Day Twenty-Eight
James was stumbling with fatigue and barely able to stay on his feet by the time I finished my last scrutiny of the house's contents. I asked David to walk him and my bag home while Scott and I tossed the shades over the fence and dismantled the scaffolding. Scott told David to stay home and to get some sleep as well.
As we worked Scott asked me if I was sure there wasn't anything else out of the house that I wanted because daylight wasn't that far away. I thought of the little secretary in the hallway and the feminine boudoir table upstairs and then realized I could waste my time picking through stuff for hours; but, the reality was I was going to have enough trouble finding places for what we did take and anymore items would just be superfluous and because we could.
The only real regret I had was not being able to take the lexan panels off of the first shed. I would have liked to have tried to build my own greenhouse. Scott suggested they would be more useful attached to the lanai as another layer of protection. Either way there wasn't enough time to devise a way to take them without waking the neighbors.
Scott did help me bring home a couple of exotic hanging plants, the African Violets and succulents that Mable had favored that had been sitting on tables in the patio, and we used Scott's dollie to relocate several large concrete planters.
No sooner had we put the dollie behind the fence in preparation to walking to and back from the house one last time to make sure we hadn't dropped anything than the same four soldiers from yesterday – probably in the same jeep – pulled up beside us.
Scott really like these guys. Well, a couple of them were little more than kids but they were old enough to wear the uniform. They had certainly impressed me yesterday. "Hey, good to see you again! You all here as support for the Clean Team? I thought the Phase Three or whatever its called wasn't supposed to start until 7 AM. It isn't quite five yet."
"Change in plans. We got the word while on patrol and swung by to let you know so you wouldn't be caught by surprise."
"Thanks for that but why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like this?"
"Actually its not too bad. At least it gets you off the work detail. Just we've had a couple of cases where residents of the neighborhood get in the mood to protest."
"What could be so bad … ok, you might as well just tell us so we don't have to guess."
"That house got marked for demolition."
"What?!"
"Last week the NRSC issued some new guidelines and one of those guidelines is that there are only so many zombies allowed per square foot."
Scott and I were stupid with fatigue. We looked at each other sure that there was no way we heard him correctly.
I said, "You're yanking our chain. There is no way there is a rule for something that stupid."
The big guy that had kicked in the door, also the Sgt. of the group, said, "Ma'am, this new administration has more rules than you can shake a stick at. A lot of them contradict one another. The only way around it is to contact a NRSC Manager and half the time you still get reamed out for doing something against regs."
As the sky lightened and the sun rose, NRSC Inspector Lawrence and all the requisite construction equipment, arrived and officially relieved us of duty. We trudged back home and to the mess that waited for us there.
We walked through the gate and closed and locked it behind us. I was so tired all I wanted to do was crawl in bed but the kids would be awake soon and would want breakfast. No sooner had I gotten inside and put my hand on the Coleman stove than there was a terrific bang and crash of metal on metal from out front. I wasn't sure what was going on, the sound seemed too close to be part of the demolition process. Scott flew out the utility room and then through to the carport to see what was going on. When I tried to follow Scott – suddenly still and peaking through the carport gate – he yelled at me to get inside and hurry and wake David and James.
I didn't have to wake either one. The noise had been that loud. Rose and Bekah were also stumbling, bleary-eyed, out of the bedroom. Everyone had slept in their clothes as they had been too tired to change. They looked pretty rough and my mothering instincts wanted to kick in, there simply wasn't time.
I once again tried to follow everyone out to join Scott but the girls and I were summarily ordered back inside the house. The only thing I got a glimpse of was a little rusty white Toyota pick up that tried to tangle with the military jeep. I doubted it was the jeep's fault however because it was still parked in the exact same place it was a little over an hour ago.
Five minutes later, long enough for me to get good and hacked off, James finally rushed in and asked, "Who's Celia?!"
The question was so unexpected that I forgot to be angry. It appeared a young man from our neighborhood named Bobby Porchelli aimed his truck at the guys from Keel Outpost and in the process ran down several of the NRSC contractors before crashing into the jeep. He was screaming and carrying on that they had "killed Celia."
"Uh oh," Rose said, her face white. "I think I know who that is. Celia was Mrs. Mabel's granddaughter. Daniel was the oldest, Celia was next, and then Josiah. Their little sister was named Bunny."
For a second my world tilted and all I could think was that I had shot and killed a little girl named Bunny! I could have done without adding a name to the visual.
Rose continued talking while I tried to regain focus. "Celia and her brothers hung around with Bobby and his friends but then sorta took over the whole gang. Bobby and Celia were going together until Bobby's dad found out ... um, stuff … about Celia." When she hesitated over the word "stuff" she had cut her eyes to Bekah who was standing there wide-eyed and soaking up every detail.
I cleared my throat drawing Bekah's attention and jerked my head towards the bedroom. As only an eight year old is capable of expressing she said, "Awww, why do I always have to leave right when you guys get to the good parts?!"
"You better carry yourself outta here and do what you're told or you're gonna have a good part too sore to sit on. And watch that sassy mouth young lady."
I could just imagine what the "stuff" was Rose was referring to. The girl had been quite pretty in a wild sort of way, but she acted and dressed like a cheap crack whore. The poor thing was dead now however and I thought it best to let the gossip die with her.
James took off with his answer when suddenly I heard staccato popping sounds and then a twang that echoed from the carport and into the house. This was followed by a series of imaginative expletives from Scott and David both.
"What on earth?!" I wondered.
I tried to go see what was going on but was nearly run over by David as he ran through and grabbed the rifles from above the refrigerator. "Scott says to bring out some more ammo as quick as possible. All hell is breaking loose out there. Buncha kids seemed to have started it but now adults are starting to get involved."
As soon as David ran out, James ran in again. Was I ever going to get to see what was happening?! "Dad says he needs some of those towels and something to tie them with. One of the soldiers is really messed up and they are trying to get him into the carport!"
I sent Rose for the ammo can while I ripped open a couple of the garbage bags looking for the clean towels. I had just laid my hands on a roll of duct tape for the "something to tie them with" when Scott screamed "Sissy!" nearly giving me a heart attack.
I turned to see Scott and James dragging both a soldier and David into the kitchen, the only room with decent light because of the skylight. I nearly stopped breathing. David was green around the gills and barely hanging onto the cabinets for support, the back of his shirt torn bloody. He gave me a sickly grin and thumbs-up before slowly pitching forward. Scott and David, who had just laid the soldier down in the middle of the floor, quickly turned and caught him. I heard him mumble, " 'S OK. Gemme a sec to catch my breath."
Scott told me, "It's a pretty deep graze across his back and it hurts like hell I'm sure. Just let him lay still. We're trying to cover the medic so he can make it in. Just see what you can do for this boy here."
I turned from David to look at the young soldier at my feet. It drives me nuts sometimes not being able to remember names, but I rarely forget a face. This young man was from Keel Outpost. He had been here yesterday. But the first time I had met him was right after Scott had gotten jumped by Carlo. This is the same kid who looked not much older than James. I remember thinking somebody raised him right because of how polite and gentlemanly he was; always saying "yes ma'am" and "no ma'am" and offering his help.
He had been so brave when entering a zombie-filled house and I think he might have been trying to be brave outside. But moving him inside must have just been too much. He wasn't quite yelling but he was grunting and moaning loudly in pain. Even with James and Scott trying to hold him he was tossing and turning like from a bad nightmare.
His mouth was pretty busted up but I could make out him crying, "It bit me, it bit me!"
I gasped and looked at Scott with wide eyes. "We've got people down outside and some of them are turning. This kid was in the jeep when it was rammed. There were too many guns going off out there and we couldn't get to him right way. One must have crawled up behind him. I haven't found any bite marks or I wouldn't have brought him in here but he keeps saying that over and over."
It took both Rose and I talking to him to calm him down enough to find out he had been bitten on his ankle. The foot inside the boot was too swollen to get the bootlaces untied so James, who had stayed with us while Scott returned to the now heavily involved riot, used his pocket knife to cut the laces so I could remove the boot.
The ankle was badly bruised and was already coloring up. It may even have been fractured. But no matter from what angle I looked I couldn't find any broken skin. The kid wouldn't believe me until we gently sat him up so he could see for himself. He started crying with relief at that point. As I cleaned him up so I could see what else was going on he slowly quieted down. His mouth wasn't the only thing that was banged up. The primary source of all the blood seemed to be a good sized scalp laceration on the side of his head and that is what I used most of the towels on. I rethought the duct tape and instead pulled the yellow plastic pull strings out of one of the garbage bags that I had ripped up to hold a thick towel in place. I had Rose apply gentle but firm pressure to the wound. The rest of the individual wounds I could see were minor, but combined they took their toll. I had no idea if there were internal injuries I couldn't see. The kid's skin was cold and clammy and a little grey-tinged. I elevated his feet and put a blanket over him. Rose kept talking to him in almost the same voice she had used with Johnnie that time he had taken a header off of the fence and knocked the wind out of himself. It had scared him badly and right now I think this boy reminded us more of Johnnie than of James.
I then turned to David who was breathing funny. It was shallow and quick like it hurt to take a deep breath. He lay face down on one of my kitchen rugs, arms pulled in tight with his clinched fists on either side of his face. I gently called his name but he only shivered, more from reaction than from cold I thought.
"I'm OK it just stings bad," he forced out through gritted teeth.
"OK honey, I'm gonna lift your shirt back here. I need to see what is going on," I told him gently.
"No! I'm fine."
"David. You are more than twice my size and I know I don't have the right to boss you around. But, I am going to lift this shirt and you are going to let me. I will be as gentle as I can but this needs to be cleaned and bandaged," I told firmly.
"Please don't," he whispered. And then he looked at me and I realized something else was going on.
"Rose, do me a favor and check on Johnnie." After Rose left I asked, "David what is it? If it's modesty don't worry about it, I'm a mom and I'll just treat you like I would James. But if its something else, you are going to have to tell me. Do you think one of those things bit you?"
"Noooo. Its not that. You've never seen …. " he hesitated.
"Oh." Now I understood. "David, I saw your back when Scott was putting the antiseptic on your cuts when you first moved in."
"No, you didn't. You couldn't have," he denied, shocked.
"Yes son I did, I was bringing some gauze to Scott and you must not have noticed me. I promise, they didn't make me faint. And they are nothing to be ashamed of. Scott told me about your mom. It wasn't your fault. But unless or until you want to talk about it we don't consider it anyone's business to ask about. The scars aren't pretty and I won't pretend they are. But they'll only ever be as deep as you let them. Now stop worrying about it and let me lift your shirt."
After a brief hesitation he relaxed very slightly; I took that as permission. As the shirt came up all of the welts across the small of his back and the small around burn scars came into view. I ignored them in favor of the furrow running across his kidney area on his left side.
"What happened?" I asked as I gently began to clean it the best I could.
"The gunfire had died down enough that Scott and I thought we could get to him," he said indicating the young soldier beside him. "We knew we couldn't leave him out any longer because one of those things had already tried to get him. Everything was fine until we tried to come back. James was covering us and yelled something. We just kept running, dragging him between us. Suddenly it felt like I got hit by lightening. I fell down and nearly took Scott down too but then that big guy, Sarge, showed up grabbed me by one arm and Cease by the other and all four of us tumbled into the carport. I guess Sarge is out there with Scott and James. They were trying to figure out how to cover the medic guy so he could get to a better location. I should be out there too. I gotta …"
"Young man, you are not going anywhere yet so don't even try that again," I exclaimed, just able to keep him from getting to his knees.
Suddenly Rose, who'd returned without us noticing, spoke up softly. "David, please don't. Do what Momma says. Daddy will call you when he needs you and you need to rest so you can help."
Oh my. Obviously David had not been quite as oblivious to Rose as I had originally thought. He was really giving her the puppy dog eyes despite being embarrassed at having his back and scars exposed for her to see. Quarantines, economic uncertainties, jackass bureaucrats, rioting, injured and bleeding soldiers, zombies, and now possibly young love. Could things possibly get any more complicated in my life right now?!
I left Rose sitting with both young men. Now that David had prompted me, I finally remembered the kid's name was Cecil Davenport but everyone except the grandparents who raised him called him Cease. I then turned to Sarah, Bekah, and Johnnie who had gradually come out of hiding. I knew we were going to wind up with people in the house; not just people but soldiers, and maybe NRSC Reps as well. I looked at all of the boxes and bags and everything else laying all over the place and had a terrible feeling.
"Girls, this is one of the most important chores I've ever given you to do and it has to be done quickly and correctly. I don't have the time to stand over you and you are going to have to figure some things out for yourselves. I need you to start putting all of those bags in one of the bedrooms down the hall, not where David sleeps though. Sarah, you are in charge but no pushing Bekah and Johnnie around, there isn't time for that nonsense. If you all get all of the stuff into the room I want you to open one container at a time – a bag, a suitcase, a laundry basket, whatever – and I want you to start putting things away where you think they might belong. It doesn't have to be perfect but I don't want things thrown together all willy-nilly either. It has to look like it's always been in those places. OK?"
Sarah looked scared stiff to be in charge of something like this and asked, "But Momma, what if we don't know where it should go? What if we put stuff in the wrong place? Why do we have to do this?"
"Sarah, I'm sorry, I just don't have time to be nicer, have more patience, or make it easier. Just do the best you can, all right?! I'll explain it later but basically we took this stuff from Mrs. Mabel's house because we were supposed to be allowed to. Now I'm worried that people might look at our house and think they should be allowed to take stuff away from us. Now get to work. And hurry!"
I didn't have time to feel sorry for myself but I'd probably feel like a horrible mother when things slowed down. Putting an eleven year old in charge of something so important and then not giving her any more than a pittance of guidance was just wrong, wrong, wrong.
I looked for James but apparently he had picked the ammo can off the floor that I had meant to take out myself and headed back to his father. Things were eerily quiet when I stepped into the carport. Scott, James, and Sgt. Something-or-Other were looking out the gate that faced the street.
Scott turned when I came out and beckoned me closer but put his fingers to his lips. He wouldn't let me get too close, I had to look at the outside world from behind the shelter of his arm. I could barely see through the arrow slits that Scott had built into the carport gate because I was so short. Of course the first things to draw my attention were the bodies. There were about a dozen, most with head shots. The ones without head shots either were not dead yet or were somehow immune to NRS. They looked plenty dead to me however so I went with immune or too brain damaged to reanimate. The most disturbing was the woman that had been run over. The bottom half of her was crushed and pinned by some debris, but the top part of her had reanimated. What a living nightmare.
I nearly cried out when I spotted our work van. The windshield had had a couple of rocks or bricks thrown through it and there were a few bullet holes in its side. One tire was flat. And it looked like there was a very injured person under there or it was a zombie. I was terribly unhappy about that being so close to the house.
A deep base voice rumbled near my ear, "That's Henderson. He drives the dozer … drove the dozer … for the demolition team. I'd try to put him down but the angle sucks. This whole assignment has been one great big suckfest from the beginning."
I glanced up to Scott and was about to ask a question when he whispered, "Keep your voice way down. When it's between rounds like this, any small sound seems to draw the zombies' attention."
"Just like in the movies," I shivered.
"Yeah. How are Scott and Cease?" I explained their injuries and what I'd tried to do and then asked where the Medic was. "He's in my van."
"In your …?! You mean he's stuck in there? Or something worse?"
Sarge explained, "He was behind that tree over there. He took a couple of nicks but nothing serious but he was getting stuck in a crossfire as the situation around here escalated. We gave him cover but no one was giving him a break, they were using the damn red cross on his pack like a target. Your husband threw him the keys to the van and so far so good. We didn't know Henderson had turned until it was too late. Scare the piss out of … um, 'scuse me … scared Waleski pretty bad, but no bites."
"But the windshield …"
"He's in the cage area in the back and he has a radio," Scott soothed.
"Yes, ma'am and as soon as they can spare 'em HQ is sending back up from Carrollwood or Odessa, which ever patrol area cools off first. Right now we've got a stand off."
"Where's your fourth man?"
"With most of the NRSC people in the zombie house." I winced hearing it called that. "He's pretty well useless as back up. That pric … uh, jerk … Lawrence is giving him a lot of shi … uh, crap."
Deciding to cut the poor guy some slack I told him, "You know Sgt., I appreciate your thoughtfulness but my ears won't melt. Scott's been known to cause sailors to blush on occasion. Don't waste your focus trying to rethink every word that comes out of your mouth. What was you name again?"
After a quiet chuckle, "Matlock, ma'am. Murphy Matlock. But the boys usually just call me Sgt. Matt."
"Well Sgt. Matt, if you don't mind I'd like to ask you a question. Is there any reason, beside the obvious, that Cease would have been so frightened of being bitten? I know he's just a kid but his reaction still seemed over the top and out of character."
With a deep sigh the man replied, "When soldiers get bit or reanimated the NRSC takes custody of them."
"Excuse me? Custody? I take it that's not a good thing."
"No ma'am, it isn't. No one knows for sure what happens to 'em but there's all sorts of rumors. The only real fact is if the NRSC gets 'em, they're never seen again and their records disappear from the system."
"Well, no one's touching that boy. As far as I'm concerned his injuries were totally a result of the accident. The rest was just a reaction to the head injury. And that's all I'll commit to if asked, understand?"
"Yes ma'am. Loud and clear," said the big man in appreciation.
There was some sporadic popping – gunfire – but it sounded like it was coming from a few streets over. Apparently the violence was now city-wide and devolving into chaos. I was taking in the shape of the rest of the neighborhood when, unable to reconcile what I was seeing, I asked, "Scott, there's no breeze is there?"
"Nope and its already hot as Hades."
"Then what's making the bamboo over in the right of way move like that?"
"Where? Oh crap! Matt …"
"I see it." St. Matt keyed his radio and said, "Patrol L to HQ. Patrol L to HQ."
"This is HQ. Go ahead Patrol L."
"HQ this is Patrol L. Situation expanding. At least three NRS targets escaping containment. Repeat, three targets escaping containment. Heading southwest through lowland terrain."
"Patrol L this is HQ. Expanding situation noted. HQ out."
After a brief silence I said, "OK, tell me that means they're expediting some help this direction or sending someone to intercept those things."
"No. It means they are backlogged and don't have anyone available to respond. There is sporadic violence occurring all over the county. They'll probably notify the local LEOs who are even more short-staffed than we are. Beyond that there are a couple of community groups that have organized neighborhood response teams, but they aren't professionals."
I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. After another few moments Scott asked, "Babe, can you bring us some water and something to eat?"
"Sure. James …"
"I want to stay with Dad."
"But." I looked to Scott who was no help. He felt I babied James too much most of the time. I sighed and said, "All right, just …"
"I know Mom. Dad's here, I'll be fine. Go do your thing."
My little boy. I'd thought to have more time before he grew up. If I suspected life to be unfair before, I know it to be unfair now. This was not the world I had envisioned my children growing to adulthood in.
After taking some snacks (and earplugs) out to the carport, I spent the rest of the morning and part of the early afternoon taking care of Cease and David and trying not to worry any more than I could. I managed to throw together a quick lunch of Skillet Chicken and Stuffing using some canned chicken and a couple of boxes of Stove-Top Stuffing out of the stuff we brought from Mabel's. Time seemed to stretch. Whenever someone would try and break the stand off it would set off a new round of gunfire and rock throwing that would slowly die back to another stalemate. My nerves were frayed and it took everything I had not to snap. I was all over the house trying to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied.
I only vaguely registered that Scott and Sgt. Matt were firing their guns again, the deep echo from the carport barely penetrating the two insulated metal doors that I had finally closed between the carport and the main house. I was dipping more water to refill my drip filter container when James suddenly brought another soldier into the house. Waleski the Medic had finally made it in and I was very relieved to turn my patients over to him. Maybe he could talk some sense into David who had finally reached the limit of his forebearance and was planning an exit to the carport no matter how much pain he was in.
After his examination of the men I was relieved to find out I hadn't done them any harm. After some serious thought I turned over a full quarter of my total supply of fish antibiotics to Waleski. He looked at what I had given him and then dosed both Cease and David and put the rest of the supply in his pack. All the while he lectured me on the dangers of using drugs without a prescription.
I was tempted to snap, "You're welcome. So glad you appreciate the supplies," but didn't as I knew he was just doing his job. I told him I was well aware of the risks and that I had ordered the meds solely for a truly worst case scenario and not for casual dosing. He unbent a little after that. He unbent all the way after I told David to stop fussing and mind the medic or I'd download the music of Doctor Demento, Tiny Tim, and a choir of yodeling cowboys onto his iPod and make him listen to it.
About two o'clock everyone started catnapping. James, Scott, Waleski, and Sgt. Matt dozed in shifts in the carport despite the heat. Young Cease was in and out most of the time already. David finally fell completely asleep and was out for several hours after the pain meds Waleski gave him took affect. Rose was only half awake as she sat watching in case the medic was needed again. Sarah, Bekah, and Johnnie actually had managed to move everything into the bedroom at the end of the hall and had even emptied most of the garbage bags. I sent the three of them to lay down in my bedroom where I turned on my battery powered soundscape machine on "sea shore" setting to drown out the occasional burst of violence from outside. It wasn't long before all three were deeply asleep.
I was so tired things were grey around the edges, I just couldn't bring myself to rest. Too much to do. Too many strangers in the house in a situation too volatile. As a result I did something I hadn't done since college and was sure to regret. I popped a couple of extra strength No Doze and downed them with one of Scott's high octane energy drinks that I had dug out of its hiding spot. I hid the now empty can under our bathroom sink, as much to keep Scott from knowing what I'd done as anything else.
Sure enough a few minutes later I was wide awake and trying to keep my skin from crawling off my body. It was a terrible sensation but a dimly remembered one from when I took my youth and vitality for granted in favor of week long study-a-thons; from when grades and tuition money were more important than my health and sanity.
The rest of the afternoon sped by as I tried to hide our bounty while avoiding the soldiers' notice as best I could. I didn't think they would cause us any problems but you just never knew. Thank goodness the guys had finished building and concealing the storage areas on both sides of the pantry. The only food unhidden at this point were a few opened containers in the kitchen and the food from Mabel's. Even if that food was confiscated we would not have lost anything but the time it took to pack it to the house. I didn't even bother putting it away but lined it up neatly on the floor of the dining room.
The girls had done a good job and put away all of the fabrics, textiles, craft supplies, and clothes. I put the utensils and iron cookware away in the kitchen with the few other odds and ends like the pickle crock while trying to gingerly step around the wounded. Books went onto the bookcases. I took family pictures down and hung up the sconces and oil lamps. And on and on.
Scott came in a couple of times for drinks and to wash his face. He noticed what I was doing and nodded his approval, stopping short of saying something out loud that the soldiers might overhear.
My "pep up" remedy began to wear off while I was trying to think what to make for dinner. My right hand was shaking and I was getting nauseous. I guess I thought I'd started to hallucinate when I first noticed the clock on the microwave was blinking. I thought no, it couldn't be.
I stumbled my way out to Scott and shared the news that the power was back on.
"That would explain the cheering we keep hearing," Scott replied.
"Hopefully that'll help settle folks down some. Getting people off the street will make a mop up operation easier," Sgt. Matt added.
Waleski who tended to be a pessimist by nature added, "Unfortunately that's probably going to mean a county-wide house-by-house search for injured and bitten people. We've had a few more of the infected escape our range. People will go inside their air conditioned homes to tend to their wounded."
Just as I was beginning to relax Sgt. Matt ground out, "Aw hell, why won't those damn kids give it up already?!"
James, already pale from exhaustion, lost what little color was left in his face. "Dad, I … there's something … Dad, I think they're … Bobby's clothes are all bloody. Cindy Knapper … she's missing her … Ronnie G … Dad?"
Scott pushed James and I behind him and looked out the arrow slit. Sgt. Matt and Waleski were at the other one. Scott turned and began, "Sissy go back …"
This time I refused to be sent in the house like a wayward child. I stepped under Scott's arm and took my turn at the opening. Only once I saw, I wish I hadn't.
I knew, or at least recognized, most of the kids out there. Bobby Porchelli, the teenage stud of the neighborhood who had a different girlfriend every Friday night, at least until he fell in love with a girl named Celia. Cindy Mae Knapper who was always trying to fit in with the cool kids no matter the cost. Ronnie Grossman, slightly older than the rest, who was the "go to guy" for drugs and liquor. Marie Castellano who already had two children though she wasn't yet sixteen. The other seven or eight kids I sorta recognized even in the condition they were in, but I couldn't remember their names to save me. No wait, that kids' name was Danny Snowden. He gave James his first black eye in Cub Scouts. I knew that kid was going to have a bad end but not this bad. Huge chunks of skin and muscle were missing from both his arms.
I was finally able to look away from the shambling wrecks the teenagers had become when I heard James heaving in the corner.
I rushed over to him, "James …"
"I'm OK Mom," and he shook me off.
"Scott …"
"Leave him be Sissy."
"What?!" I said in shock.
"Stop it Mom. I'm not a baby!"
"I didn't say you were. You're just upset. But you have to remember these aren't your friends any more. They …"
And like most wounded tend to do, he lashed out and I just happened to be closest. "Mom! Those kids were never my friends. They were losers and worse! I coulda cared less if some of them had been run over by a train. At least last year, when they would have stayed dead! Now though, now they get to cause all this crap, die, and then come back to do it all over again! And it all started 'cause of a stupid, slutty whore. Celia wasn't worth the dog crap on the bottom of my shoe. She was such a skank no matter what everyone said. But somehow she and her jerk off brothers came to town and took over. Even some of my real friends fell for her act and the things she offered. Cliff and Rachel are out there Mom. So's Eddie. They wouldn't be out there if they hadn't …"
He finally broke down and started sobbing. I gave Scott a look that warned him he better leave me alone and not say a damn thing. I held my son while Sgt. Matt, Waleski, and Scott "sanitized" kids that my kids used to play with when they were all too little to even know what a zombie was.
We jumped with every shot, the reverberation almost more than our ears could take. Finally it was finished; the gunfire and James' tears. He pushed me away and stood up, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
"I'm fine now," he said, pushing away from me yet again. He stood straight, walked over to Scott, and looked him in the eyes and said, "It won't happen again Dad."
Scott gave his shoulder a squeeze and a pat and walked towards me. I turned and went back in the house, shutting the door in his face.
He followed me anyway. I walked as far away from him as I could get, back down the long haul, but there was no escape. I tried to brush by him to get away but he caught me by the arm and wouldn't let go no matter how I pulled.
"Sissy …"
Fine, if he wanted a fight I could give him one.
"Damn it. He's just fifteen! Fifteen!"
"I know, look …"
"Don't! Don't you dare justify and rationalize this like it is OK. Its not."
"I never said it was OK. And yes, I know he's just fifteen. I know damn well how old all of our kids are. I was there and held your hand during every one of their births. But I also want to see them live to get older."
"Then stop pushing them …"
"What happens to them if something happens to us?" Scott demanded to know.
"Leave me alone. You don't understand."
"Answer me Sissy, what happens to them if something happens to us?"
"They've got this house and we've stocked …"
"For how long? What happens if someone bigger and stronger comes along and takes it from them?"
"My parents …"
"Are three hours north of here and in poor health. Your brother and his wife? Don't think so, they can barely manage the two they have."
"They'll look after each other."
"How?!" Scott took a deep breath and lowered his voice even further. "Rose is soft Sissy. You know it and I know it. She means well and she's good with the kids and may make one hell of a pediatrician some day, but there's no time for that right now. She's too gentle and will break if I try to push her as hard as she needs to go."
"She's better than she was. Have you seen her lately?"
"Better isn't good enough these days. And let's talk about Sarah. She's just eleven and even more tender-hearted than Rose is and falls apart if you look at her wrong. Bekah and Johnnie? They can't even take care of themselves yet. That leaves James."
"What about David?"
"What about David? Yeah, I know he'd never leave them alone and defenseless, but he can't just suddenly take our place. Hell, his own childhood was a nightmare, he's had no training in how a parent is supposed to act. With James strong and at his side however he might be able to pull it off. Rose could be a good mother figure, but only if she has a strong partner and plenty of support. And yeah, I've seen Rose and David looking at each other when they think the other isn't looking. That could wind up working but I'd rather see them take that real slow. Life's too hard to make a mistake of that size as young as they are."
I didn't want to hear what Scott said. I resented that it made sense; too much sense. I'm their mother damn it. I'm supposed to protect them from stuff like this, not steal their childhood away.
I was still furious, just no longer furious at Scott. I wanted things back the way they were. I wanted our crazy normal lives back. I wanted our worst problems back to being the rising cost of insurance and taxes and renters who skipped on us. I wanted NRS to be a figment of some horror writer's imagination.
I was crying. Then suddenly I was falling. I was crying and falling and then drifting all at the same time. Colors seeped out of everything. Shapes elongated and distorted. The world started making even less sense than it had been making.
I know Scott was calling my name. I saw his mouth moving, but where the sound had gone I couldn't imagine. I couldn't even seem to form the words to ask him what was happening.
My eyes closed and wouldn't reopen. The last thing I vaguely recall was Scott picking me up from the floor.
