The Age of Zombies: Sergeant Jones (6 page)

The two called it a day when Emma Jo got tired of harassing the geese. They had only been gone an hour and a half. Jones drove home with the radio blasting Emma Jo’s favorite tunes. They were a mish mash of Disney classics. Jones sung along with his daughter all the way back home.

When they got back, Emma Jo asked if she could ride her bike outside. Jones said yes as long as somebody would be watching her. He noticed that the neighbor across the street was outside with her son, who was about the same age as Emma Jo. Jones waved to the neighbor and told her that Emma Jo would be out riding with the boy.

Emma Jo’s request gave Jones an idea. He’d have Vanessa all to himself for the next hour or so. He started thinking of things that he wanted to do to his wife. He had a laundry list of fantasies that he tallied up while back in the desolation of Afghanistan. He finally had the chance to play some of them out.

Jones walked into the house, and right away something didn’t feel right. He took a couple steps up the stairs, and something didn’t smell right. A couple more steps, and something definitely didn’t sound right. Jones rushed up the rest of the flight of stairs to the second floor of his home. He ran down the hallway to his bedroom and kicked the door open.

What he saw at that moment was worse than a bullet to the gut. Vanessa was spread out on the bed, flat on her belly, naked as the sky. On top of her was a guy that lived down the block. He was middle aged, skinny, and had a hairy ass. Jones remembered this guy as the jogger: every morning he ran up and around the block several times, and he did the same every evening.

Once Vanessa realized that she was busted, she ripped the sheets off the bed and tried to cover herself up. The jogger turned around and shrugged. “She said you two had an agreement,” he said. “I was just playing a part.”

Jones rushed the jogger and tackled him to the floor. He smashed the guy’s face into the carpet and twisted the back of his head. The carpet burned across the jogger’s face, and he begged to be let go.

Vanessa was balling at this point. She pleaded with Jones to let the guy go, that it wasn’t his fault, that he should beat her instead.

Jones wasn’t going to stop. His vision clouded red with rage. He cracked his fist against the back of the jogger’s skull several times until he lost consciousness. Vanessa got off the bed, with the white sheets wrapped around her, and pawed at Jones to stop the beating. Jones pushed Vanessa off, and dragged the jogger feet first down the stairs. He brought him all the way outside, and dumped him in the middle of the street.

His nude, pale body glistened beneath the afternoon sun. The whole neighborhood seemed to be out at that very moment, washing their cars, mowing their lawns, playing with their kids. Jones looked at each and every one of them, and by his look alone he made sure that they knew what had just went down.

Jones went back inside and poured himself some bourbon. He stared at the bouquet of roses on the kitchen counter. One of the red petals fell from a rose, and drifted to the floor.

All that he knew right now was that it was time to drink.

No other course of action was logical.

Absolutely nothing else made sense.

Chapter Four

The Lord’s Army

“Alright boys and girls, let’s take it from the top!” A pudgy, pale, bald man with a dorky Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts stood up at the front of the bus. He had just smeared sunscreen beneath his eyes and across his brow ridge. His name was Jacob Salamander, and he was a co-leader of the Glen Elder Church Camp. They were on a summer mission to camp in the Ozarks, and had just departed from Pittsburg, Kansas. “I may never march in the infantry,” he sung off key. “Ride in the cavalry or shoot the artillery.”

“But I’m in the Lord’s army,” the chorus of kids on the bus called out.

“Yes sir!” Jacob shouted back. “One more time, from the top, all together now!” For how thoroughly uncool the leader of the camp was, his campers absolutely adored him. They followed his every word with faith. The bus had been on the road for about an hour at this point, and the midmorning sun peeked through a couple stray clouds. The campers were just starting to really wake up and get going. “Lord’s Army” happened to be their favorite song, and Jacob knew that the melody would bring some much needed manna to their expedition.

“A one, and a two, and a three,” Jacob said.

“I may never march in the infantry, ride in the cavalry, or shoot the artillery, but I’m in the Lord’s army!” The whole bus was on board with the song now. The campers grinned from ear to ear. The boys imitated soldiers on a battlefield, weapons drawn. The girls pretended to ride atop horses. In their minds they were far from any war. “Yes sir! I’m in the Lord’s army! Yes sir!” they continued. “I may never march in the infantry, ride in the cavalry, or shoot the artillery, but I’m in the Lord’s army! Yes sir!”

Jacob waved his hands in ellipses, imitating the motions of a conductor. He had no idea what he was doing, but it looked good for his campers, and for Jacob that’s all that mattered during the precious summer months.

There were three other Camp Leaders with Jacob on the bus that morning. Chris Pencraft drove the bus. By trade Chris operated a forklift at a grain warehouse a few miles outside of Pittsburg. He was brawny, tan, and good with his hands. He had the mind of a satyr, even though he was a leader in his small town’s faith community.

Chris had a wife named Gloria. She was petite and quiet. Gloria had given Chris four daughters. He wanted to keep trying and eek out a son, but Gloria’s burden with the four girls was taxing enough. Over the past couple years Gloria found convenient excuses for avoiding marital communion with her husband. Headaches, backaches, fatigue, the excuse didn’t matter so much to Gloria. She simply did not want another child.

And this drove Chris mad.

So mad, in fact, that Chris offered to use condoms. He wanted a boy, but even more than that, he needed sex. Gloria denied the simple request, quoting a sermon that Jacob had given about modern sexuality and the abhorrent practice of birth control.

“It’s just not right,” Gloria said to her husband. “And the Bible supports my choice. If you want a family of God, you follow God’s word. And that’s that.”

 But Chris’s mind was too much like that of a satyr to accept Gloria’s response as a final solution. He was marginally satisfied by the stability of a faithful wife, the kids, the nine to five job. But he couldn’t live without sex. It took a few months for Chris to simmer and stew before he set foot on the path of infidelity, but when he did decide to stray the choice was clear. He would ravage Jacob’s wife. Her name was Savannah.

Savannah was a stunning country beauty. She stood with perfect posture at five foot nine inches. Her breasts always swelled. Her chocolate brown hair was normally tucked back in a bun, which gave her this aura of authority that most men naturally submitted to. She was smart, in the real sense of the word. She never went to college but growing up on the family pig farm made her strong headed, mouthy, and tough. She could hold her own with any hog farmer. And even though Savannah was a farm girl first and foremost, her mother trained her daughter to be a lady second. Savannah was fond of simple, classic, attractive Midwestern fashion. Her look was always country and clean. And undeniably sexy.

Chris had been screwing Savannah for a year. He was screwing Savannah so good that she had become pregnant. She was a month along, and they didn’t know if it was going to be a boy or a girl yet. Savannah decided to be surprised.

“Savannah, can you be a doll and grab my snack bag?” Jacob said.

The wife batted her eyes. “Of course my love,” she said. “And I must say, the way you get these kids singing is so beautiful. It just melts my heart.”

Jacob leaned in and kissed Savannah’s forehead. She cooed.

Gloria paused her crochet and observed the couple’s interaction from the other side of the aisle. Envy stirred in her chest. She wished so bad that Chris would exchange sweet little niceties with her the way Jacob did with Savannah.

“Attention campers!” Jacob said. “It’s our first official snack time. Reach into your packs and grab something sweet, something salty, or a little bit of both.”

The bus full of campers happily dug into their chocolate chip cookies, potato chips, cheesy crackers, and juice boxes. Jacob and Savannah had one boy on the bus. They had named him Richard after Jacob’s grandfather. He was seven years old, and this was his first trip to camp. Richard stood up from his seat at the back end of the bus and walked up the center aisle. He tapped his mother on the shoulder.

“All I’ve got is carrots mama,” the boy said.

Savannah brushed her fingers through the boy’s hair. “I know sweetie,” she said. “They’re healthy. You want to do well at camp, don’t you?”

“I do mama,” Richie said.

“You want to be the best, don’t you? The strongest, fastest camper there?”

“I do mama.”

Savannah smiled warmly. “Carrots are a superfood. Only super heroes can eat superfood. So go back there and munch on those carrots. And when you’re the best camper at camp, you’ll know exactly what got you there.”

Little Richie silently accepted his mother’s explanation. He turned around and ran back down the center aisle, whooshing his arms as if he was Superman flying through the clouds.

“He’s a heck of a nice boy,” Gloria said to Savannah. “You and Jacob really did a great job.”

Savannah blushed and put on a demure face. “Richard’s a work in progress,” she said. “You should have seen him at age three. An absolute demon child.”

Gloria looked shocked, but she was obviously humored. “Jennifer was exactly the same when she was that age. My Lord she wouldn’t listen. And that attitude. You know one time I was cooking dinner and Jennifer came up to me with the darndest thing. She was about three at the time. She comes up to me when I’m stirring the marinara, tugs on my dress, and tells me straight up that she’s the boss of the house now. She had her hands on her hips and everything.”

“That’s cute,” Savannah said. “But Richard was literally a demon child. He would run around and scream bloody murder until ten, eleven at night. He would piss and shit himself on purpose at the most inopportune times.”

“Like when?” Gloria asked.

Savannah leaned over the center bus aisle and cupped her hand over her mouth. “Church,” she whispered.

“Oh my.”

“That’s not half of it. He would poop himself and when we would take him out to the car for a diaper change, he would scream and holler vile profanities, invoking the name of Satan, and taking the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Oh my Lord,” Gloria said. “Where was all this coming from?”

“Well we told Pastor Bob what was going on. What he said was...”

A loud bang stole the two ladies from their conversation. The bus slowed to a halt.

“Oh hell,” Chris said. “The bus has a flat.”

“There’s no need to swear,” Gloria said.

Savannah rubbed her husband’s shoulder. “Honey, step out there and see what’s wrong.”

“Attention campers!” Jacob said. “It looks like the bus has a flat tire. I want everybody to be on their best behavior while Brother Chris and I figure out what to do. In fact, this is a great opportunity for y’all to study up on the word. Open up to Zechariah 14. It’s tough reading, but definitely puts things in perspective.”

Jacob stepped out of the bus to assess the situation. Chris just shook his head and followed along. The two men noticed right away that this wasn’t just a single flat tire. Both front tires were blown out. Jacob walked to the back left of the bus, and Chris to the rear right.

“They’re goners,” Chris said.

“I’ll be,” Jacob said. “I’ve never in my days seen six tires blow at once.”

“Well fuck me Jesus,” Chris said. “It’s a hundred degrees out here in the shade. The last farmhouse was five, six miles back.”

“Somebody will come by,” Jacob said. “We’ll flag them down. Chipper up, Chris. This is a small obstacle for the Lord to remove. Have faith.”

“I’m done with faith. I’ve had enough.”

Jacob walked over to Chris and put his hand on his shoulder. “Let us pray.”

Chris stepped back and pushed Jacob’s hand away. “You’re thirty five years old and still believe in that imaginary bullshit. Drop the act, man. God’s not gonna help us. God doesn’t give two shits about this flat tire. There are starving kids in bumfuck Africa. Mothers are getting blown up in Syria. Shit, even in our own damn country you’ve got shootings and rapes and hunger. The Lord doesn’t step in for any of it. So cut the shit, Jake. You’re not fooling anybody.”

Jacob was unmoved. “You’re in despair. Satan has hold of your heart. Let us dispel the wickedness and set you free. Father, who art in heaven--.”

Chris started waving his arms. “Stop, stop, stop the shit,” he said. “Listen, if you’ve gotta keep the act up in front of Savannah, I get it. She’s a hot piece of ass. She was raised proper. I get it man. I would do the same. But we’re out here in the middle of bumfuck Kansas and all six of these tires are popped. Now let’s start using our damned brains here.”

Chris folded his arms across his chest and paced back and forth. The muggy Kansas air enveloped him like a blanket. Sweat gathered at the ridge of his brow. He looked anxious. He could smell something off in the air. It wasn’t the corn, the amber wheat, or the cows in the barn. He smelled danger. He smelled death.