Have you ever braced for a pothole that ended up being unimpactful? You can see it coming up on the road; and the clock counts down the seconds it takes for you to get closer, closer, closer, to impact. You tighten your grip on the wheel; you grit your teeth; brace yourself, this'll be a big one. For a split second; you wonder if you could swirve and miss it; move to another lane; but it's during heavy traffic and it'd be safest to just face this monster head on. Maybe you stop talking or singing along to the radio, expecting the car to go flying into the air on impact - but it doesn't. Your wheels glide over it gracefully, you don't even notice the pothole was there. A false alarm.
This wasn't like that.
The pothole that Alex hit wasn't clear to his sight until seconds before and he had nowhere to turn. He had no expectations because the idea that a pothole that big existing was ludicrous to him. So, unprepared, he runs straight into the beast; and his car flips; spiraling out of control; spinning down a hill; crushing metal and glass alike as it rolls It's over so quick that he's not even sure it really happened. If it weren't for the pain in his chest, he would think that he imagined it all.
He crawls out from under the car with no visible damage. Not a scratch in sight; for the pain he feels is so much deeper than his skin. The pothole that he hit was one that didn't care for bruises or scraped knees. It was out for the blood of a different kind; the soul, the joy, the peace of mind that one takes advantage of until it's gone.
This pothole would never be filled with cement. It was beyond repair, just like Alexander.
They bury James next to the dirt road, under an oak tree. Alex wasn't sure if it was wise for them to stick around the area long enough to finish the task, but he wasn't going to deny Jefferson this. They stay there until Jefferson silently decides that it's time to move on. He stands up from where he was kneeling by James' grave, and he walked past Alex without batting an eye.
"Thomas?" Alex asked, jogging to catch up with him. Thomas was carrying everything, save for Alex's backpack; he had both his bag and James' and the rifle. Alex wanted to comment on it, but he wasn't sure this was the right time to do so. Thomas didn't look at him, didn't stop to wait for him, didn't do anything except to keep marching forward on the dirt road that his best friend had died on.
He needed time, Alex knew this. But he wasn't sure how much time either of them had, and he didn't want what they had left to be filled with dispayer. Even still, he couldn't push the other man. He'd let him cope, however he needs to.
They walked in silence; looked for zombies in silence; watched the leaves fall in silence.
They had been traveling for a few hours, and now Alex found them on top of a hill. The forest had opened up a little bit to show a small farming town, something lost to time. It was strange; Alex never expected this kind of stuff to be scattered around New York - he had no doubt they were still in New York, the state seemed to last forever.
The sun was starting it's decent downwards; and soon the sky would be painted red with the blood of the angels that had lost the battle today. Alex glanced back at the forest they had just walked out of, it seemed dark and looming now that they weren't under it's grasp. He sighed, looking back to Thomas. He had a job to do; a mission.
Suddenly, Alex held out his hand, stopping Thomas in his tracks. "Thomas." He said, his gaze flicking up to stare at the other man. Thomas took the expression in stride, barely blinking at him. "We need to talk."
Thomas lets out a soft sigh out of his nose, but turns to fully face him. He raised an expectant eyebrow; a signal for Alex to continue.
Alex took a deep breath, preparing himself. He had been thinking about this for the past few hours, and it needed to be done, even though he really really really didn't want to have this discussion. He figured he'd start with the simple stuff.
"Okay, well." Alex muttered, his voice gaining in volume a bit as he carried on, "First thing's first: I'm sorry. I know what you're going through. I've lost so many people I love…" Alex nervously trailed off at Thomas' unimpressed expression. Yes, obviously, It said, Everyone we know is dead. Alex fumbled forward, his skill of being a wordsmith failing him, "So, just keep that in mind. I'm here for you and stuff."
Thomas rolled his eyes, sighing in annoyance.
Alex carried on, not deterred in the slightest, "I miss him, too. He was a good friend of mine, and… and I honestly, genuinely, miss him."
He's not even mad that the man outed him anymore. That seemed like a stupid thing, now that the man was buried. Alex's heart ached, but he was sure that Thomas' was broken in half.
"Number two," Alex said, rubbing the back of his neck, "You don't have to talk. I, uh, noticed that you haven't said anything in hours, and that's okay. I get that way, too, sometimes. So did my daughter, Angie. You don't have to speak ever again, if you don't want to. I get it. I'll even teach you sign, like I did with James."
Thomas quickly glanced at him and then looked away, the only sign that he was paying attention. Alex couldn't tell if he was interested in the offer of learning sign language, or if he was just upset at hearing James' name spoken so casually.
All of this brings Alex to his last topic, the one he was trying to avoid, "Number three…"
Alex felt his anxieties rise, his chest tightening and his mouth going dry. He hated this, he hated it. He didn't want to talk about, didn't want to think about it. But Thomas was looking at him expectantly and there was no backing out now. It had to be done.
"I want your knife." Alex stated as calm as he could manage. Thomas' eyebrows shot up in surprise, he reached down and felt the knife in his pocket, his eyes never leaving Alex's face. Alex took a deep breath and forced himself not to back down, "I'm not going to steal it from you or force you to give it to me, but … I would like it - I would feel better if it was no longer in your possession."
Thomas stared at him, his eyes squinting a little, but Alex wasn't sure if it was in thought or anger. He tried to keep his voice as non-threatening as possible as he spoke, "After what you did with James… putting your wrist in a zombie's mouth … you're lucky that James wasn't fully changed yet. Thomas, you would be dead right now if James hadn't tried to push you away."
Alex flinched, hearing Thomas' panicked, frustrated shouting echo through his mind, 'Bite me! Bite me you son of a bitch!'
He looked away and licked his lips, "That's not good. I'll let you keep the gun, because it'd be kinda hard to shoot yourself with a rifle, but… just know I'll be watching you. And, and I don't want you to think I don't trust you, because I do. This is me, trusting you, to be honest with me and make the right choice. If you think you can handle having the knife on you, then, you can keep it. But if you have even the slightest doubt … I would like it if you gave me the knife."
When Alex looked back, Thomas wasn't looking at him anymore. The man was staring down at his feet, the knife in his hands. He fiddled with the handle, his eyes glazed over a bit. Alex held his breath, terrified of what Thomas will do. If he keeps the knife, that means that there's nothing to fear, the man is in no danger of harming himself (or he's lying, but Alex doesn't want to think about that). If he gives the knife to Alex, then that means that he's already thought of or done the act of harming himself; which is something Alex never wants to think about again.
"Thomas, please, I've seen what those disgusting scars look like first hand." Alex's fingers brushed against his chest, he swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, "I don't want you to end up like … like that."
Like me.
"But if I'm being stupid, if this isn't going to be a problem," Alex said, "then keep the knife."
Thomas closed his eyes; his lips trembling slightly and his shoulders shaking, as he handed the knife over to Alexander. Alex felt a pit fall deep from his chest. It was an admission; a confession. Alex's fingers stiffly wrapped around the knife, unable to tear his gaze away from Thomas' face. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. That's why he asked for it. He needed to know, now he does. He shoved the knife deep into his pocket, where no one will touch it.
"Thank you." It was whispered, and he wasn't even sure if Thomas heard it. The man stepped around him and continued walking, keeping his head low. Alex watched him as he got further and further away with each step.
The knife was a heavy weight in his pocket, and Alex knew he would have to fight to keep his fingers off of it. How counteractive would that be; taking a weapon away from one suicidal idiot and letting it fall straight into the hands of another?
He wished James was here. There always has to be someone to hold the knife.
The little farm town was maybe not so much of a town, as it was three buildings that were in the same vicinity of each other. There was a house, a barn, and a church. A wooden fence wrapped around the field surrounding the barn. Three dirt roads met in the center of the town and then led off into the distance. It was kinda cute, Alex thought.
They strolled through the buildings easily; taking time to look at the old wood and chipped paint. The wind was lazy, causing the long grass to sway in time. Alex led the way into the little white church. The doors were propped open, and Alex easily slipped between them.
There were eight pews in total; two rows of four, with an aisle in between them. The interior was a beautiful old feel to it, with dark wooden beams. Alex couldn't tell what the stain glass windows were supposed to be. They might've been angels, at some point, but the colors had faded and some of the glass panes were missing. A bird chirped from one of the ceiling poles, a nest settled just barely out of sight. A dead body sat slumped over in the last pew, it was so peaceful looking, Alex could've almost tricked himself into thinking the person was just asleep. At the front of the church, hanging on the wall, was a huge painting of Jesus on the cross. Someone had slashed at the painting, tearing the canvas, where Jesus' feet were supposed to be.
Alex slowly walked forward, feeling the sunlight flutter across his face from through the window panes. He knelt down on his knees, staring up at the giant Jesus above him. He was silent for a moment, a calm washing over him.
There was a shuffling behind him, and Alex looked over his shoulder to see Thomas, staring down at him.
"Can I pray for you?" Alex asked quietly. The question spilled out of him without any thought; like he was possessed to say it. He never really thought he'd be the type to do such a thing. Yes, he was Christian, and he and Eliza would go to church with the kids; but he was also the kind of person who would avoid eye contact with the people handing out free pocket bibles on college campuses. Times are changing, he supposed.
Thomas glanced away, but shrugged. He sat down next to Alex on the floor and watched as the immigrant folded his hands and prayed.
"Dear Lord, we don't know why You've done this; but we know that Your plan is bigger than us. I pray that You help us along our journey; that You give us the strength to carry on, even when You test us so. I ask for You to give Thomas the ability to move forward, and the peace of mind knowing that James is watching over us; ensuring our safety. That Martha and Minnie Martha are finally safe and free in Your kingdom; that they hold no ill will for what he had done. Lord, I pray that You ease our minds in any way You can. Send us a sign that we're doing the right thing, please, Lord… In Jesus' name we pray, amen."
Alex looked up to see Thomas watching him with a strange expression. They were quiet for a moment, Alex not wanting to break the silence. The air was strange around them, not necessarily thick, but there was a noticeable difference in the atmosphere. Thomas held out his hand, and Alex looked down at it.
He gasped a little, "Where did you…?"
Sitting in Thomas' hand was a beautiful rosary, with dark wooden beads and a little cross. Alex lifted it out of Thomas' hand gently, his fingers brushing against the old wood. It was used and worn; clearly someone devout had used this for years. Alex held it close to his chest and looked up at Thomas, repeating his question, "Where did you get this?"
Thomas nodded over to the dead body in the back pew. Alex frowned a little, but decided that the little necklace had done its job for that person; and now it was Alex's turn.
"Well, this is a rosary, and they're Catholic." Alex said slowly, looking back to Thomas, "And I'm Christian. But, I still appreciate it. Thank you."
When Alex carefully put on the necklace, Thomas' lips quirked up in what could've been a smile. Alex was going to take it. Baby steps, this kind of thing takes time; that's all they have left, it seems.
They stood up and walked out of the church, Alex turned back to give the sanctuary one last glance. His eyes lingered on the painting of Jesus on the cross that hung in the front. He can only hope that his Lord is watching over him now. Otherwise, what chance did he have?
"Oh, aren't you just the most beautiful thing ever?" Thomas said.
Alex's heart skipped a beat and he wasn't sure if it was just because Thomas was speaking again or if it was because of what was said. He scratched at his cheek, a little embarrassed. He turned around, saying, "Well, thank-"
Thomas wasn't talking to him. The man was kneeled on the ground, petting a very excited yellow lab. It had a bright red collar, and one of it's toes was brown instead of blonde. Alex's cheeks darkened as he realized that the complement was not for him at all. He desperately hoped that Thomas hadn't heard him.
"You're so pretty," the southerner cooed, his hands never leaving the dog's fluffy fur. "Oh, a good, girl, very good girl."
Alex paused and took one last look at the Jesus painting. He had asked God for something to help Thomas through this. Was this dog a guide? Something given to them to help provide strength?
Thomas was fiddling with the red collar, looking for a name tag, "What's your name, girl? Huh? What're y'all called?"
The collar had no identification marks, so they had no way of knowing what the dog's original name was. It didn't seem to matter to the dog any, her butt would not stop wagging. She barked and tried to lick Thomas, who laughed and gently pushed her away.
"I'm gonna call you Chien! Do you like that, huh?" Thomas asked, holding his hand out to Chien, who licked at his fingers.
Alex snorted, "Really? You wanna name her 'Dog'?"
"Yup." Thomas popped the 'p' at the end of the word, his eyes never leaving the animal. "Her name is Chien and I love her."
Alex couldn't stop smiling at the pure joy Thomas got from seeing the dog. He wasn't sure which one was happier, Chien or Thomas. Briefly, Alex wondered how long Chien had been wandering around this little farm, waiting for her owners to come back. The thought made his heart sink. He made a decision right then, they were definitely keeping the dog.
Chien excitedly lead them to the farm house. She showed no fear in entering through the open door, which led them to believe that there was no threat of zombies inside. Still, Alex stayed behind Thomas, who held the rifle at the ready. The house was empty; except for Chien, who hopped up on the couch and laid down.
They did their usual routine of searching for food and water through dead strangers' kitchens. They found just enough to have a decent meal, or, decent in their standards. Thomas filled up a small bowl with the rest of their lake/toilet water and put it on the ground for Chien. While they were searching for food, Alex found a bag of dog food in the pantry, which they put into a bowl as well.
Chien ate like she was starving, which she probably was. Thomas happily patted her head while she gobbled down the dog food and water.
While wandering around the house, Alex found the bathroom. He took a moment to step inside and check to see if they had any water. He flicked the faucet, but nothing came out. He huffed, but he wasn't surprised. He was hoping that this little farm house would have it's own generator, but it appeared not. He paused, catching his reflection in the mirror. It was strange, lately, seeing himself. It felt like every time he saw his own face, something had drastically changed; not in structure, but in miniscule details. He looked older than he really was; tired and dirty.
His eyes had sunken in slightly, and his jaw and cheekbones seemed a little sharper. He frowned as he realized it - he had lost weight. Like, a lot of weight. Shakily, he raised his shirt just high enough to see his stomach in the mirror. What had used to be a little soft and pudgy was now missing. He could count his rips, seeing the outline of each of them. His hipbones were pronounced, jutting out in comparison. He didn't even want to know how small his breasts were now. Yes, he wanted them gone, but not through starvation. All he knew was that his binder was almost comfortable, instead of compressing. These were the kinds of things that only he would notice.
At the beginning of all of this, he had a loved body; one that was fed well with the food from his wife. That was gone now; he was walking with a new body; one that had never known Eliza's touch. It was jarring. Alex felt dizzy for a moment. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself to not think too deeply about these things.
Alex dropped his shirt back down and left, joining Thomas back outside in the main room.
Before too long, they found the bedroom and got ready for the night. The bed looked clean enough, and they didn't really have any more options. For a second, Alex thought about the night in the cabin, when they cuddled up with each other while they slept. He found himself hoping that this would be like that night.
It wasn't. Thomas stayed on his side of the bed, curled up on himself and didn't speak to him for the rest of the night. Alex's heart sank; he wished he knew what the other man was thinking. Did he upset him?
Alex stayed on his side of the bed. Before he fell asleep, he could feel Chien jump up on the bed with them. She found a very comfortable spot between her two new friends and promptly fell asleep with her nose by Thomas' hair and her tail on Alex's leg. Despite everything, Alex smiled and gently pet the animal until he drifted off as well.
Tell me what you think!