Life Among The Dead (55 page)

At first, the promotion scared Cindy, but she has gotten used to the idea. Books from the past physician’s collection, as well as the bookstore and the local library, aid her in her practice.

The bookstore is now a lending library with no due dates, unlike the actual library that is still run by Ms. McCleary. She has lived in new Castle since it was founded. She had met her husband here, and she had buried him here. Now she stares out the window towards the big plaster cow that stands outside the ice cream parlor. In the shade of the large bovine she spies on the entire Williamson clan of New Castle. She counts down the hours. She has been looking forward to this day since the day she met him.

#

The Williamson family sits at a picnic table, enjoying some of Lindsey’s homemade ice cream. As Bill had told Dan, it really is the best in the whole entire world. The treat is supposed to cushion the sadness of the day, for today is the day Bruce is leaving.

The departing monarch had asked that the citizens leave him and his family to their private goodbye. He doesn’t want a fuss to be made. The day before he had stopped by the homes of people he wished to say farewell to. Bruce wants his last moments in town to be happy and constructive. He has much to tell Dan before he can leave the town under his reign. He has tips about leadership, and pearls of wisdom to bestow.

“
They don’t exist.” Bruce says while offering Vincent and Jack licks from his ice cream. “If woman could have orgasms, they’d want sex more often.”

Lindsey appears with more napkins. The children’s faces are covered with sticky beards of melted chocolate ice cream.

“
It looked like you could use these.” She tells them with a smile before returning to the parlor. Bruce watches her walk away, admiring her figure.

“
Where was I?” He snaps back to reality. “I’m off track. Watch out for Ms. McCleary.”

“
Who?” Dan asks.

“
The librarian?” Heather clarifies.

“
Yeah, that hyper-religious battle axe, she’s the shriveled prune with the bad case of huge-chair-ass from never getting off it.” Bruce over describes with distain. No bells of recognition are ringing for Dan yet. He shakes his head.

“
She’s the old lady who was going to burn all those books until Carla stopped her.” Heather adds.

“
If you’d just introduce yourself, you would know these people.” Bruce says and Dan shrugs. “She wanted to burn Tom Sawyer for its ‘homosexual undertones’. That’s the straightest book ever written!”

“
What about her?” Dan asks.

“
Well, she has had the hots for me ever since I created New Castle and who could blame her, right? She will come up to you after I leave, I estimate within five minutes. She will expect you to answer all of her asinine questions. ‘What is our town’s position on this, and that?’ ‘Where do we stand on gay marriage, and abortion?’ ‘What is the religious predominance of New Castle?’ Just do what I do.”

“
And, what is that?” Dan is almost afraid to hear this.

“
Act rude. She’ll leave you alone for a couple of weeks. And, swear a lot. I mean a lot.” Bruce instructs his nephew. “She’ll also come at you with her skewed observations of the town. She told me one day that the older couples are afraid to sleep in the same room at night. She told me of one old bird who is afraid her husband is going die, and she’ll wake up being eaten. I just said to her: ‘I can think of worse ways for a woman to wake up than being eaten.’” Bruce wags his tongue for effect.

The adults laugh. The kids watch them and join in. Heather and Dan are thankful the boys are too engrossed in the ice cream and too young to understand the things that come out of the old man’s mouth at times.

“
She told me she’s glad that she had reached menopause before the plague hit.” Heather adds. “She said this because by her calculations there will be a tampon shortage by the end of the summer.”

“
You know what I would have said to her?” Bruce smirks. “I would have told her it was too bad she no longer has any use for tampons, because it’s the only thing that will ever be put up her… I shouldn’t say this in front of the young ones.”

Bruce looks to the sky and judges how much daylight is left. All the smiles fade because the time is nearing fast.

“
Before I go, I was wondering something.” Bruce stands up from the table. “What’s the protocol on courting a widow?”

“
Do you have one in mind?” Dan asks. He and Heather are standing now as well.

“
Lindsey. It’s only been what three months or so? What is the standard? Four or five months?”

“
You should ask her out when you get back.” Heather smiles, thinking it would be good for the both of them to spend time together.

“
She’s older than I typically like, a little long in the saddle, but I’ve always been a cowboy.” Bruce pats each boy on their head and tussles their hair. “It’s a two day ride nonstop. I figure we’ll get back in less than a week.”

Bruce hugs Heather.

“
Thanks for my going away presents, guys.” He shakes Dan’s hand and pulls him in for a hug, whispering into his ear. “Don’t get too comfortable on my throne, I will be back.”

Bruce had the initial thought to ride his Harley or one of his horses to New Hampshire. Dan was able to talk him into something more sensible that offered actual protection against the elements, gunfire and zombies. The old man insisted on riding something ‘bad ass’.

Dan found a truck for his uncle that invoked in Bruce what he dubbed a ‘cargasm’. He is going east in a black truck that has been jacked up so high even basketball playing zombies won’t be able to touch him. The tires are so immense Dan has no idea if the thing is street legal, not that such a thing matters much anymore.

Bruce decided its bad ass enough, and it can hold more cargo. He can now take his pigeons. He plans on using them to send word back from the road.

Dan and Heather wave goodbye to the enormous pickup as it crawls towards the Eastern route out of town. People stop their working to wave goodbye before the truck reaches the covered bridge. It is a tight fit, but he manages to squeeze through, losing the KC lights on his roof in the process. The Williamsons continue to watch the bridge Bruce has disappeared through as if hoping he’d pop back into their lives.

“
Uh, oh. Heads up.” Heather whispers to her husband. Mrs. McCleary is speed-walking their way. In his head Dan is repeating a mantra
. Be like Bruce. Be like Bruce.

“
Mr. Williamson.” She starts to speak. Now Dan knows who she is. “Since that insufferable uncle of yours is gone, and you are in charge, I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me. Maybe, I can get a straight one since that pig headed man is not around. What is the religious predominance of New Castle?”

Anger flares through Dan like he has never felt.
How dare she? Nobody badmouths Bruce Williamson but me and my dad.
It just pours out of him. He finds his inner Bruce.

“
Mrs. McCleary, is it?” He seethes, as he looks her in her eyes. “I don’t give a fuck which deity’s ass you wish to kiss for the privilege of being alive. But, make up your own fucking mind, and leave everyone else the same respect. OK?”

The old woman turns in a huff from his rude, yet calmly stated words. She storms away even faster than she had come. Dan looks at Heather about to ask if he had gone too far. She has her head down while she cleans the children’s faces. He can see his wife is trying not to laugh until Mrs. McCleary is out of range. She doesn’t want to be on that woman’s shit list.

Heather wraps her arms around her husband. They had a rough patch in their marriage after his confession, and after she had seen him shoot Hector. Heather and Dan had another talk and she helped him realize how things are different now. Hard decisions have to be made, and hard actions have to be taken. It’s the price of survival. One of many.

The interim King of New Castle picks up his kids and kisses his wife.

“
Let’s go home.”

Section III. King of the road

1

Log Entry 1

A locket. He gave me a locket as a going away present. I am on a suicide mission to save his old man and all I get is a locket.

It is a nice thought. It has all their pictures in it. Dan, Heather, and the boys. I guess someone must have opened the photo mart up. He also picked out my truck and lent me Heather. By that I mean his gun and not his wife of course, a military issued M-16 with plenty of ammo. I have my old favs with me to so I should be sitting pretty.

I should probably write where I’m from, and where I’m heading. I should start by introducing myself and tell you why such a handsome 53 year old man is keeping a diary and holding a locket like a 13 year old girl with a crush.

My name is Bruce Williamson, King of New Castle. More accurately, I’m currently an emissary for New Castle. My nephew has stepped into my royal shoes in my absence. I am writing this for historical documentation, or for anyone who comes across it. Obviously, I know who the fuck I am and don’t need to keep a journal about such matters.

If you are reading this I was either successful, or have failed. If I have failed I am probably dead, or very pissed and coming for however is reading this.

As I said I am from New Castle. It’s a great place with mostly great people. Some bad apples like everywhere else. It is west from here. I write this under the assumption the book hasn’t moved too far from me. I’m heading east, so it stands to reason wherever the book falls, New Castle will always be west of it. I have glued a map to the back cover if you need to find the place. See why I’m king? I’m always thinking.

I liberated New Castle from the hands of the dead with minimal help. It was mostly me. I am on my way east to Vermelho, NH to pick up my little brother, and if time permits his wife and any other people he has happened to save. If I know Old Wall, he’s loving this. I know I am.

2

Bruce clicks the button to retract his pen’s tip before tucking the implement into the crease of his notebook’s binding. He has completed his entry for now, finding it difficult to write with the truck rocking the way it is. His words are barely legible and jumpy from the vibrations.

The king on a mission had parked his truck on the side of the road near the town of Glen Hollows. He is only a mere five hours away from New Castle. He had figured it would be a good time to make his first entry, and to test out the truck’s modifications. The dead surround the vehicle. They are why it shakes as they reach up trying to get at the windows, but the truck is just too high for them.

The old man groans as he climbs into the bed behind the truck’s cab through a narrow sliding window. The bed itself is narrow and short
. As long as it holds all my shit,
he thinks. In his inventory back here he has a large red toolbox and a couple of cages to hold his pigeons for sending messages back home. He has several cans of gas for his journey since his truck chugged it like a frat boy.

Bruce unscrews the cap from a long metal pipe that extends up the side of his truck bed. He inserts a funnel from his toolbox and pours the gas down. Bruce can fuel up in tight situations without danger. This is one of the few aftermarket modifications Dan had insisted on.

Bruce nods appreciatively.
It’s a good idea
. He has a hard time judging how much to pour down, not wanting to overfill and lose precious fuel. He stops after draining half of the can
. That should do for now,
he thinks while re-capping the pipe.

Before going back in through the narrow opening, he thinks it would be a good idea to relieve his bladder. He walks to the side of the truck and unfastens his pants.

“
Can I get a little privacy, folks?” He asks the dead around him. They all stare up at the man standing just out of reach. “No? Suit yourselves.”

The king pulls out his penis and starts to pee. The urine stream cuts across the faces of the dead. He aims for their perpetually gapping mouths, making a hollow splashing as it hits the backs of their throats.

“
God! I’m a sick, sick man.”

Bruce can see fingertips caressing the panes of glass when he returns to the cab. He turns the key and the massive engine roars to life. The big black pickup is surrounded by a sea of the dead.

He had decided to stop just outside of the small town so he could also partake in the ancillary objectives of his mission. He is to observe and report back home information regarding the zombies. He takes a pair of binoculars out of his glove compartment. Dan had hastily cut a sunroof into his truck.

Bruce pops up through the makeshift opening. The section of roof had been cut at an angle, leaving a lid that fits perfectly into place like the top of a jack-o-lantern. It isn’t pretty or professional, but like Bruce always says ‘Function over form.’

“
Look at this shabby shit.” Bruce complains about the jagged edges of the panel after they sever half of the zip ties used to fashion an impromptu hinge. The metal square now hangs over the windshield at an angle.

Bruce surveys the town. Another side mission involved finding survivors if possible. It isn’t likely he will find the source or a cure for the plague, or a vaccine, but there still has to be some life out there.