Summer Of 68: A Zombie Novel (3 page)

Chapter Two

A powdered grey light radiated hauntingly through the drawn curtains, casting Joann’s bedroom in
a bitter warmth, as the sun’s presence fought to be known. She rolled over, sliding across the center of the bed, stretched and yawned, rubbing the remaining trace of sleep from her eyes.

Her alarm clock said that it was only 6:23 am; a quick glance outside the window verified it as true. Though it was early, the morning was already shaping up to be comfortable and warm—just what was needed to chase away the monsters from under her boy’s beds, at least until their father’s tour of Viet Nam was over and life could uphold some sense of normalcy once more.

Joann stared at the ceiling, willing herself to rise. She hated waking up alone, but was forced to do it daily. It was true that the boys needed their father just as bad as she needed her husband.

Slipping out of bed, she tiptoed down the hall and stopped to peak in on her boys, Jake and Russell. They remained sound asleep. Watching for a moment, Joann couldn’t help but smile. Her joy was short-lived and laden with guilt, and she recalled singlehandedly crushing their plans for the day. Originally, they planned a jumpstart on the morning, setting out on foot to the fishing hole outside of town. For them, it was a special place. A magical place—a place where their father had taken them on the long hot summer days the previous year. For Joann, however, the roads were inhospitable and she refused to trek eight miles on foot.

Heading down stairs, she cut to the kitchen. The house was chilly from the night before, she tugged on the lapels of her bathrobe, drawing them tight together. Moving against the slight freeze, she quickened her pace, her bare feet slapping atop the hardwood floor. In her mind, the house was haunted, not by ghosts’ unseen, but rather that of her own memories, of a time when Frank was with her daily, and when her boys could see their father in the morning and just before bed every night. She felt it the hardest in the morning, and like a fog, her dull funk would gradually burn away as the minutes progressed and the sun steadily rose.

She set about fixing a pot of coffee, and as it brewed, she leaned back against the countertop, waiting for the last tendril of sleep to vacate her mind. Before long, the hearty aroma of coffee drifted her way, billowing up in a cloud of steam and released her from her fit of morning despair. Joann took a deep breath and smiled.

“Perfect,” she said, grabbing a cup and filling it to the brim.

She paused, setting the porcelain down.
Might as well,
she thought, rummaging through one of the neighboring drawers, and pushing her fingers past the random odds and ends that only a family could accumulate. Her fingers came to rest atop an old pack of cigarettes, one she had bought months ago. Frank would always give her a hard time for smoking, said he did it for him and the boys, and because of that, she gave it up for many years. She picked up the habit shortly after Frank was deployed into Asia. Overtime, her addiction to the nicotine slowly began to fester. It was horrible, but nowhere near as horrible as the loneliness building inside.

The morning light hinted at an idyllic summer’s day, and nothing set the tone better than a cup of coffee and cigarette, first thing in the morning. The backdoor stood a couple of feet away and through it, the patio. She popped the latch and pulled up on the handle, gently lifting the solid wood a few short inches from the floor—one wrong tug and the base would drag, creating a dull squeak as it skidded across the wood planks. The wood floor bore the scars of countless scrapes, an ailment Frank promised to fix, but never did.
 

She left the door open and slipped outside. The breeze was warm with a cool hint of spring. With her coffee in hand, she shuffled across the patio, balancing her mug, as she made her way towards the table and chairs that were located at the far end, where the brick met the lawn.

Closing her eyes, she savored the first sip and lit the cigarette between her lips. It was a good feeling and a relaxing rush. Frank must have been asleep by now, she thought, though she wasn’t entirely aware of the difference in time from place to place, but she reckoned it to be drastic.

She wanted to think of her husband in a positive light, but any thought was soon replaced by the horrific footage shown on the news. American GI’s and Viet Cong soldiers, horrendously burned, bodies cast in roadside ditches, riddled with bullets. The news was unforgiving in their portrayal of war. A tearful shudder tore through her chest and she pushed the thought from her mind as best as she could. With a full day ahead, she knew it’d be best if she didn’t ruin it yet.

Another pull from her cigarette cleared her mind. When everything was said and done, Joann decided to take the boys to the park and let them run around for an hour or two, giving them time to burn off steam for not being able to fish.

They were so excited for it, too…

Joann bit her lip. The coffee mug burned her palm but she promptly set it on the table. Sitting back, she watched the steam as it eddied across its black surface.

“Is that you there, Joann?”

Startled, she leapt forward, spooked by the suddenness of the kindly old voice. She smiled, slipping the cigarette from view. As she did, Sidney poked his white head of hair over the lip of the fence, which divided the two yards.

“It’s me,” she smiled, inconspicuously snuffing the cigarette on the ground.

Sid smiled. He was a kind old man of eighty years. Now retired, he spent much of his time on the go. Like clockwork, he could be found in the garden, snipping this and planting that.

“You’re up pretty early,” he said with a wink.

She shrugged. “The same goes for you, too.”

“If I didn’t get after you, I’d almost feel guilty for waking up at four o’clock, myself.”

“You’re full of it, you know that?”

Sid nodded. “I’ve been told that a time or two in my life,” he said, and after a moment of silence, frowned. “Is there anything troubling you?” he asked.

“What makes you say that?” she frowned.

“Well, for one…I can smell your smoke.”

Joann blushed and before she could fathom an excuse, he continued, “Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

“I, um, I don’t think so.” She was questioning, in her reply.

“I’ve been around this here block a few times in my years. If there’s anything you wanna talk about, it ain’t nothing new to me.”

Joann smiled, glancing at the crushed, half-smoked cigarette and rolled it across her fingers. “Yeah, I know…”

“I don’t condone it, but do what’cha gotta do and have yourself that there cigarette. I mean, if it’s troubling you that much, by all means.”

Joann
nodded, his blessing was all she needed. Before he could finish, she popped it between her lips and relit its crushed and gnarled tip.

“Thank you,” she said, speaking around her cigarette smoke.

Sid smiled, kindly.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” he replied.

Joann paused, drew a deep breath and considered her words. “Do you think I’m a good mom?”

Sid frowned, as though Joann would even consider such a thing. “Why would you ask me something as asinine as that?”

Joann shrugged, and took a drink from her mug. Her coffee had cooled greatly and to buy some time, she drank as much as she could in lieu of response. Reaching the bottom, she grimaced.

“I don’t know,” she said, “just a question, is all.”

She placed the mug on the table and looked up as her gaze met the old man’s hazel eyes. She could see his mind working, mauling words in search of prophetic insight.
His focus upon her, left her feeling ill-at-ease.

“Look,” she said, “I gotta go get myself a refill,” she motioned to the empty mug. “I’ll be back, alright?”

“Sure thing,” he nodded, still in thought.

She excused herself and hurried back to the kitchen. Without hesitation, she filled her mug and shoved the cigarette pack down the front pocket of her robe, before returning to Sid. He wasn’t there when she took her seat, but as the cushions creaked beneath her weight, he reappeared.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

Joann smiled, pulling the pack of cigarettes from her robe and promptly lighting one. After a couple of moments, filled by a steady intake of coffee and smoke, Joann stared into space, solely fixated on her mug.

“I’ll tell you something,” she said, never lifting her gaze from the mug, “sometimes it feels like I’m not even married anymore. I don’t know…weird, I know…I doubt you know what I mean, do you?”

Sid shook his head. “I’m sorry, dear, but I don’t.”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, like I’m going to go out and bed the first man I see. Sometimes, I just feel so alone, it hurts—even with my two babies, it still hurts.”

He chimed in, “And they’re both lovely boys.”

Joann smiled, feeling a pang of regret gnaw at her stomach. She kicked herself for even saying it. She looked up, found his eyes focusing on her, and quickly looked away.

“Trust me…Jake and Russell, they can be devils, but they’ll always be mommy’s angels, too. What I’m getting at…well, is Frank. Without him, I feel like they’re missing out on some pivotal point in their childhood. Do you know what I mean?”

“I reckon so.”

Her guilt steadily increased as she realized the pain her rambling had caused. Sid never had a child of his own, his wife had died young. Because of that, he could never comprehend what she meant, but still, he tried.

“I just don’t want my boys to have to feel cheated any longer than they have to. When they ask, I cannot give them a solid answer—I don’t know
when,
let alone
if
he’s coming home.” Joann regretted saying it, the moment the words passed her lips. She took a deep breath and sighed, as though she could suck the words back, but only if she breathed hard enough.

Sid smiled, sadly. “Joann, listen to me,” he paused, guaranteeing her attention. “I spent three years in Frankfurt, shot twice in the thigh by some kraut bastard, and I’ve gotten myself stabbed once in the hand, too, by a fellow GI…” he chuckled, holding up the guilty extremity, “and that was over a game of cards.”

“I know,” she spoke quietly.

“I can say for certain, it ain’t looking good over there. I lost more than a few friends in the war and I’m not much for discussing it, either.”

Again, she nodded, looking him square in the eyes. Sid continued, “There was nothing that I could’ve done about it, just as there was nothing that they could’ve done to prevent it. That’s war for ya’ and it’s a tough ship. Believe me when I say, their daddy’s gonna come home. Nothing in this world will keep Frank from you and those boys. It might not be today, tomorrow, a month, or even a year, but I do, I honestly believe that one of these days, their daddy is gonna walk through that door, right into the arms of you and yours.”

Joann smiled, but the gesture felt transparent. Her mind was preoccupied by that of her own phobia and fears. “I know, Sid. Sometimes it feels like I’m not enough for them. I know they need their father and I’m trying to fill those shoes, but there’s only so much I can do.” She sucked gingerly on her cigarette, exhaling the smoke and sipping some coffee.

“What do you mean?” Sid asked.

“Well...today is a perfect example. They wanted to walk on down to that little creek outside
of town. It’s where Frank used to take the two of them and…I told them no.”

“No?”

She nodded and felt the heaviness of guilt grumble through her belly. “I just can’t make it myself out there and—”

“You told them no because
you
don’t want to make the trip?”

Joann frowned. “I said no because they’re so young, for Christ’s sake. I don’t know if you know this or not, but the world’s not that nice of a place anymore.”

“Everything changes ‘Ann. It’s the law of the land. But look where we live. There ain’t anything here but farmers and cowboys. We ain’t got all that bullshit that they got going in the big city. What we got here is the last frontier, where a kid can be a kid without the threat of communists and hippy freaks. This is a good town we got here and a lot of good people, too.” He paused, pondering his thoughts. After a moment, he nodded as though concluding his own decision.

“If it’ll help, I’ll drive them out there, but I ain’t gonna hold their hand. They’re big enough to walk home themselves. Let the two of them live a little. They need to be the little men of the house, so let them.”

Joann thought about it and deep down, she knew the old man was right. Whether she could admit it or not was another story. She believed that if she went back on her word, the boy’s would undoubtedly use it as an excuse for future endeavors and walk all over her from there on out.

“I don’t know,” she said, and it was the truth.

“What don’t you know?” Sid asked, speaking in a blunt tone.

Joann shook her head. She had no reason, just a bunch of excuses. With a reserved sigh, she nodded. “Maybe you’re right,” she was defeated with no way to justify her loss.