The Creeping Dead: A Zombie Novel (21 page)

The doors opened on each floor on the way up. A couple of residents got off, but there were always more to replace them, and in short order the elevator became quite cramped, making the trek upward to the sixth floor feel like an eternity to Mario. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and Marie squeezed his arm tighter.

At last, when they reached the sixth floor, Renee took them past the day room where the residents were still eating their lunch.

“See,” said Renee pointing inside, “she’s still eating her lunch. Let’s talk in my office and let her finish.”

Marie began to pull Mario by the arm when Mama Sophia caught a glimpse of her son. “My son! My son!” She had an anguished look on her face and put her hands out, as if reaching out to place his face in her hands.

On cue, Mario shook free of Marie’s grip and walked across the day room, squatted next to his mother, and placed his face in her hands. Mama Sophia kissed him on forehead and began complaining to him.

“Look at what they serve me for lunch. A scoop of old egg salad and a slice of lettuce. I might as well be in a Turkish prison!”

“Ma, don’t say that.”

“They serve pasta, but they don’t know how to make a good gravy. Instead, I get tomato paste. They need some Italians down in the kitchen, Mario.”

She looked over her son’s shoulder and saw Marie rolling her eyes.

Marie realized she was caught, so she crossed the dayroom to greet her mother-in-law. “Mama Sophia, how are you?”

Mama Sophia wagged a finger in the air. “You know damned well how I’m doing!”

“She’s concerned about you, Ma. That’s why she came here with me to see you.”

“If she cared so much, why did she make you put me here in this
jail
with these crazy people?”

Marie sucked her teeth.

“Ma, she didn’t make me put you here. It was the best thing for you.”

“Why don’t we let your mother finish and we can visit with her in her room when we’re done talking?” said Renee.

“Okay, Ma. We’re going to talk with your social worker. We’ll be back in a little bit. Finish your lunch.”

Mama Sophia spit on her plate. “Mierda!”

“Ma, please. We’ll be right back.”

Mama Sophia reached out for her son, her face desperate. “Don’t leave.”

“No, Ma. We’re not leaving. We’ll meet you in your room after. I promise.”

“You’re such a nice boy, Mario.”

Marie followed Renee out of the day room, and Mario backed out of the room spouting assurances.

“That’s my son. He’s gonna take me outta here!”

Renee held her office door open and Marie and Mario entered the tiny workspace. It was about the size of a large broom closet. They took seats in the metal chairs in front of Renee’s tiny desk.

Renee squeezed in between the edge of her tiny desk and the wall and took a seat, her modest office chair banging against the small metal filing cabinet wedged between the other side of her desk and the wall. A dilapidated window unit belched out slightly cooled air.

“Mr. Russo, I spoke with your wife on the phone about what happened. I assure you, your mother’s all right.”

“What happened to the woman that attacked her? I surely hope she’s not in this facility any longer.”

“We’re not even sure your mother was attacked, Mr. Russo. Her roommate mouthed her hand.”

“What does this
mouthed
mean, anyway? Was she bitten?”

“Not that we could see. The woman has exhibited a cognitive decline. She probably didn’t even know what she was doing.”

“Well, she’s not still here, is she?”

“She’s in the locked dementia ward, Mr. Russo. She won’t be bothering Sophia again.”

“So, she can’t get out?”

“What part of ‘locked’ don’t you understand,” snapped Marie.

“Don’t start with me, Marie.”

“Your mother has been examined by the physician, and we even sent the psychologist to speak with her.”

Mario snickered at that second part. “A head shrink? My mother would never talk to one of those.”

“She needs to,” muttered Marie.

“On the contrary, Mr. Russo, your mother has been speaking with her. She even appears to like her very much.”

Mario looked shocked.

“Really? That’s great, I guess,” said Marie.

“How’s that great? My mother’s not crazy. She gets mouthed by her roommate and
she
has to see a shrink?”

“Sophia’s roommate is currently too demented to benefit from psychotherapy,” explained Renee. “We sent Dr. Bigelow in to see Sophia to make sure she felt safe and there wasn’t any residual anxiety. We want her to feel comfortable.”

“Well, she didn’t look very comfortable, Ms. Renee. She looks very unhappy here,” accused Mario.

“I think she’s playing it up to gain your sympathy, Mr. Russo.”

“Yeah, I bet she was fine before she saw Mario,” said Marie.

“Quite so,” said Renee.

Mario couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What, so you both are saying I shouldn’t visit my mother? I’m all she has.”

“No one’s saying that at all, Mr. Russo. It’s not uncommon for our residents to get a bit dramatic when family visits.”

“Can I see her now?”

“Sure. She should be finished with lunch by now.”

Renee stood up, squeezed around her desk, and saw Mario and Marie out of her office. She took them to Mama Sophia’s room, where she sat watching the television. The news was on—something about two storm systems approaching Ocean County.

“Sophia, I brought them back to you as promised,” said Renee.

Mama Sophia huffed and made a big show of not regarding Renee.

Renee’s smile never waned. “Well, I’ll leave you to your visit.”

“Thank you, Renee,” said Marie.

Mario simply barged into the room. He pulled over a chair and sat in it.

Marie stood behind him feeling awkward. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll be in the car waiting. Take your time.”

“Thanks, hon,” said Mario, never looking back.

“Ma, what happened? Are you all right?”

Mama Sophia launched into what happened between her and ‘the colored lady,’ laying on the drama thick as Sunday gravy, and Mario ate it all up.

“That’s terrible, Ma. But you’re safe now. That woman is locked in the dementia ward.”

Mama Sophia hesitated for a moment to wipe her tears. Suddenly, her face became hard, her expression grave. “I don’t want you to come see me.”

“Don’t worry, Ma. It wasn’t any trouble.”

Mama Sophia shook her head, waving her hands in front of her as if she were physically erasing his words. “No. I don’t want you to come here no more.”

Mario didn’t know what to make of this. “Of course I’ll come, Ma. I’ll bring you some food, and we’ll sit and talk like we always do.”

“No. No more. I don’t wanna see you no more.”

“I-I-I don’t understand. I’m your son. I love you, Ma. Of course I’m going to come see you.”

Mama Sophia shook her head insistently. “You don’t love your Mama. I want to be left alone so I can die in this prison, my only crime being good to my son and raising him right.”

“Ma, don’t talk like that. You know I love you.”

“I raised you from little boy to big man, then you turn your back on me and put me in this jail, like a criminal.”

Mario took his mother’s hands in his. “You’re not a criminal, Ma. They take care of you here.”

She pulled her hands out of his. “I took care of you. I fed you, changed your diaper, wiped your ass, and you don’t take care of me when I need you. You’re not my son no more.”

“Ma, it hurts me when you say that.”

“It hurts me to be here. Your wife wants me here. She doesn’t love me like you do. She doesn’t love me at all.”

“Marie loves you very much,” he lied. “She has nothing to do with you being here.” Another lie.

“You go home, and don’t come back. I want to die in peace.”

“Ma, don’t let anyone hear you say that. They’ll put you in the crazy house.”

“I don’t care. I’m not loved by anybody. I have no son.”

“Ma, please.”

“Take me out. I can come live with you. See Salvatore and Alessandra. I can make gravy.”

“Ma, you’re in no condition to come home and cook. You need to be taken care of. It’s your turn to be taken care of.”

“Then I don’t want to see you anymore. I tell the colored social worker. No more.”

Mario sat there, his heart breaking into a million throbbing pieces. The truth was he never wanted her to be in this place where people waited to die. It was Marie’s idea. They had to run the store. There was no way anyone could stay home to look after Mama Sophia.

However, he was home now. Doctor’s orders. Marie was running the store, restocking inventory for next season. It was August and things would be slowing down. In October Marie would be helping out at her father’s restaurant in Haddonfield, but Mario would still be home. Her father would understand.

He had to recuperate. He’d go back once he got some help with Mama Sophia. He could find one of those home health aides.

Mario came bounding over to the car.

Marie got out to help him. “Jesus, Mario, what took you so long?”

“I’m signing Ma out.”

It took a moment for Marie to register what he had just said. Her eyes widened in horror. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I told the social worker. She’ll come home with us in a few days. I insisted. She tried to talk me out of it, but in light of recent events I threatened to call the State on them.”

“Mario! What have you done? I should’ve never left you alone.”

“The treatment team will sign off on it tomorrow. It’ll be fine.”

“It’s not fine, Mario. Who’s going to look after her? I’m going to be at the store, and in October I’ll be picking up hours at the restaurant.”

“I’ll be home. I can’t work at the restaurant yet anyway.”

“But you’re in no condition to care for your mother.”

“If I’m that bad off, then why are you leaving me home alone while you work at the restaurant? I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine looking after yourself, but now you’re talking about bringing an elderly mother home. She requires lots of care.”

“No she doesn’t. She’ll be fine. It’ll be good for the kids to see her. Who knows how much longer she’ll be around? This might be their last chance to be around their Nana. It’ll give you two a chance to get to know each other better, maybe even become friends.”

Marie stood there in the middle of the parking lot dumbfounded. This was devolving into a real nightmare. She didn’t know what Mama Sophia said to Mario, but she knew one thing for certain: she didn’t want that nasty old bitch moving in with them.

“We’re picking her up on Friday,” said Mario. “Marie, it’ll be fine. I promise.”

Marie believed that Mario believed that it would be fine, but she knew for a fact that it wouldn’t be. It wasn’t that Mama Sophia needed all that much care. That much Marie acknowledged. The old witch was in a nursing home because no one else wanted her. No one was able to stand her.

Marie felt like she’d been conned, conned by that old bitch, and now she was going to be letting something evil into her home. An evil she had thought she had dealt with and no longer had to worry about. An evil she had purged from her marriage and her life, except for the occasional visit to the nursing home. She was able to stomach that. A small price to pay for peace of mind.

But now the evil had somehow charmed its way back into her life with guilt, drama, and feigned sorrow. Marie felt violated and trapped, with no one to turn to. This long-buried evil had resurrected itself. Marie’s blood boiled with hatred and resentment.

Mama’s Little Fucking Meatball.

              On the sixth floor Mama Sophia shuffled into the tiny bathroom and shut the door. Her stomach twisted inside her gut, stabbing her with pain. She pulled up the toilet seat and vomited the egg salad into the toilet, nearly falling over from the exertion.

She fought to steady herself as the small, tiled room spun around her. She closed her eyes until the sensation abated. When she opened them, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror on the wall. She had dark circles around her eyes, and her image grinned wickedly back at her.

There was a knock at the door.

“Mrs. Russo, are you okay?”

One of the nurses.

“O-kay,” she sang through the door, trying to belie her predicament. She reached down and flushed just as the door opened. It was one of the Indian nurses. Mama Sophia couldn’t recall her name.

“I’m okay, Ms. John.” They were all called Ms. John. Their actual names were gibberish the way Mama Sophia saw it.

“Just checking, Mrs. Russo.”