Zombie (8 page)

This property Q__ P__ is CARETAKER for why can’t I be such for life, if I so wish?

The P__ family house, large & dignified red-brick Victorian, 118 North Church Street, Mt. Vernon, Michigan. None of the P__ family live here now except Q__ P__ CARETAKER.

It is a job that suits me. Like Mr. T__ says, such responsibility is good for a man.

It was after World War II Grandma says University Heights began to change.
Coloreds
began to move in &
whites
to move out in a steady irreversible stream to such suburbs as Dale Springs.
Oh I will never forgive the Germans for that war
! Grandma says.

The foundation of our house was laid 1892 & it is still firm. The cellar Grandpa P__ had renovated in the 1950s (as I have been told, I was not born yet) is such that there are two sections: the new, & the old. The new has a poured concrete floor & reinforced walls with beaverboard paneling. The gas furnace is here, water heater, fuse box, washer-drier etc. CARETAKER’s work bench & such tools as my electric power drill & newly purchased Cherokee chainsaw.

The old section of the cellar is never used. Not as large as the new but it is still sizable, approximately the length & width of the kitchen. A hard-packed dirt floor & the ceiling rafters low (not six feet from the floor) & filthy with cobwebs. Walls termite-ridden & rotted. Except for seepage the cistern is dry of course, not used for forty years. A strong smell of drains in the rainy months but I have installed a second pump. Convinced Dad it was necessary to maintain the property, & it is.

To penetrate the depths of the old cellar you must move slowly & cautiously, stooped over. You need a strong flashlight. You need sharp eyes. You need to be able to go without breathing deeply because of the smell. You need a will not easily broken.

It has been months now & the cistern has almost been converted & will be ready for use soon. Though I will have some awkwardness I guess getting my “operating table” into it—a folding table, a dinette from the Salvation Army where I got my locker is probably the best bet.

My locker I should mention is in my room. Scrubbed clean & sprayed with Lysol & used for clothes, shoes, etc., & the quart bottle of formaldehyde containing a good-luck memento from BIG GUY & the bottle itself carefully wrapped in aluminum foil & taped. & magazines, videos, Polaroids, etc. Always kept locked.

The old cellar & the cistern are the crucial places of course. A healthy ZOMBIE might live for many years there for who would know of him? who except Q__ P__, CARETAKER? & if a ZOMBIE is a fail
ure there is the earthen floor for safe & sanitary disposal. & there is a new door replacing the old rotted door & last week I purchased a steel padlock from Sears for added security.

Q_ P_ CRAZY FOR
SQUIRREL!!!

—I wrote in red Magic Marker inside a toilet stall in the Humpty Dumpty on Lakeview Boulevard, Dale Springs, where SQUIRREL worked as a busboy. It blew my mind to think SQUIRREL would use the toilet & puzzle over those very words with no clue who “SQUIRREL” was let alone “Q__ P__”!

How many strangers’ eyes would fix upon “Q__ P__ CRAZY FOR SQUIRREL!!!” with no comprehension what these words mean. What a fantastic fireball-power in my cock.

SQUIRREL’s busboy schedule at Humpty Dumpty (near as I could determine) was Wed.-Thurs.-Fri. 12 noon to 6
P.M.
Summer work I guess. One evening parked in my van in the parking lot & waiting for SQUIRREL I saw him exit at the rear at 6:06
P.M.
& there was a woman (probably his mother) in a station wagon picking him up but other times he rode his bicycle (kept at the rear with two or three other employees’ bicycles all chain-locked) to his home on Cedar Street, a distance of 2.3 miles. SQUIRREL did
not live next door to Grandma as I had originally surmised but was often at that house, swimming in his friend’s pool & listening to loud rock music & goofing off like adolescent kids will do. (A good sign, SQUIRREL was
not
a next-door neighbor of Grandma’s. For next-door neighbors are always among the first to be questioned by the police.) It was easy to trail SQUIRREL home on his bicycle.

It is easy to trail anyone home, of your choosing. No need even to be INVISIBLE.

I learned the family name. & telephoned once or twice just to hear the phone ring in that house. A female voice answered (his “Mom”?) & I asked for him (his name which does not suit him, much) & left only the message
This is Q__. I will call back
. There are two younger children in the family, at least. & “Mom” & “Dad” of some age around forty. “Mom” like any other woman on such a street as Cedar Street, Dale Springs & “Dad” the executive-type drives a Buick Riviera & carries a briefcase. So far as I could figure, SQUIRREL is a student at Dale Springs High, Q__ P__’s old school he hated & wished to have burnt to the ground. With everybody in it.

The address is 166 Cedar, Grandma’s address is 149 Arden. Parallel streets & the same kinds of houses, mostly colonials in wooded lots like Grandma’s. SQUIRREL’s family’s house is pretty big, with a white picket fence & giant trees—elms? oaks?—& Grandma’s house is smaller, with a part-fieldstone facade. Grandma came to live here when Grandpa died about ten years ago. To be near her son & daughter-in-law. & the other day at Grandma’s where
she made me blueberry waffles (a late breakfast before I started the yard work) it came to me that Grandma was an old woman & would not live much longer. & she would be leaving an estate of course. This house, & her savings & investments & there was the rental property at 118 North Church worth how much?—$80,000? $100,000? In all, Grandma would leave a sizable estate. Maybe she would leave something to her grandson & granddaughter? In recent months I was led to believe that I was her favorite & not Junie any longer. But I could be mistaken—with females & their feelings about one another you can’t tell.

In any case Grandma P__ would leave a sizable estate when she died to Mr. & Mrs. R__ P__. & they would not live forever, either.

It seemed right that Q__ P__ CARETAKER should inherit the house on North Church. Maybe the old woman has had such a thought herself by now.
This is just between you & me Quentin. Our little secret!

Standing on tiptoe to pat my cheek. A fattish old woman but frail, too. They say their bones are weak, hollowed out inside & easy to break. Her washed-out no-color eyes I had a weird flash miniature QUENTINS were mirrored in! For once they have loved you as their baby, their own strange flesh born of their bodies or their children’s bodies, always you are BABY in their eyes.

A plan was forming like a slow dream & I did not push or hurry it. Though knowing SQUIRREL’s summer schedule would end by Labor Day. Which left how many weeks for Q__ P__ to make his capture?—only about five. & SQUIRREL worked at Humpty Dumpty only three days a week.

Now in the heat of Michigan summer I quit my medication totally & had less timidity of EYE CONTACT I saw things normally not-seen. & they sank deep in me, & brooded.
A responsible man makes his own luck
Dad has said. Quoting one of the great philosophers.

From that Saturday at Grandma’s spying on my prey through the hedge I knew I would have my SQUIRREL. I never doubted. He could tease & taunt me diving in the pool, & yelling & laughing running & streaming water in his tight swim trunks & at the Humpty Dumpty he could look through me like nobody was seated in the booth in which I sat but that would not forestall what would happen. Fragment Q of the big comet pulled apart into clusters of fire by drifting too near Jupiter & that terrible gravitational
field & it would collide with its target & explode & it was fated to be so & it would be so. From the beginning of Time.

Except: Q__ P__’s strategy would be 100% different than in the past. This was Dale Springs & not the inner city, nor any lonely stretch of interstate. This was a Caucasian upper-middle-class kid, a child (as his parents probably considered him) & not a black or a mixed breed & lots of people cared for, & would miss at once. & would notify the police in a panic. For sure.

& that excited me, too. For never in the past not once to my knowledge had any cops anywhere known of my specimens’ disappearance, let alone searched for them. & so this would be different, & I believed I would be equal to the challenge. So wild a need & hunger, SQUIRREL entering my life like a shining angel—he was worth dying for, for sure!

Because SQUIRREL would not likely be hitchhiking in Dale Springs & it would not be likely Q__ P__ would drive by in his van, one chance in one million BUT I COULD NOT WAIT THAT LONG COULD I!—another strategy had to be devised. SQUIRREL would not climb willingly into the van, SQUIRREL would have to be overcome & captured & lifted into it, & his bicycle too?—maybe. & this capture to be made without witnesses of course. By night would be best but to stake out at his house on Cedar Street not knowing when he would return & not knowing if he would be alone would be difficult. For the sand-colored van would be noticed. Dale Springs has security police, neighborhood pa
trols. & to enter SQUIRREL’s actual house & risk a burglar alarm etc.—fuck
that
.

I worked at Grandma’s & I cruised my van on Cedar Street & I ate at Humpty Dumpty how many times, not able to stay away, & I brooded over SQUIRREL in his absence & in his presence. Staring at SQUIRREL thinking
I love you, I want you, I would die for you, you are so terrific why the fuck won’t you look at me? smile at me?
I might have neglected my duties at 118 North Church but it was summer & only five of the rooms occupied & if I did not haul the trash out to the curb one week I would haul it the next, for sure. & cleaning & maintenance got done when required. & regular spray for roach control.

Dad called & left a message & I thought he’d be bitching as usual but instead thanked me for BEING SO KIND TO YOUR GRANDMA, QUEN-TIN!

It was taking a chance eating at Humpty Dumpty so much but I could not stay away. Parked my van sometimes in the lot & sometimes across the street or close by in a grocery store lot or even around the corner to avoid suspicion. But the restaurant lot was always full & the restaurant busy except in the mid-afternoon but I preferred after 5
P.M.
when there were lots of customers including families with young children & less likelihood of Q__ P__ being noticed. & if I lingered till 6
P.M.
when the busboys changed shifts I could observe SQUIRREL actually leaving, riding home on his bicycle. That route he took, I’d memorized.

Following in my van at a safe distance. Or, circling the block to park & wait for him to pass oblivious. The way SQUIRREL rode his bicycle!—fast, & hunched over, & no wasted moves. Very shrewd & skillful making his way through Lakeview Boulevard traffic. & a shortcut he took through a side street & an alley & the rear of a church parking lot. A Tigers baseball cap backward on his head & his blond-brown longish hair tied in a tiny pigtail at the nape of his neck & how boylike he was but a man too, almost a man, his mouth that could shape into a grin or a sneer, his eyes that could be so warm or so cutting & the way he gripped the handlebars of the bicycle & his muscled calves, thighs & the curve of his spine back how elastic his spine looked—it took my breath away this boy would be my ZOMBIE!

Then in Humpty Dumpty watching SQUIRREL hoist a tray of dirty dishes, etc. to his shoulder. & his young muscles jerking visible, & the little pigtail at the nape of his neck—

& I’m so excited have to leave my Humpty Dumpty Burger Special & stagger back to the men’s room & jack off in one of the toilet stalls moaning & whimpering.
A true ZOMBIE would be mine forever. Would kneel before me saying I LOVE YOU MASTER, THERE IS NO ONE BUT YOU MASTER. FUCK ME IN THE ASS MASTER UNTIL I BLEED BLUE GUTS
. & I wipe the sticky cum in wads of tissue & return to the booth where I will leave it hidden inside my napkin for SQUIRREL to clear away unknowing.

MY ZOMBIE!

I was not too hungry (having eaten at Grandma’s) yet devoured two Tex-Mex Specials, burgers with melted cheese, onions & hot salsa sauce & double order of Humpty Dumpty Special Ranch Fries greasy & coated with salt. Two giant Cokes & cups of black coffee for a caffeine buzz. & the uppers I’d taken that morning. Dazed & shaky from jerking off so hard & my vision fading in & out of focus & the gum-chewing waitress asked me something
—Mister?
I didn’t seem to hear & shrugged & sauntered away. But where was SQUIRREL? I did not see SQUIRREL! A roaring in my ears & rock music piped in overhead & kids’ voices & laughter echoing like inside my own skull. Then SQUIRREL appeared & was helping another busboy clean up a booth where it looked like pigs had been feeding, wiping with sponges & tossing napkins, Styrofoam cups etc. into a plastic basket. The other busboy was SQUIRREL’s age & the two of them buddies, grinning together. (If they should look over at Q__ P__ watching them, how
would they react?) SQUIRREL is smart & sexy & knows it for sure. A better muscle-build than his friend, too. His skin is slightly blemished on his jaws & he has a habit of grimacing & rolling his eyes, that mocking look you see in kids that age. Some friends of his come into the restaurant & there’s wisecrack bantering & insults traded.
Why didn’t Q__ P__ have friends like that, guys who liked me, guys like brothers? twins?
& now when they see me their eyes flick carelessly over me. Little cocksuckers don’t see
me
at all.

My hand was shaky!—dropped my fork & it clattered to the floor as SQUIRREL was passing near. Quick & polite SQUIRREL got me a clean fork, I didn’t even have to ask.
Here y’are mister!
with a smile. & I said
O.K. thanks!
& though I lifted my eyes to his there was no eye contact, SQUIRREL was already moving on. A clear glimpse of his greenish-cool eyes, though. Like no other eyes I have ever seen. MY ZOMBIE.

Hadn’t noticed me at all, I guess. & that was good. They don’t see people my age, that’s good. Sure I was hurt, I was pissed &
the little fucker will pay for it one day soon
but it
was
good. Q__ P__ the invisible man.

What I was wearing: khaki shorts & a soiled tanktop (loose-fitting to hide my little pot-belly), & my aviator sunglasses, & battered sandals. Working at Grandma’s I’d worn a red sweatband around my head like a funky black dude, I’d sweated it through in the heat. A strong smell lifted off me I guess, hadn’t taken time to shower as Grandma had invited.

My
baffle
that day was a birthmark on my left cheek. Inscribed with blueberry juice & red Magic Marker. Sort of star-shaped, about the size of a dime. To draw & focus unwanted attention.

BIRTHMARK (
ACTUAL SIZE
)

The waitress brought me my check, it came to $16.95 & I left a $5 tip. “Make sure the busboy gets some of this,” I told the waitress.

“Excuse me?”

“The busboy. That kid there, with the pigtail. I’m leaving a $5 tip & I want him to get his share.”

The waitress slowed her gum-chewing & stared at me & blinked & colored a little like, for sure, she’d been caught stealing. Cunt had been planning to pocket the $5 herself. Saying, “We all share our tips here, mister. That’s policy.”

“O.K. I’m just inquiring.”

“That’s Humpty Dumpty policy, mister. We all share.”

“O.K.,” I said, sliding out of the booth, on my unsteady legs & the sunglasses sliding down my nose, “—that’s cool. That’s just fine.”

If SQUIRREL was looking on, & gazed after Q__ P__ walking away with his head high, I could only guess.