“I don’t have a family,” she cuts him off, a sudden fierceness in her voice.
“Okay,” William says, sending Dan a look.
Dan returns the look and shakes his head discretely, as though to say: “Stop digging.”
William changes the subject. “Right, there’s a few things you need to know about my uncle. He’s been battling some mental stuff, but he’s on medication now, so he’s perfectly functional. He might seem a little suspicious, but don’t take it personal, he’s just like that with people he doesn’t know. And he doesn’t like being touched, so don’t shake his hand or anything like that.” He looks at Mille in the mirror; she’s looking back at him with an expression of growing skepticism. “Now, it’s his place, so if he doesn’t want you there for some reason, I’ll have to take you back to town. But I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”
“Is this really the best place to be?” Mille asks. “At a mentally ill person’s house, far away from anyone else?”
“Wait until you see the place,” William says. “I think you’ll understand once you do.”
They reach the courtyard, and William brings the car to a halt. Seen from the outside, Holger’s house looks like any other house you’d expect to find out here; there’s a garage and an outside boiler-room beside the residential building.
Holger comes walking around the garage, eyeing the car suspiciously. It’s been a few years since William saw his uncle. Holger gained a couple of pounds and his hairline has receded a bit farther back—other than that, he looks like William remembers him, dressed in way too warm cargo pants and a worn shirt with rolled-up sleeves. His round face is glistening with sweat, and his hands are black from dirt and oil.
“Is that him?” Dan asks.
“That’s him,” William says, adding quickly as Dan unbuckles: “I think it’s better I talk to him first.”
Ozzy whines from the trunk, impatient to go say hello to Holger, whom he apparently recognizes even though he only saw him once.
William opens the door and steps out into the warm afternoon air. “Hey, Holger. Long time no see.”
Holger stops a few yards distance from the car, and William notices a tiny shovel in his hand. “Hello, William,” he says with a bated smile. The tiny eyes seem even more squinted because of Holger’s heavy forehead, but they’re also alert, and right now they’re darting back and forth between William and the car. “Who’s that you’ve brought?”
“Just a couple of friends. I think I might have promised them a spot here at your place.”
Holger’s gaze stops ping-ponging and fastens on William. “Is it because of what they’re saying on the radio?”
William nods.
Holger breathes deeply through his nose and exhales heavily. He looks somehow both scared and relieved at the same time, and William gets why. Holger has been living for twenty years with paranoia, the last ten a little less bad due to the medication, and yet William knows his uncle never really let go of his nagging suspicion that the world would one day soon come to an end, and that belief has made him isolated and a cast-out. Even William’s mom, Holger’s own sister, has had a hard time dealing with her brother, and William still suspects it was part of the reason why she moved to Holland after William left home.
William himself is probably the closest family member Holger has left, quite simply because William is the only one who never judged him for his paranoid thoughts, and today William feels particularly grateful that’s the case.
“How bad is it?” Holger asks, his voice grave.
“Pretty bad. I think it might be the end of society as we know it, but … maybe the authorities can still stop it.”
“The authorities,” Holger sneers, showing his tiny teeth in a humorless grin. “They’re probably the ones who started it.”
“Nope,” William says, and when Holger looks surprised, he adds: “You’ll get the story later.”
Holger eyes him. “So, is it … zombies?”
“Yeah.”
“Are they acting like in the movies?”
“As far as I can tell.”
Holger nods slowly. “I thought it sounded like zombies from what they’re saying on the radio. Of course they didn’t use that word. And I wasn’t really paying attention, ’cause I’ve been busy harvesting vegetables.” He holds up the shovel, as though to prove what he’s saying. “I got to it right after you called me. It’s a lucky time of year, you know, ’cause there’ll be lots to eat the coming months. We can store the potatoes and the onions for weeks, and that way we’ll get fresh vitamins every day. As long as we just—”
“Holger,” William says, holding up a hand. “That’s all great, it really is. But let’s wait and see, all right? Maybe it doesn’t need to go that far. For now, we’ll just have to take one day at a time. That sound fair?”
Holger studies him for a moment, as though he just said something rather crazy. Then, he nods. “All right. But I already prepared everything.”
“Awesome. I’m really happy you’re willing to help out.” He gestures towards the car. “So, is it cool with you if Dan and Mille stay too?” He quickly adds: “They might be going back home soon, depending on how things unfold.”
Holger looks to the car, then back to William. “Are they trustworthy?” he asks, lowering his voice.
“To be honest, I don’t know them very well. But they’ve both been in contact with the zombies, so they might have—”
“They been in contact with them?” Holger exclaims, stepping backwards.
“Easy, Holger!” William says, realizing his mistake. “I’ve checked them for any wounds or scratches. All three of us. We’re all clean, I promise.”
Holger looks like he seriously considers turning on his heel and sprinting out of the courtyard, but he forces himself to stay. “If we let them in and one of them becomes sick …”
“Then we’ll throw them back out,” William says immediately. “We all agree on that. And same goes for me, of course.”
