NINETEEN

“I don’t know what to do,” Lola said.

Tyrel rubbed a hand across his beard. “Well, it’s not something I can decide for you.”

She stood with us in the basement staring at her husband under the harsh glare of my tac-light. Perry Torrance’s milky white eyes bulged from their sockets in impotent rage, his mouth working incessantly at the tennis ball. At some point during his struggles, he had dislocated the other shoulder so that both arms now hung limply from their sockets.

“Lola,” I said, “did you catch any of the news or radio reports before the grid went down?”

She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Yes.”

“Then you heard what the government was saying about the infected?”

“You think that’s what happened to him?”

I thought, I think it’s pretty fucking obvious, lady. But my mouth said, “I believe so. There’s no other explanation.”

“We checked his vitals,” Tyrel added. “He has no pulse, no respiration other than when he breathes in to make that damned moan. I cut a vein to see if anything came out. His blood is like sludge, partially coagulated. You only see that in corpses, Lola. I think it’s safe to say he’s dead.”

Her voice rose. “Then how is he still moving around like that?”

“I don’t know,” Tyrel replied evenly. “Even the government’s best scientists can’t seem to figure that part out. But he’s dead, Lola. There’s no doubt about it. Whatever that thing is over there,” he pointed, “it’s not your husband anymore.”

She turned away from us and walked to a far corner of the basement. Minutes passed while Tyrel and I waited, shuffling awkwardly, unsure what we should do. Finally, she heaved a breath and faced us. “The news reports said to sever their brain stem or …”

“Destroy the brain,” Tyrel finished.

“Right.”

“I’m going to go inside and have a glass of wine,” Lola said. “In fact, I think I’ll have several. We have a collection, over a hundred bottles, some of them rare vintages. Perry loved wine, said it was an investment. That we’d leave them to our kids someday.”

Her voice choked on the last sentence, hand coming up to her mouth, tears spilling over her knuckles. She looked imploringly at Tyrel. “I think I’ll stay in the house until tomorrow morning,” she said.

Tyrel nodded. “He’ll be gone by then. We’ll clean up when we’re done.”

“Thank you. When I first saw the two of you I thought you were here to … you know.”

“We’re not like that, Lola. We’re not that kind of people.”

“I know that, now. Will I see you in the morning?”

“Of course.”

“Until then.”

She climbed the ladder and left without another word. Tyrel drew his knife and started walking toward Perry Torrance. As he reached down to roll him over on his stomach, a thought occurred to me.

“Wait,” I said.

“What?”

“Have the others seen one of these things yet?”

Tyrel’s eyes glimmered in the dark. “No. But they should.”

“Maybe we wait a while, let Lola get a few glasses in. Take care of things later, after she’s asleep.”

“Take the truck,” Tyrel said. “I’ll wait here.”

“On it.”

The air was cool, the afternoon sun low in the sky when I climbed out of the basement. A breeze picked up from the south, drying the sweat on my face and hands. I stood for a moment, eyes closed, mind empty until the breeze died down.

The truck was where we left it. I drove slowly through the empty streets watching brown grass, empty houses, and the leftover ashes from distant fires passing by on either side. I kept the truck pointed in the middle of the road, straddling the lanes for no better reason than I could. It was not as if I had to share the road with anyone.

Dad and Blake had already returned to Dale’s cabin. They radioed me coming in, and I told them I was on my way, but I was alone. No, Tyrel is fine. We found a couple of survivors and one infected. I’ll explain when I get there.

So I did.

They all went to the Torrance’s lake house. Sophia did not want to, but Mike deemed it necessary she see an infected for herself. I told him to make sure she stayed no less than ten feet away. For a second there, he seemed to think I was joking. Then he caught something in my expression and clamped his mouth shut on whatever he was about to say.

They were gone for the better part of two hours. I later learned they spent some time examining Perry Torrance’s reanimated corpse, tried to kill it a few different ways, and finally settled on slipping a knife into the base of its skull. Afterward, they drove the body a few blocks away, wrapped it in a tarp, and buried it deep in an abandoned back yard.

I spent that time sitting on the front porch watching the sun slide down the horizon on the western side of the continent. Clouds in the distance blazed orange, then purple-blue, then burnt scarlet, dark as blood over the corona of our nearest star. Birds took flight and bats emerged from hiding under a neon sky as I drank Dale’s bourbon and wondered what the sunset looked like in California.

*****

I was in bed by the time they came back.

From the chatter I heard downstairs, Lola Torrance was falling down drunk when they returned to her house after burying her late husband. Tyrel decided she should not be alone in that condition and stayed behind to keep an eye on her. Having dealt with the drunken shenanigans of my father and Dale Forrester enough times, I did not envy him the task.

Mike volunteered to take the first watch, Blake the second, Dad the last before dawn. Blake suggested waking me up to shorten the watches, but Dad vetoed him.

“The kid’s been through enough today,” he said. “Let him rest.”

That settled, they dispersed. I stayed still and quiet as Sophia entered the room and eased the door shut. It was night outside, but moonlight through the thin curtains gave enough illumination to see her silhouette in the dark. She sat on the bed a few minutes, saying nothing, head in her hands, legs folded beneath her. Then she stood up, took off her shirt and bra, and changed into a pair of tight mesh shorts and a clingy white tank top. I’m not proud of it, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to watch.

She kept her back to me, the only part visible her left side, the moonlight painting her tan skin a pale bluish-silver. I studied the sweep of her torso and flare of hip as she raised her arms to untie her hair and let it fall down her shoulders in a deliciously tousled platinum cascade. The urge to reach out and run my fingers through it was strong, but I remained still.

It was too hot for blankets, so she covered up with a thin sheet and lay on her side, pale light outlining the valley descending her side and sweeping up over her hips. I stared and wondered how well my arm would fit in that space.

“Caleb?” she said, startling me. I waited a three-count before answering, pushing as much grogginess as I could manage into my voice.

“Yeah?”

“That guy, Perry. He was dead. Like, really dead.”

“I think so, yeah.”

“But he was still moving.”

“Just like they said on the news, Sophia.”

“It’s not the same, somebody telling you something and seeing it for yourself.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“He wanted to kill us. I could see it in his eyes.”

“I saw the same thing.”

“What does it mean, do you think? Dead people walking. I heard a lot of people saying it was God’s judgment, the end of times, all that shit. Is it the end of the world? Like, for real, no fucking around, we’re all gonna die, end of the world?”

“I don’t know, Sophia. I don’t think anyone does.”

“So what do we do?”

“The same thing we’re doing now.” I rolled over so my back was to her, letting her know the conversation was over.

“We stay alive.”

*****

Time passed.

Lola moved into a house down the street, saying she couldn’t stand to stay in the place where her husband died. Tyrel helped her pack and drove her things to our part of the lake, helped her move in, gave her some food, a rifle, and spare ammunition. He visited her every day, sneaking off to see her whenever he could get away. If his attentions bothered her, she didn’t complain to any of us about it.