“For there is no other way to be happy in Jesus,” Doc sang as he stood.
He looked through the thin material of the drape. He reached the end of the aluminum across the room and pulled each one aside. They drifted back down as he let them slide off the pole.
He set the pole and folder on the floor as he started pulling out the albums from the open trunk. I couldn’t see him clearly in the mirror from over the window sill outside. I could see the crow in the floor and the corner of his folder, but not where Doc was by the trunk. I heard the brittle plastic break as he started pulling out specific pictures one at a time placing them inside the cover of his mystery folder.
I looked down and made sure I stepped on bare patches of dirt instead of grass or leaves outside the open window just a few feet from Doc. I ventured one last look through the window from the back corner of the house. The view through the window in the mirror showed the opposite wall and an open door. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear him moving the albums in the trunk.
I turned just as the zombie lunged for me. His hands grabbed my sleeves as his open mouth closed in on my neck. We spun twice as the zombie’s feet came out from under him and we fell to the ground. We rolled once in the dirt and I ended up on top. The creature hissed dry air through its open and shredded vocal cords. Its jaw clicked as the teeth opened and closed. He was clawing at my stomach through my shirt leaving streaks of dirt and muck.
I pushed his flailing arms down to his bare chest and folded them over a tattoo of a multicolored lizard. The rainbow lizard was wearing sunglasses as it looked up at me from the dead, wrinkled flesh showing every rib through the thin skin. I pinned the wrists and the body under my knees as I drew my knife again. The creature leaned up as far as the neck would bend and closed its teeth a couple inches away from my knee. He tried again and again.
I paused as I looked up at the open window. Over the hissing coming from the useless throat I could still hear Doc thumping around in the trunk.
He sang, “In the light of the day as we continue our way, may God’s love pour out as we say, Trust and Obey.”
I was relieved as I drove the blade halfway into the center of the forehead underneath me. I twisted the knife from side to side as I felt the body become peaceful against my knees. I pulled twice before the weapon jerked free of the bone mired with decayed brain cells.
I reached under quickly and caught the back of the mangy head before it banged against the ground. I gently placed the loose head against the dirt as Doc sang inside the bedroom window.
“Stand with him now and let him carry your cares every day,” Doc advised.
I wiped both sides of the blade on the colorful lizard, but it didn’t come clean. I sheathed it and stood back up. Taking the wrists, I pulled the body slowly across the ground only letting the legs slide against the dirt. I got around the side. I lowered the body letting the head settle first, then the back, and then the arms back across the chest. I looked at it for a moment and then moved one arm so it covered the head and the fresh knife wound.
I listened.
Doc said, “For there’s no other way, to be crappy with Captain JJ than to thrust and go lay.”
I looked and saw that there was no fresh gore spilled on the ground, but there was a path pulled through the leaves. If Doc happened to look, it would have to do. I heard the boards creaking inside again.
***
I turned and ran around the house. I jumped over two more skeletons in bulletproof vests. The skulls were blackened in the grass and the bodies were missing the bones below the end of the spine from the pelvis down.
I ran back through the abandoned police cars and out along the outside of the trees. I looked at the front door as I passed, but Doc hadn’t come outside yet. I ran harder as I crossed the open space between houses. I looked back twice, but did not see him. I rounded the front of the brick house and jumped over the mangled, battered body of Lt. Berry. I stepped off the edge of the yard and started up the trail.
I stopped to hold my knees and heave for air. I was dizzy as looked back through the neighborhood. I didn’t see any monsters in pursuit. I stood back up and held my side as I walked back up the trail.
My pile of wood was still waiting for me. I picked it up and tried to grab more as I walked back out into the park. Smoke was rising out of one of the pits and I could smell venison cooking.
I took a couple more steps and saw Short Order standing on the back of the truck holding the binoculars. He put them down and started walking toward me. He was holding one of the rifles.
“The hell, Mutt?” he said. “You get lost, kid? Did you see, Doc?”
I shook my head vigorously. I was only lying depending on which question I was answering.
Chef stood up from cooking and stepped out where he could see me. He was holding a large, two-pronged meat skewer.
He asked, “Mutt, are you okay?”
I nodded my head slowly. I was lying now. I walked slowly toward the cooking pit and covered picnic area. My leg muscles were burning with lactic acid. Chef went back to flipping meat on the grill again.
I dropped the pile of wood onto the stack that the others had apparently gathered in my absence.
“That’s not a lot of wood for such a long trip,” Short said. “I went into the trees gathering wood too and didn’t see you. Where did you go?”
“Doc,” Chef shouted.
I jumped and actually placed my hand over my pounding heart. Doc had his shiny, clean pole over his shoulder with the toilet paper roll on the end. He was walking out of the bushes near the water tower fence where he had walked away earlier. He didn’t have his file folder. I didn’t see any of the pictures either.
Doc said, “Did you ladies miss me? I sure won’t miss that possum. I’ll tell you one thing though; there won’t be any zombies coming through on that side and I don’t recommend you all come that way either.”
Chef said, “You two had us thinking we had become a party of two. We may need to only go out in pairs even for possum drops.”
“You two?” Doc asked. “What are you talking about, David?”
“Mutt just got back too,” Chef answered.
Doc’s eyes lighted on me and felt cold.
“Is that so?” Doc asked, “You do some exploring, Mutt?”
I shook my head.
“What happened, Mutt? Where were you?” Short Order asked.
They all stared at me as meat sizzled and popped on the grill over the rising heat.
I pulled out my knife and held up the blade. I pointed to the dark matter dried on the sides and then pointed at my head. They stared a moment longer.
“You killed one?” Doc asked, “You killed a walker?”
The other two looked at Doc and then looked at me.
“How many were there?” Chef asked.
“Where were they?” Short spoke over him.
I held up one finger and then raised the blade to point at the trail. I felt Doc staring at the back of my neck. I shifted the point several degrees to the right pointing into the trees away from the trail and away from the side where he had angled through the woods into the neighborhood.
“I was in there,” Short said, “I didn’t see you.”
I looked back at them, but didn’t make eye contact with Doc. The meat sizzled some more.
I knelt down and used my soiled knife to draw in the dirt. I drew a line and pointed back at the side road. I drew a childish tree on one side and pointed at the trees away from the trail. I drew an “M” and a “Z” next to the tree and looked up. They were all nodding including Doc.
I looked back down and stabbed the ground several times creating a dotted line that ran across the line a few inches and then pointed over across the side road.
“It chased you,” Short said, “Across the road?”
“I guess he wouldn’t call for help,” Chef said.
“And he didn’t want to lead back to our camp,” Doc said. “You’ll need to clean that knife properly and you may want to change your shirt, Mutt. It looks like he grabbed at you.”
I looked at Doc and then down at my shirt. There were several dark lines scratched across the wrinkled material.
“You have to stay away from their hands too, Mutt,” Chef said. “They’ll rip you open with their hands too.”
“Go change your shirt and we’ll wash it out,” Doc said. “It might be dry by morning. I’ll clean the knife while you do it.”
Doc was holding out his hand with his aluminum pole resting on the forearm and over his shoulder. I raised the knife slowly with the point aimed past my wrist at my chest. I was holding it with my fingertips at the connection of the hilt and blade. He could have plunged it into my chest or sliced my wrist with the contaminated blade.
His hand closed over the handle and stopped as he stared at me. I slowly lifted my fingertips off of the knife. He still waited. Then, he drew the blade away slowly just a centimeter shy of cutting me and infecting me. He did not and I dropped my hand.
“Sharp,” Doc said.
I looked up at him, but he was looking at Chef as he spoke.
He continued, “Your risotto is burning.”
Chef turned and went back to stirring the pan as he flipped the meat again too.
Chef said, “Impossible, Doc. I don’t burn risotto; I just almost burn it.”
Short Order asked, “What are you holding, Doc?”
Doc looked at the knife and his pole in one hand. Then, lifted up his other hand and he looked like he had been placed on the grill for a turn. He was holding a purple pony toy. It had a long, furry tail. It looked like it had just come out of the package.
He said, “I found it out there and opened it. Someone bought it for someone, left it, and it has been sitting in the box all this time.”
He brought it to his nose and sniffed it.
Chef was using a tasting fork to bring a tear of the meat to his mouth.
“It still smells like grapes, after all this time surrounded by death and decay,” Doc said.
I shivered watching him sniff it with his eyes closed.
“You should have left it in the woods to cover your possum drop,” Short said.
Doc stuffed it into his pocket. I caught a glimpse of photographs crammed there as he did.
Chef announced, “We need to plate soon. I don’t want to overcook venison.”
“It’s time to change, Mutt,” Doc said, “Stop stalling.”
I looked down at my shirt and then got up to go.
After we ate, I was scraping down the grill with the scouring brick once it had cooled enough.
Doc came over and grabbed my shoulder. I startled.
He held me tighter and said, “Don’t move, Mutt. Just be still, so you don’t get hurt.”
I waited.
He brought the hunting knife around and showed my both sides of it. He then lowered it down and slid it into the sheath that was still on my belt below my clean shirt.
Doc said, “You may want to consider carrying one of the machetes instead, but you seem to do well with this, if you want to stick with what works.”
I nodded and went back to scrapping the grill wires on both sides.
Doc said, “Your shirt is on the back of the truck. It may still be damp in the morning, but, it’s clean. If we get interrupted, we’ll want to toss it inside before we make a run for it.”
I nodded again and he let go of my shoulder. I started breathing slower again.
“Where did you stick it?” Doc asked.
I stopped scrapping and looked at him.
Doc added, “The zombie … when you killed it.”
I pointed the brick across the road again. He shook his head. He knew.
“No,” Doc said, “Where in its head did you stab it?”
I thought for a minute. I brought the frothy brick around behind my head. I bent my head down and waved it over the knob at the top of my neck and the base of my skull. I was careful not to catch my hair with the grit from the grill. I brought the brick back around and started scraping the grill again.
I’m not sure why I felt I had to lie about that, but I did it anyway.
Doc said, “That was smart, Mutt. That was a good way to do it.”
I nodded.
“Was that the first one you killed by yourself?” Doc asked.
I tried to remember how many I had killed since we were at the Complex. I tried to remember if Doc had seen me kill some and this was some test or trick. It seemed like an opportunity. Most traps do.
I nodded my head and kept scraping. Doc patted my back and I shivered.
He said, “You did fine, Mutt. We’re going to be fine. We will watch out for each other and get through this insanity together. Trust and Obey.”
I stopped scraping and looked at him. My heart was throbbing. He just laughed.
“Never mind,” he said as he stood up, “You would have had to have been there, I guess.”
I watched him walk away. He didn’t look back.
***
The next morning we were eating a breakfast of left over venison when we saw the first ones walking beyond the tower and the storage building. They were milling around in the distance, but they were getting closer.
“We should have buried that deer deeper instead of just covering it in one of the pits,” Short Order whispered.
“They don’t know we’re here,” Doc said.
Chef stood up and said, “Let’s go ahead and pack up quietly. Mutt, dump the extra meat, please.”
We started the truck once we were packed and rolled away from the picnic area. I looked down as we approached the trail. Thankfully, we turned and went out the opening in the fence to the side road. We drove away from the dead approaching behind us.
Doc was looking at me. I tried to look forward and pretend like I didn’t notice.
Short Order was looking out the driver’s side too.
He said, “What happened there?”
Doc said, “Officer Friendly’s last stand.”
I looked at Doc. He was looking past me out my window. I turned and looked too. Through the only lot in the neighborhood with trees, there were the police cars around the boxy house with the high roof, faded paint, and bullets holes. I kept staring at it even though I didn’t want to look just so I wouldn’t have to look at Doc.
“Someone would have had to really piss off the cops to get that much attention as the zombies were destroying the world,” Short Order said. “We might be looking at the hideout for the last criminal on Earth.”