Zombie (10 page)

It is a requirement, Michigan Department of Corrections, that your probation officer comes to “inspect” your residence every few weeks, or maybe months. Mr. T__ who was overworked (as he complained) had had to postpone his visit to Q__ P__’s residence but finally he came to 118 North Church Street on Tuesday August 2. Q__ P__ who pleaded guilty of “sexual misdemeanor committed against a minor” is in his second year of probation & his employment record, deportment & medical record “model.” Mr. T__ had only ten minutes he explained & seemed pissed, talking on his car phone for a while before he came up the steps &
Well hello, Quentin!
& shook my hand in that quick pinching way of his like he’s detached from his hand & your contamination. Lifting his eyes inside his bifocals & he’s impressed with the P__ family house you can tell. University Heights neighborhood.
He’d
gone to Western Michigan State in Kalamazoo.

I opened the door & Mr. T__ preceded me inside & he was saying in a loud voice like talking to a mental defective
So you’re responsible for all this,
eh? Good for you Quentin
. Showed him the front parlor where there’s a sofa & chairs & a TV for use of the tenants. Showed him the kitchen where tenants have “kitchen privileges.” I had cleaned up the dirty dishes & even scoured the sink & there was a strong stink of insecticide but no roaches in evidence. Not opening the cupboard doors where things were shoved inside. Opened the refrigerator like for something to do & Mr. T__ might’ve sighed exhaling his breath through his teeth.
Just great, Quentin. So
where do
you
live? Showed him my room at the rear. Q__ P__ CARETAKER in black ink on a white card beside the door. The window air conditioner was rattling & the vent open & I believe the room did not smell too strongly of whatever it might smell of. (My own nostrils were accustomed to whatever this might be, thus not reliable.) Sweat-stiffened socks & underwear needing to be laundered, & damp towels etc. The gray scum of the bathroom sink & toilet & shower stall. But the bed was neatly made & the cover (a purchase of Mom’s) of navy blue with tiny ships & anchors & flying fish drawn to the pillow which was in a straight position. The single window needing to be washed outside & in overlooking the weedy back yard I had not mowed in weeks, working at Grandma’s so much. But Mr. T__ took little notice. Nor of the twelve stones atop the air conditioner. I opened my closet door voluntarily & there on hooks were—for a weird moment I saw my fucked-up ZOMBIES!—my clothes, which were not many but some fancy & funky—RAISINEYES’ leather slouch-brim hat on the
shelf, & a zebra-stripe shirt of BIG GUY’s (too big for Q__ P__), & some leather neckties, lizardskin belts, the sheepskin jacket & on the floor my prize kidskin boots courtesy of Rooster. I opened my locker door too & there was my calendar taped to the inside of the door with certain markings * * * & my T-shirts, work-shorts, jogging shoes etc. A strong clean smell of Lysol. In an aluminum foil bag like you bring home a roasted chicken to heat in the oven in, the quart bottle of formaldehyde containing my prize memento of BIG GUY but the object was neatly taped of course & gave off no odor or suspicion. I have not opened it to glance at it for a long time. Mr. T__ did not so much as glance at any of this either for why should he. Q__ P__ has nothing to hide, the five or six knives & the ice pick etc. & the pistol locked in the cellar. Mr. T__ saying
Great, Quen-tin. Very neat & clean. Just right for you, eh?
Saying,
A little responsibility makes a man feel good, eh?
My muscle-mags & porn stuff I’d hidden away. & my Polaroids. & the map of SQUIRREL’s bicycle route. Instead, there was a neat stack of many issues of the
Dale Tech Blaze
& brown grocery bags carefully smoothed & folded on the floor.
Just like my wife
, Mr. T__ said.
Those damned grocery bags!
On my bedside table
Elements of Geophysics
& Mr. T__ picked it up & glanced inside seeing the name.
Second-hand, eh? All my books were second-hand, too. Couldn’t afford new
. Asked me about my classes at Dale Tech & I told him what I had told him before & he said it was a good school, his sis
ter’s son got a degree in electrical engineering & has a good entry-level job with GE in Lansing.

In the front hall I was walking Mr. T__ to the door there was Abdellah & Akhil at the mailboxes & they were chattering together & their eyes & teeth flashing & went quiet at once as Mr. T__ (who is a big slope-bellied white man with a flushed face & balding scalp) bore upon them & murmured
Excuse me!
& eased past in the narrow space. & Abdellah & Akhil went upstairs quiet now. & Mr. T__ said nothing until we were out onto the porch then said,
Must be a little weird for a white man, white caretaker, for
them,
eh?
& adding quickly
I don’t mean anything by it, I’ve got lots of black friends. I’m speaking of history
.

On the air conditioner in Q__ P__’s CARETAKER quarters were nine small stones from the back yard. There had been fifteen originally.

As the days passed. & GROUND ZERO located somewhere within those remaining days of August.

August 9. Dad & Mom called & left a joint message. They would be away for two weeks as usual on Mackinac Island.
Sorry you don’t care to join us Quentin! But if you should change your mind—
& I pressed the button
ERASE
.

August 11. Junie called. I was in the old cellar preparing the “operating” room in the cistern & came upstairs for a beer & there was Junie’s scolding voice just recording. Saying she’d been expecting me to return her calls &
why haven’t you Quentin. Are you O.K. Quentin. Is anything wrong Quentin. You are not drinking again Quentin are you. Please call back
.

ERASE
.

HOW THINGS PLAY OUT. A certain juncture of TIME & SPACE. A certain minute of a day of a life & a
stretch of a one-way alley of security fences, high hedges & rears of buildings. (The site I chose for the van & the capture was behind a commercial building
FOR SALE
& the rear entrance & garage never used. No private residences nearby. Always the chance of somebody driving through the alley, other kids on bikes etc. but that was a chance Q__ P__ must take.) & NO TURNING BACK.

Six stones remaining on the air conditioner. & then five, & then four. FRAGMENT Q primed to EXPLODE but: when?

Thursday August 25 would be the date, I thought. GROUND ZERO & on my calendar taped inside my locker door I marked it in red Magic Marker: *

How many times Q__ P__ awaits SQUIRREL his prey in his van calm & methodical. & how many times Q__ P__
is
SQUIRREL pedaling his bicycle fast & jaunty & graceful & oblivious to all danger like a deer running & leaping & the hunter’s scope trained to his heart. SQUIRREL with his TIGERS cap backward on his blond-brown hair & his lean shoulders hunched over the lowered handlebars & the belt & waist of his jeans so narrow it looked like I could circle my fingers around him. & that little pigtail! & his tanned good-looking face lifted, the forehead slightly creased in that way you see in kids & it surprises you, a kid thinking let alone worrying. Like SQUIRREL knows himself the bearer of a SPECIAL
DESTINY. & I saw the knobby vertebrae of his spine & a shiver ran through me.

No! he is too beautiful for Q__ P__ to touch!

Jerking off every few hours, too wired to sit still & too excited to go out & risk somebody seeing me & reporting I’m on speed, or freaked-out. & avoiding the tenants, not answering when there’s a knock on the door. & Mom called from Mackinac saying why didn’t I come up after all, spend a few days it’s so lovely here the water so beautiful & air so clear. & Dad came on the line hearty & friendly &
ERASE
with my thumb. & again Junie & I lift the phone & right away she’s bitching. It’s August 21 & why haven’t I returned her calls, she’d left at least three messages for me she was worried about me for God’s sake! & so on. I’m eating frozen Taco Bell beef burritos & drinking Bud out of the can. Flicking through the TV channels. Fifty-two channels & back again to the beginning. I’m edgy like there is something I am seeking & don’t know what it is. Junie is TALKING. Like she’s always TALKED. Big Sis who’s hot shit, junior high principal. Gummy green guacamole sauce running down my arm. On channel six there’s naked black corpses in a dump somewhere in Africa. On channel nine there’s bawling children in some bombed-out hospital in this place called Bosnia. & fading to an ad
This is your governor speaking
. On channel eleven an ad for a van bouncing over a rocky desert landscape. On channel twelve the weather news
Michigan & Great Lakes region continued high temperatures
. On MTV a
hot-looking spic cunt with electric hair is licking the nipples of a strung-out cokehead whitey & I’m flicking back to channel eleven. Junie is saying sharp like she’s in the room with me
Quentin damn it are you there?
& Q__ says
Where the fuck else would I be, Junie?
& there’s a pause like the bitch has been slapped in the face. & I’m trying to finish the burrito & staring at the TV screen knowing there is some message here, something urgent. Junie says she would like to speak with me, she is worried about me, the influence
the wrong kind of associates
can have on me. It’s a new-model Dodge Ram speeding over the rocky terrain. Big glaring moon in the sky. Or is the Dodge Ram on the moon, & that’s the Earth floating there? Junie is saying I owe it to Mom & Dad to try to live a good life. & I
am
a good decent person deep in my heart—she knows. Says she isn’t always
on an emotional equilibrium
herself. She has her
stressed-out periods
, too. In fact she’s seeing
a holistic therapist in Ann Arbor
. But please don’t tell Mom & Dad, Quentin?—they think I’m the strong one. They depend on me to be there for
them
. A pause & she says Quentin?
are
you there? & I grunt yeah yeah & I’m thinking how your sister (or it could be your brother) comes out of the identical hole you came out of. & shot from the identical prick. & all of it blind & chance & yet there’s the DNA CODE. & that is why a sister (or a brother) knows you that way you don’t want to be known. Not that Junie knows
me
. Not that anybody in the Universe knows
me
. But if one of them did it would be Junie staring into Q__ P__’s soul.

Junie repeats she’s inviting me for dinner tomorrow night, not just to talk but there’s this friend she’d like me to meet & I say I’m busy. Well, the night after that?—& I’m busy. & she’s pissed saying what’s the big deal in
your
life, Quentin? don’t bullshit
me
. Saying, you’re involved with—who? & I’m watching TV & don’t hear. & she says, serious now, You know what I’m afraid of, Quentin?—one of your
secret associates
, some druggie will injure you one of these days, that’s what I’m afraid of. For Mom & Dad’s sake. Because you’re too naive & you’re too trusting like it’s the Sixties or something & you’re too plain God-damned
stupid
to know your own best interests.

The Dodge Ram bounces over the landscape. Fade to assholes in baseball uniforms, Tiger Stadium, Detroit.

Now I know the final step. Eating the second burrito I’m not even hungry for but I’m ravenous, my mouth is alive by itself & devouring what’s in my hand. On the way to GROUND ZERO in four days. Like a jigsaw puzzle part that’s been missing & now I have it & the puzzle is complete.

Went down into the cellar & shut & locked the door behind me. & into the old cellar, & shut & secured the door. & there were the BABY CHICKS like I’d dreamt them except they were real! CHEEP CHEEP CHEEPING. & no fear of me. & I changed their water (in aluminum foil saucers) in each of the boxes & picked out some of the droppings & sprin
kled bread pellets & grain for them. & though only a week or so old these BABY CHICKS pecked hungrily & unerringly & could take care of themselves like adult birds. For all their lives were just eating. & that was provided for them.

Counted them for the hell of it. Each cardboard box, twelve BABY CHICKS. Thirty-six BABY CHICKS. They were all still alive.

Next day, asked Grandma could I borrow $$$ for a down payment on a Dodge Ram?—my old Ford is so beat-up & the garage says it will cost more to repair (brakes & carburetor) than it is worth. & Grandma says
Quentin, of course!
& smiling & her bony hands trembling a little as she writes out the check.
It’s a loan
, I say.
I will pay you back
. & Grandma laughs
Oh Quentin
. They want somebody to love & live for—women. It doesn’t matter who like it would with a man. & for lunch preparing big grilled cheese sandwiches for me crossed with strips of crisp bacon I was crazy for as a boy visiting Grandma. & Grandma sips her piss-colored tea & takes her “heart pills” as she calls them.
I feel I’ve just gotten to know you, Quentin. This summer. God works in unexpected ways doesn’t He!

Saying,
This is just between you & me, Quentin. Our little secret!

I’m hungry, & I’m eating. & the check in my shirt pocket. Since making my decision I’ve had the best appetite in years & needed a new notch in my belt this morning. On double ’ludes my heart is calm &
strong & pounding steady & the pulse of it sharp in my cock. GROUND ZERO so close it is almost like it
has
happened. & when I return to 118 North Church Street MY ZOMBIE SQUIRREL will be awaiting me in the cellar. Food & drink & a full-length mirror for his (& his master’s) use. SQUIRREL’s worshipful green eyes, & pigtail so sexy. & that MOUTH made for kisses & sucking. & that worshipful ASS. & Grandma is saying a tremor in her voice the only thing left to make her life complete, she would die happy then, if Junie or me, or both of us she loves so would get married & have children & the lineage would not die out. Such proud good upstanding decent Christian men & women were our ancestors Grandma says. & we go:

“Quentin?—nothing would make me happier.”

“What’s that, Grandma?”

“I said—nothing would make me happier, if you would marry one day soon, & have children.” Brushing at her eyes & laughing sadly, saying, “I know I’m an old woman & it’s none of my business to interfere with you young people’s lives.”

“No Grandma, that’s O.K.”

“I know it
is
too much to ask. Just to make an old woman happy.”

“No Grandma, that’s O.K.”

“I know—the world is so different now.”

& I’m licking cherry-swirl ice cream from the spoon looping my tongue around the spoon saying, “Grandma, hey no. Don’t cry. The world is not ever that different.”