'Til Death Do Us Part (42 page)

“
Sure.
”
I hoped she would make it quick.

“
Do you want take a shower first?
”
She looked me up and down and then over to her clean bedding.

There I
was, I had a myriad of scrapes
that had dried blood on them, and some remnants of animal lard that were caked with dirt.
“
That
’
d probably be
for the best,
”
I told her as I looked longingly at the bed.
“
Is that what you wanted to ask me? Don
’
t get me wrong
I
’
m surprised you let us in at all now that I
’
m thinking about it.
”

“
Luke
let you in,
”
s
he answered.

“
Well I guess there
’
s that.
”

“
What
’
s with the hat?
”

Where do I go with that? Do I tell her that I can talk to vampires with it off? Maybe after the shower and eight hours of sleep.

“
John wanted me to wear it.
He
gets very agitated if I take it off
,
and since we
’
re traveling together I figured it was best to appease him.
”

I might have bought some time with that
,
but I figured her next question was going to be why
John wanted the hats on in the first place.
I didn
’
t have answers that would make us
sound
sane or not completely mollify her.
“
I
’
m going to take that shower now.
”

Her eyes still held a question
,
but she let it drop as she led me to the small bathroom with the shower enclosure. I stripped down
, making sure the hat stayed on.
I cut a ridiculous figure with that piece of tin foil on my head. My facial hair, eyebrow and hair (from what I could see)
were
beginning to fill in quicker than I would have expected. Was it only three days since I
’
d lost my best friend? My body was as hard as it had ever been in the Marines
,
and it was in direct contrast to the quiver of my chin and lips as anguish flooded my system. I was just now realizing I had yet to grieve my loss. I wai
led as silently as was possible;
my mirror image cried with me as I placed my hand against the cool glass surface.

“
You alright?
”
Mirabelle asked with concern outside the door.

“
I
’
m...I
’
m sorry,
”
I said as I wiped the offending moisture from my face.

“
I have your shower,
”
s
he told me.

I had no idea what she meant. I moved to the side so that when I opened the door she couldn
’
t see my bare ass. I didn
’
t want to wrap a towel around myself and get the thing encrusted before I even had the chance to use it. Mirabelle handed me a solar shower b
ag usually reserved for campers
or folks holding onto existence during a zombie apocalypse.

“
There
’
s a hook in th
e shower where you hang it from,
”
s
he said
,
looking down at the industrial carpeting.
“
If you toss your clothes out here, I
’
ll get them as clean as I can.
”

“
You don
’
t need to do that.
”

“
I know…
you alright?
”
s
he asked again
,
bringing her eyes up.

“
I...I just lost someone dear to me recently,
I
’
m sorry.
”

“
No need to be. Are you going to shower with that on?
”
s
he asked pointing to my hat.

“
No,
”
I assured her, although I didn
’
t take it off. I bent over and grabbed my clothing, thankful that I was about to wash off. If I looked half as bad as my clothes
,
I thought I might be sick.

Mirabelle looked reluctant to touch them as well.
“
Umm
,
there
’
s a lot of clothes around these trailers. What size do you wear?
”

I gave her rough dimensions.
I wasn
’
t really sure anymore
,
especially after all the weight I had lost. Seemed kind of ironic that I had lost pounds in the physical realm and gained them all
back
in the
spiritual
in the
form of
pain.

“
Time heals all wounds,
”
Mirabelle told me, obviously seeing the hurt I was in.

Normally I would tend to agree with that phrase
,
but the zombies had a way of repeatedly opening fresh wounds
and
never allowing the last one to completely heal up. I nodded my head at the right moment and let her believe her platitude.

“
Thank you,
”
I told her as I closed the door.
She
was pointing to her head to let me know I still had the tin foil hat on. I hung the bag, looked to be about
two-and-a-half
gallons of fairly warm water up on the hook. I opened the spigot and got a good dosing. I
’
m not going to lie, I w
as more than a little concerned.
There
was more lard on me than I had originally figured. I looked up at the bag that now looked entirely too small.
I quickly closed the valve, went head-to-
to
e lathering with the soap twice.
I had no sooner finished my second go round when I paused. If we were going to be attacked by zombies, I was as sure as the purity of the soap I was using (99.4% by the way) that it would happen NOW.

I was thinking about that first night the zombies came
when my shower was interrupted—
how I had
actually
hoped for that very event. FUCKING HOPED! I
’
d lost a brother, a best friend, a niece, and dozens of others that I cared for in one way or another, and it was far from over. The odds were still greatly stacked against me
,
and I still had more on the betting line than I was prepared to wager. I turned the flow of water back on, most of the dirt, blood
,
and lard was removed as the
water ran out; the pain…
well
,
that remained.

A soft knock came at the door.
“
I fo
und some clothes that might fit.
I left them on the chair by your bed.
”

“
Thank you
, Mirabelle,
”
I told her. I dried off, wrapped the towel around myself and went to bed.

G,
BT and D

The group had to stop one more time for gas. BT picked a gas station right before they had turned on to the Massachusetts turnpike. The station was
of the old traditional variety;
no Slush Puppies, no hot dogs, candy bars, or rows upon rows of gourmet coffee dispensers. There were no aspi
rins, feminine hygiene products
, or even newspapers. There was a counter where a person stood to take your cash or run your card through an old handheld device to imprint an image of your card. Checks were not welcome
,
neither was American Express
;
and if you wanted the proprietor
’
s gun
,
you would have to p
ry it from his cold dead hands—
at least according to the bumper sticker adhered to the side of the counter.

The station looked like it had last seen upgrades at around the time of the Nixon administration and that was just fine with him, it would draw less attention that way. The truck rolled up, Gary morosely hopped down from the back. BT figured
that
the closer they got to Maine
,
the worse his friend was going to become. Mrs.
Deneaux
stayed in the cab;
she at least kept a watch out for anything directly in front of her.

“
Getting some gas,
”
BT said as he got into the back and grabbed his hose and pump.

“
This
’
ll be the last
fill up before we get back home,
”
Gary said more as a statement of fact.
“
My father is going to blame me for this.
”

BT stopped what he was doing for a moment, not liking the added time to their stop but it was necessary.
“
Gary
,
listen to me, no one is going to blame you for this.
”

“
Not even Tracy?
”
G
ary asked with red-
rimmed eyes.

“
Especially Tracy. Everyon
e including Mike knew the risks.
Every
time we open a door there is the chance we will dance with death. I miss your brother more than you can know
,
and I don
’
t blame you for what happened. You did a
ll that you could…
we all did. We go forward
,
Gary
,
we make those responsible pay.
”

“
When does it stop?
”

“
When we
’
re in a box, until then...
”
BT left the comment hanging. H
e opened the hatch to the tank and began to fill the tanks.

Gary made a few circuits
around the station.
When
he was confident there was nothing to be overly concerned about except for a skunk that was going through some trash
he stopped.

“
Want a cigarette?
”
Mrs.
Deneaux
asked Gary.

BT had watched her get down out of the truck and go behind the station to do whatever is was that reptiles do. A few moments later she had come back to where Gary was sitting.

“
Do you mind?
”
BT asked.

“
Quit your bitching.
It’s
diesel
and not as flammable as gas,
”
s
he said as she stuck the cigarette she had offered
into her mouth and lit it up.

Within a fe
w minutes they were ready to go;
Deneaux
up in the cab with BT and Ga
ry sitting on the bench in back.
He
was leaning up against the canvas
,
his gaze peering through the hole up top that the zombie had fallen through.
The truck got off to a slow start
,
then jerked to a stop.