his
son. Jessie had been silent since they had stopped at the I-87
underpass, the useless cell phone still clutched in his hand. Now,
turning south at Westport, they began to see the wrecked cars. Josh
had to swerve around several crashes. Stopping at the first, he had
looked inside. He did not stop again.

Five miles past Port Henry, they
turned west towards Hawthorn. Built on a small, wooded mountain,
Hawthorn, once a quiet little ski village, was now a suburban
bedroom community to the bigger, busier college town of Crown
Point. Ten minutes later they were home.

The human mind is a wondrous thing,
having within it the capacity to hope when all hope is gone; to
cling to an idea when all the evidence points to the contrary. Some
say it is that ability alone that separates humanity from the other
creatures. Without that spark of hope we are all just wanders blown
on a dark wind.

Several hours after arriving home,
father and son sat alone on the front steps, silently watching the
shadows lengthening all about them. Hope’s eternal spark was
flickering in a very dark wind indeed.

They’d just buried what remained of
Ann Williams in her garden. Josh had mumbled something about heaven
and a ‘better place’. Jessie had stood as one turned to stone. The
cell phone was gone now, replaced by a trembling fist. Then, as the
rich, dark earth began to cover the ‘thing’ rolled in the sheet,
Jessie had fallen to his knees, great wracking sobs filling the
silence.

Josh had joined him, and together they
had mourned.

Now, sitting on the front steps, both
silently watched the sun going down. Slowly, reverently, Josh took
something out of his pocket. Holding it up to the dying rays, it
flashed warmly. Gently he placed it in his son’s cold
hand.

“It was your mother’s, Jess. I think
she’d want you to have it.”

Jessie looked at the ring, its yellow
gold worn and smooth. His father still wore the mate. He dug Uncle
Bob’s ring out of his own pocket and held them up together. His
uncle’s was bigger, newer and less yellow. Through eyes red from
weeping, he looked at his father.

“Is that all we’ll ever find, Dad?
Dead people’s rings?”

Josh felt his breath catch in his
throat. “No, son. God wouldn’t be so cruel.”

Jessie stiffened, his young face
suddenly old. “’God’?!”, he screamed. “There IS no God! God would
never let THIS happen! And if He does exist, then... then I HATE
HIM!”

Josh moved towards him, but Jessie
turned away, dry sobs shaking his shoulders. Josh let him be,
knowing that words at this point, even kind ones, wouldn’t help.
Jessie was hurting, not only for a mother that he loved dearly, but
for everything he had ever known. Dead. Dead. The whole bloody
world was dead! Inwardly Josh himself railed at a Creator that
could allow his finest creation to be so casually
destroyed.

As the day darkened, father and son
sat clinging to the one thing they had left --- each
other.

Jessie came into the kitchen, one hand
rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His blond hair was tousled and he
had slept in his clothes. Soon after dark he had gone to his room.
Josh had found him fast asleep a few moments later, a tattered and
much loved Phoo Bear clutched to his breast. He had covered both
boy and bear and turned off the light. Not able to face the bed he
had found his wife in, he slept in the spare room.

“Breakfast?” Jessie asked, attempting
a smile.

Josh’s was more successful. “Coming
right up. But first take a shower. You’ll feel better.”

The attempted smile again.
“Sure.”

After breakfast, Josh looked at his
son. “We have to look, you know. We can’t just give up.”

The boy shrugged. “I know. It’s just
that, well, where do we start?”

“Hawthorn to begin with, then Crown
Point. After that, we’ll play it by ear. But first, we try Doc.
Gruber’s.”

Jessie frowned. “The vet’s? Why
there?”

“We passed farms on the way home and
the animals seemed fine. I just saw Mrs. Brinski’s cat out back.
Doc. Gruber always keeps lost strays. We can’t let them
starve.”

Jessie brightened. “Ya! We can let
them all go. Maybe even keep one! I’ve always wanted a dog! Can I,
Dad?!”

“Don’t see why not.”

Jessie was already moving towards the
door.

So far so good, Josh thought. He’d
come up with the idea late last night. Jessie needed something to
fill the void. He knew a dog could not take the place of a mother,
friends, a boy’s entire world, but he also knew that Jess needed to
have something to take his mind off what had happened. Loving and
caring for a dog couldn’t hurt.

“Dad! Dad!”, Jessie called from
outside. “Come quick! A car!”

Josh ran outside. Jessie was standing
at the end of the driveway, pointing down the road. “A car! I saw a
car! It was driving by when I came out!”

Josh looked towards the corner of the
main street. He saw nothing but empty houses and lawns that needed
mowing.

“Let’s go, Dad! We can catch up with
it!”

“We can try, son!”

Jumping into the van, they backed out,
and roared off down the road.

“Right or left, Jess?”

“Right, towards the center of
town!”

Josh gunned the old van, but by the
time they got to the main intersection, nothing was moving. Jessie
hit the dashboard. “I saw it! I know I did! A green
one!”

Jessie turned left and headed
downtown. If there was a car, the person driving was most probably
looking for other survivors just as they were. Sooner or later
they’d meet. Besides, Doc. Gruber’s small clinic was downtown. Five
minutes later they were there. Jessie, all thoughts of the car now
forgotten, leaped out and ran to the door.

“It’s locked!”

Josh came a moment later. In his hand
was a tire iron.

His son’s eyes widened. “You going to
smash the glass?” There was wonder in his voice. All his life he
had known his father as a quiet, law-biding man; a history teacher
at the local high school who loved to read and to enjoy the
outdoors. The thought of this mild spoken man smashing his way into
a building was beyond him.

“Let’s try a window first.”

Jessie nodded agreement and the two of
them walked around back. There they came face to face with an old
man sitting in the sun.

“Morning, gents. Care for a cup of
coffee?”

Father and son looked at each other.
Josh blinked, then walked forward, holding out his hand.

“You gave us quite a start, Dr.
Gruber. I’m Josh Williams and this is my son, Jessie.”

The old man smiled and shook Josh’s
hand. The dry, firm grip made tears spring to Josh’s eyes. Karl
Gruber winked at Jessie. “I’m real son. I’m seventy-one years old
and my arthritis hurts like hell, but I’m still a long ways from
being a ghost.”

Jessie beamed. “Are there any others
around?!”

The old man’s gray eyes clouded for a
moment, then brightened. “A few. Saw some young fool yesterday.
Drunk as a skunk and yelling at the top of his lungs. I went over
to him but he ran off. Someone else was busting windows down on
main street. Set the alarm off in Godart’s Hardware. But by the
time these old legs of mine got me there, whoever it was was long
gone.” He looked from the son to the father. “Heard a car go by a
not long ago. Was that you?”

Jessie beamed at his father. “I told
you I saw a car!”

Josh tousled his son’s blond hair.
“No, sir, that wasn’t us.”

“Call me Karl, or Doc. Now, how about
that coffee?”

“My pleasure,” Josh said. “Mind if
Jess here has a look at your animals?”

The old man cocked his bald head to
one side, reading the look in Josh’s eyes. He nodded, then turned
to Jessie. “Go right in, son. I’d appreciate the help. Got five
dogs and a slew of cats that need watering.”

Jessie was through the back door like
a shot.

Doc Gruber turned back to Josh, his
old eyes wise and knowing. “Good idea to get the lad a pet. That’s
why you came here?”

Josh nodded. “We buried his mother
yesterday. I thought a dog might help take his mind
off...things.”

“Hmmm,” Doc replied, filling a second
cup with coffee and motioning to a chair. “I was just sitting here
thinking on that when you two came by. ‘Things’ have gotten a might
out of hand of late. Got any ideas?”

This struck Josh as strange. He was
hoping the old man might have some kind of explanation. “You’re the
doctor. I’m only a small town history teacher.”

Doc seemed to find that funny. After a
cough and a spit, he explained. “Sorry, Josh. Education is a
wonderful thing, its just that over the years I’ve noticed that
stupidity comes in all colors and sizes. Some people never learn,
no matter what we do. Pearl Harbor. Hiroshima. Nagasaki. Viet Nam.
Iraq. Bosnia. You’d THINK we’d learn, but we never do.”

Josh leaned forward, glad he’d sent
Jessie inside. “You think this was done on purpose?!”