"Oh.." Blue eyes twinkled again as the blade disappeared into the body of the cane. The two pieces met seamlessly, I could barely tell there was more than one piece to begin with. "I don't know what yer talkin' about kiddo." I just stared at the man. "Don't give me that look kid, I've got me own secrets, just like anyone else in this place."
I suppose he was right, there. But I also didn't quite care at that moment. All I knew was that the old man had a damned sword, and I wanted to know why he hadn't bothered to tell anyone. Didn't have the chance maybe? Couldn't find a convenient way to bring it up; which was actually the most plausible situation if you wanted my honest opinion.
How does one go about saying "Yeah, I'm soandso, this cane is actually a sword. So how about them Yankees?" One doesn't, that's right.
"Couldn't have spared the information at all?" "Nope."
"And why not?"
"Would that have made ye happy, young 'un? Would ye have been pleased to be told I had me sword in this 'ere cane?" "Very pleased, yes."
"That's why I didn't tell ye!"
I was almost mad that I hadn't seen the comment coming in the first place. I glared at the man's cackling, appeased only a little at the fact that Dustin was glaring a bit as well. He was obviously shaken up over his near death experience, and probably not very pleased at the old man's rebellion.
Perhaps more upset then he was of my own.
"Don't give me that face now." Blaz said, cracking a lopsided grin at the two of us. "I'm done with me fun now, ye can go back to being normal so to speak." "I resent that."
"As do I."
Was Dustin agreeing with me? I simply couldn't believe it. The man was agreeing with me and my complaints. Hell had most assuredly frozen over in those moments, as I whipped around the face the man. Gaining little more than a glance before he went back to glaring at the Irish man himself.
"Blaz." Dustins voice was the embodiment of respect, however clipped his words were. He stared straight at the man with a look in his eyes that made me sure he wasn't actually seeing him. "With all due respect to you, these are dangerous times. You can't keep secrets like tha"
"I'll keep me secrets however I choose to. I'm not taking any orders from ye. Not now, not ever. I'm much older then yerself, if ye haven't yet noticed this fact young 'un. I've fought in me share of wars. Protected me share of people. Raised me kids. Got meself an education. Not by listening to some selfassured child. So ye can just go shut yer yap about it."
I stared.
I hadn't seen that one coming either. Damn, unpredictable, stubborn old mule.
The man turned and walked away, blue eyes shining with something that wasn't amusement for once. He honestly looked insulted, and Dustin honestly looked guilty. One assumed he'd been raised to speak to his elders much differently than he had. I could understand how it must have made him feel to disobey that upbringing.
I myself had been raised to cherish life. Yet I seemed to constantly find myself taking it from people. Given, life as a mindless zombie wasn't much of one. Perhaps it wasn't technically one at all. But nevertheless, who was I to decide to take it from them?
No.
Bad, Excel.
You're not going into that jag now. You're not.
No.
I tried to smile reassuringly at Dustin, but it didn't seem to work too well. He didn't glare at me, no, but he certainly didn't seem to cheer up all that much. Unfortunately, there wasn't much I could really do about it. I couldn't magically make him happy. I couldn't take away the shame, the guilt. Try to relieve it sure, but otherwise, nothing.
"Dustin.." I sighed at the look he gave me. "Come on man, cheer up. Just a little."
"He's right." The look in his eyes made me feel a bit guilty too. "He shouldn't take orders from me. He has so much more life experience. I
am
just some selfassured brat. It was presumptuous for me to speak to him in such a manner."
Stubborn man.
"At a time like this, no it wasn't Dustin." He looked at me oddly for this statement. He seemed to want me to explain, so I continued. "I don't care what the circumstances are. I don't care if he's ten years older then me, or twenty, or one hundred. These are hard times. These are going to remain hard times. Him keeping such valuable secrets isn't going to make life easier on any of us."
"But"
"Listen to me Dustin, please. Listen to me. I know that you're older than I am. You're a father. I'm nowhere close to being ready for parenthood. So you've already got that much on me. But that doesn't matter. You've pretty much been straight forward with me from the start. Unless you want to confess that you've lied, terribly so, somewhere along the way, and I'll be forced to go at your eyes with sporks while you sleep."
I smiled a bit, as this gained a chuckle from him. However I wouldn't tell him that I was relieved he shook his head, in the negative, at the request of his confession. It meant either he hadn't lied, or he was planning on getting himself in pretty deep.
For my own sake, I went with the former.
"I don't see how he has an excuse for lying. I don't" "Technically he didn't lie."
"Technically zombies are humans too."
That shut him up.
"I won't deny him his rights. I won't say he has to tell us when he's going to go take a whiz, however at a time like this with man eating monsters around one would consider it common courtesy. I can't help feeling that a little trust would be nice. Don't you think? I don't really want to be traveling around with a guy who's not going to be helpful to us."
After a moment of staring, Dustin knocked my head, and started pulling me along to the group. Which was a bit of a relief. At least he wasn't feeling too horrible about himself. That was all I could really think about. I'd pretty much succeeded in cheering him up, even if it hadn't worked one hundred percent.
Why was I worried about his happiness?
How could I expect him to by happy with such pressing matters?
Why was I asking myself questions I obviously didn't know the answers to? "Feeling better?"
I glanced over at Ian who was giving me such a funny look that I couldn't help but wonder who slipped him the joy juice. Honestly. He had an utterly lopsided grin, like the muscles in his face decided that left was so sexy that it just needed to be the new up. One of his eyes was partially closed the sort of 'someone just decked me' closed as oppose to the
'I'm going to twitch the muscles about my eye socket to see how people react' closed. The look really wasn't him in my completely honest, however brutal, opinion.
"Dude, you swallowed a lemon, or what?" "Funny much."
"Well you look a bit off." I paused to step forward, resting a hand on his elbow for a small moment. "What's up?" "Blaz."
"What about"
"The old man swatted him one on the ass!" Came flying from Pixie's chocolate covered mouth before the chess dweeb had a chance to explain. His eyes, then, narrowed considerably. Glaring supposed death at the child who probably had more of an idea of what she was doing then I was willing to give her credit for.
"Calm down Ian." Was what I managed. "She knows not what she does."
"Bull. She knows perfectly well what she does, she's just using her small stature to warp your fragile mind." I laughed.
He was probably perfectly right. "I know, Ian."
"Then why"
"She doesn't know that we know. Now does she." I didn't say it as a question. "Touche."
"Eaten yet?"
"Not much of an appetite." "Me neither."
And the two of us proceeded to stare. At one another. Away from each other. At shelves, and far walls, and other people. I was unable to look him in the eyes for one reason or another. Perhaps it was the realization that we were actually thinking the same exact thing.
I knew we were.
There was no doubt in my mind.
"It's hard to think of eating with zombies popping up every which way, isn't it?" Ian beat me to the question, so I settled on just nodding my head.
At least I was right in the fact that we were thinking the same thing. The thought of eating made me rather sick to my stomach. The smell of meat still roasting on the grill made me wonder if that could possibly be drawing the coffin stuffers to us. Nodding my head a second time, I decided that it was food for thought if you'll forgive the pun.
"Dammit."
I was startled from my thoughts by the word, and turned my head to a rather distressed looking Ian. "Dammit."
"Ian?" I suppressed the urge to warn him that he was using my line. "How did this happen?"
"I've only been asking that question, without getting a single answer, since this entire thing started." I sighed then, and sort of urged him into a walk by his elbow. Thinking of
Dustin, I didn't lead the boy too far away, just far enough away for a little privacy. "It's hard, isn't it?" "Are we thinking of the same thing here?"
"It's hard not knowing what the hell's going on." "Yeah."
"I hate this just as much as you do, trust me. I never asked for this to happen. You never did. I'm not so sure anyone did. But it happened. And we may never figure out why. All I
know is that we have to deal with it, somehow." "How?"
"I don't know." I paused. "I really don't."
I didn't like standing there in total silence, looking at the boys feet because there was nothing better to do. I didn't know what would be appropriate, or appreciated. It wasn't my job to figure out what this boy wanted, or needed, as much as I wanted to. I wanted to help him. I wanted to cheer him up. I wanted him to stop looking as if someone just ran his puppy over with a tank.
I momentarily considered hugging him, but pushed that thought away quickly. It probably wasn't what he wanted. Sympathy. Honestly, who wants sympathy, given they aren't attention whores? I've never met someone who wanted people to feel bad for them. I certainly didn't like it when people felt bad for me. I made it known often enough.
But what else was there to do in such a confusing situation? Normally I would have told him to go get a girlfriend, but that probably wouldn't have been taken well. Even said as a joke. The last thing I wanted was to insult an ally.
Speaking of which, I'd probably done so with Blaz. I didn't want to admit it, but he was indeed an ally. Unless of course he was fighting on the side of the living dead. And as interesting as that notion was, I knew it wasn't very likely. Hell, it wasn't even a little likely. It just wasn't probable at all. It was a stupid idea. It was frightening. I didn't even want to think about it.
But I had thought about it, so naturally it just wouldn't leave my head, and kept running circles. Damn.
Damn.
"Think we'll make it?"
"Pardon?" I looked up at Ian who looked positively downtrodden. Poor kid. "What do you mean?" "This. Do you think we'll make it out of this?"
"This as in.."
"Forgot that there were zombies invading or something?"
"No. No. Just making sure." We were silent again, but only for a short while. "No." "What?"
"In all honesty.. No. I don't think we'll make it. I'm quite convinced that we'll all end up dead if you want me to tell the truth."
"Then I'm not the only one." "No. No you're not."
Our conversation was sporadic from there. Stopping and starting at unmeasured intervals. Basically following the thought process of us dying. How we might die. It only came up once, the request, "If I get bitten, I want you to kill me." But it was enough to make me realize exactly how real the danger was, all over again.
It made me think of our missing comrade.
"Do you think Malachi's okay?" I asked after staring at the boy, unable to read the expression on his face. He did look rather upset. Scratch that. He looked extremely upset. "Do you think he may have survived whatever happened back there?"
"I'm not sure."
"He was strong, Ian. He was very strong. And he seemed to know what he was doing for one stupid reason or another. He never fumbled. Not once." "I know, Excel. But I'm not sure. It doesn't matter how strong, or skilled you are. Those monsters kill regardless of status, if you haven't noticed yet." "But could he have gotten away?"
"We got away."
"What does that have to do with anything?"