The King of Clayfield - 01 (16 page)

"So how's my favorite nerd from the history club?" he
 
asked.

It took me a second to realize he was talking about me. I had been in the history club in high school, but I was surprised he knew me and remembered.

"Fine," I said. "Considering."

"Everything is relevant," he grinned.

"Relative?" I said.

"That, too."

Jen was looking at an enormous aquarium set in the wall. It was lit.

"So how is it that you still
 
have electricity?" she asked.

"We have a windmill out back," he said. "One of the big ones. Didn't you see it?"

"I didn't notice."

"Well, it's huge," he said. "It
 
makes a lot of noise. We're used to it, but I'm sure that's what is drawing them here."

I was blown away by all the beautiful things. It was hard for me to imagine
 
stuff
 
like this
 
in a town like Clayfield.

"Your home is beautiful," I said. "I'm really impressed. You've done well for yourself."

"You have,
 
too," he said. "I see you in the paper all the time with stories about the museum. You're really doing something important over there. Clayfield needs culture, you know."

"I appreciate that, but this--"

"Stop right there," he said. "My sweetie
 
knows how to make a buck. Don't make more of it than what it is. I don't. It's just money, and right now it doesn't matter, does it?"

"Where is he?" Jen asked.

"The last I heard, he was in Hong Kong. That was yesterday. I have to believe he'll be okay, but the virus has moved into Asia...."

He was starting to break up, so I changed the subject.

"So Jen tells me you're a Michael Jackson impersonator."

"Jen tells you?
Jen
tells you? Damn, boy, I've been doing that act for a while. Didn't you know? I was on the telethon; I was at the fair... Anyway, it's really
 
more of a
 
tribute act, and it doesn't matter anymore, either. Come on to the kitchen, I'm cooking us some dinner."

We followed him through the dining room into the kitchen. It was modern and looked like something from one of those cooking shows on TV.

"I'm baking some tilapia," he said.
 
"We'll have steamed asparagus and rice."

"Thank you, Brian," Jen said. "But we want to get back before dark. We came, because we thought you needed help."

"Get back where?" he said.

"We're staying at a friend's place out on Gala Road," I said.

"Electricity?" he said.

"No."

"Fresh water?"

"No."

"Food?"

"Some."

"Then what the hell are you going back there for? It sounds to me like you're the ones that need
my
help. We have everything we need right here. You two stay with me for a few days, and we can plan how to take over the world."

We accepted Brian's invitation to stay, but only for the night. We told him about the blue house and the building south of the courthouse, and he agreed that we would need to help anyone that might be inside.

We discussed things over dinner.

“I've got a couple
 
friends in the blogosphere--survivors--that are saying this is an actual zombie apocalypse, like in the movies."

"Things are crazy." I chuckled. "But not that crazy."

"I have a friend in Greece,"
 
he continued, pouring us
 
some more wine. "He said he saw someone walking around that he knew was dead a few hours before."

Jen and I looked at each other. We were both thinking the same thing, but it was too frightening to admit.

"My friend
 
in
 
Miami claims the same thing."

"What do
you
think?" Jen asked.

Brian shrugged, "I don't know what to think. It is all too bizarre to be real,
 
yet
 
I look out my window, and there they are. You two have been out there. What have you seen?"

"Well, the ones
I've
been close to have been alive," I said. "They're just gone in the head."

"How close did you get?"
 
he asked,
 
a concerned expression on his face.

"Close enough to feel their warmth, to
 
hear their breath."

Brian was quiet.

"Don't worry,
 
hon," Jen said, patting his hand. "We took care of it with Southern Comfort."

"Bless your heart,"
 
he said, returning to his meal. "That's some bad medicine."

"There are bodies missing," Jen said with some hesitance, and looking at me as if for permission. "We just figured there were people out clearing them away."

"Could be."
 
Brian said. "Or I suppose coyotes or dogs could have dragged them off."

Jen and I nodded.

"Another possibility," Brian continued, "and I'm sorry to bring something like this up at the dinner table, but another possibility is that they are eating each other. My friend in Greece suggested this was taking place."

We were quiet for a while.

"I hope everyone has room for dessert," Brian
 
spoke up finally, in a cheery tone.
 
"I have a
 
Sara Lee
 
cheesecake in the freezer."

He got up from the table, and
 
Jen helped him clear the dishes. I stepped over to the large dining room window, looking out onto his backyard. It was
 
dusk,
 
but I could see neat rows of small trees to the left. To the right was a grape trellis. There was a small fountain between them. Farther to the right,
 
surrounded by a patio, was an in-ground
 
swimming pool.
 
About fifty yards out, I could see the
 
base of his wind turbine. We probably didn't notice it
 
coming in because it was so large and
 
the blades were
 
not in our field of vision. We just
 
thought it was another tower.

If seen from far enough away, that thing would be a like a
 
beacon to every survivor for miles around. I suspected that within the next few weeks, he'd have more than the infected gathering on his lawn; he'd have refugees, and
 
not all of them would be
 
as nice as we. I mentioned it to him as I closed the shades.

"The more the merrier," he said.

"But what about those that would take this place for themselves?"

"I think you've watched too many Mad Max movies," he said. "I think a crisis like this will bring us all together."

I didn't want to argue with him, but I feared that
 
soon this would be a dangerous place to live.

We had our cheesecake and wine in the living room by the glow of the fireplace (we didn't dare turn on the lights). The curtains were closed, and we avoided the topic of current events.
 
When
 
we were done, feeling full and relaxed from the wine, Jen stood.

"Brian, I'm going to impose on you."

"Please do."

"I would love a hot shower. Would it be okay?"

"Of course! Both of you make yourselves at home. At the end of the hall and on the right. I'd be happy to wash your clothes, too, if you didn't bring more."

"That would be great," she said. "I'll leave them outside the bathroom door."

She smiled and left us.
 
 
 
 
 
When she was gone, Brian poured the last of the bottle in my glass.

"How long have you two been together?"

"Since yesterday morning."

"Hmm. I took you to be a couple. No?"

"No.”

"Hmm. You have no idea who I am, do you?"

"Sure I do," I said. "We went
 
to the same high school. You were a couple
 
of years behind me."

"That's what Jen tells you, right?"

"No," I said. "I mean, I didn't remember you right away, but now I do." Really I didn't.

"It's okay," he said. "I
 
saw you on Facebook
 
a couple of years
 
ago, and I didn't remember you
 
right away, either."

"I guess
 
I didn't make a big impression," I said.

He stared at his empty glass for a moment.

"I'm going to go
 
get Jen some clean clothes to wear in the meantime."

He left for a moment and returned with two jogging suits.

"These should be comfortable enough to sleep in," he said. "Henry is about your size.
 
His is the maroon. Take it, go change, then bring me your other clothes."

"I'd hate to--"

"Just do it," he said, acting weary.

I took a candle from the mantle and did as he told me.
 
When I returned to the living room with my dirty clothes in my arms, Brian was gone. I sat down to wait for him and finish my wine. The only sound was of the gas hissing in the fireplace, and Jen's shower down the hall.

Then a door in the dining room flew open, and Brian stumbled out, lit from the room he'd just left.
 
The color was gone from his face.

"They're in the house!"

CHAPTER 16

I jumped up and ran to him, my dirty clothes and wine glass spilling to the floor. He was coming out of the basement. He turned and tried to shut the door, but an arm reached in and prevented it.

I joined him, pushing on the door.

"I
 
forgot to turn the
 
light off when I was
 
down there today. I've been distracted with
 
making dinner. I
 
guess when it got dark outside they could see it. They've
 
broken through the basement window."

"How many?"

"There were
 
three down there by the washing machine. More coming in."

"But the light is still on down there," I said, pressing the door.

"Yes," he said. Then it dawned on him what that meant.

They would just keep coming.

The infected man that had chased Brian up the stairs was forcing his way in. His head and left shoulder pushed through the opening. Brian and I were both
 
against the door, but the man had help. We could hear and feel
 
more of them on the other side against the door and walls.

"If we can get the door closed, I think we can block it," I said. "Maybe we should let him through, and then shut it behind him."

Brian hit
 
the man
 
in the head with his fist, but the man was
 
unfazed.

"Oh God, he's getting in!" he yelled.

The door pushed us, and we pushed back. The man fell, but he was now out as far as his waist. A second person put their arm in the opening. The first man grabbed Brian's ankle.

"Nooooh...He bit me!"

I kicked out at the man but missed. I didn't want to let up on my pressure against the door. Then Jen was there, dripping wet and wrapped in a white towel. She had the .22. She put it against the
 
man's head. There was a
pop!
and
 
he quit moving. Then she stepped around him and shoved the rifle barrel through the crack in the door.

pop! pop! pop!

The other arm slipped back through the crack, and we could hear them falling down the stairs.
 
She pulled the rifle out, and the door shut. There was this odd smell in the air that was the mixture of gunpowder and Jen's shampoo.
 
Brian
 
put his weight against the door, gripping his ankle. He stared at the dead man in the floor.