'Til Death Do Us Part (59 page)

As he was arc
ing towards his wife, I was pin-
wheeling my arms violently to keep my balance. I watched as John
’
s outstretched hands failed to grasp onto the metal railing, Stephanie plucked him out of the air like a little girl chasing airborne dandelions. I had just regained my balance as Stephanie gave me a questioning look. I had snagged her husband and tossed him five feet with no more diff
iculty than if he had been baby-sized—
not that I
’
m advocating throwing babies.

“
Momentum,
”
I lied to her.

She accepted my explanation.
“
Thank you so much,
”
she said as she hugged her weeping husband tightly.

“
I never thought I
’
d see you again,
”
h
e told her.
“
I brought you something.
”
He
extracted himself f
rom her and showed her a giant Rasta-
joint that I had no idea where he could have had it on his body and kept it so pristine.

“
Honey
,
you know I don
’
t smoke,
”
s
he said as she kissed him fiercely.

“
More for me and Ponch then,
”
h
e said turning back.
“
You coming
,
man?
”

“
This is where we part
, my friend.
It
has been both an honor and a trip
to have made your acquaintance,
”
I told him, I was sure going to miss him.

Azile
’
s horn blast negated nearly every part of John
’
s response, but I caught something about meeting again. I hoped so as I quickly climbed back down the truck and in. Azile quickly pulled away. I stared out my window as I wiped an errant tear away from my eye.

“
You alright?
”
Azile asked after we had left the bulk of the zombies behind.

“
Yeah I j
ust hate leaving friends behind,
”
I told her.

“
You
’
ll s
ee him again,
”
s
he said really not even thinking about how her words were
just placating
platitudes.

I looked over at her.

“
Sorry,
”
s
he said.
“
Just seemed like the right thing to say.
”

“
It
’
s alright
,
you were jus
t trying to make me feel better,
”
I told her as I dragged my hand across my face. I rolled down my window and maneuvered my face
so I could see it in the mirror;
I was pleasantly surprised to see some facial hair making a comeback.

“
You looked like you checked out there for a minute. Are you alright?
”
I asked her as I pulled my head back in.

“
I...I
’
ve just never seen it that bad I guess. I was already on the road when the invasion hit. Hardly would have even known it happened on the open roadway. The real first clue I got was obviously the radio news reports
,
then the lack of them. And still I thought it might be some elaborate hoax until I noticed just how little traffic was on the highways. There was just no way that many people could be involved in something like that.
”

“
Just count yourself luc
ky.
It
was no bargain on my end. I would have much rather preferred a newscast letting me know what was going on as opposed to living it.
”

She prodded me for more information
,
which I reluctan
tly gave out in bits and pieces.
The
vast majority of my recent m
emories were still sticky, pus-
oozing sores
,
and I had no desire to peel back the scabs to see if they smelled of rot or not. After a few hours of the sanitized
,
abridged version
,
she realized she wasn
’
t getting much more and let me stew in everything she had made me stir up again.

I was not sad to see the Pennsylvania state sign become a distant mi
lestone as we cruised into the Garden S
tate. It was a damn shame that it took a zombie apocalypse to make the state not smell like a fermented garbage pail.

The beauty of youth
,
I thought
concerning Azile.
She’d
been thro
ugh a lot in the last few days—maybe as much as me—
plus she was driving and looked like she could go at it
for days. I was fading fast
;
the mile markers were putting me into a trance. I knew she carried a severe hatred for all things Eliza
,
but did it burn so bright inside of her that she couldn
’
t rest?

“
Are you sure about this
,
Azile? I know I asked before
,
but if you just helped me to find a new ride and turned this rig around there
’
s a decent chance you could have some sort of life somewhere.
”

She didn
’
t say anything for nearly a mile.
“
I had no life before
,
and I can
’
t imagine finding one now. When Eliza killed my mother, the state awarded me to
my uncle
.
”

I told her I was sorry when I figured where this might be going.

When she understood the origins of my apology she spoke.
“
No, no it
’
s nothing like that. It
’
s just that he was twenty-
four and had absolutely no desire to take care of a kid. He was always decent to me, never did anything i
nappropriate.
No…
probably my biggest complaint was that he just didn
’
t know what to do. There I was this emotional wreck, crying all the time
,
looking for comfort
,
and he would leave me alone.
He
just didn
’
t know how to handle it.
”
She looked over at me to gauge my reaction.

“
Raising kids is hard when you
’
re planning for it. B
eing thrown into the mix with
out a clue has got to be brutal,
”
I told her.

“
He tried. He bo
ught me more stuffed animals tha
n he could afford
,
and that was another thing, he worked
at a video store
and
was
barely paying his bills before I got there. He had a one bedroom apartment and he gave me the bedroom when I moved in. He tried
,
he really did, but we both knew I was a burden. He didn
’
t bring dates home or go out with his frien
ds
that much either
.
He
was always afraid to leave me by myself which was kind of funny
,
because he always left me alone in his room while he sat on the couch.
”
She finished with a faraway look in her eyes.

“
Where is he now?
”
I asked.

“
Bonneview Memorial Cemetery. The night I turned
eighteen
he went out and celebrated with his
friends. He wrapped his twelve-year-
old Honda around a tree six houses down fro
m his apartment. Funny thing is…I heard it.
I was laying in bed thinking about my mother and how much I missed her when the explosion of
metal and glass crashing into o
ak shook my window. I didn
’
t know it was him, but I did. Does that make sense?
”

I nodded.

“
On some level I knew it was my uncle, he had finally won his freedom I guess.
”

“
Do you blame yourself for it?
”
I asked.

“
I did…
for a while, but it didn
’
t make sense to. Everything t
raced back to Eliza. She killed
my mother, my father
,
and my uncle and she should have killed me. In a way
, I guess she did. T
here are parts of me that will never function properly
, starved of nurturing as they were. Is that too dramatic?
”

“
Not at all, if that
’
s what you feel.
”

“
So back to your original question, Eliza
’
s death is the onl
y reason I hold on to this life.
Until
I kill her
,
I don
’
t think I can find peace. So yeah
,
I
’
m sure I want to come with you.
”

“
Fair enough.
Most
people I have this discussion with don
’
t normally have as much insider knowledge about Eliza as you do. I
’
m glad you
’
re coming if only so I don
’
t have to drive this thing.
”

“
I think it was your driving more than anything that got me out of my stupor.
”

“
Great
,
another smart ass, just what the world needs.
”

She stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth at me.

“
What
’
s your family like?
”
She
sounded genuinely curious
,
or she might have just wanted to while away the time as she drove. It wasn
’
t like she could turn the radio on and listen to
America
’
s Top F
orty
.

That side thought hurt a
little more than I wanted it to;
I
’
d loved music since I was a kid and my parents had bought me a Realistic transistor radio. I think the first song I ever listene
d to on it was
While My Guitar G
ently Weeps
, the Beatles version. I knew I was hooked from that moment. Music had been a constant component of my life, from the hundred or so concerts I
’
d attended
,
to listening t
o it while I worked—
my de
sk job and my construction one—
during the commutes to and from work or errands. It would be safe to say that I listened to mo
re music on average per day than
I watched television. And now my life had another little void in it where music once filled it.

“
Mike?
”

“
Sorry I have a tendency to lose focus every once in a while.
”

“
Your family?
”
s
he asked again after waiting a polite amount of time for me to continue.

“
Yup
,
sorry, completely spaced it. Well let
’
s start with my dad, Tony. He
’
s a World War
Two
vet, saw a lot of action. Sometimes he
’
s as tough as nails
,
and at other times you can see he
’
s on the edge.
Wait…
not t
he edge
…that sounds wrong.
I don
’
t mean of brea
king down or anything like that.
If
you look long and hard at him when he
’
s quiet
,
you can see what his stint in the war did to him. It fundamentally changed him
,
and at times I think it
’
s a daily vigilance for him to have it not affect him.
My mom passed a couple of years
ago.
I miss her
,
but she was far from the easiest person to love
. S
he had great difficulty expressing concern for anything that did not revolve around her.