“I tried. Alright if you must know I bought a carton of Eucharist wafers and had them blessed. I used to bring my own to church along with a thermos of grape juice, I hate wine.”
BT would have rolled out of his bed if his leg wasn’t in suspension.
“Have you ever been to a Catholic mass? Its friggen disgusting.” I said starting my defense. “First they make you shake hands with all your neighbors. There’s Kenny, the eleven year old that has had his finger shoved up his nose the entire time. There’s old man Baker, who smells like 4 day old meatloaf left on the curb during a heat wave. Then there’s Mrs. Porter with her infant and she just changed a dirty diaper without using wipes. Yeah real effen sanitary!” My voice was rising with the increase of potential germs. “So then we get through that particularly nasty infectious test tube archaic trait and move right along to sipping wine out of a golden chalice that the entire mass has put their cracked, canker laced lips on not to mention those with cold sores.” I was shuddering. “Then the priest hands you a wafer that he had clutched between his thumb and forefinger, but what’s worse than that is he’s been doing that to everyone else also and they have had the chance to breathe all their germs on those two fingers as he placed the wafer on their tongues.”
“Oh man, I needed that!” BT said holding his gut he was laughing so hard.
“Ass.” Was all I could muster.
After a significant lull, I realized that BT had drifted off into slumber. I was close too, when distant gunshots rang out. Fully alert now, I realized my dilemma. Here I was with a damaged arm tied to a bed without a weapon, I was sort of like a human kabob without the marinade or the accompanying vegetables or wooden skewer or…OH STOP TALBOT. Great just great, I was pissing the other half of me off.
“BT you awake?”
“Yup I heard it too.” BT said with his eyes still closed. “Relax Talbot.”
“Not really in my nature.”
“We’re in a military base, I’m sure they can take care of whatever is going on.”
“Yeah you’re probably right, I just hate being this helpless. Bambi could come in here right now and kick both of our asses.”
“Now are you talking about a zombie Bambi or just a regular type Bambi?” BT asked in earnest. “Cause I’m going to freak out a little if you’re thinking that there could be some zombie animals. Can you imagine nests of zombie rats coming after us, with that little hairless tail, or what about zombie pigeons? They’re already the rat of the sky. Or maybe cockroach zombies.”
“Stop already. I thought I was bad.”
“I think maybe we have too much time on our hands.” BT said. “But you don’t think there are animal zombies do you?”
“Fuck no.” I said much too quickly, more to defer my unbounded imagination than to qualm BT’s fears. Could the disease pass the species line? Why not, other diseases did. Super, nothing like a 600-pound silverback gorilla wanting to munch on your head. “Oh no.”
“What Talbot?” BT asked alarmed. Looking wildly about the room for this new threat.
“I was just thinking about a zombified Big Foot.”
BT was a half second away from calling me crazy, before he really let the thought of that set in. “Oh man, that would be really bad.” BT said and he meant it.
“Big Foot as a zombie?” Tracy asked from the doorway. “What are you doing Talbot? Didn’t I tell you not to infect others with your touched thoughts?”
“It could happen.” I said, defending my position.
BT nodded in agreement.
“The Doctor either needs to up both of your meds or halve them. I don’t know which.” Tracy laughed.
“So what gives?” I asked, nodding my head to the doorway.
“I figured the gunshots would get you thinking, I just didn’t know how far and fast you’d go down the rabbit hole.”
“What? BT thinks that there are zombie cockroaches.” I said deflecting the conversation.
“He’s a pretty big guy Talbot. Are you in such a rush to throw him under the bus?” I noticed that she did look down around her legs as she asked the question, a small shudder of revulsion coursed through her.
It’s funny how thoughts, even inane (or insane) ones, have a habit of wriggling their way through your psychoses. That’s why therapists are (were) some of the most screwed up people on the planet. It’s impossible to listen to that many people with that many problems and not begin to inherit more than your fair share of them. Just think about it. What if I were to tell you that before you sat on that public toilet a grotesquely dirty male/female had just sat there and they had crusty sores that leaked a viscous oozing liquid that slightly resembled phlegm from a person suffering from bronchitis. You know what I’m talking about, that thick green/brown lung cookie. And that these seeping pustules carried small microscopic teethy worms that will burrow into your soft exposed flesh spreading their infection throughout your body. Will you ever be able to look at a toilet ring the same again? Or will you picture miniature monsters awaiting their chance to do you harm.
“Talbot, you’re doing it to me again!” Tracy yelled.
“What I didn’t say it.” I said surprised.
“Did BT think about zombie cockroaches on his own?” Tracy asked.
“Well yeah, he did.” I answered her honestly. “I mean I might have brought up something about Bambi.”
“Bambi? Really Talbot?”
“He did say something about nothing being left to rein the crazy in.” BT threw in for good measure.
“Thanks man.” I said to BT
“Anytime, there’s enough room under this bus for the both of us.”
“Is it a double-decker? Although that wouldn’t really mean any more room underneath it.” I said as I started to wonder if there would be more room or not. I felt the heat of two sets of eyes on me.
“Talbot sometimes I wonder how you got us this far.” Tracy said.
“What?”
“The shots. Remember those?”
“I was getting to it.” I said, but in fact I wasn’t. I had completely forgotten about them, so intent was I on flesh eating rabbits.
“Zombies came ashore.” She answered.
“Ashore, what the hell does that mean?” BT asked
'Ashore like in landing craft?' I asked
I got the look that was becoming all too common. The, 'are you crazy glare.'
'No boats then?' I added.
'Yeah no boats.' She shook her head and continued. 'Dozens of them just started walking up the beach. Caught an older couple that was getting a little randy behind some dunes.'
'At least they went out happy.' I said. The words were out of my mouth long before I realized how tasteless a statement that was.
Tracy thought it. BT said it. 'Fuck Talbot what is your problem?'
'What?' the dawn of recognition coming slowly. 'Oh sorry, I wasn't even thinking.'
'I wouldn't mind so much but it seems to happen more and more.' Tracy said.
'I'm sorry let's get past this.' Of course I wanted to, it was my shattered reputation on the line. Tracy reluctantly let it go. 'Was this the first time?'
'The first time you've inserted your foot in your mouth or the first time the zombies have come up the beach?'
BT pointed at Tracy and nodded. 'Good one.'
'Funny, but deserved.' I said. 'Let's go with the beaching.'
'I'll tell you what, the Army guys were running around like chickens without heads and the Marines looked pretty concerned.'
'So I'm going to go with a yes on that then.'
'What do you think it means Talbot?' BT asked me.
'I've got a couple of ideas BT, and none of them are good. You still want to hear them?'
