Meredith climbed up the ladder next. She took a solid five minutes to make the climb, but besides that, nothing out of the ordinary took place. Justin went next; his trip was not as smooth. He had one foot slip and dangle dangerously over the precipice.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly when he got to the top. “I was trying to beat Trav’s time.”
“Yeah, that seems worth it,” I said sarcastically.
It was pretty much Perla’s turn, but she was having none of it. “I can’t!” she cried into Cindy’s shoulder. “He’s gone!” “He is, Perla,” Cindy said consolingly. “But his memory isn’t. He would want you to go on, Perla. You let me read the letters he sent you when he was in the thick of the war. He loved you more than anything. He was always telling you to not let your life go by unlived if anything should happen to him.” “Wait, you read his letters?” Brian asked, “Did she read mine?” he asked, pointing to Perla.
“What do you think?” Cindy answered, pulling Perla in closer.
“That was some pretty personal stuff,” Brian said with some embarrassment.
“Don’t worry, you’re no poet,” Cindy said.
“But there was a lot of love in them,” Perla said, sobbing into her friend’s shoulder.
“Please,” Cindy said. “It was the only comfort we could give to each other while you were off fighting your wars.” “Fine, but I don’t like it,” Brian said as he turned away. I could only imagine that he was trying to desperately remember all that he had said and how many of his deepest secrets had been exposed.
I remember some of the letters I had written to Tracy when I was traipsing around the world in some of the least unsavory places on the planet. When you are under the belief that the day in which you are living is going to be your last, you tend to spill everything within you. Sometimes I had gushed such heartfelt sentiment that I had actually become embarrassed when I reflected back on it from a safer vantage point. If Tracy ever thought that perhaps I was becoming a girly-man, she never once brought it up or held it against me.
Perla did go next; she never once took her eyes off the spot where her fiance dropped. I personally think it was the anger that spurred her on and not the fear. A pissed-off woman was always a good ally.
Brian grabbed a coil of rope that was housed at the bottom of the lift controls and brought it up. “Never know if we’ll need it,” he said.
By the time the rest of the troop had made it up the ladder I figure I had aged a good five years. It is a sucky feeling to feel so powerless (I would like to banish the word but impotent rings closer to the truth). It is the effect of being a man but unable to do the manly thing. No, I’m not talking sex; it was the inability to completely protect my family. I couldn’t spot them on the ground if they should happen to slip and fall. I couldn’t go up with them and hold them secure. I just had to wait and hope that a higher power was not calling any one I loved to be by His side just now.
Of course that is assuming that I believe in Someone or Something. I have wrestled seemingly my entire life with my belief system. A lot of time in my youth I believed only when it served me. As I have grown older (you’ll note I did not say wiser) and I have spawned my legacy, I sometimes see Him and His Power shining through their eyes. But I waver as I look at the cruel black eyes of those that oppose us and wonder how an omnipotent being could ever find justice in the cruelty that the world afforded so eagerly. And I’m talking even before the zombies came, but if you really start to put all the pieces together, than perhaps it does fit. I’m not saying I like the picture that the puzzle is portraying, but who am I to say what is art? I can’t stand Picasso either. But let’s just say for the sake of argument that He gave us all free will to do as we pleased in His garden. And let’s say that as the spoiled, greedy, egotistical, uncaring, brattish life forms that we are, we took a big shit on his prized Azaleas and maybe His way of disciplining his wayward children is this plague, this plague upon humanity. I have yet to see so much as ONE zombified lady bug, or dolphin, or even an ape who shares somewhere in the neighborhood of 98% of our genes. So there you have it, Beginner’s Theology, Course 101.
So I’ve been stalling my inevitable climb up the ladder. I am no fan of heights. I was so wrapped up in everybody else’s go at it, I guess I never figured my turn would come.
“Henry, it’s just me and you. You ready for this?” I asked him. He didn’t respond, he was too busy looking down at the zombies.
“Talbot, get your ass up here!” BT yelled.
“What about the truck?” I asked him needlessly.
“What about it?” Tracy asked in response.
“He’s afraid of heights,” Gary said, looking over the lip of the wall.
“Talbot? I watched him charge into machine gun fire,” BT said disbelievingly.
“Our brother Glenn,” Gary said, bowing his head and doing the Holy Trinity upon his chest (Catholicism dies hard), “once took him hiking to a place called Blue Hills when he was young,” “Gary, you really don’t need to tell that story right now!” I shouted from the truck.
“If you come up here I’ll stop,” Gary said with a wicked smile.
“That’s kind of messed up,” Meredith piped in.
“I agree with her!” I shouted. Just then the fire truck began to shake as zombies began to slam into the body. I almost pitched over the side long before I had a chance to go up that ladder.
“Continue,” BT said.
“Mike never told me this story,” Tracy said.
“He told me once,” Paul said, “but we were pretty drunk.”
“This sucks,” I said.
Gary turned from me and began up his narrative, “So Glenn,” (Gary stopped for the Trinity again) “took him all the way up this Hill. How old were you Mike, ten, eleven?” “Seven,” I answered back.
“Wow, that young? Damn, no wonder you’re so screwed up,” Gary reflected.
“Just finish it up, will you!” I yelled at him.
“So on the top of this hill is a Ranger’s station, looks a lot like a castle come to think of it. But anyway Glenn (yes the Trinity came again), one of his friends, and Mike go to the top of it. The stations were unmanned and unsupervised back then, I think that’s probably changed since then. Do you know, Mike?” Gary asked.
“Never been back Gary, thank you very much. Please continue!” I told him.
“Well, Glenn,” Gary started again with the cross upon his chest.
“God gets it!” I shouted at him.
“What? What are you talking about?” Gary asked.
He was completely oblivious about what he had been doing. Catholics were used to doing things by rote. If you have never been to a Mass, it consists of a lot of sitting, kneeling, bending and the damn shaking of strangers’ hands. It’s not the people that I can’t stand nearly as much as the germs that they have on them. I’m concerned about where MY hands have been and I KNOW. Only God knows where Joe Schmoe’s hands have been. Who knows, maybe he has an incurable case of pubic lice and he’s been feverishly scratching his nether regions moments before he grasps your hand in mock friendship. I don’t know, but that’s what I’m thinking. I once saw a video on YouTube where a lady on a public train once shoved her hand down the crack of her ass and then pulled it out to give it a good licking. Yeah, you read my entry right, I wrote LICKING. Sniffing would be bad enough, but LICKING? Are you kidding me? I almost upchucked on my monitor. What if that bitch is sitting next to me in church! Still stalling about the climb up the ladder in case you hadn’t noticed.
Gary had started back up while I was having my inner dialog. “… they’re up on the top of this castle slash ranger station and Glenn (Sign of the Trinity – I sighed heavily) asks Mike if he wants a better view.” “This doesn’t sound like it worked out well for you Mike!” BT shouted.
I flipped BT off. It had absolutely no effect on the big man as he laughed it off.
“So Glenn (SotT – guess what it stands for. I have to write this journal out with a pencil and I’m sick of repeating the same thing over and over) hoists Mike up.” My breathing started to accelerate just thinking about what was to come.
“Immediately flips him over and hangs him upside down by his ankles outside the window.”
“Oh my God!” Tracy exclaimed.
“Glenn (SotT) was a wild man,” Gary said with his head bowed.
“Damn Mike, I’m sorry I was messing with you. That would be a head fest for any one, especially a seven- year-old,” BT said. “Now get your ass up here.” “Is that your version of tough love?” I asked him.
“There are zombies getting on the truck,” the guy I hadn’t met yet shouted.
Henry started barking, something he only does under extreme duress, and zombies closing in was apparently
