I had a lot to be thankful for in my old life, but when did I ever stop to count my blessings? Not nearly often enough. I was always on the go, always working or traveling; I didn’t have time to stop for anything, not even my family. It’s no wonder Bree left me and took Barty with her. I guess I wasn’t much of a husband or a father. Sure, I provided for them – a magnificent roof over their heads, private school tuition for Barty, designer clothes and fine jewelry for Bree, and all the luxuries my money could buy – but I see now that it wasn’t enough, that I didn’t give them what they really needed: my time, my attention, and my love.
Now I have all the time in the world and no one to spend it with. I’ve come to care about AJ, Brian, Gretchen, and Gabby, but it’s not the same as having a family of my own. I know I should be grateful to have good people in my life, even to be alive at all, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder, what for?
What is there to give thanks for, really? Our survival? The roofs over our heads? The food in our bellies? Sure, in my day-to-day existence, I appreciate these things, but how long can we really go on living this way? What’s the point? Everyone else is dead – Kevin, Nick, and Riley included, from the looks of it – and eventually, we’ll be dead, too. A hemophiliac, a gimp, a minister, a schoolteacher, and a little girl, surviving the zombie apocalypse together? Yeah, right. It’s only a matter of time before we meet the same fate as everyone else.
And when that time comes… in a way, I’ll be thankful.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Week Thirty-One
On the fourth Thursday of November, Howie found himself missing his family more than ever. Not just Barty, not even Bree, but his mother and father, his older brother and three sisters, and the nieces and nephews he hadn’t seen nearly enough of before the plague had claimed them all. He was filled with regret as he remembered all of the times he’d put his career ahead of his family, even his own son – all the late nights he’d spent working, the business trips he’d taken away from home, the holidays and school functions and Little League games he’d missed for the sake of furthering his company.
And for what? It was all gone now; he’d lost everything, the company and his family, too. Of the two, there was no question of which he missed most. His career in real estate was meaningless now. His money was worthless. Only the people in his life still had value, and of most of them, he had only memories.
But memories were not enough. On that day, he longed for his family even more than he craved his mother’s pumpkin pie or the fat, roasted turkey carved by his father. It was not just a day to feast, but a day to be with loved ones and give thanks for all the good things in life. But on the first Thanksgiving in the new world of the undead, Howie felt no love or gratitude. He felt only bitterness and sorrow.
He could tell he wasn’t alone in feeling that way. AJ and Gabby seemed equally miserable. Though the memorial garden had helped Gabby get through her grief, the approaching holiday had sent her spiraling back down into the depths of despair. She missed her mother and father, and there was nothing any of them could say or do that would change that. Meanwhile, AJ was still mourning the loss of his mobility, as he dealt with his injury. His leg was healing, but not fast enough for his liking. He was a free spirit who had lost his freedom, rather like an exotic bird locked away in a cage. He was moody and restless, but no less reckless – Howie had to watch him constantly to make sure he didn’t push himself too hard and set his recovery back any further.
Only Brian and Gretchen seemed happy and hopeful lately. Brian, in particular, was a changed man. He was no longer quiet and solemn, but outgoing and downright cheerful. His eyes had lost the haunted look that had clouded them since his arrival on the base; they twinkled with laughter now, as he tried to give the others reasons to smile, entertaining them all with songs and impressions. It turned out he was quite the comedian, but no one appreciated his sense of humor like Gretchen. She laughed at all his jokes, even the lame ones, and beamed him bright smiles that lit up her whole face. Neither of them seemed to be affected by the holiday gloom that had descended upon the others.
No one knew for sure what had caused this change, but Howie and AJ had a pretty good idea, which they discussed when Gabby wasn’t around. “I think the Reverend got himself laid,” AJ said in an undertone one night, smirking at Howie, who snickered. “Wish he’d share some of that with the rest of us, but I bet he’s all monogamous. Too bad there’s not more ladies left in the world… who are over the age of thirteen, I mean,” he added, with a glance towards Gabby’s closed bedroom door. “I ain’t no pedophile.”
Howie couldn’t help but wish for the same thing, whenever he watched Brian and Gretchen together. They were certainly acting like a couple, holding hands and touching each other when they thought no one was looking, spending lots of time locked up in their house together, when they weren’t working on the wall or their garden. It was a little sickening, but Howie tried not to resent them too much. At least they had found something to keep surviving for: each other. If only he could be so lucky.
But as winter approached, he wondered, What’s the point? How much longer could they expect to survive, with just five of them left in the world? The base offered security and supplies for now, but eventually, their stock would run out, or the undead, desperate for human flesh, would gather and break down their defenses. One way or the other, they would die, too, and sometimes, he felt that sooner would be better than later.
In honor of Thanksgiving, though, he kept his dark thoughts to himself and joined the others around a dinner table set for five to share the feast Gretchen had prepared. Howie had to hand it to her: she’d certainly put her best effort into making the meal special. The table was set with fine dishes and glassware, decorated with candles and a homemade centerpiece, and piled with food. Before they started passing dishes, though, Brian insisted on saying a blessing, so they joined hands and bowed their heads.
“Heavenly Father,” Brian began, “we thank You for this day, for this feast and fellowship we’re about to enjoy. We thank You for bringing the five of us together, for allowing us to survive, and we ask that You please watch over our loved ones who are no longer here with us. We also ask that, if our missing friends are still alive, You help guide them home to us. In Your name, we pray. Amen.”
“Amen,” Howie murmured and heard Gretchen do the same. He cleared his throat and took a swig of water to wash away the lump that had risen at the mention of Kevin, Nick, and Riley. Then he looked at the spread on the table and said, “This looks wonderful, Gretchen.”
“Amen!” Brian said again, and Gretchen beamed, looking pleased with herself.
Of course, there was no turkey on their Thanksgiving table, but she had roasted a couple of seagulls that Brian had shot and plucked clean for her, and she served those, along with fish, in place of a turkey. It was not the same, as Gabby was quick to point out, but it was still fresh meat, and the rest of them tried to pretend the gulls were just tiny turkeys. “You know, the Pilgrims didn’t have turkey at their Thanksgiving, either,” Gretchen said, serving Gabby a piece of fish when she flat-out refused to try the gull meat. “They ate seafood, too, and duck and venison – deer – because that’s what was available to them.”
Gabby rolled her eyes, but Brian smiled at Gretchen. Howie and AJ exchanged a knowing look across the table.
Maybe the main dish wasn’t same, but Gretchen had managed to fix all the other staples of a modern Thanksgiving, improvising with the ingredients she could find on the base. She cooked Stove Top stuffing and turkey gravy from a packet, whipped up mashed potatoes out of a box, and served cranberry sauce out of a can. But her green bean casserole, made from canned green beans and Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup, was as good as any Howie had tasted, and so were her homemade rolls and candied yams, topped with melted marshmallows and lots of brown sugar.
Howie had second helpings of everything but the seagull, stuffing himself well past the point of being full. “Now, I hope you saved some room for pumpkin pie,” Gretchen said, smiling, as they started to get up from the table.
“I did,” Gabby piped up instantly, looking somewhat happier than she had before the meal.
“I can always make more room for pie,” AJ added, belching loudly and grinning. “See? Good stuff, Gretch.”
“Very good,” Howie agreed. They all felt better with full bellies, but once the table had been cleared, they stood around the kitchen, looking at each other, unsure of what to do next. Howie had never attended such a small Thanksgiving dinner; he came from a big family, and for him, Thanksgiving usually meant a large gathering at his parents’ house in Orlando. It felt strange with just the five of them.
“You guys go sit down, let your food digest,” said Gretchen after a few seconds of silence. “I’m gonna wash some of these dishes.”
“I’ll dry,” Brian volunteered right away, joining her at the sink. Howie and AJ smirked at each other again, before retreating into the living room with Gabby.
Howie sat down in an armchair, Gabby flopped onto the couch, and AJ stayed put in his wheelchair, his broken leg elevated on one of the footrests. They looked each other. Finally, Gabby said, “So… what would you guys be doing with your families right now if this was a normal Thanksgiving?”
“Watching football!” Brian called from the kitchen, without missing a beat. They all laughed.
“Same thing I’m doing now – dishes!” Gretchen sighed, and they chuckled some more.
“Drinking,” said AJ, totally deadpan. No one laughed at that; Howie and Gabby looked away, avoiding eye contact.
“What about you, Howie?” Gabby asked, breaking the awkward silence for the second time. “What would you be doing?”
Howie tried to think. He honestly wasn’t sure. He thought his family usually turned on the traditional Thanksgiving football games, but he couldn’t remember ever having watched one closely before. He’d never been much of a sports guy. Neither was he one to help clean up the kitchen; that was the women’s job. He liked to have a drink or two with dinner, but his family wasn’t the type that spent holidays getting drunk together. So how had he spent his last Thanksgiving with them?
“I don’t know,” he was finally forced to admit. He dragged his hand through his hair, feeling his brow furrow. “Nothing special, I guess. Talking like this, maybe.” Or working on my iPad, while the rest of them talked, he thought, being honest with himself. The realization sent a stab of regret shooting through his heart. He had taken so much for granted, missed out on so many moments he would never get back. “What about you?” he volleyed the question back to Gabby, mostly to keep his mind from digging too deeply into that thought.
“Usually we played a game after dinner. Like, a board game or cards or something like charades or Pictionary. We could play a game now, if you want.” For a brief moment, her whole face lit up, childlike in its enthusiasm.
AJ ruined it by snorting at her. “Yeah, ‘cause I’d rock at charades like this.” He gestured at his bum leg. “I am pretty good at Pictionary, though,” he added, with an evil grin that told Howie his kind of Pictionary probably wasn’t appropriate for a thirteen-year-old to play.
“Well, maybe we could play cards or something,” he said, without any of Gabby’s enthusiasm. He wasn’t a big fan of games.
“Poker,” growled AJ. “Texas Hold ‘Em.”
“I’ll play!”
“You know how to play poker, kid?”
“No, but you can teach me!” Gabby’s face was still glowing. Even Howie, who wasn’t a big fan of children, either, except for his own, found himself smiling in relief at the sudden lift in her spirits.
“Well, alright… you find some cards, and we’ll play,” AJ agreed.
Gabby shot off to ask Gretchen where she might be able to find a deck of cards in the house, and Howie looked at AJ with a shrug. “Who knew all it took was offering to teach her poker to get her to smile?”
AJ tried hard not to smile, looking pleased with himself nonetheless.
Gabby came tearing back into the room a few minutes later, but she wasn’t carrying a pack of cards. “Did you guys hear that?” she demanded, her eyes wide.
Howie felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He looked over at AJ, who stiffened in his wheelchair. Neither of them had heard anything. “Hear what? Zombies??”
“No… honking! I heard a car honking; listen!”
They fell silent, but all Howie could hear was the clinking of dishes and Gretchen and Brian’s conversation in the kitchen. “Hey, lovebirds, shut up for a sec!” AJ bellowed, and the two of them appeared in the doorway, looking alarmed. Brian held a dishtowel; Gretchen’s hands were wet and soapy.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just listen. Gabby thought she heard something.”
“I did hear something! It was honking; I’m sure it was!” Gabby insisted.
No one moved. They all stood frozen… necks craned… heads cocked… ears perked… straining to listen.
And then they heard it: a long, low, toneless note, as if someone was leaning on the steering wheel. It was definitely a car horn. Whose car, they couldn’t say, but they all looked at each other hopefully, hesitating just a split second before they sprang into action.
“Do you think it could be them?!” Gretchen gasped, hurriedly wiping her hands on a couch cushion.
“It’s gotta be; who else could it be?”
“Unless it’s just a zombie, stuck in its car.”
“No way… There are no zombies stuck in cars anymore, not around here. We got rid of them all. It’s gotta be them!”
“Well, c’mon, let’s go!” Gabby was already at the front door, looking back at them with impatience. They all grabbed their guns, a habit that had become as routine as pocketing one’s wallet and keys before leaving the house, and followed her out, AJ bringing up the rear in his wheelchair. Brian headed automatically to the driver’s side of their pick-up truck, while Gabby scrambled up into the bed. Gretchen got halfway to the truck before she stopped and turned.
“AJ, maybe you should stay here…”
“Hell no, I wanna see if it’s them. Just throw me in the back.”
“I’ll ride with him,” Howie volunteered quickly, and they helped AJ out of the wheelchair and into the truck bed, where he could lean against one side, his bad leg stretched out in front of him. Howie climbed in after him, and Gretchen slammed the tailgate shut and got into the cab with Brian, who had already started the engine. They took off, going much faster than the posted speed limit on the base. Howie clutched his rifle anxiously in his hands. AJ winced painfully every time the truck hit a bump. Gabby rose up on her knees, leaning over the side of the truck to get a better look ahead, until Howie said, “Gabby, sit down.”
“Yeah, your mom wouldn’t have wanted you to end up roadkill,” muttered AJ, holding onto his leg.
Gabby shot him a resentful look, but plopped back down onto her bottom with a huff.
As they sped up Bayshore Boulevard, heading for the front gate, Brian suddenly laid on the horn. Howie’s heart leapt into his throat; he twisted around to peer through the cab windows, trying to see what Brian had.
“It’s them!” he heard Gretchen cry. She pointed straight ahead, bouncing in the passenger seat.
“Really, it’s them?!” Gabby was up on her knees again, trying to see. This time, Howie didn’t bother to stop her.
“All of them?” AJ asked, unable to see a thing.
Howie squinted ahead, his face pressed so close to the rear window that his forehead smacked into the glass when Brian slammed on the brakes. “Ow,” he muttered, rubbing his head. By the time he had turned around, Gabby had already vaulted herself over the side of the truck and was running toward the gate. Gretchen was right behind her. Brian left the truck idling in park and climbed out, too. Howie shrugged at AJ, said “Sorry,” and jumped out after them, his gun still in hand.
His eyes followed the path Gabby had taken, and he saw, on the other side of the gate, another truck. Squeezed into its cab, sitting three across, were Nick, Riley, and Kevin. They waved through the windshield, all of them grinning, none of them seeing what Howie, from his distance, could see: the undead, attracted by the horn, shambling in from all sides to surround them.
Gabby, who had been dancing around in front of the gate, shouting, “Open it, open it!” suddenly shrieked and backpedaled, as the zombies approached. Brian, who was already halfway to the guard’s kiosk, hesitated, raising his gun.
Kevin, in the driver’s seat, rolled down his window and shouted, “Brian, open the gate and close it again right behind us! Gabby, get in the control center with Brian and stay there! Gretchen, Howie, be prepared to shoot any of them who get through!”
Howie couldn’t help but smile. Kevin had been back five minutes and was already back in charge. It was a relief; he had never been so happy to take one of his orders. He and Gretchen positioned themselves like sentries on either side of the gate, already firing at the closest zombies as it slowly slid open. Kevin gunned the truck’s engine the first change he got, barely clearing the gate as he sped through it. The tires squealed as he slammed on the brakes again; Nick and Riley were already jumping out, guns at the ready, to join Howie and Gretchen in defending the entrance.
The zombies should have fallen like toy soldiers as they were hit with the volley of gunfire, but they didn’t. To Howie’s shock, they exploded instead, sending rotting bits spraying everywhere. He staggered back, horrified, but Nick said casually, “Oh yeah – they do now,” and kept on firing. When there was nothing but a pile of body parts outside the closed gate, Nick lowered his gun and said, “Sorry for not warning you about the ‘splodey zombies. We just found out about them ourselves about a week ago.”
“We think it must be from the build-up of gases inside their bodies – you know, from the decomposition,” Riley added, in a matter-of-fact way that told Howie they had discussed this prior. He glanced over at Gretchen, who looked just as disgusted as he felt. With the base mostly secure, it had been awhile since either of them had killed a zombie.
“We should burn the remains,” said Kevin, surveying the sight grimly, “but I guess that can wait till tomorrow.”
“Of course it can wait,” Nick replied impatiently, grinning at the others, as if to say, See what I’ve had to deal with this whole time? “We’re finally home – time to celebrate!”
Riley and Gretchen were already squealing like a couple of schoolgirls in each other’s arms, so glad to see each other again. Gabby ran at Kevin and threw her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest as she hugged him tightly. Brian was right behind her, grinning as he waited for his turn to hug his cousin. Nick strode over to Howie, his arm outstretched. He took Howie’s hand and pulled him into a one-armed embrace. “Good to see ya again, Howard,” he said, grinning, as he released him again.
Howie grinned back at the big, goofy blonde. “You too, Nicky. I can’t believe you’re back. We thought…”
“You’d given up on us, huh?” Nick laughed, easygoing as ever. “Yeah, we figured. We’re just glad you guys are still here. We worried you might’ve had to move on without us.”
“What happened? What took you so long to make it back?” Howie asked, realizing they had arrived in a truck and not a plane, as the original plan had called for. Obviously, they’d been forced to abandon both the plane and the plan.
Nick didn’t answer; Brian had just come over and pulled him into a brotherly hug. Howie went to greet Kevin, and everyone was talking at once, until AJ shouted, “Hey! Am I invisible over here or what?”
Kevin frowned as he spotted AJ for the first time, stretched out in the back of the truck. “What happened to him?” he asked Howie in a low voice.
“Broken leg. And Jo…” Howie saw Kevin’s eyes flash toward Gabby, who was walking back toward the pair of trucks with Gretchen and Riley. He shook his head. “… she’s dead.”
Kevin didn’t gasp, but sucked in a rattling breath, his brow knitting together. “When? How?”
“’Bout a month ago. Same way Kayleigh went,” he answered, almost choking on Kayleigh’s name. He swallowed hard.
“What about the wall?”
“Still working on it. It hasn’t been easy, since AJ’s injury… you know, with only four of us…”
“First priority, now that we’re back, is to finish it,” said Kevin, his jaw set.
Howie nodded. Ahead of them, he heard Nick say, “Hey Gretchen, what’s for dinner? I’m freaking starving. We haven’t had a decent meal in-”
Gabby’s gasp interrupted him. “Don’t you know?” she cried incredulously. “It’s Thanksgiving!!”
“Really? Today?” Nick looked blankly at Riley, who shrugged.
“Uh, yeah!” said Gabby. “C’mon, Gretchen made mashed potatoes and stuffing and green bean casserole and rolls, and we had to eat seagulls, instead of turkey, but there’s pumpkin pie for dessert!”
That was all Nick, Riley, and Kevin needed to hear. They piled back into their truck, as Howie and the others went back to theirs, and together, the two trucks drove off to the block of houses they’d turned into their home.
Back in Brian and Gretchen’s kitchen, Gretchen took out three more plates, while Brian brought in more chairs, and the eight of them squeezed around the table together, talking all at once. Nick, Riley, and Kevin seemed exhausted, but exhilarated, while Howie and the others pelted them with questions, eager to hear all about their adventure. “Let them eat first,” said Gretchen, putting plates of reheated Thanksgiving leftovers in front of them, and the conversation died down as the three hungry travelers dug in.
While they ate, Howie and AJ filled them in on everything that happened on the base, and Gretchen and Brian told them about their trip to Atlanta. Then it was Kevin, Nick, and Riley’s turn to talk. Howie and the others listened in stunned silence, as they recounted everything that had happened to them since leaving the base – their disastrous landing to refuel the plane in Colorado, the explosion that had injured Kevin, the infection that had nearly killed him, their long journey home by road and by river, encounters with zombie boybands, zombie cowboys, and Cajun zombies, Nick’s seizure in New Orleans, Riley’s close call in the swamp… By the sound of it, it was a miracle any of them were alive, let alone all three of them.
Howie was not at all surprised when Brian suggested another prayer. Once again, they joined hands, eight in the circle now, as Brian said, “Father, we thank You again for this miracle You have given us. You have answered our prayers by bringing the rest of our family home, safe and sound, and on this day of Thanksgiving, we couldn’t be more thankful for Your watchful eye and guiding hand. In Your name, we give thanks. Amen.”
“Amen,” the word echoed around the table, as they all looked up, smiling at each other.
For a few moments, they just sat there, enjoying the togetherness. Howie felt full in a way that had nothing to do with food, though his belly was plenty grateful for Gretchen’s cooking.
It was Nick who broke the contented silence. “Hey, Gretch?” he said suddenly, looking around the kitchen. “Did someone say something about pumpkin pie?”
They all laughed, and with a smile, Gretchen got up to dish out their dessert.
