"So what made you decide to go with a zombie tattoo?" Rex said.
"First off, it’s not real; yet. It’s just airbrushed," she said. "Second, I hope it’ll remind me never to let my guard down when it involves dealing with the living dead," she said with a giggle.
Rex smiled at her, and took her in again. The dark Goth-clothing was a contrast to the blond hair and sweet attitude.
"Art or theater major?" Rex asked.
"Neither, I’m a med-student," she said.
"They let you dress like that for medical school?" Rex asked.
"No,” she said. “But I’m on break, and I enjoy going out on a limb. It makes me feel like a teenager. Now I have a question for you. Do you always look so serious?"
"Only now,” Rex said. “When I was younger I had more the look of a trouble maker. I guess it’s the reason the first time I took my wife out, my future father-in-law didn’t like the look on my face. Before he let us leave on our date, he took me up stairs, where he kept his loaded shotgun. He wore the serious look back then.”
"Oh, I still see the trouble, but I can also see you’re all business tonight. What are you here for?" she said.
"I’m here for a job interview," Rex said.
"You must be here to see my Uncle Carmine, he’s the manager here. Look, here he comes, I’ll introduce you. By the way my name is Maize," she said.
He smiled and offered his own name, "My name is Rex, and it’s a pleasure."
###
Rex looked into the rearview mirror of his Chrysler Sebring convertible and thought, "I’m one serious looking guy." It's the kind of half-serious, half-jest comment anyone makes while talking to them self in the car. His dark hair and eyes matched a manly looking "Leonidas" beard. The beard was a feature his wife held judgment on until it grew in, and then it was all the rage.
Recently, Rex quit his job working with the U.S. Department of Homeland Security to seek a more profitable job in the private sector. Working with national security left zero room for error. He had to be right 100 percent of the time, doing his job, while the terrorists had to get it right just once for disaster. It sickened Rex to watch the politicians and public forget what a mean world we lived in. Terrorists could not be dissuaded from their fanatical goals, they could only be killed. He served his time hunting them in, but he felt really glad to put it behind him.
He headed home back to Butler after his interview. He had applied to be the head at the security department of the Casino. The interview went well, thanks to the girl at the bar. Uncle Carmine had offered Rex the job on the spot. Now he needed to decide if he wanted to put up with horrendous snow that Erie got every year. Better save it for later. The wife is going to want a say in this, Rex thought.
With the two-hour drive home nearly completed, Rex relaxed and watched the lines of Interstate 79 rhythmically roll past his convertible. His iPod played from a selection of Johnny Cash.
Rex and his wife recently moved back to Pennsylvania from living in D.C. and had temporally moved in with his wife’s parents. The in-laws owned a spacious brick home back a long tree-covered private lane. It's the kind of house with white pillars in the front and a swimming pool in the back yard. As Cash sang out ballads to Rex, he thought about finishing off the long drive with a good soak in the hot tub sitting on his in-laws back porch.
He pulled out his cell-phone to call Ginger and to tell her to pick up some steaks, but then decided not to and threw the phone down on the seat beside him. The Grove City exit was coming up, and he wanted to take some back roads home. During their college years, Rex and Ginger attended Grove City College; it was a very conservative and close knit Christian school. Students there often left campus to seek out more adult extracurricular activities that were frowned upon by the school. Taking some of those back roads would stir up some fond memories that the couple shared.
The pavement underneath the convertible changed from Interstate, to State Route, and then to rural back roads. The sun splashed its final rays of light on Rex and darkness filled its place.
Cash continued to sing out fateful lyrics. Rex reminisced at several wonderful years of romance and marriage with Ginger. Transitioning from old memories he thought about the weekend ahead with his wife and family. He felt his foot become a little heavier on the pedal thinking about his wife's strawberry blonde hair, dark eyes, and warm embrace. Yes, he thought, it should be a good weekend.
Several miles away from his in-laws home, he saw the flashing lights of two police cruisers on either side of the road. He could barely make out the reflection of plastic orange barricades blocking the road. "It’s awful early at night for a sobriety checkpoint," Rex said to himself. The checkpoint stood off in the distance; his turn came well before that. For the last few miles, Cash sang out, "When the Man Comes Round." He tapped his fingers to the music on the steering wheel.
Entering the private drive and rounding the bend, Rex viewed the home alive with light. In the garage sat his mother-in-law's convertible, the trunk was left open. Rex slowed down getting ready to stop, while at the same time, he flipped the switch to bring his convertible top back into place. Both the car and its top came to rest at the same time. The engine died on command. Rex grabbed his duffle bag and headed into the house.
Walking past his mother in-law’s car, he noticed several grocery bags still in the trunk and the door into the house gaped open. He entered the house and felt an invisible hand touch his back.
When something felt wrong to Rex, he always described the sensation as an unwanted hand about to lightly press its self against his skin. The lights, open doors, and grocery bags played a disturbing contrast to the absolute silence of the house. His senses sharpened, and he looked for anything else out of order as he closed the door behind him. Across the hallway and past the kitchen, he could see randomly generated light from the plasma screen television likely muted in the living room.
Rex relaxed at the normality of this, and he eased his way to the living room with his duffle bag in hand. He would hopefully greet his wife and her family relaxing there. Rex rounded the corner to find the television muted on a shopping channel; the room was empty. The sliding glass door to the back porch stood wide open. This is officially getting weird, he thought. He dropped his bag and briefly poked his head out the back door to find the porch and pool lit up, but no one was around. Rex called into the home, "Hello." No one answered. All the facts pointed to danger, but for one, his wife's absent car from the driveway.
He reached for his cell-phone to call Ginger and remembered throwing the phone into the passenger seat of the car. I guess I’ll just get in the hot tub and wait, Rex thought. He grabbed his shorts from his bag and decided to change in the living room; after all, it was clear no one was around. Out on the back porch, he pulled back the hot-tub cover and felt the warm water rise up to meet his eager muscles. He sat on the side of the tub about to swing himself over the edge and into the water, but it didn’t feel right. That damn invisible hand applied its touch to his senses. He felt exposed, vulnerable. Perhaps it’s because I’m only in my shorts, Rex thought. He looked around annoyed at the darkness beyond the backlights. Anyone could be watching from beyond his vision, while he sat exposed, lit up like a Christmas tree. Rex battled with his instincts of danger and his logic that said he is over reacting. His wife's family could be this careless leaving the house open at times.
“Fuck it,” he said. He went back inside to his bag and removed his sidearm. He pictured Ginger making fun of him for having his gun sitting by the side of the hot tub when they got home. He smiled, "They’ll never know, if I throw a towel over the gun."