town rumor

“I, I, I,” stammered Mary-Anne. She looked like a proverbial deer in the headlights.

Katrina’s fear morphed into rage. “I asked you, what the HELL are you doing?” Chris remained halfway up the stairs. Katrina’s anger was so unstable, he didn’t want to get in the way.

Mary-anne straightened and brushed her jeans off. “Well, I saw someone sneaking in the gate and well, I’m just glad it’s you and not some burglar.”

Katrina straightened her hunched back and uncurled her fists enough to seem about as less hostile as a dog ready to playfully beat a rabbit to death. “Why didn’t you try the front door?”

“well, I did. It’s locked.”

Chris started down the stairs, “uh, sorry, that was my fault. Habit I suppose.”

Katrina looked at him, processing some information. She turned back to Mary-anne, “Why did you have to break the window?”

“Sorry, I’ll replace it. I just, “ she looked at Chris and back to Katrina. “I have something that I guess you should know. In private.”

“Well, if it has anything to do with the infection, Chris can know too. He is writing that article after all.”

“Right.” She walked towards the sofa behind chairs and sat, curled into the corner as if that was her normal spot. Katrina followed her and sat in her mother’s chair leaning over the arm to the sofa. Chris stood guard behind the couch. “well, ever since we got back there’s been things going on.”

“What kind of things?” Chris heard himself ask.

Mary-anne glanced at him and continued talking to Katrina. “People are going missing. And not being found.”

“Who?” Katrina asked.

“Well, the butcher’s son. He goes hunting in the woods. He went hunting a couple days ago. Well, you can’t really call it hunting. He goes shooting.” Mary-anne chuckled at herself. “They searched for him, but found nothing.”

“What’s his name?” Chris asked, remembering the young man he saw in the woods, licking the tree.”

“Foster Briant.” Katrina answered. Chris was relieved: Not the same guy.

“So, anyways, they’re still looking for him. But another person has gone missing. I don’t know their name, but it’s some guy who was last seen last night at the bar.” Katrina and Chris cringed at the thought. “There’s more people missing, but no one will give details. The rumor going around is that the infection is getting stronger now that we’re back.”

“That’s absurd, “ Katrina scoffed. “We’ve been treated. We still treat ourselves everyday.”

Mary-anne rolled her eyes, “yeah. I know.”

“So what does this have to do with you breaking and entering into my house?”

“Well, I afraid that one of the two of you was going to murder the other.”

“And you were going to what, apprehend them by yourself?” Chris asked.

“mary-anne glared at him. “No, that’s what the brick was for. Dual purpose.”

Katrina stood up and walked through a door. A couple seconds later she came back with a broom and dust pan. “well, there’s nothing we can do but clean up and get this window covered with plastic until I can get it fixed.”

Mary-anne jumped up and headed towards the door, “well, I’m glad that it’s just you guys and I didn’t have to kick any asses today. I’ll see you later, gotta meet Mary-jo.”

Katrina rolled her eyes and started brushing up the glass. Chris walked over to help. “Where can I find a tarp or plastic bag or something?”

Chapter 11, Katrina's Mansion

Emily turned her head towards Katrina one more time and lightly smiled with her lips pressed together.

Chris was looking at the family photos on Clint’s coffee table when Katrina came upstairs. He turned around and she smiled, “Shall we go?”

“Yeah. To your old house?”

“Not quite what I had in mind.” Katrina was gripping her purse rather tightly.

“Come on. You have to face you fear. I’m here. You need to go back sooner than later; get it over with. From what I understand, we’re right near by.” Katrina turned towards the front door while Chris followed out of the house.

11.

They walked to the right once out of Clint’s house and continued on down the street about two blocks. Katrina wasn’t interested in speaking to Chris but he figured that was due to her nerves; this would be her first time back to the house in over three years.

“I’m not happy about this Christopher.” She looked at him for only a split second.

“I know you’re not. And not even my mother calls me that.”

They ran out of blocks to continue walking on and when they made their last right, Chris looked at the properties on the left side of the road. They were lined with large fences which only allowed you to see the tops of the roofs, but that was a good indicator of the sheer size of the mansions. The over-sized rot-iron gates were just a minor touch to the significance of the property.

Chris could only see two houses—or roof tops rather--but knew there were more properties that lined the street; he remembered from when they were on Mama’s roof top the other night. They crossed the street and what had resembled forest, was actually a brick wall covered in over grown weeds and plants. They continued walking a few more steps until they came to the first rot-iron gate. The two intricately designed doors were at least twelve feet tall and were—together-- 20 feet across. Now looking at the house through the gates, it looked like a modern brick castle.

Katrina was trying to maneuver the chain locking the gates together so she could spread apart the gates enough to squeeze through. “Mama has the key to the gate’s lock, but I have one to the house too. She’s been taking care of the place a little. Can you squeeze through here?” Katrina was forcing the gates apart with her arms.

“I think so.” Chris sucked in and ducked under Katrina’s arm forcing his upper half through first then slithered each leg through like a snake. His right leg got caught underneath the gate on its way through and he stumbled forward. Katrina managed to catch the back of his shirt and restore his balance with one arm. “You’re not very good at this ‘getting around on two feet’ thing are you.”

Chris felt his face flush. “It’s never been a strong suit.”

They both stood staring at the house. Forty feet away from them was a two-story, modern Victorian-style home. Chris was astonished at the size of the wooden doors with rot-iron hinges the size of his head. On each side of the door were floor-to-ceiling windows Tradition burgundy drapes were blocking any peeping toms from looking in. The upper level had a balcony running the length of the home with white French doors in the middle. There were six foot, curved windows on each side. They didn’t have drapes on them and looked like they might be a seating area in a bedroom. On the left of the house was a large turret that ran from the ground to ten feet above the second level. There appeared to be an attic, but only two triangular windowa set out from the house and barely big enough to get more than a tunnel vision view from. Chris could see more peaks of roof popping out from the back and there looked to be another turret in the back right of the house. He was distracted by the sound of Katrina jingling her keys out of her purse. “Ready?” He asked putting his arm around her. She relaxed for only a second before she took a step forward.

What's in the basement? Chapter 11

....He turned and walked through the hallway into his bedroom.

They all waited for the door to close before anyone moved. Katrina grabbed her bag and headed for a small door just off the living room. She opened it quickly and lightly shut it behind her.

Chris stood staring at the closed door, like a lost puppy left in a stranger's house; unconsciously imagining what was going on downstairs. Mama startled him when she put her had on his forearm. “I’m gonna go now chicken. I’ll see you two later?”

“Oh, I don’t know what time we’ll be home. We have to go over to Mary-Jo’s for dinner tonight. That reminds me: do you want to come? She asked us to ask you.”

“Oh dear me, tell her ‘no, thank you’. I think I’ve enough of the rumor-mill today—- don’t tell her that part.”

Chris chuckled and smiled at Mama. “I won’t.”

Mama winked at him and continued towards the hallway. “Oh, and one more thing: her meat pie has nothing on mine— no matter what she says.”

*****

Katrina entered the basement slowly and quietly. It used to be a place where Emily and her would go to play away from the grown-ups. Emily used to talk about how she would decorate it like her own apartment.
Katrina looked to the left at the familiar shape of Emily sleeping; she would be so disappointed in the way Clint had tacked some ratty bed-sheets to the walls to cover the pink fiberglass insulation. Emily’s legs were tied together and then each was tied to the bottom corners of the bed. The same was of her hands; only the rope was tied strategically to a bar on each side of the bed so she wasn’t restricted to one sleeping position. She was laying in the position she was most fond of: her arms bent up beside her head—it reminded Katrina of when they used to dance around singing YMCA, spelling all the letters out with their arms. Emily’s head was turned to the left as if she was looking out the basement window. She looked almost normal.

Katrina moved even more cautiously towards her, carefully reaching into the small pocket on the front of her purse—never removing her eyes from Emily. Emily’s feet twitched to the right, stopping Katrina half way. She reached further in the pocket, feeling the shape of the needle and then the small bottle of liquid medication.

Once she got close enough to Emily to hear the pattern of her breath, she slowly pulled the utensils out of her bag. She removed the cap off the needle with her teeth and only looked away for enough time to pierce the needle through the lid of tiny bottle, and then again to make sure there were no air bubbles in the needle.

Katrina took another step closer to Emily. She grabbed the rope on Emily’s right arm and slowly slid it down the pole until it was straight. Katrina bunched up any loose rope and held it firmly with her left hand so Emily wouldn’t be able to move it. Emily inhaled deeply and turned her head towards Katrina, opened her eyes and formed her mouth into the shape of a smile. Only, this wasn’t a friendly smile; it was more like an efficient way to make a hissing sound, showing her displeasure at her current situation.

Quickly, Katrina stuck the needle into her upper arm and plunged the stopper until it wouldn’t go any further, all it’s contents emptied into Emily’s arm. Emily thrashed briefly, but Katrina did not waver; in a minute she would be calm.

Katrina disposed of the needle and the glass bottle in the trash beside the bed. She watched Emily for a brief moment, her eyes were closed and she looked peaceful again. Her face looked almost flush and her scar was a little more even with her skin tone. Katrina turned to leave just as Emily turned her head towards Katrina one more time and lightly smiled with her lips pressed together.

Going to Clint's

Outside of the police station, Chris and Katrina took a left turn and headed towards the church. Instead of stopping, Katrina announced that they were going over to Clint’s. Chris was excited, he desperately wanted to hear Clint's story about Emily. Once They walked through the headstones, past the bell tower and through the other-side of the church, they were in the residential area. Another few minutes of weaving through streets and ducking under over grown trees, they arrived at a smaller, one-storey brick house. Chris noticed the brush was grown out and the grass hadn’t been mowed in about a month. There were trees in the front of the house that were so big and full, they looked like ancient guards hovering over the front yard; scaring away any unwanted intruders.

Katrina walked up to the door and pushed it open with no hesitations. Chris tentatively followed, examining the interior walkway decorated with family pictures. Clint obviously hadn’t had the heart to take them down since his wife’s passing. Everything was neat and tidy, but Chris assumed Mama had a hand in that.

Katrina was sad at the appearance of Clint’s house; she could remember playing in the front yard with Emily. Now the front yard resembled a house that neighborhood kids all over would be afraid to come to on Halloween; afraid they would be gobbled up by little old witch.

She pushed through her feelings like a velvet curtain, walked up to the door and opened it like she was to be expected. She had already been inside since she’s been back, but it still surprised her how unchanged the house was. She would have thought Clint would have tried to re-decorate, renovate or even move out of the house when the chaos started to subside.

She walked through into the living room where Clint was sitting with Mama on the long, brown, faux-velvet couch. They were already looking up to see who had walked through the door uninvited. Both smiled at the sight of Katrina, but Katrina noticed the smile melt off Clint’s face when Chris came out of the hallway.

“Who’s this?” Clint demanded.

“This is Katrina’s friend Clint, all the way from New York.” Mama offered.

“I met him on the plane out here.” Katrina said. “We told you about him.” Katrina said excitedly, trying hard to diffuse the bomb that was about to explode.

“The one reporting on the infection?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Chris smiled the biggest smile he could muster and walked up to Clint to shake his hand— despite the fact Clint was still sat comfortably on the couch. Looking through Clint’s eyes into his angry and destroyed spirit made Chris feel sympathetic and intimidated all at the same time.

Clint didn’t shake Chris’ hand, instead he got up, excused himself and walked down another hall into what Chris assumed was a bathroom.

“Sorry,” Mama and Katrina blurted.

“It’s OK.” I’m an unwanted guest, trying to pry into his life again.

“Maybe just don’t ask any questions until he gets to know you a bit more around here chicken.” Mama warned.

“No problem.”

Clint came out of the bathroom and stopped in the entrance to the living room. “Look, I’m kinda tired. It’s almost two O’clock. I think I’m gonna take a nap. Katrina, if you want, go down to Emily quickly and then I’d appreciate it if y’all would leave.” He turned and walked through the hallway into his bedroom.

Chapter 10; talking to Glen O'Toole at the police department.

...“So, what happened in the forest?”

Chris told her every detail he could remember down to how squished the truck was with all the men. She didn’t seem surprised, but interested. The only question she asked at the end was if he had fun.

“Yes. I think I did. It was exhilarating I suppose. Gets your adrenaline going, you know?”

Katrina’s smile dropped of her face and she nodded towards the door; “Incoming.”

Chris looked in that direction and saw Mary-Jo in a sleeveless, yellow, flower-print dressing weaving through tables to get to them.

“Good. I caught you. I heard you were here.”

“Ho—“

“Can you come over tonight for dinner, something came up and the dinner has been bumped to tonight,” She paused for a moment, looking between Chris as Katrina. “Oh, please tell me you’ll come.” She leaned on the table, pushing her chest forward as if to use her overly large breasts as a bargaining chip. The look on her face was sincerely concerned.

“Um, yeah, sure.”

“Oh goody.” She bounced and clapped her hands. For a moment, Chris thought he felt the café shake. “Shall we say between five and six?”

“That sounds…good.”

“Great. Don’t forget your note-pad.”

“Oh, I won’t.” Chris said condescendingly.

Mary-Jo gave a wave and made her way out. Everyone in the Café was looking in their direction; intrigued at what just took place.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know. But should we get out of here?”

“Yes, I suppose.” They got up and moved through the tables of gawking people.

Chris lead the way out of the café, eyes following them like a Victorian portrait. He was feeling much more calm now, Katrina seemed to have brought him down to her level.

“Let’s go to the church’s park and talk; we won’t be disturbed there.”

“I would love to but I have to meet Glen. Can we meet in an hour?”

“Can I come?”

Chris smiled, “Even better.”

They walked around the block--the long way to the police station.

When they got inside it smelled of stale coffee and peppermint gum.

Glen was the only person to be seen; sitting behind a generic desk with a mound of neglected papers and a small bushel of mail in the corner. When he saw them, he looked as if he had just won the Publisher’s Clearing House grand prize.

“Hey guys, I was hoping you’d come in soon. There’s not much going on in the town right now.” He patted the stack of papers.

“So now would be a good time to talk to you?” Chris asked.

“Better than any.” He pointed towards the empty seats across the desk.

Katrina sat next to the wall and Chris next to her. “Great. Do you mind if I borrow a piece of paper and a pen?”

Glen looked at him with a furrowed brow.

“I kinda forgot my notepad. I’m new at this whole journalism thing.”

“No problem,” Glen dug around in his desk while Chris and Katrina stole a glance from each other.

Glen pushed a pad of paper and a pen towards him. “You can keep the pen.” He winked at Chris.

Chris twisted the pen between his fingers. Forest Hills Police Dept. “Couldn’t afford the whole word ‘Department’?” Chris asked.

“No, it just didn’t fit.”

“I was just kidding. Nevermind.” Chris swallowed uncomfortably and marked Glen O’Toole interview at the top of the page. “How long have you lived in Forest hills?”

“Born and raised.”

“And, how old are you?”

“Twenty four.”

“How long have you worked for the police department?”

“I started training about three and half to four years ago.”

“So you were an officer when the infection started to spread? Tell me about that.”

“I came after they banned the department from fighting.”

“What do you mean?”

“Too many officers died or something, so it was left up to those two bearded cavemen.”

“Glen,” Katrina shook her head.

“Sorry,” Glen glared at Katrina. “Forgot they were your best friends.” He searched the roof for something to look at.

“Jerrid and Gregory you mean?” Chris asked.

“Yeah.”

“What do you have against them?”

“I just don’t see why they should be allowed to continue to fight and guard the town while the police department are taking care of old Mrs. Mortgensen’s cat. I’d prefer the tree top too, if I was the cat.” Glen rolled his eyes.

“Okay, So, tell me about the first encounter you had.”

“Most of it was when I was a rookie; before they force was restricted to town duty. We were called to a spot over in the neighborhood—by Katrina’s house—where a group of dogs and cats were taunting an old shiatsu. By the time we got there, both of its ears were missing, bits of flesh were either hanging off or gone and the animals continued attacking.”

“Why do you think it was the only one being attacked?”

“Because it was the oldest, of course. It was most vulnerable.”

“Of course,” Chris said under his breath. “Has any of your family been affected by this?”

“Not my direct family, but when Katrina’s parents were…you know. They were like my family too.” Glen looked at Katrina like a puppy needing a home. She rolled her eyes. He turned his gaze back towards Chris, with quick flickers towards the door. “You do know what happened, don’t you?”

Katrina was appalled that he would use her dead family to try and one-up Chris.

“Yes, I do.” Chris gave him a warning glance; telling him not to continue on that subject.”

“So, what have you had to deal with in ways of human victims of the infection?”

“None really. I’ve been lucky that way.”

“You’ve never seen a human infected?” Chris had the feeling that this was a wasteful interview.

“I had to kill an infected baby once.”

Chris regretfully perked up in his seat.

“Just ‘bout bit the mother’s nipple right off.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Serious as a heart attack. I thought it was weird that a baby that was that old was still breast-feeding too. The only reason we knew the baby had the infection. The mother tried to cover it up, but Doctor Stevensen made us privy to that info when she came in claiming to have a serious infection. By the time we got to her, the baby was irate and his veins looked purple. When we tried to hold him. He would try and scratch and bite. We had to put him down.”

Ending Chapter 9: in the forest Cont...

....It only ate until it was full.”

“What does that mean?” Chris asked.

“That they’re changing kid. They’re evolving to something smarter. It stopped when it was full.” Jerrid repeated.

Gregory and Jerrid chuckled.

“Well, we can take care of this later, let me take you to the other one. It’s more… normal.” Gregory started towards the car.

Chris quickly leaned in to snap a picture of the empty ribcage as his camera was focusing, that’s when he noticed a spotty, half-circle imprint on the bottom of the ribcage. A human bite mark, he thought. He snapped a picture of that just as Jerrid was calling after him.

When they got back into the cramped quarters of the truck, Chris mentioned the teeth marks and Jerrid explained to him that that’s normal; they’ve seen that a lot when the infected gets carried away while feeding.

They made it back out to the main path that Chris was familiar with and Gregory continued up towards the farm. He took a right through the trees again. Chris assumed they had already passed the farm at this point. Gregory drove the truck as smoothly as he could while dodging trees and bouncing over broken tree-limbs. Chris couldn't help but contemplate how often the truck’s suspension had to be tuned.

“We’re just about there, it’s just over—“

“Stop.” Jerrid yelled.

Gregory hit the brakes and the truck slid through some of the underbrush. Chris was thankful he had his lap belt on.

“What the hell?” Gregory put the truck in park and glared at jerrid.

Jerrid pointed to the trees in the distance. Chris followed his finger but couldn’t see anything. He skimmed the trees with his eyes, looking for another animal corpse. Then he saw it.

About thirty feet away, there was a man in his late twenties. He had long, dark, dirty hair; his jeans were worn out like an old potato sack and his navy t-shirt was barely being held together by the threads. He was standing, but his whole body--including his face were rested against the tree. Chris couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed or just heavy. His tongue was hanging out the side of his face, lapping something off the bark at the pace of a small child eating an ice cream cone. His hand was pressed against the tree at stomach height to keep him steady.

“Well, that’s new.” Jerrid commented.

Gregory grabbed the binoculars hanging from a hook behind him.

Chris knew that in any other city in the US, this would probably be just some kid high on methamphetamines, come to the forest to ‘connect with nature’. Here in Forest Hills, it was the infection coursing through his veins.

“He’s licking blood off the tree,” Gregory concluded. “That’s where the wolf is.

”Was,” Jerrid added.

“What?” Gregory asked

“Well, if this guy is licking the blood off a tree, he’s probably finished off the wolf.”

Chris found his voice: “How did blood get on the tree?”

“Could have been anything. He could have been violent with the animal, which got the blood there, or it could be his own.”

“What do we do?” Chris asked. Surprisingly, he wasn’t as nervous as he thought he would be around an infected. He assumed it was because he was in a truck with two rifles and two large men who knew how to use them.

“Just wait a minute.”

Jerrid slowly pulled his rifle up from between his legs. He had to swing it over Chris’ leg briefly to get it above the dash. Chris flinched a little. He rolled down the window and maneuvered the barrel of the truck and rested it on the side mirror. Just as he was taking aim, the infected jerked his body towards them, sniffing the air. He was alert and aware of their presence.

“Quick,” Gregory shouted from behind the binoculars “He smelled us when you rolled down the window.”

“I got it. I got it.” Jerrid yelled.

The infected started bounding towards them in large lengths and Chris was becoming more nervous with each leap until he was shaken by a thunderous bang and the infected didn’t get back up again.

“See kid, that’s how you do it.” Jerrid said proudly. He brought the gun back inside; Gregory put the truck in drive and continued on through the trees until they got to the newly deceased.

Once again they were out of the truck gaping at something dead on the ground. The infected’s head was mostly missing and only held together by the flesh on his left temple. like a dog, it’s tongue was hanging out of what was left of his face. Chris took out his camera and tried to take picture of anything but its missing face. He took pictures of the fingernails that hand been bent back; partially ripped off, along with shots of the skin that was so deteriorated and diseased; it looked like it was melting off of hiss hands and arms. While Jerrid and Gregory were talking about what to do with the body, Chris took some more pictures of the infected’s bare feet. They were cut up from running around in the forest. He remembered Katrina saying something about their amazing tolerance for pain.

“What do you normally do with the bodies?” Chris asked.

“Burn them, but that was when we had more than two per week.” Gregory leaned down by the dead man. “Look at this: his wallet.” He reached in his front pocket to pull it out and opened it up revealing a Kentucky driver’s license. “He’s from Winchester.”

“Where’s that?” Chris asked.

“Up by Lexington.”

“What’s he doing all the way over here?” Jerrid leaned down to join Gregory. Chris snapped pictures of Gregory holding the open wallet, with the ID showing through a plastic screen.

“That’s a good question, my friend. And how did he get down here?”

“Well, keep the wallet, but we gotta start looking for some dry brush to cover him with,” Jerrid got up and started looking around. “Is there any bus tickets or anything in it?”

“No, just forty bucks.” Gregory got to his feet and tucked the money into his front pocket. “Come on kid, start searching.”

Chapter 8: Going to Stumps

8.

Dusk was starting to press on forest hills; the setting sun was playing off the buildings and trees, creating supernatural shadows. Chris commented on the eerie feeling that the pursuing darkness was giving him and Katrina laughed.

They reached Stumps in less than five minutes and were greeted at the door by a heavyset man testing the strength of a stool he was perched on. He opened the door when he saw Katrina approaching. She smiled and nodded in thanks before she walked through. Chris continued behind her but felt a hand press against his chest before he made it over the threshold.

“Identification.” The man said without looking at him, or removing his hand.

“Oh, yeah sure,” Chris pulled out his wallet and obliged the man.

“I knew you weren’t from around here,” He said, handing the card back to Chris. He waved Chris in. Chris realized the bouncer was profiling him instead of checking the legality of his attendance at the bar.

Once inside, Chris could see that the bar was named appropriately; to the left of the entrance--past the restroom--was a long burl-wood bar extending the entirety of the room. The bar stools were made out of tree stumps, this was the same for the tables, however, they were at least three feet in diameter. The inside of the building was made to look like a log cabin complete with heads of various animals and an old stove converted into a freezer for ice. On the far wall there was a hundred inch TV projecting the scene of a lake out a cabin window with jet skiers and boats passing through.

There were hardly any patrons in the bar, and the only two servers were chatting outside the kitchen; neither of them paying attention to the newcomers. Katrina didn’t know anyone in there so she lead the way over to the pool tables. After she put her purse down on top of a tall table in the corner--also carved out of a tall, skinny tree stump—she asked Chris: “You play?” Nodding towards the table.

“Uh, yeah I guess I can give a good rally.”

“Good. Will you rack ‘em?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“What do you want from the bar?”

“Just a beer, whatever’s on tap,” Chris grabbed some quarters out of his pocket to insert into the table and was happy to see the tables didn’t cost anything; they were real billiard tables.

Katrina came back and set their drinks next to her purse.

“Thanks,” Chris sipped enough beer out of the glass to keep it from spilling. “You wanna break?”

“No, you go ahead.” She unwrapped a new pack of cigarettes and lit one.

Chris sunk two solids and moved onto his next shot. He lined up the shot with his cue before he bent over to take it.

Katrina took notice to his broad shoulders and lean back muscles. She was thinking of how long it had been since she had any mutual contact with a man. She shook the thought out of her head, taking a drag on her cigarette and closing her eyes. She heard the crack of the balls hitting, followed by the sound of a ball being pocketed. She exhaled, feeling the roughness of the smoke leaving her chest and throat. She opened her eyes.

“I sunk a high ball, it’s your go.” Chris smiled and passed the pool cue to her. She assessed her best shot and continued with the cigarette still hanging out of her mouth; the smoke making her squint.

Chris took notice and asked: “Why do you smoke anyways?”

She missed and passed the cue back to Chris. “It keeps me relaxed. Despite what you may think, I actually hate it but I get nervous and jittery sometimes for no reason. This keeps me calm and relaxed when that happens.”

“Do I make you jittery and nervous?” Chris asked coyly.

Katrina rolled her eyes.

As Chris was about to shoot the eight ball for the win, he saw Jerrid and Gregory walk through the bar door. Jerrid was showered and clean, but still looked un-done and tired. He glanced around scoping out the scene when his eyes rested on Chris and Katrina. He smirked at Chris and said something to Gregory that made them both laugh. They started to walk over and Chris missed his shot, sinking the white ball and losing by default.

The two men walked over to stand beside Katrina. “Aw, kid did we make you nervous?” Gregory laughed and Katrina hit them both on the chest. They seemed about as bothered as if a housefly bumped into them.

Gregory was just as big as Jerrid, but his build was more muscular. They both could have been brothers by the way they looked the same. Gregory had darker hair and lighter eyes and let his beard grow long on purpose, where Jerrid’s was just days of overgrowth.

“No way. I just miss-judged my shot.”

“Uh-Huh.”

“He’s actually quite good, he kicked my ass there for awhile.” Katrina vouched for him.

“Well, that’s not hard to do.” Gregory nudged her.

Jerrid cleared his throat, “Anyways, Greg this is that kid I told you about that you almost shot in the forest.”

“Oh, yeah. You were right: he does look like he could be infected; the frightened little look he has on his face.” Jerrid laughed, the cigarette smoke coming out his nose.

“Ok, you guys stop it. Why can’t you just play nice? He’s with me, he’s staying with Mama and I and we like him. Get over it.” Katrina took a step towards Chris and put her arm around his waist to show she was on his side. Chris was pleasantly surprised and wrapped his arm around her small shoulders.

A waitress in a green flannel-printed T-shirt and small brown shorts walked over to them. Her brown hair was pulled into a messy bun on top of her head and her make-up looked like it was put on last night before she went to bed. Chris imagined she was in her thirties, but looked about forty-five. He assumed it was from the habits one could obtain living in a small town and working in a bar.

“Hey Jerrid, I was hoping you’d come in tonight.”

“She doesn’t look like she was hoping to see anyone tonight,” Chris whispered to Katrina. She almost spit the drink out through her nose making the waitress glare at her. ...

Chapter 7, leaving the Dr. office

7.

Outside, Chris was sitting with his back against the hot brick wall going over his notes, trying not to look at the picture of the little girls arm. He assumed that the Doctor wanted to talk to Katrina about her ‘condition’ so he wasn’t curious as to why she was being held back.

“Catch a cold?” The familiar voice hammered Chris on the head like the barrel of the rifle the man was carrying. Jerrid? He’s everywhere. He took a deep breath before looking up at the gargantuan man. Ugh. He was dressed in his camouflage, dirty from a day’s work. The rifle butt was peaking out over his right shoulder.

Chris jumped up to his feet and brushed off his butt. “No actually.” He waved his Moleskin at Jerrid. “I was just talking to the Doctor.”

“I see.” And before Chris knew it the journal was out of his hand and in Jerrid’s. He started to flip it open when Chris made a grab for it. Chris knew Jerrid wouldn’t let him have it back; it was the gesture to show Jerrid he wasn’t welcome. Jerrid spun on his heels so his back was to Chris.

“Not much in here kid. What kind of writing is this anyway? Some kind of short hand?”

“No, I just can’t write fast enough. Give it back.”

Jerrid dangled it above Chris’ head like a bully and the picture fell out. Jerrid bent down to pick it up. He unfolded it and glared at it, turning it around in his hands. He made a funny face and looked up a Chris. “Is that the Dawes’ girl’s arm?” He handed the journal back to Chris, still holding on to the picture.

“Yes.”

“I never did get a good look at the real thing, but that’s just as nasty as the Doc said! Poor girl.” He folded the picture up and gave it back to Chris who stuck it back in the Moleskin and pulled the elastic around it.

“Jerrid, hey.” Katrina was coming through the door shielding the sun with her hand.

“Hey kid.” Jerrid reached in his pocket and pulled out an extra pair of sunglasses and tossed them to Katrina. “Catch. Where are yours?”

“I always forget. Never used them before, you know.”

Jerrid nodded. “Just give ‘em back to me later tonight at Stumps. You’re going right?”

“We’re thinking about it.”

“I was only asking if you were going.” Jerrid threw daggers at Chris with his eyes.

“Jerrid!” Katrina glared at him. She knew that Jerrid was joking for the most part, but she could feel that Chris was uncomfortable.

Jerrid threw his hands up in the air to surrender.

“What’s on your shirt? Is that blood?” She leaned in to inspect it. She was always fascinated with the watch-keeper’s job and at one point wanted to join Jerrid before she left Forest hills. He wouldn’t let her.

Jerrid examined the stain on his chest. “Me and Greg were just having a little shot practice. Few birds is all.”

Katrina didn’t believe him for a minute, but there wasn’t enough blood to assume they were successfully patrolling for zombies. Chris on the other hand, hadn’t noticed the blood in the beginning and didn’t care who’s or what it was, just the fact that there was more than a paper-cut’s amount and it was still relatively fresh was enough to give him the shivers.

“Where are you kids headed?”

“I think we’re just going to go back to Mama’s. The long way, I wanna show Chris a bit of the town.” She watched Jerrid’s face for a reaction. “When’s the last time you seen her anyways?” Katrina waved her finger in his face.

“When’s the last time I was in that building Katrina?”

“Fair enough, but you need to go see her on her territory.”

“I know. I’ve seen her around town of course, but I’ll try tomorrow maybe. I would appreciate if you guys could try and stay out of the forest from now on. You should know better Katrina.”

Before Chris could respond Katrina opened her mouth. “I know, sorry Jerrid, I should have told Chris. I didn’t. He knows now.”

Chris put his hands on his hips and nodded. “Sorry.”

“Okay.” He glanced over at Chris. “I have enough to deal with already. Gregory was ready to shoot your ass. You’re lucky we’ve met and I recognized you!” Jerrid was now the one waving his finger in Chris’ face.

Chris wasn’t so sure about that. “Yes sir,” Was the appropriate response.

“Okay then. Maybe we’ll see you at Stumps.”

“Yeah. I might show up a bit later. I’m just going to give the forest a once over before I come.”

“Right. See you then, maybe. If not, tomorrow at Mama’s.” Katrina winked at him.

Chris started to take a few steps towards Mama’s to show he was more than ready to leave. Katrina obediently followed and waved at Jerrid who was already walking away but raised his hand towards her without looking. “Here, we’re going to go this way—“ She pointed at a small gap between the Doctor’s office and the next building. Chris didn’t know where she was taking him, but he didn’t care; he was excited to see more of the town.