Jimbo spoke once again, a distinct, voice in the boy's head, 'Well you into philosophy at all?'
'Like yoga?'
The man's laughter came through in Red's mind, 'I was thinking more like meditation or Zen or bushido or something.'
'No.'
'But you know what a philosophy is?'
'Yeah, sure, like hippies or…or that Zen stuff you were talking about.'
'You don't know what a philosophy is?'
'Maybe not. What are you getting at?' Red asked.
'Well I am talking about the bigger philosophies here, like money or optimism.'
'Money is a philosophy?'
'It only has value because we give it value. How much value does a hundred dollar bill have to you now? Or a stack of hundreds? Not much anymore, because that philosophy has lost value in your head. This is important and maybe I am not saying it right, but what we are doing is giving this mind reading a name and a value. Sit up.'
Red pulled his legs out of the stream and sat up on the grassy bank while Bobby stood looking at him.
'Okay, now close your eyes. Focus on my voice, think about a philosophy we've always lived with, but don't subscribe to anymore.'
'Money?'
'As good as anything. Why did it lose value?'
'Because…well it just did, who cares about some paper when zombies are running around eating your family?'
'So protecting your family is more important than money?'
'It always has been.'
'Did you stay home from work to protect them all day long?'
'No.' Red scoffed, 'That'd be stupid.'
'But before this all happened you knew someone could come in and rob your family or friends, it's a dangerous world, why did you go to work?'
'A man's gotta make a living.'
'And now?'
'Making a living has a different meaning.'
'Sure does. So the value of more than one philosophy has changed for you. Except you're dead, Red.'
'So?'
'What does 'make a living' mean to you now?'
'Well, not a lot. I'm not hungry anymore, I don't want to kill anyone else. But I'm not tired either, I haven't slept in…a couple of months at least. All this free time leaves me wondering how I am going to fill it.'
'True, it's not like you are going to raise any kids or anything now, is it?'
'No.' Red said.
'Nor is there a need to discover a cure for cancer or build houses or learn how to fight fires.'
'True.'
'What about writing a book? You got a story in you?'
'No.'
'So what will you do, Red?'
'I'm not sure. I thought I would try and help the people who are still alive.'
'That's something then. It makes you more useful than tits on a snake at least.'
'Look, Jimbo, this is all well and good, but what are you getting at?'
'Open your eyes.'
Red cracked his eyes open. He was alone at the creek, the only evidence that Bobby had been there were the muddy foot prints on the opposite bank of the creek.
'What the hell? Where's Bobby?'
'What time is it Red?'
'A couple hours after dawn, maybe seven thirty.'
'Where is the sun?'
Red looked up and to his surprise the sun was high overhead. He experienced a bit of disorientation. 'What is going on?'
'I'm in.'
'What?'
'I am in, it turns out you are more susceptible to smooth talking than a crowbar.'
'How? I don't feel any different.'
'Where are we talking Red?'
'What do you mean?'
'I could read you, but you couldn't read me this morning at the table. You think Bobby is hiding behind a bush out there somewhere, ready to spring out and say, 'Surprise!'?'
Red looked around for just such a thing, then he shook his head, 'He could be hiding, but I don't sense him.'
'Are you sure?'
Across the stream Bobby walked out from behind the tall grasses and ran splashing into the stream. Red watched him closely, something wasn't right. He should have seen the boy in the field before he came to the stream, instead it was as if the boy just appeared in front of him.
'That's not right.'
'What's wrong?'
'It doesn't look right, there is something wrong with Bobby.'
'What?'
Red thought for a moment, then said, 'He's clean. Too clean. He got mud all over his shorts, now there clean, did he change clothes? And his chest isn't coated with mud either, plus his hair is combed. He's not real.'
Bobby slowly faded from Red's sight.
'Do you believe me now?' Jimbo asked. 'I told you I could do other things.'
'Make me see things that aren't there?'
'See, hear, feel. Remember.'
'Don't mess with my head!' Red shouted, fear seizing him as he tried to force Jimbo out.
'Hold on partner! It's too late for that anyway, I am in and I leave when I want to. What have you got kicking around in here anyway? Deep secrets you think I shouldn't know about?'
'Get out!'
'Good! See what you're doing? You are trying to build a wall, it won't work for me, I am inside already, but it will help keep other people out. And Red, I could care less about your secrets, I am not peeking, I am only interesting in two things, first do you want to do what you told me you were going to do and second, how can I help you make that happen?'
Red relaxed a little, but in his mind he kept building a wall, trying to wall Jimbo in, instead of keeping him out.
'Now, I've got my answers to both questions and I am going to hit your switch buddy. All that talk about philosophy wasn't just bullshit. This mental crap is insidious, you think about what you want and you make it happen. You don't want to be held by something more powerful than you, well what is hard to hold?'
Light dawned on Red, 'A fish!'
'Or water, or air.'
'It works both ways though, my new found friend.'
Red looked at the walls he had around his mental image of Jimbo in his mind, to his dismay there were windows in the walls, and he saw the man climb through one to stand on a grassy mental meadow.
'I haven't run into anyone who doesn't fight dirty, but so do I. If you can see what Bobby was doing to keep
