“Enough of this shit,” I thought. It was finally time to tell them the truth and get the hell out of Dodge. I told Alison to go get Albert and Grace and meet me in the third-floor apartment (we went there occasionally for bedding, utensils, and other items). Alison asked if she should bring Karl as well. My narrowed brows were enough to convince her that Karl was definitely not invited.
Chloe and I repacked my gear into the Land Rover (I had unpacked it and stored it in the garage for our excursion yesterday), and I went up to go say my goodbyes.
When I got to the third-floor apartment Alison was in the kitchen making coffee. Albert and Grace came in moments later. Grace was being fussy and clearly had better things to do. I waited for Alison to get down cups and pour coffee while we all sat down in the kitchen nook, all of us except Grace. She had wandered off (a rule she knew better than to break).
Alison went off to go find her, leaving Albert and me alone. After a minute, Albert went to go use the bathroom. It was maddening. I wanted to pull out my hair. When he got back, Albert asked what I wanted to talk about. I decided to tell him and let him break the news to the girls (chicken shit, I know, but I had a lot of miles to cover).
Just as I started to tell him, he looked around, concerned. He told me he was going to check on Alison and Grace and left to go upstairs. “Unbelievable,” I thought. Chloe stared up at me attentively. I waited for several minutes and had actually decided to just leave when I heard Albert yelling upstairs.
My carbine was down in the Land Rover so I yanked my .44 in its paddle holster out of my daypack and slipped it on my waist behind my left hip. I pocketed two speed loaders and raced upstairs.
I assessed the situation the instant I came through the door. Alison was on her knees, obviously injured. Grace, her shirt torn, was sniffling and holding onto Alison. Albert stood in front of them protectively, facing Karl, who loomed over him menacingly. Albert was screaming obscenities at him. I didn’t catch most of it, but one word stood out and made the hair on the back of my neck rise up—Pedophile.
Suddenly, everything clicked into place. Chloe began growling, clearly not liking the situation. I strode across the room and stopped just behind Albert, putting my hand on his shoulder. Karl looked at me and his anger turned into something else, something evil. He smiled at me.
“Oh, shit. I guess you ain’t gone yet, after all… Oops.” He said. I ignored his comment and squeezed Albert’s shoulder, hard. “Take everyone downstairs, now.” I told Albert.
Karl’s smile turned sour.
“You all can go wherever the hell you want, but little Gracie’s staying with me.” He snarled. I pulled Albert back a step and moved in front of him.
Without looking back I said, “Albert, now.”
I heard, rather than saw Albert gather up the girls and Chloe and vacate the room. Karl and I had locked stares. The rest of the world faded away.
“So now you’re in charge again, is that it?” He challenged. “This ain’t none of your business. You were going to leave, remember?” He continued.
His tone was turning deadly. As he talked, he casually stepped toward me.
He lunged at me so suddenly I barely had time to bring my arm up and shed his oncoming punch. Part of his fist caught the side of my head as it went by, and sparks went off in my eyes. I tucked my chin and drove my forearms forward into his chest, shoving him back. I angled away and back peddled, getting some distance between us.
Karl circled slowly, a wicked grin on his face. We both knew I could never take him in a fight. I backed into the large dining area. As I passed one of the barstools I stopped and hooked my foot around the stool’s leg.
Karl closed in, confident. I yanked the stool out and kicked it forward as he charged. He tried to reach for it as it flew at him, but he got tangled up in it and crashed to the floor. I circled away from him and moved back into the living room. Karl got to his feet and flung the barstool away. He nodded appreciatively, but he was through playing.
We were 15 feet apart. I knew what was coming next. Karl’s right hand hovered over the big revolver in his waistband. His expression went cold and his eyes went flat.
My own left hand slowly swung back against my thigh. We stood there for a beat, neither of us saying anything. I could hear the rain outside splattering on the balcony. My dad taught me everything I know about firearms.
He once told me, “Remember, if you get in a gunfight, slow is smooth. Smooth is fast. And don’t wait.” In that moment I could almost hear my dad’s voice in my head repeating those words.
I breathed in deeply and let half of it out. I drew my hand up my thigh and up over my holster.
My fingers wrapped around the grip of my snub nosed .44 and my thumb snapped open the retention strap. I took a step forward with my right leg and planted my foot, curving my spine forward.
As I lifted my weapon out of its holster I saw two bright flashes appear in front of me. What felt like a ball peen hammer slammed into my right hip. I ignored it and brought my .44 up, pushing it out in front of me. My right hand came up under the pistol’s grip and supported my left.
I saw another flash in front of me and felt an angry hot wind whip past my face. I put the front sight of my pistol in the center of Karl’s chest.
I began squeezing the trigger. The gun bucked in my hand. A black dot appeared on Karl’s chest. I squeezed the trigger back again. The pistol jumped a second time. Karl dropped from my view. Somewhere in my subconscious I realized I was getting tunnel vision. I closed my eyes and opened them. I took two duck walk steps forward and lowered the weapon slightly.
Karl was laying on his back, looking about the room, his gun still in his grip. I saw a flash erupt from the barrel and shoot up toward the ceiling. His eyes landed on me and he started to bring his weapon around. I aimed for his groin and pulled on the trigger again. The gun lifted in my grip and a red splotch blossomed from his crotch.
Karl curled in a fetal position on his side and his mouth opened in a silent scream. I duck walked sideways, keeping my weapon on him and moving at an angle toward his backside. Karl’s free hand gripped his bleeding manhood. He still had his pistol in his other fist. Another flash shot out, this time toward the front window. I saw the plate window break into hundreds of shards and silently rain down onto the deck. He turned his head and glared at me, wild eyed.
He rolled onto his back and raised his arm up, bringing his revolver in a wide arc around toward me. My mind screamed at me to do something as I watched the barrel zero in on me. I placed the front sight of my weapon just below Karl’s left eye, thumbed back the hammer of my .44, and touched the trigger. The gun roared in my fist.
A black hole appeared where Karl’s eye used to be and his head inflated slightly as it slammed into the floor. His face slowly flattened as a red, grey Rorschach pattern haloed from behind his skull onto the carpet. His arm flopped down and his pistol slid away from him.
I stood still for a minute, feeling bile in my throat. Air burst out of my lungs. I hadn’t even realized I had been holding my breath. Gunpowder stung my eyes. Without thinking about it I popped open the cylinder of my pistol and ejected four spent casings and one live round. I pulled out a speed loader and seated five fresh rounds in their chambers, then snapped the cylinder shut.
I sensed someone behind me and turned, raising my weapon. Albert stood in the doorway, his mouth hanging open. I was tired and could sense the adrenaline shakes coming on. I walked to the couch and sat down heavily. Albert walked up to Karl’s dead form and stared down at him.
He looked at me and spoke, but I couldn’t hear him over the ringing in my ears. I absently noted that I hadn’t heard any of the gunfire except the last shot. Albert spoke again. It sounded like he was a long ways off and under water. I could tell my hearing was slowly coming back.
I (think) I asked him where the girls were. He said something muffled and then pointed down. I nodded. I looked down at my hip and saw blood. It was thankfully numb. I poked around it and realized that a bullet had just barely grazed by me, tearing open my jeans and some skin. I was luckier than I deserved.
I sat there for several minutes, my head in my hands. As my hearing came back, I could hear the moans of the undead outside the broken front window. My shakes were subsiding and all I wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. I forced myself up and stood over Karl. He had been considerate enough to land on a large area rug. I tossed his revolver on the couch and Albert and I rolled Karl up in the carpet like a mummy.
The two of us took opposite ends, lifted, and waddled under Karl’s weight as we carried him through the kitchen and onto the back deck. I looked over. Four stories down was the back courtyard flower garden and Chloe’s favorite toilet. We lifted Karl’s mass up over the railing and dropped him to the rose beds below. Sorry, Chloe.
While Albert cleaned up, I went to the front deck and looked down below. Several dozen Infected roamed the streets, looking for the source of the noise that had attracted them. They weren’t going anywhere, so I figured I would deal with them later.
I asked Albert to bring the girls up. When he left I sat back down on the couch and thought about what had just happened. I had just been in an actual gunfight and survived. I searched for any feelings but I just felt empty. I looked up to see Alison and Grace standing in the doorway. Chloe poked her head out between their legs. They all looked scared.
Alison took Grace’s hand and tried to walk her through the doorway but Grace shook her head and pulled away. Her eyes flickered around the room nervously, looking for something, or someone.
“Grace, come here.” I said to her. She looked at me, her eyes wide.
She took little steps toward me at first, then ran up and practically tackled me, wrapping her little arms around my neck as tight as she could.
I let her hold on for a minute then pushed her back, holding her shoulders gently. Tears were streaming down her face. She started blubbering something about being sorry, and saying that she’d be good. It was all pretty incomprehensible except for four words that hit me like a sucker punch.
“Please don’t leave me.” She begged.
She followed it up with more promises that she’d be good.
I was shocked. I looked up at Alison and Albert. They looked at me solemnly. Of course they had all figured out my plans. I’d been a complete and obvious asshole. Exposing Grace to Karl had been my fault. The signs had been there, I had just been too wrapped up in my own bullshit to notice. And yet, for some reason, these three still wanted me around.
I finally got Grace to shut up and swore to all three of them that I would never leave them. I wanted to explain to them what had been going through my head, but looking at them made me realize that it wasn’t necessary. In the end I simply told them I was sorry.
We moved everything we had out of Karl’s place and down to the apartment below. While Albert took care of all the electrical issues with our new home I set myself up on Karl’s deck with my .22 carbine and four extra magazines. Over thirty undead had congregated on the street below. I used the railing as a bench rest and over the next forty minutes, methodically shot every one of them down.
I spent the next twenty minutes throwing up in the bathroom.
While I don’t think things will ever be “normal” again, I realize that I am finally back where I belong. Albert, Alison, Grace, and Chloe are my family, and for the first time in while, I feel whole again. I am grateful for them. That they can forgive so easily shames me.
Tonight we ate together in comfortable silence (except for Grace’s constant humming). I am impressed by how quickly Grace adapts to whatever situation she is in. Albert put her to bed earlier and is now asleep on the floor next to her. Alison just came into my bedroom and told me that she is going to sleep in her own room tonight, but wants to “work things out” between us.
We talked about my behavior over the last week. I am amazed she isn’t pissed at me. She is forgiving, but I know we are essentially starting over from a relationship standpoint. She reminded me that while I may have thought of abandoning them, when it came down to the wire, I did the right thing. Apparently, that counts for something.
DAY 62
There’s nothing much to report today.
My hip is stiff and sore from where the bullet grazed me, but I am keeping it clean and bandaged. We are all avoiding the subject of Karl, as much for Grace’s sake as our own. I know that I am personally just trying to forget him (although I doubt I ever will). He is the stuff of nightmares for us all.
A few more undead had gathered down on the street. Albert and I went back upstairs and dispatched them quietly from the front deck. We discussed how we were going to dispose of the bodies.
Albert came up with a crazy plan to tie them all together with lengths of rope to form a chain of Infected, and then tie the last one to the bumper of the Hummer and drag them all down the street. We are off to go try that now.
Well, that was a train wreck.
I don’t know what made us think that such a harebrained scheme would work. Albert and I found several long sections of climbing rope in the garage and proceeded to initiate our his stupid plan. It worked at first, although the smell of the putrid corpses was disgusting. We pulled the Hummer up and tied them all to the bumper. At first, we couldn’t get enough traction on the wet street, even in low gear. When we did finally get moving, the noise attracted a half-dozen more infected. We let them chase us for a few blocks and then stopped to take care of them.
When we tried to move again, a section of rope broke. We finally gave up and left the whole tied up, rotting pile down on Kearney Street. We drove away with several undead on our heels. We lost them then doubled back to the apartment. Enough adventure for one day. Besides, around 3 p.m. it started pouring down rain, and it hasn’t let up since.