The New Dead: A Zombie Anthology (12 page)
Read The New Dead: A Zombie Anthology Online
Authors: Christopher Golden
‘Now?’
‘Shit, ain’t you been listening?’
T leans in close and hisses at me.
‘I’m gonna strip and torch every shell in this shit-hole - every stick - and I’m gonna fuck and fuck up every cat, every dog, every four legged or two-legged or one-legged motherfucker I find here.’
T taps my ring.
‘And I’m going to get fucking rich doin’ it.’
I’ve got nothing to say.
T wants, T waits, but I’ve got nothing.
‘Man, get your stinky shit offa my car. You gotta fucking shower,’ T snarls.
I grunt.
‘You got no pride? Man can’t carry his shit in his drawers.’
T turns on me.
‘Get away from my car, you fuck! You ain’t gonna stain my honeybucket!’
I step away from T’s car.
‘I leave you alone, you leave me alone - deal? For old time’s sake,’ T snarls.
I’m standing on the T and the R in TRAPpIST.
‘Clean yourself up, man! Got no more pride?’
I look down.
T drives away.
I stand on the sidewalk and look up.
Copper sits on his porch.
Copper watches.
Copper sits on his porch.
I sit on Copper’s step.
‘I see you and your buddies.’
Good thing he can’t smell.
‘T is no buddy of mine,’ I stammer.
Copper spits.
‘Not him. The others.’
Copper looks at me.
‘I see you in that basement where you don’t belong.’
T drives by.
Copper watches T drive by but acts like he doesn’t.
T doesn’t look at Copper.
T drives out of sight.
‘I see you with that boy too.’
‘Trapper. T.’
‘I remember his family.’
I can’t remember.
‘Good family.’
Now I remember.
‘You remember his brother?’ I ask.
Copper looks over at the Baker house.
‘Yes,’ he whispers. ‘I remember.’
‘T hates this place.’
Copper spits.
‘T. He hates this place.’
‘You can’t blame a whole town for what one damned fool does.’
I don’t remember this place, before.
I remember T, before.
I remember T smiling at me, after he signed up.
‘This was a good place, once.’
Copper looks at me.
‘I don’t remember.’
We sit on Copper’s porch.
‘We live in the basements.’
Copper spits.
‘We.’
‘We.’
‘I see uniforms.’
I rattle off our names, ranks, branches, service records.
Don’t even have to think about it.
I remember.
‘We stay in the basements. Feels safe down there.’
Copper looks at me.
‘All of you?’
‘All but McFay - McFadyen. We all signed up after nine-eleven.’
Copper looks hard at me.
I rattle off where we were out of, where we were stationed, where we came back to.
When we were back.
I stop there.
‘You did your country proud, kid.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘No need for language, kid.’
I remember dying in the Baker-house basement.
‘Nobody cares, nobody.’
Copper shifts in his rocker.
‘Didn’t I just say I do?’
‘Nobody knows we’re here.’
Copper looks over at the Baker house.
‘You got the short end of the stick, kid.’
I remember draining into the floor of the Baker basement.
I remember the cold.
I remember.
Copper spits.
‘They didn’t treat us like that back in the day.’
Copper’s voice is hard, cutting.
‘I stayed on. Joined the Guard afterward. The service treated me and mine good. Still do.’
I remember dying in the basement, over there.
I look down.
‘You’ve got no pride.’
‘We don’t bother anybody.’
‘Squatters.’
I tipped my chin toward what was left of the neighborhood.
‘These houses, they’re empty.’
‘You’re empty.’
‘Old man, you don’t know the half of it.’
Copper spits.
‘So tell me.’
Copper sits on his rocker.
I hunker down on the top stair, drop my voice.
I tell him about dying in the Baker basement.
I remember, and I tell him.
I don’t tell him how much it hurt to die.
I do tell him it doesn’t hurt any more.
Copper looks at me, close, real close.
‘You’re not lying,’ he whispers.
I look at Copper.
Copper looks at me.
Sizing me up.
Copper looks at me.
I look at Copper.
A long time.
‘Why doesn’t anyone—’
‘We’re everywhere. Nobody sees us.’
Copper looks away.
‘There’s empty houses everywhere. Every town.’
Copper coughs.
‘We move from town to town, city to city. There’s empty houses everywhere.’
‘Like here.’
‘Like here.’
I tip my head back to look at Copper.
‘I had to come back here. Don’t know why.’
‘It’s home.’
‘Home.’
The old man looks at me.
‘Shells. They’re everywhere. We move in. We move out. We move around.’
‘What about your vet benefits? How do you—’
A dry rasp. My laugh.
‘There was nothing to count on when I was still ticking.’
I laugh.
‘Sure ain’t shit now. They don’t even know I’m dead.’
Copper sits on his porch.
‘Waited nine months to see a shrink. Never saw him.’
‘What happened to you over there, kid?’
I remember.
I tap my forehead.
‘TBI. Took a hit from below - IED. Blew me right out of the HMMWV.’
I remember.
‘Shipped me back. Took care of me till I was stateside.’
I remember.
‘Then all I could do was self-medicate. Not a good idea. Released me - honorable discharge - for drunk and disorderly.’
I remember.
‘Couldn’t get treatment. Couldn’t get help. Couldn’t get the time of day.’
I remember.
‘Couldn’t get out of my own way.’
I remember dying.
‘Waited nine months.’
I remember the smell of the basement floor.
‘Nobody ever saw me.’
I remember dying in the Baker house basement.
‘Found my own way to deal with the headaches.’
I remember the basement floor, draining out onto it, into it.
‘Nobody sees us.’
I remember.
‘Nobody cares. We bother nobody.’
Copper spits.
‘You’re bothering me, kid.’
‘We gravitate to our hometowns, if they’re big enough.’
Copper spits again and turns to me.
‘How do you live?’
‘Live?’
I let that hang.
I let that hang a long time.
‘What do you live on, kid?’
‘There’s plenty to live on.’
Copper spits.
‘What?’
I spit.
‘They just come to us.’
‘Who?’
‘Kids. Gangs. Shell strippers.’
Copper sits on his porch.
‘They come to us in the shells.’
Copper sits on his porch.
‘We take them.’
Copper sits on his rocker.
I sit on his porch step.
The sun is behind the trees.
The crickets sing, quiet at first, then louder.
Copper sits on his porch.
I sit on his porch step.
‘So, what’s this got to do with me?’
‘There’s nothing left here but you and us and strippers like T.’
‘I’m not in your army, kid.’
‘It isn’t an army.’
Copper spits.
‘Never was.’
His lunger shimmers a light green on the brown lawn.
‘You’re the same as that kid I see you with. T.’
‘We haven’t taken anything.’
‘Suit yourself.’
‘It’s been left for us.’
‘You take them.’
‘They come to us. They take, we take.’
Copper spits.
Other books
Sawyer (Great Wolves Motorcycle Club, #5) by Jayne Blue
Renegade Heart by Kay Ellis
Can't Touch This by Marley Gibson
The Holiday Triplets by Jacqueline Diamond
A Weekend Affair by Noelle Vella
The Sweet Taste of Murder: An Angel Lake Mystery by CeeCee James
The Border Part Six by Amy Cross
Game Alive: A Science Fiction Adventure Novel by Trip Ellington
Sex and the Psychic Witch by Annette Blair
