In the Lone and Level Sands (63 page)

****

Sean was reading a book in the farthest
corner of the rec room, just keeping to himself. He occasionally
looked at some soldiers who were watching a movie, or at Evan and
company playing pool. He frequently brushed his fingers over the
handle of his sidearm. He also shook his head from time to
time.

As he lined up his shot, Evan noticed Sean
reading. He thought little of it, returned his focus to the game,
and took his turn. The balls blasted around the table in different
directions, none sank. As Cynthia went in for a shot, Mal looked up
at Evan.

“Are we going to live here, Daddy?”

“Well, for now, Mal. I think so. The nice
soldiers are letting us stay here until they can fix everything out
there.”

“How long will that take?”

“Honey, it won’t take very much longer,”
Cynthia said. She stood aside as Jason scanned the table, looking
for the best shot. “Soon, we’ll be able to go back home.”

“Your mother’s right, sweetie,” Evan
said.

“You going to stare at the balls, or are you
gonna make your shot?” Daisy said.

“Just trying to find the right angle here,”
Jason replied. “There’s a science to it, you know.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

Evan watched as a soldier slowly approached
Sean. “Williams? Are you okay?”

Sean didn’t reply.

“How long are you going to keep this up? I
know you’re upset, but you’ve gotta move on, man!”

Sean didn’t even look at the soldier.

“Come on! We all have it bad here, how is it
any different for you?” The soldier waited a moment for a response
that wouldn’t come. “Are you gonna talk to me?” He put a hand on
Sean’s sleeve, and Sean leapt to his feet, pulled his gun out, and
put a bullet in the soldier’s head. People screamed, and the other
soldiers moved in.

“Get back! Get back you fucks! You’ve taken
my family, but I’ll be damned if you take me!”

Evan moved forward. He felt upset, like he
didn’t do enough, and now this man had snapped.

Cynthia’s face was tight with fear. “Evan,
what are you doing?”

“Mr. Williams, please, don’t do this,” Evan
said.

“Sir, get back! He’s dangerous!” a soldier
said. He drew his gun.

“Daddy, please!” Mal said.

“You again?” Sean shouted at Evan. “Get
back, you cretin! You’re not taking me too!” Sean fired into the
air.

What the hell is he talking about?
Evan thought.

“Go get backup!” a soldier said to
another.

Evan backed up, his hands raised, and kept
silent. Sean’s pinched, sneering face didn’t turn from him.

“You can’t have me, you disgusting thing!”
Sean lowered his gun and fired a shot at Evan. The bullet pierced
his stomach; he groaned and his eyes squeezed shut. Evan collapsed
to his knees.

“Evan!” Cynthia said.

Mal’s eyes widened and filled with tears.
She began sobbing. While Cynthia collapsed next to Evan, Mal buried
her face in Daisy’s arms. Daisy hugged Mal and turned away. The
others didn’t know what to do.

“Don’t come near me!” Sean said to the
soldiers moving in. One raised his gun to fire, and Sean spun on
him and pulled the trigger, but his gun clicked.

“Grab him!” one of the soldiers said. One
soldier, a man named Jenner, grabbed Sean when he reached for
another clip. Another, Anderson, helped Jenner. Sean kneed Anderson
in the crotch, and he fell away. With his free hand, Sean punched
Jenner in the face. Another soldier, a much bigger one by the name
of Franklin, grabbed Sean and came down on his head with a sturdy
elbow. Sean hit the floor and was out cold. Anderson recovered
himself and kicked Sean’s gun across the room. Franklin and Jenner
lifted Sean and carried him out of the rec room.

“Is someone getting him help?” Daisy said.
Cynthia was in tears, hugging Evan.

“I’m on it!” Anderson said. He ran limping
out of the room.

Mal broke from Daisy and went to her father.
He looked at her, feeling faint. He was still bleeding from his
stomach.

“Daddy, no,” Mal said.

Cynthia was still latched onto Evan,
sobbing. Evan was breathing heavily, but tried to hug Cynthia back.
Those still in the rec room were silent. Some had fled the area,
but all of Evan’s friends remained, their hearts heavy, feeling
every passing second drag them along.

“Please, Evan!” Cynthia said. “Stay awake,
don’t go under! Evan!”

Evan’s eyes fluttered and his vision
blurred. Cynthia’s voice went in and out.

“Evan, stay with us! Evan, plea—”

Evan was unconscious.

****

Doctor Clifford Faulkner was a tall
African-American man with short, graying hair and glasses with
little round lenses. When he spoke, he removed these, his sharp
eyes gazing around the room, where Evan’s friends and family were
anxiously waiting.

“Mrs. Jacobson?” he said.

She stood up and met with the doctor. “Yes,
is my husband okay? Is he going to be all right?”

The doctor barely got further than “He’s
going to live” when Cynthia nearly broke down, crying and hugging
her daughter, but he continued anyway. “He lost a lot of blood, but
thankfully the bullet missed the important stuff. We removed the
bullet, and he should recover just fine. He’s very lucky.”

Relief flowed through Cynthia like a
fountain. New tears poured out over the dried ones.

“Thank God!” she said.

“He’ll be moved to the recovery room soon,”
Dr. Faulkner said.

“Can we see him?”

“Yes, but make it brief. He really needs his
rest.”

“Thank you,” Cynthia said. Dr. Faulkner let
them into Evan’s room. “Evan?”

Evan blinked and smiled. “Hey, Cynthia.” He
looked at Mal. “Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi, Daddy. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. A little loopy from the medicine,
but fine. I’m just glad I still get to be with you two a little
longer.”

“What are we, chopped liver?” Jason said. He
chuckled.

“You all as well,” Evan said. He laughed
weakly.

“I was so scared, Daddy.”

“It’s okay, Mal. I’m healing. I’m not going
anywhere.”

“Glad you’re gonna be okay,” Daisy said.

“Yeah, me too,” Evan replied.

“Well, it’s probably time we get ourselves
to bed,” Cynthia said. “Come on, honey.” The others all made their
goodnights, but Cynthia pulled Daisy aside. “Hey, take Mallorie
real quick, will you? I want to stay a minute longer.”

“Sure thing, hon,” Daisy said. “Come on Mal,
your mom’ll be along soon.”

“Okay!” Mal smiled at Daisy, then took her
hand.

Cynthia watched as the others and Dr.
Faulkner left, and when she knew they were gone, she turned back to
Evan.

“The other day I was talking to Vanessa, and
she really opened my eyes. I mean, everything we fought about, all
those little problems that tore us apart, they just don’t matter,
not now, you know?”

“Yeah,” Evan said. “I do.”

“I just wish it didn’t take until today for
me to understand that.”

“Cynthia, why are you talking like I
died?”

“You mean more to me than you know. I know I
haven’t been the easiest person to deal with since our divorce, but
I realize now it was all just stupid pointless shit I hated you
for. I wish we could just erase all of that.”

“It was a lot of little stuff that we
both
blew out of proportion,” Evan replied. “Life is just
too short…”

“I still care about you. More than that. I
love you, Evan. I understand if you don’t love me, but when you
were shot, and I thought I’d lose you… I was so scared.” Cynthia
hugged Evan, and he rubbed her back softly.

“I love you too, Cynthia. I never did stop
loving you.”

Cynthia let out a couple of short sobs.

“It’s okay,” Evan said. “It’ll be okay.”

“I know. I’m just so happy you’re okay.”

58

Past the Hotel

Gathering streaks of dark clouds passed
before the sun, and Layne wondered if it was going to rain
again.

They had driven a few miles, and the zombies
were thinning out, so he decided it was time to pull over and
gather his thoughts.

He slowed the minivan, making sure the other
car was still following, and then pulled onto the shoulder, past
some overturned cars, and into the grass. The other car pulled to a
stop a few feet behind.

Layne and Katie got out of their car, and
Garrett emerged from the passenger side of the other. He was taking
his shirt off, and he threw the wet, tattered clothing on the
ground.

“Did we bring any extra clothes?” he
asked.

“No,” Katie said. “We left them in the
hotel. We can stop somewhere, we could always use more food
anyway.”

“We can probably just follow this road until
we get to a smaller town,” Layne said. “One with a store.”

They heard a noise from up the road. It was
the unmistakable sound of an engine running. They turned their
attention toward it, away from the sinking sun. A small car came
into view. It slowed as it neared them and pulled onto the
shoulder, as they had. It stopped there, idled for a moment, and
then shut off.

The door opened, and a short man with dark
hair stepped out. He looked over the car door at them as if
confirming they were really there, fixed his glasses, and then shut
the door. The man’s shirt was torn, the block-printed ‘FNP’ on the
front was deeply faded.

“Hello,” he said. He squinted, sizing them
up.

“Hi,” Layne said, then looked at
Garrett.

“I saw you leave the hotel back there, and I
followed you. Almost thought I was seeing things.” He stepped
closer, and Layne noticed a scar on the right side of his head,
closely following his hairline.

“Well, we’re here, and we’re real,” Katie
said.

“Right, of course.”

“Are you alone?” Layne asked.

“Well, I’m by myself, yeah. But I’m not
really alone, I mean, there are zombies everywhere.”

“I meant besides those.”

“Of course you did. How many of you are
there?”

“Eleven of us,” Garrett said.

“Eleven? How did you all manage to stay
alive?”

“That’s a bit of a story,” Katie said.

“You’re welcome to join us, if you want to,”
Layne said.

“No need,” the man replied. Layne was
surprised. He didn’t think anyone would actually choose to be
alone, these days.

“Are you sure?” Garrett said. “I mean, those
things are everywhere. It’s not safe to be alone.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s easier to hide when
you’re alone.”

“Yeah, but it’s easier to kill them when
you’re not.”

“Kill them? Why would I want to do
that?”

Garrett, Katie, and Layne swapped confused
glances. “Because they’re trying to eat you?” Katie said.

“So? Most creatures would, out there in the
world. Doesn’t mean driving them to extinction is the only
option.”

“I don’t know if you’ve looked around
lately,” Kyle said (Layne hadn’t even noticed him open his door),
“but the only thing being driven to extinction is us.”

“Come what may,” the man said. “Survival of
the fittest. This is just evolution, that’s all.”

“I think you’re grossly understating the
situation,” Layne replied.

“Think what you will. These creatures have
rights, just as all should. And if I’m the only person left to
acknowledge that, well, I’ll stand alone.”

Layne was trying not to laugh. It wasn’t
funny, really, but he didn’t know how else to respond.

“Well fuck me sideways,” Kyle said, “he’s a
zombie rights activist.” He rolled his eyes and got back in the
car.

“My name’s JD, by the way. Jonathan David. I
was a writer. Well, I still am, but an audience is going to be a
lot harder to find, I’m afraid. Especially with no internet.”

And no sense of reason,
Layne
thought.

“I’ve never heard of you,” Garrett said.

“None of you have? You’ve never come across
any of my ghost stories on the web?” JD looked around, got blank
stares.

“I’m more of a Stephen Fletcher fan,
myself,” Dex said. Most of the others had apparently joined in on
the conversation. Some had gotten out of the cars, but most had
just rolled their windows down. Jessi was trying to entertain
Kara.

“No matter,” JD said. “Everyone starts out
small, I guess. I’ll just have to keep on writing.”

“Well, you should write a book on zombie
rights,” Garrett said. “I’ll have you autograph a copy for me.” If
JD saw him roll his eyes, he showed no sign of it.

“I currently am. It’ll be my second work. I
had another one lined up, but, well, things have obviously changed,
and this one takes precedence. My first book, it was on—” He
stopped and looked at his shirt, as if to confirm it was the right
one, then pointed to the big block letters spread across it. “This
guy. I had a Wordpress, too. FNP stands for Free Norman
Peters.”

“Who?” Garrett asked.

“He’s a guy locked up in a maximum security
prison in L.A. for voodoo. Can you believe that? For voodoo. Like
that actually exists. So he gets the life sentence because some
judge has the heebie-jeebies. Ridiculous.”

“I’ve never heard of him,” Katie said.

“Of course not. You think they’d let word
get out to the news media? A few people light themselves on fire,
and this guy gets blamed. They somehow convinced the judge he was
responsible, as if that were possible.”

“Yeah, crazy,” Layne said. He was getting
bored of JD, especially since he wouldn’t be joining them.

“People don’t go to jail for no reason,”
Ralph said.

“I’m not a member of this guy’s Kool-Aid
camp—” Garrett turned to JD and said “no offense” before turning
back to Ralph, “—but people go to jail for the wrong reasons all
the time. Especially if they’re not white.”