Determined To Live (17 page)

I love you, Mom.
Please take care of my boys and tell them everyday that I love them.
If Will happens to still be alive, tell him to do the right thing and
forget about being a hero. The boys need him much more than I do. But
tell him I love him too. And that I wish I had listened to him about
Jake.

Jake's duffel
bag is in the house that hopefully you rescued Melody from. It's
under the bed and has some interesting stuff inside that you may want
to check out.

Love,

Canada

Just writing that
broke my heart and released tears and sobs that I couldn't hide, no
matter how hard I tried. I look up and find Larry looking at me his
own eyes shining with unshed tears. He had obviously been reading
what I'd written.

"Canada, is
that really necessary?" he asks me.

"I hope not. I
really do. But just in case, I want you to make sure this message
gets to my Mom. Will you promise me you'll do that?"

Larry bows his
head. When he raises it, he gives me a nod. "I promise."

I fold the envelope
and hand it to him. He puts it inside one of his shirt pockets and
zips it, keeping my note secure. I stand and hop to the sliding door
that leads to the backyard. It's empty of the undead, but surrounded
by a tall privacy fence. There's no way I can make it over that.

Larry comes up
beside me and looks out. He points out a doghouse in the far back
corner of the fence. "If we can get you up on that, maybe you
can get over."

"Larry, even
if I could, how would I get down on the other side? I can't jump.
There's no way you could catch me. And let's say I do get over, how
would I ever outrun a zombie? How would I move fast enough to hide if
I need to? Forget it. This cast is going to get me killed, and if I
go with you, I could get you killed too," I tell him with more
than just a little disgust with the entire situation.

I want to let
that cast know just how pissed off it makes me, but I'm not brave
enough to kick the wall with it. Pain sucks and I'm getting a bit
tired of it.

"What are we
going to do then, Canada?" he asks me.

"
We
aren't going to do shit, Larry. You're going to have to go alone. Go
see about your wife, call my mom, and get to safety. I know my family
will take you and your wife in."
If
she's alive.

"And
you
?
What are you going to do Canada?"

"When you are
done doing what you need to do, you'll come back here and get the
truck. If I'm here, great! If not, get the hell out of here."

"Canada, I―"

"
Larry!
"
I interrupt him. "You have no say in this. Go do what you need
to do and I'll take care of me."

I
turn away from him and hop into the next room. I hate snapping at
him, but he's too sweet to just leave me here. He needs to save his
wife,
if
she's still alive, and I need that damn call to be made to my family.

I find myself in a
small, cozy living room. Except for the blood and a few body pieces,
it's a nice room. One a family can relax in, lounge on the sofa with
it's thick cushions and matching pillows, and a throw lying over the
top of the sofa to cover themselves. Thick cushioned recliners that
perfectly match the sofa are arranged so that whoever sits in them
can see both the television and whoever might be sitting on the sofa.

I
hop to the couch and give it a quick blood/body-part check, then lie
down. I adjust the pillows - one for my head, one for my foot - and
pull the throw on top of me. There's a large bay window behind the
sofa and a thick, dark curtain covering it so I'm able to hear the
undead outside, but they're muted enough that it doesn't bother me
much. I'm not all that worried about them breaking through and
getting me. Maybe because they haven't broken it yet, or maybe
because the curtain is so thick they can't see me.
Or,
maybe I'm just so exhausted emotionally and physically that I just
don't give a shit.

Do I want to
die? No. Do I want to be a zombie? No. But it just seems like that's
where I'm continuously being led to since the beginning. Maybe I'm
meant to die. Maybe I'm meant to be a zombie. Maybe Jake is meant to
"have me." I don't know anymore. I don't care anymore. I’m
just so tired. I just want to rest, to get a little strength back, to
just be left the hell alone. I want this all to never have happened!

And this is
where I break down and start crying like a damn infant.

After a few
minutes, I feel Larry's hand stroke my forehead and hair as he tells
me it's going to be alright. My eyes flash open, my mouth ready to
tell him exactly how I feel about his words of "comfort" -
but when I see the sweetness, the gentleness, and the genuine caring
on his face and in his eyes, I can't say a word. So I just nod and
give him a weak smile.

I sit up and he
sits on the recliner across from me. I ask him what his plan is and
he tells me what he's come up with.

"I'm
going to wait until it's dark out - not total dark, but dark enough I
can hide from that man if I need to. I'll take my handguns and leave
the rest here since I won't be able to carry them all. I'm going to
stick to the alleys and cut across yards until I get to my house.
Then, I guess what I find there will decide my next move. I
will
call your family, Canada. If not there, I'll break down every door
until I find a working phone or cellphone. Promise me you'll be
careful while I'm gone?"

Laughing softly, I
tell him I have every intention of being careful, it's just the
carrying it out I have problems with. He gives me a look that I can
imagine one of my own dad's giving me when they don't find something
I say amusing. I got those looks often.

While
we wait for the sun to go down a little more, Larry helps me upstairs
where he insists I stay or
else
.
He gets me all set up and comfy in the master bedroom, complete with
its own bathroom. The room has a huge bed with tons of pillows, a
thick-cushioned window seat facing out the front of the house, and
thick plush carpeting. The curtains, like the downstairs living room,
are thick and have a light/heat-blocking back to them. The door of
the room is thick and has a lock - though it's not a deadbolt - but
who normally has one of those on a bedroom door?

My advice to you
in preparation for the zombie apocalypse - if you do nothing else, at
least get thick doors with really good locks. And for god's sake, do
something about the windows! At least the downstairs ones.

Larry
gets me settled and tucked into bed, then goes downstairs and makes
us something to eat. While he's gone, I spy a book laying on the
bedside table. After just staring at it for a few minutes, I think
"
what
the hell
"
and reach out for it.

Days
Gone Bad

Eric
Asher

The cover looks
pretty cool.

I flip it over and
read the description on the back.

"My name is
Damian Valdis Vesik. I am a necromancer. My master and I vanquished
many evils in times gone by. Now, something is releasing a new evil,
forcing us to hunt an enemy beyond anything I’ve faced before.
Our abilities are feared and hated as much as the powers we set
ourselves against. I was already busy enough with vampires, fairies,
witches, Watchers, weddings, and … damn, I need a vacation."

Necromancer! You
gotta be shittin' me.

I
want to read it now more than ever, thanks to that little tidbit. I
wonder if the author is still alive? And does he feel the same about
necromancers
now
?

I arrange the
pillows and sit back against them, but before I've even gotten past
the title page, Larry is back with a large platter of food, two
forks, and napkins. He places the food on the bed and hands me a
glass of cran-grape juice. I take a sip. Then take a drink. Then I
empty the glass.

Whoa! That shit
was good!

I stare into the
glass - so sad to see that the sweet fruity drink has somehow
disappeared. I look up at Larry with probably the same look a child
gives when their scoop of ice cream falls off their cone. He laughs
at me and leaves the room. When he comes back a minute later, he has
two large plastic containers of the sweet nectar in his hands. My
face lights up and I tell him profusely how much I love him, how he's
my best friend, and that I am forever his faithful servant as I hold
out my glass eagerly and impatiently for a refill.

Larry laughs again
as he pours the drink, then places the containers on the table next
to me, before walking around to the other side of the bed. He climbs
up and sits, leaning his back against the headboard. Then he picks up
the food platter and offers some to me. The plate is loaded with
fried spam, cheese cuts, fruit, and crackers.

I have to be
honest and say I probably ate more than he did.
It was just so good and I
was starving!
He
doesn't seem to mind though.
Actually, he seems happy to
see me eat, so I couldn't disappoint him, now could I?
Yep.
That is the only reason I
pigged out.
Really!

Full for the first
time in a long time, I start feeling sleepy. I want nothing more than
to sink down in the bed and read until I pass out. Larry however, has
other plans.

He wants to talk.
About?
I have no idea.
I'm struggling to pay attention, but I think I fall asleep a few
times. Then a few minutes later, I feel someone shaking me awake.
It's Larry and I want to punch him in his damn nose for waking me.

"Canada, I
have to leave now."

"Good. Go
away."

He laughs. "Hon,
I need you to wake up and listen to me."

"Good God,
Larry! I just got to sleep and it can't be dark enough to go any damn
place yet. Shut up and take a nap." I growl at him and then turn
back to my side, pulling the covers over my head.

I hear him laugh
once again and I picture myself punching him...once again.

"Canada,
you've been asleep for four hours."

I struggle to sit
up quickly, arms and blankets flying everywhere.

"What!
Seriously? Damn." I'm finally untangled and sitting up in the
bed. My eyes are wild, as is my hair most likely. I push my hair back
out of my face and look up at Larry, who's standing next to me, a
huge grin on his face.

"I
know you needed the rest, and I hated having to wake you, but I have
to go now; you need to be awake and alert.
Are
you awake and alert, Canada?"

"I guess. But
I really gotta go to the bathroom!" I tell him as I swing my
legs over the side of the bed. Forgetting the weight of the cast, I
yelp when it slams to the floor. Larry helps me stand and then offers
to help me to the bathroom.

My
mind immediately flashes back to Jake and I start shaking.
Right
now, it's not Larry standing in front of me, it's Jake.
Jake, who will embarrass and humiliate me. Jake, who will hit and
hurt me. Jake, who will take me away from my family and kill anyone I
love. Jake...

I lash out at poor
Larry, who is in no way expecting it. I get a few good jabs in before
he wraps his arms around me and forces me on my back onto the bed.
The weight of his body smashing down on me and his enraged - yet
somehow still sweet and concerned - voice brings me back to the
present. In horror, I stare up at him.

"Oh God,
Larry! I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," I repeat over and over,
guilty as hell over what I've done.

"It's ok. Just
calm down and let me help you to the door of the bathroom. Deal? I
don't know what you've gone through, but I can guess it hasn't been
pretty - first the zombies and then the nut job out there." He
raises himself off me and helps me get up again. "Now, come on
before you wet yourself."

He
grins at me and I smile back at him, though I'm still feeling guilty,
and also a little embarrassed about the whole thing. But
this
embarrassment I can handle. When we reach the bathroom door, he
releases me as soon as I'm steady and have hold of the door frame. I
tell him thanks and hop inside. Once I've got the door shut I hop so
fast to the toilet, it's amazing I don't fall and break something
else. But I make it, do my business, then wash my hands and face.
Finally, I leave the bathroom and return to the bedroom. Larry is
standing next to the window, peeking out the curtain.