One Blink From Oblivion (33 page)

Max kisses his right hand and lays it upon Vinny’s forehead. He realizes that shock has dulled their emotional response to the loss of their best friend and in time, there will be hell to pay for it. He looks forward to then. A quiet, peaceful place and enough time to mourn the best man he ever knew is precisely what he needs.  

“Now let’s pray that we can be right on time for Big Mama,” Brooke whispers in Max’s ear as she helps him to his feet.

“Let’s do it!”

They make their way to the bottom floor and back out into a night that feels a bit less ominous now without Johnny Buckets to worry about. Max performs a quick but ultimately futile search for his canine companion. He fears the worst for the animal. In fact, he believes it more than likely that his oldest friend may have taken the life of his newest friend. It apparently had been Vinny who entered the building behind him. He imagines that the dog was not much of a match for a fully fed and transformed biter. If he had any tears left, he would shed one for the animal.

The rest of the trip home is a quick one since Big Mama’s house is little more than a mile further down the road. As the darkness begins to give way to the faintest of early morning glow, the streets grow quiet, almost tranquil. The rest of the way home it almost feels as though Brooke and Max exist in a vacuum, the last two people on earth. Since the office-building there hasn’t been a biter anywhere to be seen. No screams can be heard from the evil or the innocent.

Eventually they arrive at Max’s street. Just the sight of the yellow house backlit by the infant dawn of a new day is enough to lift his spirits as well as his feet. Somehow, he finds the will to jog the last seventy-five yards to the house. They climb the two steps to the front door. It stands ajar. Max steps through the threshold and his heart sinks. The damage done by the earthquake pales in comparison to the carnage spread across this place he once called home. He counts at least three half burned and still smoldering bodies between the front door and the kitchen. One lies across Big Mama’s favorite rocking chair. Both it and the chair are burned in such a way that it is difficult to tell where the body ends and the chair begins.

The smell in the room defies all explanation and the urge to vomit is nearly overwhelming for both Brooke and Max. The frightening realization that one of these burnt out corpses could be Big Mama counteracts Max’s revulsion with a supreme sadness. The second body is curled into the fetal position at the edge of the kitchen tile on the other side of the large and open living room. In Max’s estimation, it doesn’t contain enough mass to be the body of Big Mama.

The third smoldering corpse was apparently on its way up the stairs when it yet clung to life. Now its face is melted into the charred carpet of the steps. One hand –severed by fire- still grips the vertical slat attached to the handrail. Max is unable to consider whether or not this is Big Mama. More accurately, he refuses to consider the possibility.

Ignoring his pain, Max leaps over the first four steps and thus avoids most of the biological slush that canvasses the floor below. He races to the top of the steps and through Big Mama’s doorway. She apparently had not yet gotten around to fixing her bedroom door. The door itself rest against the wall perpendicular to the doorway. Though the metallic stench of blood fills the air, no burned biters occupy this space. Unfortunately neither does Big Mama.

Feeling as though he is about to spin out of his skin Max turns to Brooke who has just arrived at his side. His expression says simply, “why?”

“Big Mama!” Max calls out, “Big Mama! I’m here now. I’m here and everything is going to be alright now… I’m sorry I left you, but I’m here now!”

A hollow thump draws their attention to the right where the door to Big Mama’s private bathroom stands. The only thing worse than seeing his grandmother as a burnt-out shell would be seeing her with those demon eyes staring back at him as though his physical form were translucent but his soul black as coal. Max does not run to the doorway this time, he treads carefully. He has no weapon with which to defend himself and Brooke from a biter. Nor does he have the willpower to strike down Big Mama –yellow eyes or not.

Max rounds the entrance and nearly slips in a large pool of coagulated blood upon the bathroom’s tile floor. The once decorative Spanish Tile of Big Mama’s bathroom is now utterly saturated with the gooey aftermath of death. In the tub, a body lies face down and bloody from head to toe. It is not Big Mama.
Thump
, the sound repeats and this time it comes from within this small room. It sounds like a knuckle against the inside of the tub. Max grabs a towel from the nearby rack and shields his hand while he rolls the crimson soaked man out of the tub. His body -stiffened by rigor mortis- tumbles ungracefully to the hard tile floor with a bland thud. Now in his absence the tub reveals a bloodied and battered Big Mama. The tell-tell signs of a biter who has fed line her jaws like a clownish red makeup. The man on top of her must have been her final victim. Her considerable girth fills the width of the tub where she lies motionless.

Max Reaches out for her and is startled when her left hand twitches, causing her wedding ring to strike the wall of the tub,
thump.
Max’s face twists into a grimace of horror.

“I can’t do this! God, you’re asking too much of me.”

Now faced with the real life task of taking what is left of his Grandmother’s life he knows that he is unable.

“Max, you don’t have to do this. Let’s just get out of here. No one should have to do such a thing. We’ll leave this hell, get out of the Valley.”

After a prolonged silence, “If you leave again Maxy sweetheart this time you’re gonna’ have to take Big Mama with you,” Big Mama’s voice is tired and older then he recalls but the essence of love remains, “now help me out this here tub boy. I must have passed out from the smell of that god-awful man on top of me. He caught me by surprise while I was filing my nails. We wrestled a bit and he fell on top of me in the tub. By the grace of the good Lord Jesus, my nail file found its way into his eye during our fall. A few other loonies came poking around soon after, so I just laid real still and figured I’d wait ‘em out. I guess it worked, but I can’t say I remember much after that. Did they take anything Maxy?”

Big Mama is now sitting upright and reaching for Max’s hand. Max and Brooke share a look of joy that neither would have thought ever again possible only a moment ago. Max takes hold of Big Mama’s hand and Brooke pitches in from his side.

“Hey there Brooke sweetie. Would you be a doll and bring me my cell phone so I can call the authorities about this hooligan?”

Brooke shifts her weight to gain better leverage for the lift, “Mrs. Mills, a lot has happened that you should know about before you leave this room.”

“Okay sugar you can tell me all about it as long as you promise to call me Big Mama, Mrs. Mills makes me feel like an old lady.”

So far, Max has stood silent, content just to hear the velvety melodious sounds of Big Mama’s voice. She now stands fully upright and he helps her step out of the tub and onto the more sure footing of the bedroom carpet. He draws her in close and hugs her with his heart and soul as well as his good arm. He still says nothing. He has too much to be thankful for and too much to express to know where he should even begin.

Over the next thirty-plus minutes, Brooke recounts the impossible events of the night and the world outside that will be forever changed. Big Mama never doubts a single word of the amazing and horrific story she is told. The two ladies cry together and find solace in each other’s words of support and comfort. Max says nothing.

With all in agreement that it is time to leave, Max grabs the keys to his grandmother’s car and after convincing her to keep her eyes closed, walks her down the stairs and out of the house. They step onto the front porch and breathe deeply of the fresh morning air.

Lounging upon the dew laced grass of the font yard and looking right at home is Max’s lost companion. The amazing animal lifts Max’s spirits even higher. Brooke turns to him with a look of confusion and amazement. As Max, Brooke and Big Mama stand on the front porch feeling the first light of a day that none of them thought they would ever live to see, Max takes Brooke’s hand in his own. Whatever comes next they will face it together -he, his girls and apparently his new dog. He looks lovingly into Brooke’s eyes… she smiles up at him. He leans in to give her a kiss and just before their lips meet, he makes one last silent prayer… that the yellow gleam he just saw in her eyes was merely a reflection of the sunrise over his right shoulder.

The End