heard from her since then. I've driven the route down to Mass a couple of times since then, just trying to find her car. More for some closure I guess, than anything else. Then sometimes I think that maybe her boyfriend wasn't infected and had just drank too much and she needs my help.' We both knew that was a lie. Melanie's boyfriend Dan was a born again Christian. I don't think he even listened to music unless it was of the Gospel variety.
'I can't get the picture of her cold and hurt huddled in some alleyway out of my head.'
I reached my hand up and grabbed his. The pain wasn't lessened but mutual comfort was increased.
'What about Glenn?'
'Nothing.'
Glenn was Gary's twin brother, he lived in NC and for a fleeting second I thought of calling Paul on my cell and seeing if he would stop in and check on him. A small sigh for all that had been lost escaped me. Luckily the room was noisy enough to cover up my transgression. I was spared any further insight as my dad got sight of me. He started to full on cry with relief when he saw me. My cheeks flamed but then I realized how would I feel if one of my kids was missing and there was no way to tell what had happened to them. My tear ducts matched him drop for drop. All in all it was an incredible night. I was home! Gambo was going to take some getting used to. I would learn later from Ron that something in Gary had broken when he lost the connection to Glen. He shook my hand once and then took up his vigil again by the front door.
I noticed a large red scrape on the side of his face, my spider man was revealed. Occasionally he would reach up and touch it only to pull back with a wince when he got near it.
'You should put some Neosporin on that,' I told him later that night. I also thanked him for saving our lives.
I kid you not, he deepened his voice to tell me that he was alright and saving lives was his business.
'Mike, I thought you were the nutty one,' BT said coming up to my side when there was a lull around my chair. 'You whip these people up in a blender and you could make peanut butter.'
'BT, I didn't just come into existence like this. I was carefully molded and sculpted.'
'Apparently crafted by crazy artisans and they did a fine job,' BT said looking around the cacophony that was the Talbot's. 'Are we planning on staying here?'
I didn't realize that he was serious when I answered, 'You're hilarious, man.' Had I looked to see his response to my words, I would have seen him mouth the word 'Great' and it would have been used sarcastically.
My sister came up carrying a tray of what at one time may or may not have been some sort of edible food product. Right now it resembled something more along the lines of what Henry would evacuate after a particularly bad bout of bloody diarrhea.
'I made your favorite,' she said, sticking the plate of something under my nose. It even smelled like the aforementioned waste product.
'My favorite what?' I asked seriously.
My sister laughed, thinking that I had just made a joke. Lyndsey had on occasion been known to burn water. She had once made raspberry jello that was green and nearly as hard as a brick. Her husband Steve, unbeknownst to my sister even though everyone else knew, had paid a substantial amount of money for a doctor to write up papers that he suffered from some rare genetic stomach disorder that only allowed him to eat take-out. Her son Jesse while growing up had found multiple sympathetic parents that would feed 'the starving boy' dinner. He had actually worked out a calendar of where he would eat on any given night.
Lyndsey and Steve's dog, Baxter, had suffered for all the discarded meals. He died young and not happy.
BT grabbed a cookie thinking it was the socially acceptable thing to do, and my sister beamed at him. I shook my head frenetically side to side at him, waving my arms over my head, telling him 'no.' It was too late; he brought the thing up to his mouth. My sister was nodding in the affirmative, silently willing him onward. I couldn't watch. I turned away as he nearly chipped a tooth biting down on what might have been a pebble chip. Maybe it was only Formica, that made more sense.
BT shifted it to his stronger back teeth, trying to get some leverage.
I'd had enough. 'Lyndsey, I think Steve needs something.'
As soon as Lyndsey turned away, BT flung that thing with a flick of his wrist like a skipping stone. It smashed into the wall behind Gambo, who thought we were now under attack as he dropped and rolled. He came back up with his knife at the ready. I put my face in my hands. 'Oh no, what have I got us into.'
Eventually the room quieted down once Gambo realized we weren't under attack and something akin to order was restored. The room quieted as all eyes once again turned to Nicole. She was an adept storyteller and she had left her audience wanting more.
'You want to stay for this?' Ron asked me. 'How about a beer?'
Tracy pulled up a chair from the kitchen table and sat next to me so she could grab my hand.
'Any chance you have some Molson?'
Ron looked at me with that 'What do you think? face'. He was a self-made millionaire who lived a frugal life. I wouldn't be surprised if he pulled out a white can that had the word 'Beer' in stark black letters.
He handed me a can of Busch. 'I see you're moving up,' I told him sarcastically.
'Yeah, when I knew something was really wrong we went to Tozier's (the local grocery store) and damn near emptied it out.'
'The end of the world and you couldn't splurge on something a little better?'
'What's wrong with Busch? It cost almost $4.50 a twelve pack.'
'Is this a joke? Are you hiding the good stuff?' But I saw the futility in that tactic. Ron wouldn't needlessly spend money on a joke.
'What?' he asked.
I choked four of those things down as Nicole picked up her narrative from the Motel 6 to the Red Neck encounter. She had to stop on more than one occasion as she recounted what had occurred at Carol's homestead. The entire room was wrapped up in her story. This was the direction life was going, when families gathered around for storytelling. No more television or video games. The families that survived would be strengthened by the closeness of doing things the way they had been done in bygone eras.
Nicole had pushed on. In her story we now were at Camp Custer and it was looking like humanity had gained a toe hold; unfortunately it was all a lie. Nicole told of our escape from the camp and then of our time at the Powell farm. I wept silently as she told of Tommy's leaving. Tracy's hand pressed mine more firmly. I was in the grips of a burgeoning buzz as the story wrapped up. There was a collective inhalation as she finished, almost like everyone had forgotten to breathe.
Ron turned to me, not one to ever miss much. 'How much time do we have until Eliza finds us?' he asked me directly.
'She's done with us, isn't she?' Carol asked anxiously. 'What more could she want? She has her brother.'
'That might have been the original intent,' Ron answered her. 'But she doesn't seem the type to let a transgression slide.'
I nodded in assent. 'I figure a month and half,' I said, alluding to the amount of shots Justin possessed.
'That'll give us plenty of time to shore up some weak spots,' my dad added.
'We'll have to get the electric fence up before Spring then,' Ron said, thinking more out loud than telling anyone.
'Wait!' I said, standing on my wobbly legs. 'You guys don't get it, we can't stay here.'
Gary started to protest. 'I've already lost one brother, I won't lose another.'
'You can't know that,' my dad said angrily to Gary. He then turned my way and looked like he was going to ground me. Ron gave me that condescending look that only an older brother can pull off.
'Guys, did you hear Nicole's story? Were you listening? Eliza took out a military base in less than a day, what do you think she'll do here?'
'What are you going to do Mike?' Ron asked. 'Keep running? For the rest of your lives? Seems to me Eliza will be able to outlast you if she is what you say she is. No, you'll stay and we'll see this through to the end.'
'That's easy for you to say now Ron. But when your family is in peril, what then?'
Ron looked more than a little pissed that I was questioning his authority or his ability to protect us all. 'You know, you little pissant, it hasn't been all tea and roses before you got here, we've had our own trials and battles.'
