The King of Clayfield - 01 (11 page)

"Jen! Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

She grabbed a handful of gravel from the driveway and threw
 
it at the body.

When I made it to the man, I paused to look at him. He was a bearded,
 
middle-aged man with a buzz haircut.
 
There was blood on his face. Something was hanging out of the corner of his mouth that looked like an uncooked sausage link. In his left hand
 
was one
 
of the bloody dog legs.

Jen was sobbing now. I ran over, lifted her to her feet
 
and pulled her to my chest.

"He was eating it," she said.
 
"He came at me..."

I didn't want to be insensitive, but we
 
didn't have time for this. The gunshots would attract more,
 
and it was getting late. Here in this wooded area
 
the light was already fading.
 
I had to get some alcohol and we needed to get back to
 
Blaine's very soon.

I led her back to the Blazer and put her inside. She wouldn't quit crying. Once she was inside, I shut the door, and then went up to the back door of the mobile home. The time for discretion was over.
 
I didn't knock; I just went in.

The interior of the
 
house smelled
 
like a combination of
 
ashtray and wet dog. It was hard to see anything in the low light. I was in the kitchen.
 
There
 
was a small table in there. It was piled with
 
mail and small parts from car engines. The white refrigerator had black, greasy handprints on it. The sink was full of dirty dishes. The floor was littered with trash.

How do people live like this?

I
 
started on
 
one side and went around opening
 
all the
 
cabinets. A quarter of the way around, I noticed the bottles on the shelf over the refrigerator.

"It's about damn time," I said out loud.

I pulled
 
a
 
chair up, stood on it, and got them all down. Some were empty, but
 
three had a little left in them and one was completely full. I didn't take the time to read the labels. They were liquor bottles, and that was all that mattered. I hugged them up to me and ran out of the house, the bottles clanking together the whole way.

As I came down the porch, I noticed an obese woman
 
coming out of the woods
 
near the block building. She was bundled up for the cold, but that didn't mean anything. I ran to the truck.

"Jen, open the door!"

She did, and I passed the bottles to her.

The big woman was
 
limping toward us. A
 
girl in pink pajamas came
 
into view, followed by a man in his underwear.

I ran around and
 
jumped in the Blazer. Jen was staring out
 
at the approaching figures.

"I'm sorry," she said.

I backed
 
down the winding driveway toward the road.

"I let you down," she said. "Sometimes I'm such a girl."

I backed into the road and put the Blazer into drive.

"It's okay,"
 
I said. "I like girls."

"I dropped the gun, and
 
I used up all the ammo."

"This is Kentucky," I said. "I think we'll find more."

CHAPTER 10

We were both in a daze as we drove back. The sun had all but set, and the snow was taking on a blue hue. Jen opened the full bottle and passed it to me.

"Get started," she said. "It's Southern Comfort."

I took a sip from the bottle, and the sweet liquid
 
trickled down my throat, warming me all the way to my belly.

"You'll have to do better than that," she said. "Drink up."

"I'm driving, you know."

"It ain't far, and I don't see
 
no sobriety checkpoints."

I put the bottle to my lips again
 
and took a bigger drink. It burned; I almost didn't get it down.

I passed the bottle back to her.

"I'm not much of a drinker," I said. "And
 
I never drink it straight like that."

When we got back to Blaine's, she handed me the bottle again.

"You go work on that," she said. "I have to use the restroom."

I waited until she went in the house, and I took a leak behind the truck. The air was bitter cold, and the sky was clearing. The sun was down below the tree line, and the first stars were starting to arrive.
 
Off to the west, I could see a glow where Clayfield was. Either the power had been restored, or there was a big fire in the town.
 
I zipped up and went in the workshop.

The shop was dark, but warmer than it had been. I couldn't see to get around in there, and I didn't want to trip and hurt myself. I went back out to the truck and turned on the headlights so it would shine through the front windows of the building, then I went back inside.

At least I could see enough to get the fire going. I blew on the embers again, until the fire flared up, then I fed it some wood and air. Eventually, it was going good. The wood I'd brought in earlier was dry enough, and I put three logs on it. I left it open to get the fire hot, and then before bed, I would close it up and shut the damper down. Maybe we'd have heat all night.

I took another drink. It went down easier. I was already feeling the effects.

Jen returned.

She looked out at the truck, "What about the headlights?"

"We can turn them out now."

She handed me a glass dish that contained a used scented candle.

"I found it on their nightstand," she said.

We lit the candle and turned off the headlights. Then we made sure the building was locked up so we wouldn't have any surprises while we slept.

It was only
 
around
 
6:30 pm, but we were both exhausted. Jen hadn't really slept at all the night before, so she was in worse shape than me.
 
However, we couldn't sleep yet; I had to get drunk, and she
 
had to make sure I got drunk.

"It shouldn't take long," I said, I was resting against the countertop to the right of the front door. "I'm kind of a lightweight when it comes to drinking."

Jen sat cross-legged on her mattress in the floor. Her shoes were next to the mattress, but
 
otherwise she
 
was still wearing everything she'd been wearing, even the coat.

"I killed him," she said, staring at the
 
lit candle that was
 
on the upturned bucket between us.

I took another drink. I had a strong buzz going by that time.

"He was eating that dog," she said.

"You had to," I said.

She shrugged, "I could have ran. I didn't have to shoot him twice."

"You said yourself that we were going to have to kill...."

"That was before I had to do it!" she snapped.

I took another drink.

"Pass me that bottle," she said.

I did, and she took
 
two swallows. In the candlelight, I could see a tear running down her cheek.

I stepped over to her.
 
I intended to sit by her and put my arm around her and try to comfort her, but she gave me a look that warned me not to even think about it. Instead, I
 
took the bottle.

I went over to my own mattress, sat, and removed my boots. I took another drink.

It was getting warm in the room.

"Put
 
a big log on the fire," I said, "then close down the damper. I don't think I can do it in my state."

She slipped her shoes on and
 
took
 
care of the stove.

"Do you think it's working? Are you drunk?"

"I'm
 
getting close," I said.
 
"I prolly had 'nuff, just need to wait for it to do its think....I mean, thing."

Outside, there was a howl--hopefully a dog or a coyote.

"If you feel uneasy 'bout me," I said. "You could restrain me. That way, if I turn, I won't be able to hurt you."

"No," she said, returning to her bed.

Another howl outside.

"I'm going to bed now," she said. "Can I put the candle out?"

"Yeah," I said. I took another drink and the room got dark.

I screwed the lid onto the bottle, and fell back on the mattress. My head was swimming. Just before I passed out, I could hear Jen softly crying on the other side of the room.

When I woke up, the sun was glaring through the window in the east side of the building. I could see water dripping past the windows
 
from the snow melting off the roof.
 
The shop was cozy, and the faint smell of wood smoke was comforting, briefly bringing back memories of Christmas morning. Jen's bed was empty.
 
I figured she was in the house.

I sat up slowly, expecting a hangover, but I was surprised at how good I felt. There was no headache, and I was rested. I hadn't had coffee in two days, and I really wanted some right then. I put on my boots, and stepped outside to relieve myself.

The Blazer was gone. I panicked for a second, worried about Jen. Then it dawned on me that she'd left me. My worry turned to anger. I guess I should have expected it. I barely knew her. We'd only spent one day together, but I felt hurt that she wouldn't want to be with me. I could hear my ex wife's laughing voice in my head,

"What the hell did you think would happen?"

CHAPTER 11

There was nothing I could do about it. She was gone. It was probably for the best. It would make it easier for me to travel if I traveled alone. She was a big girl; she didn't need my help.

I went back inside and dug around in the food for something to eat, but nothing looked good, and I didn't have much of an appetite right then anyway. I decided to go in the house and do a thorough search to
 
see if Blaine had left anything I could use. I needed to find the keys to Betsy's minivan, anyway.
 
I didn't feel so bad about pilfering in there now, since I'd realized they'd abandoned me.

I was in a really bad mood.

On my way up to the house, I looked out across the fields again. It was still cold, but the sun was out now, so the snow was melting and
 
the ground was showing in places.
 
I looked for movement
 
again, but saw none.
 
I heard a
 
car alarm very faintly in the distance--a horn blaring over and over. One of the infected must have set it off during the night.

I went inside. I wasn't sure what I was looking for. It
 
appeared Blaine and Betsy
 
had taken the important stuff. After fumbling around in the dark the
 
night before, I decided to look for
 
a flashlight or more candles. I
 
opened drawers in the kitchen, just
 
to see what was there.
 
I
 
didn't see anything
 
that struck me as useful right then, but I
 
was kind of distracted by Jen's leaving, and I wasn't thinking creatively.

I went into Blaine and Betsy's bedroom.
 
I found a little
 
book light
 
in one of the
 
nightstands and another candle. I stepped into the walk-in closet. Most of the clothes were gone, but
 
there were still some left--mostly impractical
 
things like suits and some of Betsy's dresses. I noticed one of Betsy's coats. I thought it might fit Jen then had to remind myself that it didn't matter. I pushed the clothes
 
across the closet
 
rod one at a time.