Regeneration (Mad Swine Book 3) (27 page)

“But I like it when you tell it,”
Matthew whined. “Please, Uncle Wesley! Finish the story.”

“Okay, okay, relax. I’m going to tell
it again, but let’s take a break, huh? The sun is out and it is a
beautiful day. Let’s not waste it.”

Pausing to sip from a tall glass of
ice-cold lemonade, Wes turned back to the journal and put a marker
on the page where he left off. Truth was, he did not need to read
from the journal any longer; he knew the contents by heart or most
of it anyway.

Standing now, Wes stretched his body
and then took a knee beside the boy. He was a spitting image of his
father, except for the shock of red hair, which he’d gotten from
his mother. He was fair skinned, but freckle-free. Wes felt the boy
was tall for his age; perhaps that was just a misconception that
arose from the fact that Wes had always been on the short side.

“Why don’t we take a walk and go see
your dad? How’s that sound?” Wes asked and ruffled the boy’s auburn
hair.

“Can Cody come?” Matthew asked. He
cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow, another
characteristic he got from his mother.

“If he’s up for it,” Wes said and
started down the porch.

Matthew followed and at the bottom of
the stairs, he looked over his shoulder and called out to the dog.
“Come on, Cody. Come on boy!”

The shepherd’s head rose and he
regarded the boy and man from his place in the shade beside the
rocking chair. Slowly, he rose and with some effort, he descended
the porch, his nails clicking softly against the wood as his
arthritic paws tread slowly down the risers.

“That’s a good boy,” Wes said and
scratched the dog’s head.

“He’s a good old dog,” Matthew said.
“Is he going to die soon?”

Others might have been shocked by the
question, but Wes was not. The boy was smart and inquisitive. It
was an innocent question asked without malice and in the spirit of
understanding life.

“Nah,” Wes said. He started to walk
and the dog followed. “Cody still has a few good years left in
him.”

Together they walked, man, boy and
dog. Wes carried no weapon as they walked casually down the dirt
road. In fact, it had been several years since he had raised a
weapon against the creatures. The last crazy spotted within the
safe zone was more than four years ago. That had been miles away to
the north, at the furthest reaches of the community.

Matthew never saw the creatures with
his own eyes and for that, Wes was grateful. After the boy was
born, Wes prayed Matthew would never experience the horror, live
the nightmare he once lived. For Matthew, the creatures were just
things described in his father’s journals. Ghost stories. Legends
told around the campfire.

As far as the eye could see, great
fields of corn, squash, soybean, wheat and many other vegetables
and fruits stretched across the land to the north. Men, women and
children of all ages, races and denominations worked these fields,
some strangers to Wes and Matthew, but many old friends.

The men and women in the fields were
survivors from the early years, travelling long distances in search
of salvation from the crazies, moving to stay ahead, to search for
food, and to stay alive. Eventually, they found Finnegan Farms and
they were all welcome.

During the early years, before they
pushed the undead back, before the walls went up, the newcomers
lived on the farm, filling the remaining beds in the ranch
barracks. After only a few months, a second ranch quarters had to
be raised in the field behind, where Wesley and Matt once sat upon
a large tractor tire so many years ago.

In time, as the living took back what
was once theirs from the creatures, many more travelled to the
farm; it had become a beacon in the darkness, a legend among
survivors. People came from all over in search of this oasis. Some
came from as far as Pennsylvania and Ohio, others from the
surrounding states like Missouri, Wisconsin, even Kentucky.

They were blessed with fertile land
and the skills necessary to sustain them all year after year. Food
was plentiful, however, housing for the refugees was not. The land
on which crops were grown was precious and they could no longer
build living quarters on the farm without encroaching on crops or
livestock.

It was Lara who began to place the
refugees in the outlying homes around the farm, including the home
once owned by Ian’s uncle Seamus. When those rooms filled, she
oversaw the erection of other living quarters on Seamus’ property,
maximizing the living space before moving on to the next.

Maureen and Stanley were eager to
follow in Lara’s footsteps, to come to the aid of these strangers
who had come from so far. Together they taught the newcomers how to
work the land, to plant crops and raise livestock. Everyone worked
the land and in return, reaped the bounties.

Day after day, month after month,
year after year, the community expanded. Each foot, yard, and mile
fought for and earned by determined men and women who realized that
alone they would perish, but together they were strong and could
survive.

In 2016, five years after the
beginning of the Mad Swine outbreak, walls were erected around the
fifteen square miles of community now referred to as the Finnegan
Farms Township. Lara was elected the first Township President, a
position she retired from six years later when she felt she had
done all she could to secure a future for her family. Now, she
could rest; let others help carry the burden.

After a few minutes, boy, man and dog
came to a fork in the road, and took the path to the south, which
lead to the greenhouse, the gardens, and the family cemetery just
beyond.

Wes looked on at the gardens as they
passed, remembering how Maureen and Stanley spent most of their day
tooling around and gathering fresh herbs and vegetables for dinner.
Now, the two youngest Finnegan’s, Nora and Deirdre were in the
garden. They waved to Wes and Matthew before getting back to their
chores.

Maureen had passed in her sleep two
years ago. Stanley took the loss hard. Over the next month, Stanley
spent more and more time away from the main farm, making long trips
to outlying farms, keeping up with his teaching responsibilities.
He found peace in his work, but he could not find peace on the main
farm. He could not face staying in the room he once shared with his
beloved wife.

After a month, he sent word that he
would be permanently relocating to one of the larger farms to the
north. He felt he could be much more effective to the community,
helping the continued expansion by remaining on location.

Three years passed before Stanley
returned to Finnegan Farms, and only stayed long enough to pay his
respects at Cleona’s funeral. The matriarch of the Finnegan family,
Cleona lived a full life, having survived her husband and most of
her children during the early years.

One evening, after dinner, she
retired to the front porch to watch the stars from her rocking
chair. After an hour, Wesley brought out a shawl for her, because
the evening had gotten chilly. To the teen, the woman looked as
though she were sleeping.

Having placed the shawl over her
shoulders, he gently shook her to wake her, to bring her inside.
When she did not wake, he put his head against her chest, listening
for her heartbeat. For a moment, he remained with his head against
her chest and hugged her, before finally standing and going back
into the house.

He found Lara and asked her to come
outside with him. At the doorway, he stopped. When Lara asked him
what was wrong, he whispered into her ear. Lara merely looked at
the boy for a second before realizing what he had whispered was the
truth. She stepped slowly out onto the porch and approached Cleona.
Kneeling beside the woman, Lara lifted her wrist first, and then
placed two fingers against Cleona’s throat.

Wesley watched as Lara bowed her
head, her forehead against Cleona’s arm, and cried silently. He
watched Lara’s back hitch slightly with each sob, feeling he warm
sting of tears in his own eyes.

The morning following the service,
Stanley travelled north again, leaving Finnegan Farms for the last
time. Ian, the eldest surviving member of the Finnegan family moved
his mother’s rocking chair from the porch into her bedroom, and
then locked the door with an old skeleton key, preserving her
memory.

And as it tended to do, life went
on.

As they approached the cemetery,
Matthew spotted his mother, called out to her, and then ran into
her waiting arms. Wes watched as he walked slowly, giving Cody a
chance to catch up. Lara wore a straw sunhat, fashioned by one of
the girls. He couldn’t remember if Krista or Karrie made it. She
smiled as she hugged her boy and planted kisses on his cheeks,
which he immediately wiped away saying, “Ugh, mom!”

Laughing now, Lara used her thumbs to
wipe the boy’s cheeks. “There, mom cooties are gone, you happy
now?”

“Whatever,” Matthew said. “Look mom,
Cody came to see dad.”

Raising her arm to block the sun, she
turned and saw Wes and Cody. “Good morning, boys, I’m so happy you
could join us.”

Seeing Lara must have lit a spark in
Cody as he traded his slow gait for a lumbering trot. Lara bent to
rub his thick, golden body. “That’s our good Cody, that’s our good
boy, yes it is.”

“You spoil him too much,” Wes
said.

“At least I got him moving,” Lara
said and stood to kiss Wes on the cheek. She turned her attention
back to the dog. “Right, Butterball? You haven’t had that much
exercise in a long time.”

Cody wagged his tail and panted
heavily; actually, his entire thick body seemed to wag, not just
his tail.

“Honey, pour Cody some water, he’s
parched.”

“Mom, dogs don’t get parched,”
Matthew said, picking up a bottle of water from the picnic table
and dumping orange peels from a bowl. “They get thirsty. Duh.”

“Don’t be a smartass, honey.”

“Yeah,” Wes said. He smiled when
Matthew threw him a look of betrayal. “Honor thy mother or I’ll
have to kick your butt, little man.”

After pouring some water for Cody,
Matthew set the bottle down on the table and then said, “Can we see
dad now?”

“Of course,” Lara said. “Go on, I’ll
be right behind you.”

They watched the boy as he skipped
through the wrought iron fence that surrounded the small group of
plots. Once inside, just to the left, he stopped at the second
marker and knelt down in front of it. He crossed himself, and then
recited the Lord’s Prayer, as Reverend Reggie taught him.

Lara and Wes joined the boy. Now he
sat cross-legged in front of the stone marker that read:

MATTHEW DANZIG

1974 – 2012

OUR SAVIOR

For the next twenty minutes, they
stood over the grave while Matthew shared his latest adventures
with his father. He told him about Wes teaching him to ride a horse
and about how Krista taught him to knit so that he could make a
scarf for his mother for Christmas.

Lara visited each of the graves,
leaving a bouquet of fresh cut flowers on each as she and Wesley
paid respects to the fallen members of their extended family.

After a while, Sam and Kat brought
out a tray with iced tea and ham off the bone sandwiches and they
sat at the picnic table and shared their meal. Soon, Reggie and
Ravi joined them, as did the rest of the family.

When evening came, Wes started a fire
and sat next to Jenna. They clasped hands and watched their friends
and family as they gathered. Later, Justin brought out his guitar
and started to play Rocket Man by Elton John, then switched to some
Billy Joel tunes. Beneath the stars, they talked and laughed, sang
and danced well into the night.

Soon, the sun would rise, but first a
new dawn. And after that, a regeneration, a new world of their
making.

The End

Steven Pajak was born in Chicago and
raised in the city’s Near Northwest Community. He also lived in
Wartrace, Tennessee and Dallas, Texas before moving back to
Illinois where he now resides in a Chicagoland suburb.

Visit Steven’s official website
at
www.stevenpajak.com
.

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Swine series visit the official Facebook page at
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