End of the Line (Book 2): Stuck in the Middle (17 page)

             
Before eating Father Vic prayed with the boys as did Dave, Manny and a few other people. I wasn’t religious but I believed something was out there. Maybe not the Judeo-Christian god.

             
Cam was Christian, I was raised Christian but didn’t practice. I knew he had trouble dealing with the anti-gay aspect. He had a regular church nearby I refused to go to when he admitted there was occasional anti-gay rhetoric. Every once in a while, I would go with him to a gay friendly church on the Island but Cam refused to switch, even when I told him I would go to church more if he did. He liked his church, but I felt he was being a hypocrite because he couldn’t introduce his own spouse. Many people in the church knew he was gay and had even come to our house. We argued about it occasionally. He thought I was attacking his faith.

             
During dinner, I found out the boy’s ages. The youngest Seth was 8 and the oldest, Graham was 16. Miss Lesleigh Jones was from Sioux City and had no family on the Island and wasn’t married. The most talkative was Max whose parents died in a car accident before this and he lived with a wealthy aunt who either died or didn’t care what happened to him because no one called or came for him. Felicia was silent through the whole dinner.

              I woke up to a loud pounding on the door. My heart was racing. I was certain 10,000 zombies were right outside. I sat up, as did Dave who I shared the room with. After dinner Father Vic had settled us in the dorm rooms and we all took one roommate for safety. I saw Dave in the faint candlelight with the snore strip on his nose. He looked reluctant to open the door. Of course zombies don’t knock.

             
“Jim— It’s Manny. Something’s happened.”

             
I got out of bed, glad I was still dressed. My change of clothes was on the boat and I was starting to smell. I opened the door. Manny was there along with Felicia. His gun wasn’t out but he looked disheveled. She looked unfazed and her red hair looked normal.

             
“Harry is hanging in the bathroom,” Felicia explained.

             
“Jesus,” Dave said.

             
With sleep in my brain I thought Harry was hanging out in the bathroom and then I realized what she meant.

             
“Is he dead?”

             
“Yes. I think he did it right after we went to bed.”

             
I thought about Harry, how he seemed like he was getting better and even volunteered to kill a zombie. He gave no inclination of being suicidal.

             
“Did he leave a note?”

             
“I didn’t see one, but it’s not like his girlfriend broke up with him.”

             
“It’s been almost two years, why now?”

             
Manny hunched his shoulders. With the zombies almost gone, I guessed people realized just how bad things were. There was no structure, no government, no daily job, no TV, internet, and almost everyone they’d ever known was dead. Maybe that was what happened to Annemarie last winter.

             
“I need your help getting him down.”

             
“Are you sure he’s dead?”

             
“Absolutely,” Felicia said.

             
“Then we should do it in the morning when we have light.”

             
“It’s only an hour to dawn,” Manny said. “Let’s just do it now and get it over with. I don’t want to leave him hanging there.”

             
“Okay,” I slipped on my sneakers as did Dave. He realized he was still wearing his snore strip and pulled it off. On the road there wasn’t time for pajamas.

             
The bathroom, he used was not far from my room. I felt sad I slept through his death.

             
Gwen, Carl and Paul were waiting by the bathroom door. When we got there, no one said anything. Manny opened the door.

             
Father Vic was on the other side. He hadn’t said anything when we came in. Not a word or a prayer. I knew that suicide was against his religion. Was he thinking Harry was in hell? Or was this hell?

             
Harry looked horrific after several hours. His corpse was blue and bloated and the sheet he used had left a blackened mark on his neck.

             
“Father Vic?”             

             
He looked distracted. His focused on Harry’s corpse.

             
“Father Vic,” I repeated a little louder.

             
“Yes, Jim.”

             
“Is there a place we can bury him.”

             
“He won’t come back right?”

             
“No, only a zombie bite can make you come back.” I realized how sheltered both Gwen and Father’s Vic’s group was. They knew so little of the virus and the zombies.

             
“There’s a little park nearby. We buried our victims there.”

             
“Do you have shovels—“

             
“Why did he do it, Jim,” Vic said, interrupting. “The zombie threat is nearly over, and things were beginning to become normal again.”

             
I shared my theory with him.

             
He was quiet for a long time, then instead of staying something about it, he said: “Let’s cut him down.”

              It didn’t take long for us to bury Harry. Dave, Paul, Manny and I dug a hole about three feet down. We wrapped the body in a blanket and dumped him in, then put the dirt back on top. Gwen found some rocks to mark it. Father Vic said a prayer then made us promise not to tell the Pope. No one from the school came. Father Vic didn’t want to burden them.

             
When I got back in to my dorm room, wondering if there was any way to shower as I was covered in dirt, I found six people from the group in my room: Joan and Carl, and an older woman who’s name I didn’t remember and the three kids. Carl had vanished after we cut Harry down.

             
“Hi Jim,” Joan said, with a strange look on her face.

             
“Something wrong?” I asked, worried there had been another suicide.

             
“No—I mean other than Harry’s passing and that you may not like what I’m about to tell you.”

             
“What is it?” I asked, confused thinking they didn’t like going after zombies.

             
“We would like to stay here.”

             
I wasn’t upset. I felt relieved that I would be responsible for fewer people. “Did you ask Father Vic?”

             
She shook her head. “Not yet, we wanted to run it by you.”

             
“He seems nice but we’ve only met him last night. I can’t tell you if he’s trustworthy or not. I think he is--”

             
“We’re Catholic,” she explained. “We want to stay here and help look after the boys.”

             
“Sorry, you seem like a sweet boy,” the older woman said. “But I’m tired, old and sick of moving from place to place. This is a good place to stay until the town is ready.”

             
I didn’t say anything, not that I was upset that they were staying. I was happy she called our new home a town.

             
“Mrs--”

             
“Call me Dawn,” she said.

             
“Dawn, if Father Vic is okay with it, I don’t have a problem. What about Felicia?”

             
Dawn didn’t respond. I have a feeling no one respected Felicia’s leadership. They didn’t seem to hate her but they knew she couldn’t lead.

             
“Carl and I adopted these children,” Joan explained. “I used to have five of our own, Carl had four, all gone—“ her voice tried off. “But these boys here, the father will need help taking care of them. Felicia will understand.” I didn’t ask Vic what role Mrs. Jones had in looking after them.

             
“You don’t have to explain. You stay here if you want. No one is a prisoner.”

             
“Thank you,” the woman said, she took my hand, “And bless you.”

             
“Would you talk to Father Vic on our behalf?” Joan asked. “He likes you and you have a good rapport with him.”

             
I guess celebrity had its privileges.

              “Father Vic, any chance I can talk to you alone?” I caught him heading to the dining room where we would grab a quick breakfast and go.

             
“Confession time?” He said and smiled. “I already gave Dave his.”

             
“I’m a lapse Lutheran.”

             
“No one is perfect.” I liked Vic. Before this happened he was probably the wise cracking priest. “Come to my room.”

             
He took me up some stairs on the opposite side of the dormitory. We went through two swinging doors and into what I can only imagine was the priest’s rectory.

             
I followed Vic up some stairs to a hallway with many doors. He opened one at the end of the hallway. Vic’s room was rather grand for a priest. It had a large king-size bed, an oak dresser and writing desk. On the desk was a dusty macbook pro, seventeen inches. No longer manufactured even before this all happened.

             
As if he read my mind again, he explained. “It belonged to the assistant headmaster. He died here. I was perfectly willing to move a bed or two in here for the boys, but they didn’t want to sleep where he died. They loved him. He was a good bridge between the headmaster who was very strict. Miss Jones has his room. He also died there. She didn’t mind. Father Donnelly didn’t really like the room, thought it was grandiose. When he got the job he bought no new furniture, just used what the previous assistant headmaster left. He didn’t even get a new mattress. I gave them both last rites, as well as two other priests, nine teachers and maybe 100 boys. I wanted them to go to heaven. I gave some to their corpses. One I had to hack off his head--” his voice trailed off.

             
“Father Vic.”

             
“I wish everyone would stop calling me father—“

             
“I’m sorry, it sticks.”

             
“Yeah, like glue,” he said, giving out a nervous giggle.

             
“I have six people who would like to stay. An elderly woman, a young Catholic couple and the three children they took in. I think they were all strangers before and became a family unit. Is that okay?”

             
“I’m a priest, I’m supposed to trust everyone. Do you trust them Jim?”

             
I shrugged my shoulders. “I only met them two days ago. So far except for Brian, they seem okay.”

             
“I can’t judge a group by one man, so yes, let them stay here and when you’re settled you can send for us—“ he paused. “I’m glad you trust me Jim. We haven’t even known each other for a day. I could be an ax murderer, a kiddie toucher, a cult—“

             
These kids looked too happy to for Vic to be any of that.

             
“Listen,” I said. “We have to get society back on track with good people. We’re going to have to look for them and that means we’re going to come across bad ones too.”

             
I didn’t even know then how bad it was going to get.

Chapter 12

              The eight of us remaining squeezed into two cars. Dave agreed to leave the other car since we didn’t need it and Father Vic might in an emergency.

             
With Harry’s death, only Gwen volunteered to take out a zombie and even she chickened out when we came up against a young one. For the most part, Manny, Dave and I took care of it. After a while of no one volunteering, I figured hunting was over and we should get to Harbor as soon as possible.

             
I rode with Dave. Manny drove the other car. Harry’s death had silenced everyone. I wondered if I should’ve egged him on when he panicked. I wanted him to survive. I looked at Dave but I knew he wasn’t the talkative type. I wished Gwen was in the car or I could talk to Tanya. I heard her voice in my head.
‘Ain’t your fault.’

             
I didn’t talk while Dave drove. Instead I focused on the scenery. The road was filled with potholes while nature moved in. The ride was bumpy but tolerable as long as Dave kept it at 30 or less which he did. At least we were close to the bridge that took us to Greenport.

             
It was still overcast and it rained but not hard. It was one of those grey days where if Cam and I weren’t working, we lounge in bed, me reading the Times, him reading the journal, snuggling, having sex or watching a movie. He liked action flicks, I liked indies. We both loved
Run Lola Run
and
Sunshine
.

             
“Do you need me to drive?” I asked, Dave when he drove around a scary pothole that looked more like a giant sinkhole. It was larger than most of the lane and Dave drove on the sidewalk to get around.

             
“Please, you don’t have to do everything. I’m a big boy I know how to drive.”

             
Then he slammed on the brakes. I was wearing my seat beat so I only whacked into the console. Not even hard enough to leave a bruise.

             
“What the fuck,” said a voice behind me. We were sharing the car with Rose and Paul who I now knew more about. Rose had been a stay at home mom who lost both children and her husband. Paul, a thirty something banker from Bellmore wasn’t married and called himself a ladies man. It was Paul who cursed.

             
I looked ahead and saw why Dave had stopped. We had a choice of two roads that both had bridges to get us to Greenport. They ran parallel but were separated by a large pond. We choose the Main Road because it was closer.

             
Now it was under water. The bridge was gone, the road was gone. The bay south of us and the pond north of us had become one of the same.

             
“At least we have another way around,” I said.

             
Dave looked at me, annoyed. He never liked my optimism.

             
“This was a little pond and a bay that washed this bridge away. The North Road borders the Sound. And we have to go back 10 miles.”

             
I looked at my map. I didn’t know the East End of Long Island as well as I knew my own neighborhood and Manhattan.

             
“That road is bigger and further from the sound. There’s a chance it might not be flooded.”

              The other road was only partially flooded and the bridge was still there. Bits and pieces of road stuck up. The biggest issue was the sound which had flooded the left side of the road and occasionally a large amount of water would lap over the right side where we were crossing. On the right side there was a smaller body of water that had flooded completely. I saw the top floors and roofs of submerged houses. It didn’t help that it was still raining and a wind blustered through the trees.

             
“Maybe we should walk it.”

             
“No,” Dave said. “Water ain’t deep. I think we should try. I don’t want to walk all the way to Greenport, do you?”

             
I relayed the information to Manny over the radio. We went first. Dave looked nervous.

             
“Don’t worry, Dave,” I said. “I’m not lying when I say you’re an amazing driver. You got us home on a flat tire and saved me.”

             
He didn’t respond. Possibly because I embarrassed him. Instead he put the car into gear and moved it forward.

             
“Everyone put their seatbelts on,” I told Rose and Paul. I turned around and not only were the belts on, but they were holding on to them and each other tightly. I said nothing.

             
The SUV parted the waters and the engine didn’t sound like it was struggling.

             
I took deep breaths. The water seemed to be getting deeper but Dave kept moving.

             
“This ain’t good,” Dave said. He slowed but didn’t stop. “Open the door, Jim,” I did as he told. “How deep is the water?”

             
I looked down, the seatbelt keeping me secure in the car. I could see the road clearly through the brownish water.

             
“Maybe two inches.”

             
“Keep the door open. If it gets deeper than four, you let me know. If it gets deeper than 6 and we ain’t halfway across, we go back.”

             
“Okay.”

             
I watched the road though the water. I didn’t look up to see how far we had gone. I knew we were going slow. I worried about the other car. The SUV was high off the ground where the sedan wasn’t. If we weren’t already crossing, I would have abandoned the other car. The brownish water grew deeper but I could still see the road.             

“I think we’re at four.”

              “That’s okay,” he said, his voice sounded on edge. “We’re almost to midpoint. I can see the road on the other side.” I trusted what he said and didn’t look up, but the water got deeper. I had trouble seeing the bottom.

             
“Jim,” said a voice over the radio. It wasn’t Manny but Gwen. “Jim, stop, we stalled and Manny can’t get the car started and we’re being pushed off the road.”

             
“Fuck,” I said. I looked up. We were close to the end of the road.

             
“What should they do?” Dave looked at me annoyed for not knowing the obvious answer.

             
“Tell them to get the hell out of the car and walk to us. I don’t want to stand here for a long time, or our engine could stall.”

             
“Gwen, leave the car and come to ours, quickly.”

             
“Oh shit—“ she said, then the radio went dead. I looked behind us. They were maybe 10 feet away. The doors opened and all four stepped out. The water here was about 6 inches and seemed to be deeper where they were. It was passed the bottom of the door.

             
I could see Manny behind us. He was with Gwen, an elderly lady named Millie and Felicia. Felicia and Gwen were ahead, with Gwen holding on to her hand. Both of them had packs. Manny was helping Millie who seemed to have a lot of trouble moving through the water. Manny had a pack but Millie didn’t.

             
The water was getting deeper and darker. I could barely see the road through the brown water and it was almost to the bottom of the door. The water came up to Manny’s shins.

             
“I think the tide is coming in,” Dave said.

             
“Great.”

             
Gwen and Felicia got to our car. I got out. The cold water hit the bottom of my legs, saturating the bottom of my jeans. I felt a strong current pulling me to the side. Even though it wasn’t raining hard, the wind was strong enough that I felt it push the car.

             
I held on to the door to keep my balance. I opened the back to the storage area. I figured Gwen, Felicia and Manny could go there and Millie could squeeze in the back with Paul and Rose. Gwen and Felicia didn’t ask questions, they climbed in. Gwen sat Indian style looking out.

             
I held on to the door because the water pushed me, I watched Manny and Millie walk to us. Millie held on to him for dear life in one hand and held on to the car with the other. When she got to the edge of the car, something happened. She froze or something and the water hit her and she fell. Manny tried to lift her but he slipped as well. She lost his grip, and struggled as the water carried her towards the sound.

             
“Millie!” he screamed as he got up. He dropped his pack on top of the car, and either bravely or stupidly ran after her. Millie waved her hands then she got pulled off the road and into the sound. I watched Manny jump into the water. I was about to go after them when I heard Dave’s voice.

             
“Jim!” Dave yelled. He didn’t open the door because water was splashing against it. “Get into the car or we’ll all be swept away.” I got in and slammed the door because in this world we didn’t have rescue or anyone to help us. No cell phones to call 9-11. In this world we had to leave people behind; sacrificing the few to save the many.

             
The SUV began moving again, spluttering and struggling through the raising water. Dave started going about 20 miles per hour. Water went splashing everywhere. I couldn’t see.

             
“Do you see them?” I asked Paul who was on the driver’s side. I tried to keep my voice calm but it was shaky. Paul tried looking between the splashing.

             
“I see Manny!” he suddenly yelled. I looked out the window but all I saw was water. “He’s in the water and swimming to shore. I don’t see Millie.”

             
Dave drove without looking at anything but the flooded road ahead. He concentrated on pushing the SUV forward. The engine struggled, complained and shook but didn’t stall. I could feel the push of the water. The only thing helping was the two new passengers added extra weight. My heart thumped as I thought back to when we drove on the flat tire. I was never so sick in my life that I thought I would die. I survived the flu, the zombies, and a car accident only to die from being scratched by a dog.

             
A massive bump pushed us all forward. I didn’t have my seatbelt on so I hit the dashboard. Not hard but enough for a bruise later. A moment later we were back on dry land. Dave hit the brakes, the car skidded a little from the water. He put the car into park but left the engine on.

             
“Go look for them quick,” he said. “And be careful.”

             
I opened my door, the car was dripping water. I ignored it and ran to the shore. Gwen came out from the back and followed me. There wasn’t a beach here but a lot of reeds. I could see Manny struggling, but swimming towards me. The wind caused waves that hit him. I didn’t see Millie. He was lucky he didn’t drown too.

             
I walked into the wet reeds, feeling the water near my boots, the bottom of my jeans getting even more soaked. The smell of water so strong I could taste it. I heard Manny’s coughing before he reached me. His longish black hair plastered all over his face. I put my hand out and he grabbed it. It felt ice cold. I pulled him into a standing position.

             
Manny spit up brackish water and kept coughing. He nearly fell against me. His teeth chattered between coughs. Icy cold water soaked my clothes. I took off his coat which was soaked then put mine around him.

             
“Come on,’’ I said.  Gwen and I tried to lead him to car.

             
“I couldn’t save her—“ he said, his teeth chattering. “She disappeared under the water.”

              The bridge hadn’t been far from Greenport.  The formerly beautiful fishing village had fallen into decay. We passed houses with peeling paint, collapsed or gutted by fire. It looked like at one time the village had been flooded.

The third house we searched had no people and a fireplace. It smelled of mold but so did the previous two. Dave pulled into the driveway and let everyone out while Gwen and I waited at the doorway.

Manny came out, he could walk without assistance but he held my coat close to him and didn’t stop shivering. When I let him in the house, he sat on a leather chair soaking it.

             
There were pieces of wood near the fire place. Enough for one night. Gwen started a fire and then hung Manny’s jacket and mine on a chair it. Mine might dry but Manny’s was soaked.

I searched the house for clothes Manny could wear. I needed a change myself. I think only a woman lived here because I couldn’t find men’s clothes. I grabbed Manny some towels and a big blanket.

              “Sorry Manny, nothing is your size.” I handed him two towels and blanket.

             
“That’s okay,” he said, his teeth chattering. “If you don’t mind me naked. I can dry them on the fireplace.”