Anything But Zombies (16 page)

“What were you thinking about? Was it the fire?”

“Yes . . . maybe . . . I don't know . . .”

“Would you care to talk about the fire?”

“Do I have to? I know you want me to, but do I have to?”

“The court has mandated that you remain in this facility until I can ascertain your mental state. If you want to leave here then you'll have to show me you are mentally fit to stand trial, Anthony. The only way I can know that is if you talk to me and specifically talk to me about the fire.”

“But, the girls . . .”

“Yes, I know how distressing the memories must be for you. I once—”

“YOU KNOW NOTHING! YOU KNOW ONLY WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE! THEY ARE EVERYWHERE! EVERYWHERE! YOUR FRIENDS, YOUR NEIGHBORS! EVEN YOUR FAMILY! EVERYWHERE! AND THEY WILL NOT GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANT! THEY TAKE! THEY TAKE AND TAKE AND TAKE! THEY TOOK IT ALL FROM ME!”

“Calm down, Anthony. Please, calm down. No one can get you here, okay? You are in a safe place. This room is a safe place. I am here to help you, okay? Please, let me help you. Can you do that? Can you calm down and let me help you?”

“I don't . . . Yes . . . I can calm down and let you help me.”

“Good. Good. Now, tell me about these people that are everywhere. What do they look like?”

“They aren't people, Dr. Chalmers. They are Realators.”

“I think you mean realtors.”

“No, Doctor, I mean Realators. REALATORS!”

“The Berglands have a
FOR SALE
sign in their yard,” Maura said. “Has Chip said anything to you about selling?”

“What?” I asked, not really paying attention to what my wife said because . . . well . . . the football game. “I haven't seen Chip in a week.”

“I know that,” Maura replied. “But the last time you saw him, did he say they were selling?”

“Selling? Selling what?” I asked. “The boat? I don't blame them. That's a money pit and the HOA is tired of it being in their driveway.”

“No, Tony, they are selling their house, dammit!” Maura shouted. “Pay attention, please!”

“What? Crap, sorry, baby. The Vikings just scored and—hey! Turn that back on!”

“I will not,” Maura growled. “I want you to answer my question.”

“Okay,” I smiled. “Uh . . . what was the question?”

“You're an ass,” Maura snorted. “Watch the girls. I'm going over there to talk with Lizzy.”

“Can I turn the game back on?” I asked. The door slamming enough to make the glasses in the kitchen clink was my answer.

I wish I could take all of that back. As God as my witness, I would have listened and handled it better. I would have gone over with her. I would have told her not to worry about it.

I would have been involved. But I wasn't. It was all my fault. But, you know, the football game.

“Do you believe your being here is your fault?”

“My fault? How the hell is it my fault? I didn't start taking over people's lives! I didn't brainwash them and turn them against their neighbors! I didn't plot the domination of the world!”

“Then what did you do?”

“I . . . uh . . . did nothing.”

“I'm going over to the Lancasters' open house, Tony,” Maura said. “The girls are staying here. Please keep an ear out for them since they are in the backyard playing.”

“Mmm . . .”

“Tony!” she shouted.

“What?!” I shouted back.

“Did you hear me?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah, you're going into the backyard to play house with the girls. Got it,” I replied.

“You are hopeless,” she snapped. “What are you watching? More football?”

“This is college,” I replied. “Thursday was NFL.”

“You're not going to watch football all day, are you? The front yard needs to be mowed.”

“Sure, right, front yard. On it.”

“Whatever,” she huffed as she left the house.

I went and found some Doritos.

“Did you end up mowing the front yard?”

“What?”

“The front yard. Did you end up mowing it?”

“Well . . . no. USC was in overtime and then I switched to the Michigan game and after that was the Oregon game. I just forgot.”

“So if you were so preoccupied with football then how did you start to notice the differences in your wife? That's what you said, correct? That your wife began to act differently after the open house at the Lancasters?”

“Do I have to talk about this, Dr. Chalmers? I really don't want to.”

“Yes, you have to talk, Anthony. It is for your own good and for the good of the victims' families. There has to be closure.”

“Closure . . .”

“Yes, closure.”

“Uh, babe, what are you doing? It's three in the morning?” I asked as I came down the stairs to see my wife hurrying back and forth from the living room to the dining room and then back to the living room.

“Eggshell,” she said. “Or Morning Fog. Maybe Cappuccino? No, no, too dark. Keep it neutral. Neutral is how you draw them in and keep them. Don't let them see what's behind the paint. Don't let them see . . .”

“Maura? Sugar? Are those paint samples? Why the hell are you comparing paint samples at three in the morning?” I asked, rather alarmed since there was no way I was painting the house. Screw that.

“The Berglands just closed,” Maura said without looking at me. She had the sample of Sauteed Mushroom in a Delicate Cream Sauce against the molding around the dining room door. “The Lancasters are about to close and from what Dorie Villanova has said, she and her husband aren't far behind. We can't be left, Tony. If we don't sell then we'll be left. We can't be left.”

“Um, babe, we aren't selling the house,” I replied.

Yeah, that didn't go over well.

“Yes. We. Are,” Maura snarled. “We have to. I already scheduled the open house.”

“Wait. You what? Sugar, we aren't selling the house.”

“YES. WE. ARE!” she roared.

“Daddy?” Bessie said from the top of the stairs. “What's going on?”

“Nothing, sweetheart,” I replied. “Mommy has just lost her sh—.”

“We're selling the house, Bessie. Isn't that great? It's all in the location, you know, and our location is the best. The best. No better in the neighborhood. Once they see that then we'll be allowed to go with them. Can't stay here. No, no, no. Can't stay here. All in the location.”

“We're selling the house?” Allison asked as she joined her sister. “Cool.”

“Not cool,” I said. “We are not selling. Now go to bed, girls. It's late.”

They walked off and I turned back to my crazy wife. “I'm going back to bed too. We aren't selling.”

“Yes, we are,” she replied as she taped all of the paint samples to the living room wall then sat down and stared at them.

“We'll talk about it in the morning,” I yawned. “Come to bed when you're done there. Or not. Whatever.”

“If I'm reading this transcript right, you say that your neighbors started selling their houses one after the other, with open houses happening almost daily. Is that correct?”

“Yeah.”

“But—and here's the problem, Anthony—there are no records of any sales. No one on your block has sold a house. Not a single one.”

“It's because of the Realators. They don't buy them with money and they sure as hell don't register it with city hall.”

“What do they buy them with then?”

“Promises.”

“Promises? What kind of promises?”

“Promises that you'll be spared when the Big Sale comes.”

“The Big Sale? Hold on, hold on, let me see . . . Oh, yes, here it is. You say the Big Sale is when the Realators finally take possession of the Earth and those that sold live and those that refused die. Correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you believe this, Anthony? That there are beings called Realators looking to buy up all the property on Earth with promises?”

“They don't have to buy it all up, just the majority share. It's in their Covenants.”

“Right, the Covenants they make people sign to show their loyalty.”

“Yeah.”

“Sign it, Tony,” Hal grinned. “Just put your John Hancock right there and it's all done.”

I stood on my front porch and looked up and down my neighborhood. Every house but ours had balloons on the mailboxes and
OPEN HOUSE
signs out front. The smell of fresh-baked cookies was almost overwhelming. I felt like I was choking on mustard gas made out of chocolate chips and snickerdoodles.

“Tony,” Maura growled. “Sign the paper. For me. For your daughters.”

I looked behind me and into the house. The girls stood there, their faces drawn and scared. They knew—they knew—that something was wrong. I mean, who schedules all these open houses during playoffs, am I right?

“These aren't closing papers,” I said as I looked at the strange documents on Hal's clipboard. “I've seen house closing papers before, Hal. I'm not signing these. And what the hell are ‘Covenants'? You can't amend the HOA regulations without calling an official HOA meeting and having a quorum present. I know that much.”

The TV blared the Seahawks game, and I could tell I just missed something big. I sighed and turned to my wife, ready to lay out my argument one last time.

“We aren't selling,” I said. “End of story.”

“Sorry to hear that, Tony,” Hal said. “I am really, really sorry to hear that.”

“I'll talk to him,” Maura said.

“You do that.” Hal frowned then looked past me and at my daughters. “You two should come play with Lisa. She misses you.”

The girls didn't respond.

“Last chance, Maura,” Hal said. “Midnight is the deadline.”

Then he turned and walked off to the group of neighbors waiting by the curb. The Berglands, Lancasters, Whitreds, Ketts, Garrets, Villanovas, Havingshaws, Tulanes, even the Trangs, who never came out of their house, all stood there staring at me. I waved and went back in to watch the game.

“None of your neighbors remember that day, Anthony. They all testified, those that survived, that you were out on your front lawn in your underwear, screaming at everyone that walked by.”

“What? I never did that. No, hold on . . . Okay, yeah, I was in my underwear when Hal came over. I had spilled salsa on my sweatpants and they were hanging in the downstairs bathroom. But who cares? Everyone has seen their neighbors in their underwear.”

“No, that's not true, Anthony. I haven't seen any of my neighbors in their underwear. But then I live outside town on a nice piece of land. Eighteen acres with a pond. So no neighbors, really.”

“Lucky you.”

“Keeps me from being burned to death by one, doesn't it? Oh, dear me, sorry. That was out of line.”

“Yeah, it was. Jeez.”

“Sorry. Now, tell me about what happened at midnight.”

“No.”

“Anthony? I am here to help.”

“No.”

“If you do, then I may be able to arrange for you to see your daughters. Would you like that?”

“My daughters? But they . . .”

“They are still recovering, yes, but it's within my power to arrange a visit.”

“My daughters . . .”

“Daddy? There are people at the door,” Allison said.

“Huh, what, where?” I asked as I rubbed my eyes and switched on the bedside lamp. The rest of the bed was empty. “Where's your mother?”

“She's at the door,” Allison said.

“Then she can deal with it,” I said as I started to turn out the light, but Allison put her hand on mine.

“No, Daddy, she's at the door with everyone else,” she said.

“Yeah, so let Mom deal with them,” I replied.

“Daddy!” Allison shouted. “Mom is outside with everyone else! She isn't inside! She's outside!”

“What? It's like thirty degrees out,” I said.

“She's out there and they are with someone,” Allison said. “They keep calling your name over and over. It's making it hard to sleep.”

I sighed and stood up then grabbed my sweats and slipped them on.

“Where's your sister?” I asked as I followed her to the stairs and down to the front door.

“She's in bed,” Allison said. “Upstairs.”

“She is? Good. You go back up there too, okay? You need your sleep.”

“Yeah, I know,” Allison yawned. “ 'Night, Daddy.”

“ 'Night, sweetheart.”

I watched her go back up, then turned and opened the door. I noticed two things: that every single one of my neighbors was on my front lawn, with my wife in front of them, and that all the houses I could see had their front lights on and there were fresh balloons floating from the mailboxes.

No, wait, I noticed three things. The third was that it smelled like chocolate-caramel brownie cookies. Which I don't like because they usually have walnuts in them and I hate walnuts. I preferred the snickerdoodle smell.

“Hey, everybody,” I said. “What's up?”

“Sign the Covenants,” they all said as one.

“Sign them, Tony,” Maura said as she walked up to me and shoved a stack of papers in my hands. “Sign them now and we will get our promise. If you love me then you'll let me get my promise, Tony. Do you love me?”

“Yeah, baby, I love you more than anything,” I said. It was a white lie. I loved my daughters more than anything. Maura was easily second. Or tied for second with football, at least, since I'm being honest.

“Sign the Covenants,” the neighbors chanted.

And that's totally what they did. It was like a little cult sing-along. They even started to sway back and forth.

“Sign the Covenants,” Maura said. “Then we can be together forever.”