The King of Clayfield - 01 (43 page)

"You could have gotten yourself killed, or me or
 
Sara killed, or even one of the others killed--"

"I did," I said.

"I don't understand."

"I shot the man on the roof," I said. "The one with the automatic weapon."

"I
 
was in the office the whole time so I--"

"I shot him," I said. "He's probably dead. So I guess if I wasn't a
 
murderer before, then I
 
am now."

"It was self-defense," she said.

"No," I said. "He shooting at me was self-defense. What I did....I don't know; maybe it was."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "But I'm not okay with being okay with it."

"What about the other men? When Travis wheeled me out, they were all gone."

"I don't know," I said. "I tried
 
to kill them, too. I think I ran them over with the truck when I crashed into the fence."

She stared at me, and it made me uncomfortable. I turned back to the fireplace.

"You did all that just to see me?" she said.

"I guess so."

Sara came back in the house carrying the pizzas and desserts, and she took them to the kitchen.

"So how did it go last night?" Jen said, whispering.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you and Sara...alone...you know."

"It went fine," I said, putting kindling on the glowing embers.
 

"I'm sure it did."

I looked over my shoulder at her.

"How did things go with you and the handsome doctor?"

Jen laughed, "He is that and then some, but he ain't what I'm looking for. Maybe before, but not now."

I blew on the embers until they ignited.

"And what are you looking for? I thought handsome
 
doctors were the ultimate prize."

"Well, yeah,
 
but that's so last week," she laughed at her own joke.
 

"So what's trendy in men now?" I said, adding wood to the fire.

"You gotta know how to build a fire, for one thing. All I ever saw Travis do was adjust the damn
 
thermostat. Another
 
fashionable thing in men this week
 
is the willingness and ability to dispatch zombies--"

"Dispatch?"

"--and it would be good if he knew how to drive a stick shift, too....but
 
I'll let that one slide. The most important thing, though, is
 
that he'll
 
stand up to assholes and run them over with his truck. Travis never stood up to Nathan. Not once. I appreciate that he was there to fix me up, but he ain't earned my respect yet."

I sat in the chair across
 
from the couch.

"So tell me," Jen said. "Did you and Sara cuddle? Share body heat to keep warm?"

"You'd think a bullet in your leg would have slowed you down some."

She pulled a small plastic bag
 
from the pocket of her coat and held it up to show me. It contained pill bottles.

"Travis gave me some drugs before he brought me out. I've got some pain meds and antibiotics. I don't feel anything. I think you're avoiding my question."

"Yes," I said. "There was lots of nudity. Lots of naked nudity and body heat."

She smiled and threw a pillow at me, not knowing I'd just told her the truth--not that it mattered.

"I'm going to see how she's doing with the pizzas. Are you sure I can't get you anything?"

"Any wine left?"

"Yes, but not for you. You're on pain meds."

I went into the kitchen. Sara was using a serrated
 
steak knife to
 
saw the thawed, but uncooked pizzas into
 
small sections
 
so she could fit them in a pan to cook them on the stovetop.

"I wonder if there is a
 
store around that has wood ovens," Sara said. "I'm really going to miss bread. Eventually all the bread in Clayfield is going to get stale or moldy. We'll have to
 
bake our own."

"I think one of those magazines I brought has
 
plans for building a wood oven. Listen, I'm sorry for earlier back at the school. I kind of lost my
 
head
 
for a second."

"Don't worry about it. I hope it doesn't keep us from seeing the doctor, though."

I got a bottle of water for Jen and took it back to her.

"Sara is leaving tomorrow," I said, softly. "She's going to live with the Somervilles."

"Why?" Jen said.
 
"What changed her mind?"

"We talked last night, and she doesn't feel comfortable here."

"Well, if that's what she wants...."

"I know this is what you want,
 
but there will be a lot to do around here, and I don't know if I can do it all by myself."

"What am I?"

"Injured," I said. "Did the doctor tell you how long it would take the leg to heal?"

"He said the fracture might take as long as six weeks."

"That's a long time, Jen."

"I'll be getting around before then, but...I know. I'm sorry to be a burden."

"Don't start that," I said. "It's probably too late, but maybe you could go easy on her, okay?"

We didn't stay up very late that night. We ate our pizza and tried not to
 
discuss heavy topics. Mostly, we talked about movies we had wanted to see but never got to. Jen's pain medication was hitting her hard. She kept nodding during the meal, and she fell asleep with her plate in her lap.

Sara wanted to turn in early, too. There's not a whole lot to do after dark when there is no one to talk to. My usual routine of staying up until midnight and watching TV or working on my computer was over. I tried to read by the firelight, but that was a strain on my eyes.

The next morning, we were all up before sunrise. Jen needed help getting to the bathroom. I helped her to the door and went into the kitchen to start some hot water for coffee. Jen called from the bathroom a couple of minutes later. When I knocked, she asked me to get Sara.

I went back to the kitchen, and I could hear them talking but not what they were saying. Sara went upstairs where we'd taken all of
 
the non-food
 
Wal-Mart supplies. She returned with a
 
bag and headed for the bathroom.

"Is she okay?" I said.

"Yeah. Just
 
woman stuff, and she needs to
 
change the dressing
 
on her leg. Would it be okay if she used that water you're heating?"

I gave it to her, and started another pot. We were down to our last gallon of water.
 
I would need to go fill bottles again. The
 
yellow brick house was nearby and still had water in the cistern, and we'd still had luck getting water from the Clayfield city water supply. Eventually that would all quit, and I'd have to find another source. We were getting low on the alcohol, too. We had
 
just a little of the Southern Comfort left and one bottle of wine.

I could collect these things on my own, but it would be
 
better if I had help. I was debating whether I should ask Sara to help. I knew she would, but I also knew she was ready to go, and I didn't want to impose.

I would need to go check on the chickens, too. It had been a couple of days. They would need to come back with me soon. I didn't want to have to go back and forth. They were only a couple of miles away (as the crow flies), but they would be forgotten if they weren't there with me.

When the water was hot, I
 
poured it
 
through the filter pod of the automatic
 
coffee maker, watched it slowly go down through the grounds, and then poured some more until the carafe was full.
 
I poured myself a cup and went into the living room to make out my to-do list by the light of the fire. I'm a big believer in lists, and there's something
 
sort of therapeutic about it now. It makes me feel "normal."

It would take me a while, and it might be a little more dangerous, but I could do everything on my list by myself. I wouldn't ask Sara to help. As soon as it was light enough, I would drive her to the Somervilles.

I heard some noise in the kitchen then Sara came in with her own cup of coffee.

"She'll holler when she's ready to come out," she said.

"I thought we could leave as soon as the sun is up," I said. "That'll give me time to get some things done today. With Jen hurt, I don't want to leave her alone any more than I have to."

"I can help--"

"No," I said. "I've kept you long enough. You are still welcome to stay, but if you do want to leave, then let's go ahead and do it."

We got Jen comfortable on the couch. All around her, within arm's reach, were a
 
loaded 20 gauge shotgun,
 
a loaded .22 rifle, an additional box of ammo for each, the rest of the water, some snacks, and a stack of magazines and books. I found a set of golf clubs in one of the closets
 
and gave her one to use as a cane.

I added crutches to my list of things to get.

Sara and I took one of the other pickup trucks that had been parked near the barn. The three horses were still there in the yard, but they were the only ones to find their way back. I hoped they would be smart enough to leave on their own; otherwise I'd have to lead them away then block the drive to prevent them from coming back.

We didn't have much to say on the way to the Somervilles'. I took a chance and headed into town near the court square. It was the shortest route, and I was curious about how things looked there since the fire.

There were still clusters of
 
people
 
in town, though most had dispersed.
 
The corner near the drug store and city hall was clogged with
 
burned bodies--some of them walking around, but many
 
of them
 
were still lying in the streets where they'd fallen two days before. The
 
drug store
 
was just a smoking, blackened
 
brick shell, but no other buildings had burned.
 

On the
 
street before we got to
 
Depot Street, we noticed that the houses were marked. A big white or orange "X" had been spray painted on the front of every house, most on the front door. I'd seen something similar before
 
on the news after hurricanes and earthquakes. Rescue personnel did that so they'd know which houses had been searched for survivors. The houses on Depot Street were marked the same way.

"What does it mean?" Sara said.

"I'm not sure," I said. "Maybe the group out at the high school did it."

"Do you think maybe there is still a government, and they're in town?"

"I don't know."

I doubted it.

It
 
bothered me. It could just be a mark used by another group of looters so they wouldn't have to raid a house twice. It could be a tag that claimed a house to be looted later. Maybe it was Mr. Somerville, and he'd been going door-to-door like he'd talked about doing.

I pulled up in front of the Somervilles’ home. A big white "X" was painted on the garage door.

"This is it," I said. "This is Mr. Somerville's house."

"Does this mean he and his wife are gone?" Sara asked.

"Let's go
 
see, but we need to be careful. They're both armed."

We climbed out of the truck and walked into the small front yard.

"Hello!" I said as loud as I dared. "Somervilles!"

We waited to give them time.

"I'm going to the door. Keep watch here and make sure no one is coming."

I went to the door and knocked. I waited. I knocked again. I tried the knob, and the door opened.
 

Something violent
 
had happened in the house. Some of the furniture was turned over. There were holes in the walls-- some were bullet holes. Some of the holes might have been caused by a shotgun, and others looked like something had rammed through the drywall. I didn't see any
 
blood.