The Most Uncommon Cold I - Life in the Time of Zombies (14 page)

     Glen joined in the head shaking as he commented, “There was no warning.  Nothing on the news.  Nothing really out of the ordinary, but you’d probably know more than me with your job at a newspaper.”

     “You
’d think so, right?  But the attack at the airport yesterday was the first time the paper had       anything truly out of the ordinary.  Before, most of the front page had been dedicated to stories about how bad this year’s cold season was turning out.”  A thought started to bubble up in my mind, but Glen spoke before I recognized it.

     “You
’re right! That’s the only thing that has been unusual lately.  Just about everybody that came into the church seemed to be suffering from the cold.”  He paused for a moment.  “So did you ever get this cold that’s going around?”

     My mind
suddenly flashed on a memory of Bonnie in her robe when I left.  I remembered how I gave her a bad time about letting a little cold knock her out. Then my mind moved away to the numerous others showing signs of a cold that I had seen, from Jerry Clark to that mailman to Steve Travers at the airport to all the people in the Golden Dragon restaurant.

     I came back to the storage shed to
find Glen looking at me with concern that might have been tempered with suspicion. 

     “Sorry, I was just thinking about all of the people I
’ve seen lately who have had colds.”  I could see that he was anxiously awaiting an answer to this question.  “But, no, I haven’t had a cold for a while.  How about you?”

     Glen smiled with relief and answered, “No, I
’ve been lucky.  People are always saying that I’m a hypochondriac, but one thing I did every morning was wipe the church down with disinfectant.  You wouldn’t believe the filthy condition of the drunks who wander into the church!” 

    
I could not contain my laugh at seeing Glen’s expression of absolute disgust. 

     “Well, I know they
’re all God’s creatures and--” He began an embarrassed explanation that I interrupted.

     “I
understand that some of God’s creatures are in need of a good cleaning.  Pointing that out is nothing to be ashamed about,” I said with my warmest smile, which appeared to have the desired effect on Glen.

     With all the crazy things that I had seen during the day, it was
understandable that my brain might have trouble processing everything.  Maybe my brain only had so much space in which to tuck all the weird memories.  Whatever the reason, all at once a memory that had not quite struck home before flashed into my mind.  It was the picture of a soldier with very dark skin touching my cheek with a blue plastic square thing about the size of a pack of cigarettes and then announcing “Ninety-eight point six!”  

     As had been the case so many times during the day, I found that someone was watching me while I was lost in thought.  Glen was staring intently with genuine concern on his face.

     I reflexively smiled to calm his fear.  “I was just remembering something that happened in the airport.  There were soldiers there who seemed terribly concerned about taking my temperature.” 

    
Glen’s expression shifted from concern to confusion. He started to say something, but I interrupted before the words could be formed.

     “When I first ran into the soldiers, they put me on the ground and took my temperature.”

     “With a rectal thermometer?”  Glen blurted out and snickered like a third grader.

     My
irritation was probably clear as the snickering stopped immediately.  “No, there was this little box that took my temperature instantly by just touching my cheek.”

     A grin flashed on
Glen’s face, and I knew immediately just what he was thinking.  “No, not my butt cheek! The temperature came from the cheek on my face!”  Obviously, I had not lost all of my teacher instincts.

    
Glen now looked just like a reprimanded child.  After a moment, he quietly commented, “I guess, maybe those things could have a different temperature or something.”

     “That makes perfect sense!”

     My excited response made Glen smile, and he asked, “So when that thing grabbed you by the ladder, how did it feel?”

     “How the hell do you think it felt?” My answer came out more forcefully than I had intended, and the young
minister went back into pout mode.

     “I just meant was that thing cold?”

     I felt foolish at misunderstanding and was quiet for a minute before answering, “You know, now that I think about it, the thing on the ladder
was
cold.  I haven’t had a whole lot of experience with cold dead bodies … or dead people moving around, but it seems right that if your heart is not pumping warm blood around your body then it’s going to…”

     “Get cold,” Glen finished. “Thinking back on it, I remember all the colds.  Just about everybody was
sick.  When all of the guys were coming into the church with colds, I thought that they might also have some sort of fever.”  He paused for a second as if picturing those coming into the church. “I could only bring myself to touch one of them on the forehead. To check for … a high temperature. His skin was cold.  Not just cold like he had been outside … cold like…” He could not find the words to finish the thought. 

     I checked my watch to
find it was just 4:20.  Still way too dark to make our way off the roof.  I had no desire to sleep further, so I asked, “So how did you get into the preaching business, Glen?”                       

     He stood up straight as if
happy to have a change of subject but then slouched a bit looking unsure as to whether he was being mocked.  He looked at me and said, “Well, to be perfectly honest, I never felt that it was a calling.  I’ve heard other clergyman...uh...people in the clergy...I’ve heard them say that they felt called to duty by God.  Not me.  All I ever wanted to do was help people.”  He smiled as if a memory had just come to him.  “Kevin, did you ever see that movie
The Cross and The Switchblade
?”

     “I
’ve heard the name, but I don’t think I ever saw it. That’s the old movie with Pat Boone, right?”             

     Glen nodded enthusiastically.  “Yeah, that
’s it.  I saw it on television one night.  I was going to junior college and not sure what I wanted to major in.”  He smiled as he recalled that time. “But then I saw
The Cross and The Switchblade
and saw this young minister going into the worst parts of the city and making a real difference.  The next day I told my parents that I was leaving school to become a minister.  As you might imagine, my mother was thrilled by the idea of her only son joining the church.  My father was less excited by the plan, which he saw as another of my idealistic but misinformed schemes.”  A twisted, less-than-happy smile curled at his mouth.  “I should have listened to my father.”

     “C
’mon.  I’m sure that you help the people who come into your church,” I said in my most encouraging voice.

     “For a while, I fooled myself into thinking that I was making a real difference.  But after seeing the same
bunch of...uh...the same group of lost souls...” Glen paused for a smile to flash across his face as if the term brought a happy memory.  “The routine is pretty much the same.  Every night about twenty dirty, smelly, drunk or stoned guys stumble through the doors of the Faith Lighthouse Church. They’d doze through my sermon waiting for the coming soup, bread, and coffee.  Sometimes there is some small scuffle about someone snoring too loudly.  But for the most part, the homeless have respect for one another.  Then after dinner, there is another sermon seeking to save souls.  Invariably, all of those in attendance claim to have accepted Jesus as their savior.  That is the price of one of the small cots lined up in rows in the small basement.  In the morning, the newly converted are turned back to the streets, and the basement scrubbed.  In the evening, the whole thing begins once again.  Same faces, different day.”

    
“Well, at least you get them off the streets for a night and feed them,” I said trying to raise Glen’s spirits.

     He was silent for a long time.  Just as I had started to nod off, he burst out, “I am not sure if that helps them.  All I am doing is prolonging their miserable existence. 
I know that isn’t a very Christian thing to say, but I wonder if it is more humane not to... Well, I don’t suppose any of it matters now.”

     I wondered about
Glen’s words, but eventually I dismissed them as the ramblings of a religious man who had seen the heart of his beliefs ripped out.  Still, I felt a twinge of curiosity as I looked at the young man.  Rather than following it through, I changed the subject, “Well, looks like it’s almost light.  Any idea about how to get off this roof since I doubt that the ladder will be of any use?”

     “Oh, don
’t forget about our bet!”  Glen added with excitement then caught himself to say, “As far as another way off this roof, I’m not sure.  The ladder is the only way I’ve ever used.

    
“Well, we can take a look as soon as it gets light.  See about our bet and find a way down.  You know, we never decided what we were betting for.”

     Glen smiled and said, “Let
’s see... what do I want?  How about you and I sit down and watch
The Cross and The Switchblade
?  I’ve got the DVD downstairs.” 

     For just a second, the mention of a DVD made me aware of the disc
still in my pocket.  I considered mentioning it but thought better of it and said, “Okay, that’s if you win.” I couldn’t keep from flashing a devilish grin at my thought as I continued, “If I win, you and I share a couple of beers some place.”

     Glen flashed a devilish grin of his own and said, “No problem because I know you
’ll enjoy the movie.” 

     I laughed at his confidence. 
“Well, looks like it’s time to go take a look.”

     I walked slowly over to the door.  The
light mood that had moments before filled the shed was instantly replaced by a dark, heavy feeling.  Glen was next to me as I stood at the door and strained my ears to catch any sound outside.  It was silent. 

     “We should grab some things to defend ourselves if necessary,” Glen whispered. 

     I followed him over to the counter where we had found the rope.  We rummaged around the area to find things that would serve as
weapons
.  Eventually, Glen stuck the claw hammer into the end of the pipe.  After a few swings, he was satisfied that the hammer was secure and that he had created an effective weapon.  I simply grabbed the heavy crowbar and headed back to the door.

Chapter 11

     Once again, we stood there trying to
catch any sound from outside the door.  Failing to hear anything, I slowly untied the rope and pulled it off the door.  Both of us held our breaths as I slowly nudged the door open.  The only sound was the squeaking of the hinges as the door came open just enough for me to take a peek at what waited outside. 

     I stuck my head through the gap in the door and
instantly felt the tearing fingernails of one of those things ripping my flesh. I screamed as the teeth sunk into me and tore my body.  I could see it happening in my head and feel it happening in the chills down my spine.  Fortunately, my active imagination had no resemblance to the reality I saw. 

     The roof was
empty and still.  But that didn’t matter to my feet.  They refused to move away from the door despite orders from my brain to do so. After a moment, Glen pushed in next to me to get a look at what had me frozen.  His movement was enough to end my paralysis, and I stepped out from the doorway. 

     Everything around looked almost peaceful in the
hazy early morning light.  We moved slowly as if refusing to accept tranquility in a place that had hours before been the scene of such horror. After carefully searching every possible hiding place like behind the gigantic silver air conditioning units and the narrow space next to the storage shed, we were certain that none of those things had found a way onto the roof.  It was time to check the ladder.

     As strange as it might
sound...no, as strange as I know it sounds, Glen and I hurried over the side of the roof with the anticipation of children rushing to the tree on Christmas morning.   We stopped at the edge of the roof and stared out at the ladder.  The sight was puzzling.

     The ladder had bent until it was about twelve feet away from the roof.  It was impossible to
tell if there were more of those things on the ladder than there had been or if they were just bunched more tightly and appeared bigger. The cluster was still as if the things were asleep or otherwise frozen in place.  Around the bottom of the ladder, there were several bodies that had clearly fallen from above.

     “They look like a bunch of birds roosting for the night,” Glen whispered.

     I looked at the ladder and had to agree with the comparison.  They did resemble birds perching. Most of them had been on the ladder since the previous night. It took a second for me to realize what exactly was different about the crowd on the ladder, but then it came to me. All of the things either had their heads tucked under something, resting on something, or simply dangling down.  I did not hear any snoring but more like an occasional growl.  Other than that, however, they were to all appearances sleeping.