Time of Death Book 2: Asylum (A Zombie Novel) (32 page)

"I like you, too, sweetie. You and me, we're
gonna be great friends."

"But not best friends. Striker is my bestest
friend. You can be my second bestest!" he clarified in a serious
tone.

There it was, the perfect opening I'd been
looking for. I sat on the grass, crossing my legs Indian style, and
patted the spot next to me for him to sit.

"I guess I can live with that. I don't want
to come between you and your best friend," I said. "How did you
meet Striker?"

Jasper clapped his hands together, and his
face lit up at the prospect of telling me a story. He leaned closer
to me, like he was going to tell me a secret, and told me how he
came to meet the gruff man.

"I was cleaning up around the banyan trees.
Did you know they use banyan trees for those little bonsai trees
sometimes? Like in that movie, The Karate Kid." He stopped talking
and waited for me to answer his question.

"I didn't know that," I replied.

"Yeah, so, um, I forgot what I was saying,"
he gave me an embarrassed look.

"You were cleaning the banyan trees," I
prompted.

Jasper giggled. "No, silly, I wasn't cleaning
the trees! I was clearing the ground around the trees." He rolled
his eyes at me like I'd said something insane. "The banyan trees
are one of the biggest tourist attractions here. People love to
look at them because they're so beautiful. Sometimes I have picnics
under them during lunch. Maybe you and me can have a picnic there
someday. You can bring Jake, and Meg, and even Daphne!"

"That's sounds fun. We will definitely make
that happen." I did my best to hide my frustration. Jasper was all
over the place. This conversation was going to be an exercise in
patience for me. "So, you were saying that you were cleaning up
around the banyan trees. What happened next?" Inside I was
screaming, move on!

"Oh, yeah. So, I was cleaning around the
trees," he said.

"Mmm-hmm?" I urged. Third time's a charm;
come on lucky three! Please, Jesus, let us get past this
sentence.

"And I heard loud trucks and then people
shouting. So I ran over to see what happened, and I saw the mostest
cars I ever seen in front of the mansion before, like ten! They
don't let people drive real cars in the compound. Well, except for
Jimmy. He's my boss, and he gets to drive his pickup truck around
because he's the boss, and he makes the rules. But I think he went
on vacation, because he hasn't come to work in a while. He always
talked about going to the Bahamas. I bet he's there right now!"

Jasper was unable to make the mental leap to
Jimmy's likely demise, but I wasn't going to be the one to shatter
his reality. As far as I was concerned, Jimmy was sunning himself
on a tropical island somewhere sipping margaritas.

"Have you ever been to the circus?" he asked
me.

Confused by his question, I was certain he'd
run the conversation right off the tracks again, and sighed. "A
long time ago," I admitted, and waited to see where his random
thought took us next.

"It was like when all those clowns keep
coming out of the little car. I don't know how they fit all those
clowns in there. They just kept coming out and they had lots of
guns."

"The clowns?" Jeez, what kind of circus was
he remembering?

"No! Why would clowns have guns?" Jasper
shook his head at me, like I was the slow one. "The people getting
out of all the cars. They had guns. They were scary guys, and they
ran around pointing their guns and yelling at everyone." He leaned
in close to me and whispered in my face. His breath was so bad that
I had to fight not to gag and lean away. "I did a number one in my
pants when they yelled at me."

I stifled my laugh and had to bite my lips so
I wouldn't smile. It wasn't that I thought it was funny that he
pissed himself, but the way he divulged the information made me
want to laugh. I knew, though, that he wouldn't understand that,
and I would offend him if I did. "I'm sorry they scared you,
Jasper."

"And then, it got really loud, and really
windy. I thought I was gonna blow away! The helichopper landed
right over there!" He was really excited, nearly bouncing, as he
told me about the helicopter. This time, I did smile when he
flubbed the word. Helichopper: I liked it.

"Who was in it?" I asked, finding myself
engrossed in the story. The bird hadn't moved from its spot on the
grass a few hundred yards away since we had arrived, and every time
I looked at it, I was taken back to Target. A lifetime ago in my
memory, when Adam, Seth, and the others I'd cared about were still
alive. Things had changed so much since then, and not in a good
way. The memory always reminded me that safety didn't exist, and if
I got complacent, I'd pay dearly.

"Mack, and Miss Jocinda, and more men with
guns, and the driver." His face contorted at the mention of
Jocinda's name like he smelled something stinky. It was good to
know I wasn't the only one who thought she was a vapid cow.

"A lot of the men ran to Mack when he got out
and protected him when he ran inside the mansion. They made us all
go inside, too. I peeked through the windows and they were guarding
the gates. Mack said he was the new boss, and we had to do what he
said if we wanted to stay. I don't want to leave, so I follow the
rules."

"You do a great job, Jasper. They're lucky to
have you." My heart ached for this simple man.

"That's what Striker said, too!"

Hooray for the segue, I thought. Was Striker
one of those guys with the guns?" I asked him, capitalizing on the
opportunity to move the story along.

"No, no, no. Striker and Miss Lola came
later." He paused, deep in concentration. "I'm no good with dates,
and I have trouble with time. I don't know when they got here, but
I know it wasn't the same day as Mack."

"That's okay, sweetie. It's not important.
Who is Miss Lola?"

Jasper leaned over and slid a crinkled
Polaroid from his back pocket. He thrust the photo at me and
scooted closer to point out the people. The first two, I recognized
easily. Jasper stood between a man and a woman wearing the same big
smile he'd given me earlier. His mouth was pulled back, no doubt
making the E sound of cheese at the photographer's behest. To his
left stood a version of Striker I'd never met. The stranger smiled
back at the camera and looked as if he'd been caught laughing at a
joke. His muscular arm was draped over Jasper's shoulders and his
fingers were raised to look like bunny ears.

My mouth hung open. This was not the same man
I had just spent time with. He didn't look hard or gruff, or at all
like the asshole I knew him to be. On further inspection I noticed
he wore the same black V-neck tee shirt and khaki cargo pants as
the jocks who patrolled Asylum.

"Jasper," I asked, "was Striker one of the
guards?"

"Yup, he was the best guard! He said I could
stay when they told me I had to leave because I was stupid. He said
he'd watch out for me and make sure I didn't get into trouble. I'm
not stupid. I'm not!" He said the words with conviction, and I
believed him. I didn't think he was stupid in the least. "Sometimes
I just have trouble making sense of things. My mom said it was
because when she went to the hospital, and I was being born, I got
stuck on the rope that kept me inside her belly and couldn't
breathe! I'm not stupid. My momma says I'm her miracle."

A lump had formed in my throat and fought
against my words. "I agree. You aren't stupid at all, and I'm glad
Striker was your friend. You're a good friend to have."

Jasper beamed with pride at the compliment
and settled back into story mode. "That," he pointed to the woman
with dark blond hair that stood on the other side of himself, "is
Miss Lola, Striker's wife."

I felt like I'd taken a kick to the gut.
Striker had a wife, and knowing that made things so much clearer. I
almost couldn't bring myself to ask my next question, because I
already knew the answer.

"Where is Miss Lola now, honey?"

Jasper's jowls drooped like a basset hound
when he frowned, and he peered over the photo when he spoke. "Miss
Lola got real sick and they took her away."

"Who did?" I asked him, my interest
piqued.

"The doctors. And Striker got real mad when
they wouldn't let him see her. He banged super hard on the basement
door until his hand started to bleed and yelled at them to let him
in. He used real bad words, too."

"What's in the basement, Jasper?"

"I dunno. I'm not allowed in the basement.
It's in the rules, and I have to follow the rules if I want to live
here."

This basement was sounding a lot more
intriguing the more I heard about it.

"Then we had the bonfire. I like the
bonfires. They make the air hot and are pretty colors. But I don't
like how stinky the bad people make them."

"I don't think I'd like that either."

"And then," he said, cupping his hands over
my ears and whispering, "Striker cried. Cuz they told him Miss Lola
was one of the bad people in the fire. But Miss Lola wasn't bad;
she was nice to me, and she gave me lots of hugs."

When he pulled away, I tried to nonchalantly
wipe his spittle off my ear. Inside my gross-out meter was topping
the charts. I hated anything that came from the mouth; vomit, spit,
chewed up food. Just thinking about it made me want to run
screaming into the shower.

I looked at the photo again, ruminating over
this new information. Lola was lovely. Not traditionally beautiful,
but the kind of girl next door attractive. Light brown hair pulled
back in a messy ponytail and thick-framed glasses over brown eyes
smiled into the camera, and my heart ached for Striker's loss.

"Jasper, why did Striker leave?"

"I don't know. He didn't say goodbye to me
and it made me sad. I miss him."

I tried another tactic. "When did he
leave?"

"After the bonfire, I think. Our rooms were
next to each other, and he came to say goodnight. He always said
goodnight to me. It kept the bad dreams away. Then every morning,
we ate breakfast together before work, except the next day he
didn't come to eat, and his room was empty."

I handed the photo back to him, taking one
last look at the smiling trio. "Hey!" he blurted, getting to his
feet. "Why don't I go get my camera and we can take a picture of
us? You and me and Jake and Meg."

The mention of Jake reminded me that I hadn't
seen him anywhere that morning. He'd been gone when I woke up,
after camping out in one of the empty beds near Meg, and he wasn't
at breakfast. When I asked Meg if she knew where he'd run off to,
she had no idea either.

"Now's not a good time," I admitted. He
looked crestfallen at my refusal and I quickly explained that we
would definitely take a photo with him later. "Have you seen Jake
this morning?"

"Yup! He went to work with the other
guys."

"Where did they go?" A knot was forming in
the pit of my stomach.

Jasper shrugged, "I dunno. Wherever they
usually go to work. We all do our jobs. It's in the rules."

I narrowed my eyes. "Where can I find these
rules?" I asked him.

He reached into his other back pocket and
waved a piece of folded paper in front of him. "Right here!" He
said excitedly. "I have them! Striker wrote them down for me so I
could never forget and break the rules. I read them every morning
before breakfast."

I put out my hand and he placed the wrinkled
page in my palm. It was damp, and I did my best not to think too
hard about why that was.

"Rule one:" I read aloud, "we all do our
jobs." Jasper bobbed his head and mouthed the words from memory as
I recited the list. "Rule two: stay out of the basement. Rule
three: don't go outside the gate alone."

He interrupted me after rule three. "I'm
allowed to break that one, because I clean up the bad people every
day. So I'm allowed to go outside the gate if I promise to stay on
the path in front of the wall and only go as far as the bonfire." I
had to smile at how proud he was of himself that he was allowed to
break a rule.

I continued reading. "Rule four: no dogs at
the table. Are you fucking joking? It's an actual rule?"

"Ooh," sung Jasper, "you said a bad
word."

"Sorry, bud, sometimes I can't help
myself."

"It's okay. I won't tell on you."

Christ, would I find no swearing in the rules
next?

I skimmed the list, quickly looking for
mention of bad words and was thankful to not find any. I'd be out
on my ass pretty fast if that had been written into the bylaws. The
rest of the list was as expected. No stealing, fighting, raping,
hoarding supplies. The last rule, though, made me uncomfortable.
"Council to pass sentence on rule-breakers."

"Yeah, I don't like that rule. The council is
scary," he admitted.

The metallic clang of a bear trap announced
the arrival of an unlucky walker at the front gate, and I heard
Vance call out for Jasper.

"Time to go to work," he said, and left with
a lopsided grin.

Vance waved to me and I returned the
greeting, but my mind was elsewhere. I was stuck on the last rule,
and I was irate with my husband for breaking our own rules. We'd
made a pact not to go anywhere without each other. Not only did he
leave, but he did so without telling me or his sister. If anything
happened to him, I'd have to live with our last conversation
consisting of my telling him to fuck off. Could I live with myself
if that were the case?

I walked over to the two banyan trees, the
trunks had intertwined themselves with each other, forming cohesive
roots that crawled outward in front of them. The roots felt smooth
under my touch, and I tapped on one of the hanging vines and
watched it sway lazily back and forth.

The trees were like a family, no one trunk
stood alone, and they all had connections to one another. I missed
my family. Not just the emotional distance that was growing between
Jake and I, but my parents, and his parents, and Vinny. Tears stung
my cheeks and I let myself wallow in my sadness and loss.