before. Expectant. He’s waiting for his Mike to come home.”
Tony was scratching the top of his head; a gesture Tracy had noticed Mike do when he was having trouble wrapping his mind around something. “So Henry told you Mike died and has now been what? Reborn?”
“I...I can’t explain it completely, Tony. That damn dog and Mike share something. Henry knew, absolutely knew something bad had happened to Mike and now something incredible has.”
“So you believe in your heart of hearts that Mike is alright?” Tony asked, now tears threatening the man’s visage.
“I do,” she said through the tears.
“I think I need to make more tea,” Nancy said, running out of the room.
It was a half hour later when the entire group found themselves sitting on the deck at the Talbot compound: Tony with Carol, Tracy’s mom they had become something sort of an item although they denied it to everyone that asked. Ron, Nancy, their children—Meredith, Melissa, and Mark. Tracy, with Nicole, Justin and Travis. Mad Jack, who seemed perturbed that he had been disturbed from his work. There was Angel, Sty, and Angel’s brother Ryan and Dizz from the gas station in Massachusetts. Perla, who had been Jack O’Donnell’s fiancee, she had yet to pull completely out of her stupor upon his loss. And Cindy Martell, Brian Wamsley’s significant other.
“Something’s changed,” Ron said to the group. Except for Justin, he was the only one standing. “We can all almost feel it in the air.”
“It’s heavy,” Perla said with her head hung low. Cindy wrapped her arms around her friend.
“All the more reason I should still be working,” Mad Jack said more to himself than the group.
“In due time, MJ,” Ron said. “We had good reason to believe that Michael died yesterday.” Even MJ who was usually off in his own world responded with a gasp. Cries of ‘are you sure?’ and ‘I can’t believe it!’ were all dominated by one small girl,
“The funny man is dead?” she asked, then she started to cry uncontrollably.
“Oh, honey,” Nancy said, pulling the small girl to her.
“Okay…hold on,” Ron said, putting his hands up. “We’re now not so sure,” he said quickly glancing over to Tracy.
“What about Brian?” Cindy asked with concern. If Mike had been in danger, then it only followed that they all had been.
“We...we don’t know,” Tracy answered.
“Have they radioed in and you’re not telling us?” Cindy asked as she stood.
“No, we haven’t heard anything in days,” Ron said, giving back-up to Tracy.
“Then how or why would you think something happened to Mike?” Cindy asked.
Henry picked that opportune moment to saunter onto the deck and lay down in the middle of the throng.
“Him.” Tracy pointed to the dog.
“Him?” Cindy sneered. “You scare the shit out of all of us on something the dog did? Did he come out and tell you Mike was dead…oh and then miraculously he was reborn like Jesus Christ!” she shrieked.
“Listen, we’re all a little stressed out right now, I just wanted to get everyone together to—” Ron was cut off.
“Don’t you give me that stressed out bullshit,” Cindy was screaming. “My fiance is out there and I don’t know if he’s dead or alive or worse. The sitting here not knowing, what do you know about stress?”
Ron was straining to hold back his own anger. “I
Nancy was full on crying. “Anybody want some tea?” she asked, not waiting for an answer as she exited the room hastily.
“I’m so sorry.” Cindy said as the heated wind fell from her sails. “You’re right we’re all stressed.”
Ron waited a moment to make sure that Cindy wouldn’t flare up again. “Listen, I’m not one for spirituality, superstition, supernatural or paranormal, that’s just not the way I was raised and it’s not part of my belief system. And now that I’ve got that quantifier out of the way, I truly believe something happened to Mike…and for whatever reason, he’s back. Mike’s resurrection means something and it means something big. I’ve got to believe he’s heading here.”
“And so is the shit storm,” Travis said.
“No swearing,” Tracy told him absently.
“This is still all conjecture though right?” Perla asked. She was afraid.
“Yes,” Ron said, “no matter what the truth, or what we are feeling, I think that we need to be prepared sooner rather than later and that we need to redouble our efforts no matter what they may be. From gathering or storing food, to setting up our defenses, to the hundred other things we need to have done to survive an all out attack. And I want to double up on guard duty.” That brought a fresh round of moans. “Except for Mad Jack, Nicole, and Angel…we’ll all be taking extra shifts.”
“I can guard!” Angel said defiantly.
“I know, honey, but you already have a job,” Tracy told her.
“I take care of the aminals, pretty lady!” she said proudly.
“And Henry loves you for it,” Tracy told her. She looked over to Justin and noticed he was rubbing at his wound where the zombie had scratched him. He was trying to be sly, but it looked like it was itching him something fierce. Her heart froze when it looked like storm clouds swept across his vision.
“I can take an extra shift, Uncle Ronny,” Nicole said sleepily. She wasn’t quite showing yet but her energy level had dropped considerably.
“No, you need your rest and Mad Jack needs to finish his devices,” Ron told her.
“What’s the matter with her?” Mad Jack asked, finally realizing he was supposed to be interacting with others.
“I’m pregnant,” Nicole laughed.
“How’d that happen?” Mad Jack asked.
“Did he really just ask that?” Travis asked his mother.
Mad Jack’s face flushed. “Sorry, you might want to stay away from my stuff while I’m doing experiments.”
“Is it dangerous?” Nicole asked, clutching her midsection.
“It shouldn’t be, but no sense in risking it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I’m going to lie back down,” Nicole told the crowd.
“I’ll check on you in a little while, honey,” Tracy told her.
“Is she going to start waddling soon?” Travis asked.
“I heard that, baby brother.” Nicole shouted.
“Alright, let’s get back to work. What ever Mike has going on, I’m sure it’s important and we should be ready for him,” Ron said before dismissing the group.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mike Journal Entry 5
“Oh, man, pass me a joint,” I told John as I sat up. “I don’t know which hurts more, my body from sleeping on the ground or my head from the acid and beer.”
“You should have slept on a cot,” John said, looking down at me from his Army-Navy surplus green canvas cot.
“I didn’t know I had the option,” I told him. I didn’t know how long I had slept, but it was long enough that I was no longer tripping and that was fine by me.
“You should have asked,” he said as he swung his legs over and reached into a little bag to produce a pre-
