“Thank you,” he uttered and he kissed me softly on the lips. He stood up with not the slightest sign of vertigo or ill effects from his sickness.
“Boys, get your guns.” And that was it. He went upstairs to get dressed.
It would be a longtime before we talked about what happened. He was reluctant to revisit it, that much was for sure. Even still, there were more pressing things happening and we did not find much time to sit down and idly chat about anything. Survival is an all-consuming event within its own right.
CHAPTER 20 - The slaughter begins
Journal Entry - 17
Eventually, I will tell you what happened while I traveled the netherworlds, but that all hinges on what happens in the foreseeable future. I had come out from under my unnatural hibernation in remarkably good shape. There were no ill effects that I knew about; they would manifest later. I had lost weight and I was as thirsty as I had ever been, but after downing three huge glasses of water I felt right as rain, even more so. Now I know this sounds weird, but power is the word that comes foremost in my mind. Maybe healthy would be a better descriptive but not as accurate, or as powerful. I just don’t know and I really don’t have the time to dwell on it.
As I dressed, I peered out the window, appalled at what my vision took in. That alone should have frozen my bowels. Thousands upon thousands of zombies were shuffling their way to our haven. Gunshots that had moments before been sporadic and spread out were now continuous and unrelenting. Hundreds of zombies fell. It didn’t matter. It was like burning ants with a magnifying glass, kill one there’s a thousand more to take its place. It seemed more a waste of bullets. Most of the shot zombies were still moving. Headshots were for trained marksmen and most of these folks were anything but. If they were used to shooting at all it was at center mast on a 500-pound elk, a much easier shot than the 20-pound melon of a human head. Even if they were zombies, it was still unimaginably tough for these people to get over the aversion of shooting a human form. At least if they made a shot to the body it would be less noticeable and therefore more palatable.
The only thing we had going for us was that once the shot zombie hit the deck he was likely to become ground beef from the hordes that would pass over the unlucky soul. I had made my decision. I would stay and fight until it was a lost cause. Regarding the outcome to Little Turtle, I already knew the answer. What remained to be seen was if I could get my loved ones out of this mess intact. I was duty bound, and worse, honor bound to help the residents as best I could. I would not desert them. Justin had managed to get out of his bed although it had cost him nearly his entire reservoir of energy. I caught him as he was putting on his socks.
“Where are you planning on going?” I asked him sternly.
He looked up. I involuntarily stepped back. His features were starkly outlined from the darkness that rimmed his eyes. His skin was pulled tight in some places and slack in others. The effect was disconcerting.
“To help,” he answered, taking a break after putting his right sock on.
“The only thing you’d be able to help with, is getting us in trouble.” I didn’t mean to be so callous, it just came out. If it came down to a footrace with a zombie and Justin, smart money went on the undead.
Justin’s eyes welled up with hurt and rejection. “I just want to help, Dad. I want to make sure Mom and Nicole are going to be all right.”
“That’s what I want too, Justin. But I’m also concerned about you, Travis, Brendon, Tommy and everyone else. You get the point, right? I’m not sure you could shoot a gun without falling over.” I hadn’t appeased him at all. He still appeared dejected. “Justin, if you can carry this ammo can,” which I was holding, “I’ll think about letting you come.” I wasn’t going to anyway but I figured I’d give him a chance.
He eyed the can speculatively. Full of ammo they can top fifty pounds. He was having difficulty with an eight ounce sock.
“Dad?” he said with true remorse.
I felt his pain. “Justin, you need to stay here with Paul and defend the fort.”
His eyes closed in defeat. I crossed the room and grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes to mine. “You’ve seen Paul shoot, right?” I asked him. He perked a little at that. “If everything goes to hell, Justin, I’m going to need you here with all of your strength, for your Mom, for Nicole.”
He knew he was being manipulated, but he didn’t feel useless any more, he had a purpose.
“Okay Dad,” he said as he laid his body back down. “I’ll go defend the house as soon as I get up.”
“Good idea,” I told him with a small laugh as I tousled his hair. His head still felt warm, not the dizzyingly burning heat it was before, but I didn’t think he was out of the woods completely.
Paul was waiting in the hallway as I quietly exited the room and shut the door.
“How’s he doing?” Paul asked.
“I wish we had more medicine and a highly skilled doctor,” I said to him.
Paul’s features furrowed in shame.
“Dude, I only have so much energy to pick people up. Listen, I don’t think he’s going to turn into a zombie, but he’s got an infection of some sort. Who knows what kind of germs the undead carry, I’m sure they don’t use Purell. Listen bud, I told you before, I’m not blaming you for what happened, so get over it.”
Paul looked even more hurt at those words.
“But now it’s time for payback,” I told him.
He looked at me, trying to ascertain my meaning.
“If something happens to me, whether today, tomorrow or any other day for that matter, you” and I emphasized ‘you,’ “are to take control of this family, because that’s what we are now. It’s not just you and Erin anymore.”
He looked at me, absorbing all that I was telling him. I could tell from the time it took him to process this information that he hadn’t thought of it like this yet. Paul had always had an unnaturally high fear of commitment. I still sometimes wondered how Erin was able to get him to marry her. She’d probably had to resort to blackmail.
“Paul,” I said trying to shake him out of whatever thought loop he was in. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
He nodded ever so slightly. I wasn’t overly thrilled with his response.
“Paul, YOU are the last line of defense here,” I told him. Paul weakly motioned towards Justin’s door. “Dude, I’m not sure he has enough strength to get out of bed if he needs to piss. If push comes to shove though, he will get up and do what he can when the time comes.” What I left unsaid was that I didn’t have that same faith in Paul. I think he got the underlying current of my meaning.