– Aw now, Terry boy.

Terry looks at the gun in his own hand.

– Just until your mind clears, Hurley.

Hurley shakes his head. Shakes it again.

– Aw hell, Terry.

– These are complex issues, Hurl, not one of your, I don’t know, strengths, man.

– Sure, and but.

He gives his head a final snapping shake.

– Aw, now that’s done it but good an shaked everythin’ inta place.

He points a sausage finger.

– Zombies, Terry. Of all da tings in da world.

Terry inhales deep, exhales.

– Take a deep one, just draw a deep one in and let it go, just to get some oxygen flowing, clear the cobwebs there. Shine a light on what you believe.

Hurley draws in a deep breath and lets it go in a rush, and shakes his head.

– Naw, dat didn’t shake da taught loose. It’s in dere good.

He takes a step toward Terry.

– Ya did it, didn’t ya? Supplyin’ dem wit zombies? Ya did it. An I mean ta say, zombies. It just goes ta prove what I been tinkin’ fer some time now. Yer not clear in da head yerself, Terry.

Terry raises his shoulders high, drops them.

– Just flex those muscles and relax, go easy on this, old friend.

Hurley raises his shoulders, drops them.

– Still I feel tense as before.

He stops walking toward Terry and rubs his forehead.

– An I do not feel unsure a’tall. An I know it. Yes, I do.

He takes his hand from his forehead.

– Ya did it, Terry, ya did it an it ain’t just a story Joe is tellin’. Ya did it.

– It’s a complicated world, Hurl, like I’ve always said, and some things you do, they have to be done.

– An don’t I know it, havin’ done so many of dose tings? An don’t I know it? But I say it again, zombies. Shame, shame on ya, Terry Bird. Shame.

Terry plants his feet.

– Hurley, man, if you suddenly, if you think you can guide things, if you think you can make the choices that will lead us to a better world then, hey, I don’t know, say so and we’ll change our whole dynamic.

Hurley clucks his tongue.

– It ain’t about dat an ya know it well. An I hardly know anymore what it tis we’re leadin’ to. Dis better world. A world wit zombies in it? No. Somehow, an I can’t say where it was, but somewhere, ya jumped a track, Terry boy, an tis up ta me, yer true friend, ta get ya back on it. Zombies an shootin’ Lydia outta hand like dat, and all dese last few years an da mess we’ve become.

He rubs at the corner of his eye.

– I long fer da old days, I tell ya. An I don’t see nuttin’ in what yer talkin’ ‘bout dat will bring ‘ em back. So, trust me on dis, trust yer oldest friend, dat gook what ya got in yer hand, I tink ya should give it ta me. If ya can step over da line ta usin’ zombies, ya might do about anytin’. An I’ll lie an I’ll cheat an I’ll kill till the graveyards are full up, but always wit me own brain an mouth an hands I’ll do it. Openin’ a bottle an lettin’ out a genie ta kill everyting, dat’s not fer us, Terry boy.

He puts out his hand.

– Yer like a souse on da bottle an tis time ta take da cure. Get clear. So hand it over.

Terry nods.

– Yeah, Hurl. Rough times these.

He shoots.

Hurley keeps walking at him, brushing at the spreading blood on his chest.

– Now, Terry. We’re not children surely? Was dat called fer?

Terry shoots again.

Hurley pats his hip where the second bullet went in.

– An it’s not like I’m suggestin’ ya step down or anytin’. I’m just sayin’ ya need ta remember da limits of, well, human decency here.

Terry shoots again.

Hurley flexes his left arm below the bullet hole in his shoulder.

– It’s a tough ting ta admit ya got a problem. An if da fact yer shootin’ me doesn’t spell it out ta ya, I don’t know what will. Give me da bottle, Ter. Ya dan’t trust yerself just now.

Terry shoots again, his arm fully extended, Hurley just in front of him, the barrel almost touching Hurley’s neck when it goes off, blowing off a chunk.

Hurley coughs, spits a mouthful of blood on the floor, takes another step, another, and grabs Terry by the shoulders, gun pinned between them.

– Before ya do somethin’ ye’ll regret, Terry, why don’t ya hand me dat bottle o nasty? Just fer me ta put away someplace safe. Where ya won’t tink on it an get confused. We’d not want to overstep da bounds of our friendship here, now would we?

Terry tries to pull back, twists, but Hurley’s lost one man from his paws tonight. He doesn’t ever lose two.

– Hurley.

– Terry now.

– Hurley, this is just, I don’t know, man.

– Isn’t it now? Isn’t it just that.

The gun goes off five more times, two of the bullets come out of Hurley’s back, the others trapped inside the mass of him.

He grunts, wraps his arms around Terry, and squeezes.

When he stops squeezing he drops what’s left of Terry.

He looks down at the mess. Plucks the gun from it. Pops the clip.

– Empty now. Shame. He drops both.

Bends and picks up the vial, and walks to me and offers it.

– Joe, would ya mind?

I take it from his hand.

He keeps it out.

– An if I might?

I hand him the whiskey and he walks to Terry’s body and lowers himself slowly to the floor and takes a drink that finishes the last three inches of bourbon.

– Damn it all.

He looks at the empty bottle and flips it away to roll across the floor.

– Damn it all.

He folds himself over Terry’s body.

– An I never expected to live forever.

He closes his eyes, head resting on his folded arms.

– But damn it all da same.

His barrel chest pumps a few more times, but that’s all he has left in him.

• • •

Time was, you’d have told me I was gonna be in the room when Terry died, and I’d have told you that would never happen on my watch. Now here it is, and most I feel is maybe that I wish I’d had a chance to get a crack at him myself. Figure, as unwell as I am, Vyrus going all haywire, dying already started, I got about a thousand reasons why I should feel this bad. None of them having anything to do with Terry Bird being dead and gone.

But that don’t mean I’m gloating.

I look at Predo’s head, still in my lap, and roll it to the floor.

No, I’m not gloating. Things got to die sometimes. That’s all.

So I wipe the smile off my face.

– Did it go through?

Lydia feels at her back.

– No. Shit.

She lost her fair share of blood in the basement and on the stairs. That big old gun put a hell of a hole in her gut. Wound has closed over, no more blood leaking, but she’s having trouble finding her feet. We could start a stumble club her and me.

– Someone’s gonna have to dig it out.

– I have people for that.

– Lose more blood when it happens.

She stops trying to rise and lowers herself until she’s lying on the floor.

– Need to get up.

Footsteps.

– I can help.

We’re both looking at her, Delilah, gazing down at Lydia, over the rim of her belly.

– I can help.

– Now, baby.

Ben comes over.

– I’m not sure.

She doesn’t look at him.

– Benjamin, I want to get out of here. You know how to do that?

He points at the door, scratches his head.

– I’m not sure what’s out there.

She nods.

Lydia is shaking her head.

– No, no, no, no. No way. Never.

I lever myself out of my chair, the cramps keeping me bent, and find a few things to lean on till I get to Lydia.

– Here.

I get a hand in her armpit and pull.

– No, I won’t, I won’t.

Even with the bullet in her, she’s in better shape than me.

I look at Ben.

– Kid.

He gets her by her other arm and we pull her off the floor and start hauling her across the room.

– No, Joe. I won’t take a mother’s blood. I won’t, given or not. I won’t.