Fear of the Dead (23 page)

Atton:
I've tried settling things down with him and, well, the inmates. But it's only made it worse. They get defensive whenever I ask them to stop, and they only take it out on him some more. They say that it's not my problem, and that I should mind my own business.
Dr. Shore:
Have you told the guards?
Atton:
The guards don't help. They don't give two shits what we do to each other.
Dr. Shore:
Language Atton. Please. I understand that you're feeling a little emotional right now, but do understand the importance of civility.
Atton:
Civility? Doctor. Do you even know where you are? Two of them tried to choke him out on the courtyard two days ago. There were guards on the ground and all over those towers. And everyone else just stood there and watched. How do you think I'm supposed to act?
Dr. Shore:
Please, do yourself a favor. Don't mind them.
Atton:
What?
Dr. Shore:
If you've told the guards, then that's all you can do. Beyond that, it isn't a matter that you should get yourself involved in.
Atton:
A man is getting the shit kicked out of him day in and day out. Am I supposed to sit back and let that happen?
Dr. Shore:
You don't have the authority to intervene any more than you already have. Trust me Atton. The only people here suited for the task are the prison guards.
Atton:
But I just told you...
Dr. Shore:
Ask them again. Or if you want, perhaps I could do it for you. Maybe I can have a word with the warden if it will help put your mind at ease. Atton?
Atton:
No. That won't be necessary.
Dr. Shore:
Alright then. Let's move on. Now in our last session, we talked briefly about your father's effect on you as a child.

1:43 PM

In the middle of the Terrence Boulevard intersection, Atton caught sign of a liquor store nearby. He stopped and grabbed a fresh bottle of Jack Daniels for no other reason than because it was Eli’s favorite. Atton hated what it did to his throat, which in Eli’s eyes made him a 200 lb pussy.

Bigger and taller ‘an an SUV, and the man still can’t take his alcohol.

That was what he said the day they got out of Wyden Hall, when they raided their first liquor store together.

A celebration of their newfound freedom, Eli called it. At the time, Atton wanted nothing to do with the idea of celebrating the deaths of over thousands of innocent people. Now all he wanted was someone to drink with.

Returning to Grace and the others was something he knew he’d do soon enough. But he didn’t want to go back feeling the way he did right now. Atton was crumbling as it was in the stress of his own disappointment. Seeing Grace now, and having to tell her everything, would only make it worse.

2:11 PM

For the remainder of his time, Atton sat in his car awash with feelings of guilt and dismay. He punished himself with each sip off the most potent drinks he could get his hands on. His throat felt numb, his brain damaged, but he didn’t stop.

After another sip he toggled the radio and surfed the channels filled with static. His fingers were clumsy and imprecise. He could scarcely change the station without at first pressing all the wrong buttons.

When the digital read-out hit 99.3, Atton heard what he could have sworn was something more than electric garbling.

“
Hell…”

Atton furrowed his brows, and increased the volume.

“
Hello…” it came again, the transmission no more clear now than it had been five seconds ago. It was only in putting the sound on full blast that he was barely able to make out what sounded to him like words.

“
Hell…Can…hear me?”

That confirmed it. There was someone speaking on the other line.

Quickly, Atton left the car and readjusted the antennae outside. He went back in, and the transmission, though faint, came slightly clearer now.

“
This is…general distress…teams…Please. Can any…hear me? I am in the…repeat, I am…If anybody is out there, and…respond.”

It was hard to make out the voice with all the heavy interference. He changed the radio stations to see if he could get a clearer signal, but the only channel that worked was 99.3.

Someone was broadcasting from the 99.3 radio station in San Francisco. They had to be. And if he was right, then that was where he’d find more survivors.

The radio station was located just along the coastline a few miles before the marina. He’d been there before, before his time in prison. And now he started himself to go back there again. Hope renewed.

Transcripts of Dr. Nelson Shore

Date: November 30, 2002

Recorded Session: 10

Dr. Shore:
There is a book I would like you to read.

Atton:
What is it?

Dr. Shore:
It’s called
A Lesson Before Dying
. Here. Consider it my gift to you.

Atton:
What’s it about?

Dr. Shore:
That’s what I want you to find out. Now ideally, I would appreciate it if you could have it read by the next time we see each other. But while it isn’t an entirely long book, I would understand if you were only able to get through half of it. Either way, it’s something that I would like to discuss with you for our next meeting.

Atton:
Say, doctor.

Dr. Shore:
Yes Atton?

Atton:
Do you believe in heaven?

Dr. Shore:
Yes. I do. Why? Don’t you?

Atton:
I try to.

Dr. Shore:
What does that mean exactly?

Atton:
I had a dream the other day. I was back at home with my family. They looked the same as they did when I last saw them. We were having thanksgiving together inside this huge house. I didn’t recognize it, but somehow my father owned it. It was this three story place with a driveway and a garden. Anyhow, everybody I ever knew was there. And you were there too.

Dr. Shore:
Is that so?

Atton:
You were talking with my mom about my recovery. She was crying she was so happy. Anyway, I bring that up cause when I woke up, I told myself that that was what I was striving for. That that is my goal line. No matter what happens, and no matter how hard I have to work, that is what I will achieve. Thing is, a few minutes after waking up and taking the time to think it over, I realized that was never going to happen. I don’t have a family anymore. My mom won’t see me. And I’m in here for life. Even if I do eventually get a transfer, I’m never going to leave prison. So now I’m not so sure what’s the point. What am I getting out of recovery?

Dr. Shore:
You cannot undo what is already done. Your actions will never wash away, but in the eyes of the Lord your sins will be forgiven if you try.

Atton:
I’ve been trying. But for what?

Dr. Shore:
The Lord has a plan for all of us Atton. You may not understand it now, but so long as you keep your ear out, then when the time comes and you keep yourself willing to hope, then you will hear the call.

5:16 PM

The Accord broke down half an hour ago on El Camino. The drive from 580 and back had been slow since all the highways were blocked. Cars lined up against the roads just the same as he saw before when the infected choked his path in the city. When they ambushed Eli and Atton.

But if this was like what they did in the city, Atton didn’t see zombies lurking amongst the cars on the highway.

Still, he wasn’t waiting to wait and find out. Instead he took to the only other exit he knew, and found that much to his pleasant surprise, the roads on El Camino were clear. The only problem now was that the battery in his sedan had gone to fritz, and his only other option was to find a replacement vehicle. Thus for the past 20 minutes, Atton took to the road by foot, carrying nothing with him but a half-empty pump action shotgun, praying that what little shells he had would be more than he needed.

The first few miles of El Camino were empty. But further along the road, a series of broken down vehicles began to rise. A welcome change were it not for the fact that none of them worked. Trucks, sedans, minivans, and least of all convertibles. They’d been abandoned by the evacuees. He could tell by the fact that the cars had their trunks and hoods opened, some with spare tires sitting directly beside them.

From the looks of things it seemed as though a handful of survivors had tried to drive on several cars. Some of them broke down, so they carpooled the rest of their way to wherever it was they were going. If there was one comfort in the idea, it was at least that their trip didn’t involve the presence of zombies. That meant that El Camino was probably safe. A thought that soothed him as he trailed the road on foot, contemplating the distant trees and valleys beyond the road.

It was getting darker now as well. So if there were any zombies lying around, now would have been the opportune moment for them to strike. Since they didn’t, Atton took it on good authority that they simply weren’t there.

What did it say then about the zombies, when they were all cloistered inside the cities? Was it a deliberate choice somehow? Did the infected move there in the hopes of finding prey? Was it conscious, or was it instinct?

For the next hour and a half Atton continued his walk down El Camino to San Francisco. The stars above him dimly lit his path along the way. Being far removed from the city, there was less light pollution around to obscure the night sky. The moon was bright, crescent, and clear. There were no clouds. No cover whatsoever to hide behind. Light, however bleak or faint, was watching over Atton Stone.

As he came to the end of El Camino, there were cars again. And like the last, they were parked beyond the white lines on the road, indicating once more that they'd been abandoned by whoever drove them.

Atton was inclined to think that they were unusable, but optimism granted him the benefit of the doubt. A Ford F-150 was parked behind an old SUV. And on the other side of the road there was a Toyota Camry parked close to a disposed Jetta.

Atton tried hot-wiring the F-150. After a series of attempts, the batteries failed to come to life, which effectively explained why it was abandoned. He tried his luck then with the white SUV. He smashed the window, lurched his hand on the lock, and let himself in. He tore open the casing on the steering wheel, and cut the necessary wires.

It worked. A smile of victory as Atton raised his hands in the air. He set the gear on drive, and when the car began skidding along the road he realized why the car had been abandoned.

“
Tires,” he sighed beneath his breath. He removed the wheels on the SUV and replaced them with those of the F-150. If the dimensions weren't completely the same, they were at least compatible enough to fit. At night it was hard to discern the differences in size between the two, but they were similar enough that Atton was able to fit the new one in with relative ease.

It was only once Atton started to drive that the variances in dimensions seemed more pronounced. One side felt taller than the other. Not by a significant margin, but under the wheels he could definitely feel the difference.

But no matter the case, Atton wasn't slowed down. His speed climbed the further along he drove, and so too did his resolve.

Transcripts of Dr. Nelson Shore

Date: December 7, 2002

Recorded Session: 11

Dr. Shore:
So what did you think of the book?

Atton:
I didn’t finish it.

Dr. Shore:
Oh. Well that’s a shame.

Atton:
You said I had until next week.

Dr. Shore:
Have you started?

Atton:
No.

Dr. Shore:
Atton, what I am seeing from you is a sharp decline in initiative. Yes, I did say that you had two weeks to finish the book. But that isn’t what impresses me, or anyone else out there in the real world. If someone is committed to change, then they will on their own free will strive to go beyond the call of duty. Where is that enthusiasm I saw when we first met?

Atton:
I don’t know. I’ve had a lot to deal with.

Dr. Shore:
And how is that?

Atton:
Tobias is getting worse. Last week I had to help pop his arm back after all the beating he took. Now they’ve put him in the infirmary, and I’ve been spending most of my time with him. You know, cheering him up.