together. Dennis, just two years later, would die from a series of strokes and heart attacks. Unbeknownst to us, he had been diagnosed with type two diabetes. I guess he figured that if he ignored it, the disease would go away. It didn’t.
And like so many friendships as we grow older, there just isn’t the time available to devote to them. This Telluride trip would be, for the most part, mine and Paul’s swan song. Sure, we saw each other a few times over the remaining years, most notably Dennis’ funeral, but nothing like the days of yore. I don’t want to count our days of running from zombies. That is not a chapter I wish to include in our long and storied past. I will miss you, Paul, those days we played football, our experimentation with beer, and bongs. Our voyages to Indian Hill, to our college days and beyond. You were the best friend, damn near brother, that any man could ask for in life. I feel honored and privileged to have known you. A piece of my heart will always be missing with your passing. Rest in Peace, Paul 1966-2011.
So ends Journal Number Five. I did not get as much accomplished as I had hoped, yet I paid dearly for it. The world yet spins, but it has become a measurably darker place. Eliza stands on the threshold of victory and I fear that nothing stands in her path to stop her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“
“So you’re telling me that you and BT both felt Paul?” Gary asked as they walked away from Mary’s house. Josh watched them from his bedroom upstairs, eagerly awaiting their return. Deneaux was watching them from the living room window, with what appeared to be the exact opposite expression.
“Paul’s passing,” Mike said. It sounded a lot stranger in daylight like maybe he had imagined it, but it was a pretty powerful feeling this morning.
“I hope you’re wrong,” Gary said.
“Me too,” Mike said in earnest, but his words rang hollow. He might have some doubts about what he felt, but not enough to overcome them.
They walked in silence for a little while longer. Gary, for some reason, just couldn’t seem to let the quietness of the day hold. Maybe he also did not want to dwell on the fact that they were more likely heading out on a body recovery than a rescue.
“Sure aren’t many zombies for a zombie apocalypse,” he said, looking around.
“And that’s a problem for you?” Mike asked sarcastically.
“I’m just saying, that you’d think they’d be everywhere. And here we are, just strolling down the middle of the road, like we own the place.”
“I, for one, am not complaining, brother. I would much rather be strolling than running for my life. You should be thankful too, because we both know I can run laps around you.”
“Not if I tripped you.”
“Nice, you tell Tracy when you get back what happened.”
“Forget it, I’d rather get eaten.” He laughed for a sec.
They had been criss-crossing streets with no real objective. They were just looking for something, anything. Mike thought about calling out or maybe even shooting a round into the air and then he thought a little harder about sounding the dinner bell. Just because there were no zombies here right now, in no way meant that they weren’t around in big bunches.
“I don’t know about this, Gary.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know how long we should just keep walking around, aimlessly looking for him.”
“Aimlessly?” he asked questioningly. “You mean you’re not using your Spidey-sense or something?”
“Spidey-sense?”
“Yeah, don’t you have some special powers or something?”
“I wish, maybe we should just get some wheels.”
“The noise will attract them.”
“I know, but we’ll be able to cover more ground, and maybe Paul will hear us.”
“I thought you said...”
“I know what I said, I’m trying not to believe what my Spidey-sense is telling me.”
“Spidey-sense sucks.”
“I agree.”
“Whoa! What do we have here?” Gary said, his attention focused ahead of us.
A lone zombie was standing on a small stoop. It did not, at first, pay them any attention as its gaze was fixated on something small in the side light window to its left.
“That a cat?” Gary asked softly as they got closer. The zombie still not privy to their existence.
“Looks like a small dog. Nope, that’s a cat. I can tell by that funky tail-twitching thing they do.”
“Someone must be in there,” Gary said as we stopped about twenty-five feet from the house. “No way that cat could have survived so long without some help; and it looks pretty fat.”
Another cat came up next to the large gray cat; they both seemed to be staring at the men. But this wasn’t with imploring, “help us” eyes; this was more like something predatory. “Do they look like they want to eat us?” Mike asked Gary. Their zombie friend finally turned around. Mike would swear its eyes got big as it noticed them.
“I don’t know about them, but he sure looks hungry.”
“You want the honors?” Mike asked Gary, as the zombie headed towards their location.
“I’ll shoot it, but you have to go into the cat house first.” Gary blew a hole through the back of the zombie’s head before Mike could even utter his response. It wasn’t like they had a choice anyway. Zombies would come running. They, however, would not stay out long if they could not find anything worth their while.
The zombie was still twitching as Mike made his way up to the porch. A third cat joined the other two who disturbingly had not moved even after Gary took his shot.
“These cats are freaking me out.”
“Get in the house. I swear I hear running feet,” Gary said with a wide-eyed expression, doing a quick three sixty of their area.
Mike knocked quickly on the door. “Hi, we’re friendly and we’d like to come in. Please don’t shoot us.”
“That wasn’t very convincing.”
“I’m all ears if you have something better.” They heard no sound, but a fourth cat was now peering out the side light at them. Mike tried the door handle. “It’s unlocked.”
“Get in, we’ll try our luck in there,” Gary said, as he pretty much pushed Mike in. Six cats with tails flicking back and forth were looking up at them cautiously. Gary shut the door behind Mike, nearly stepping on a cat in his haste to peek outside the side light.
“Zombies! I knew I heard them coming. What is that smell?” Gary asked, finally turning around and taking in the view of forty or fifty cats that had now assembled in the room.
“Wow, this sucks,” Mike said. The cats weren’t advancing, but they also weren’t retreating. The ammonia smell of abundant cat urine was prevalent as were the feces that littered everything, but there was also something sinister, some underlying smell that he knew, but was unwilling to identify. Mike would have written down now that it was death, plain and simple, but at that time, his mind struggled to keep away from that realization. Add to the fact that Gary’s gagging wasn’t helping the situation at all.
Some cats were mostly fixated on Mike, but in Gary’s moment of weakness, he saw some of the pests moving in closer. They halted their advance as zombies began to slam into the framework of the house. Gary’s head shot up. “Is that blood?” he asked, pointing to the floor a few feet past some of the cats.
The garish, orange-flecked linoleum which Mike imagined led to the kitchen was dotted in reddish brown splotches.
“It looks like it. Is anyone home?” Mike called, hoping to reestablish some normalcy to the situation. The cats
