O LORD, God of my salvation,
I have cried out day and night before You.
Let my prayer come before You;
Incline Your ear to my cry.
For my soul is full of troubles,
And my life draws near to the grave.
I am counted with those who go down to the pit;
I am like a man who has no strength,
Adrift among the dead,
Like the slain who lie in the grave,
Whom You remember no more,
And who are cut off from Your hand.
You have laid me in the lowest pit,
In darkness, in the depths.
Your wrath lies heavy upon me,
And You have afflicted me with all Your waves.
You have put away my acquaintances far from me;
You have made me an abomination to them;
I am shut up, and I cannot get out…
LORD, why do You cast off my soul?
Why do You hide Your face from me?
I have been afflicted and ready to die from my youth;
I suffer Your terrors;
I am distraught.
Your fierce wrath has gone over me;
Your terrors have cut me off.
They came around me all day long like water;
They engulfed me altogether.
Loved one and friend You have put far from me,
And my acquaintances into darkness.
(Psalm 88: 1-8, 14-18)
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Week Eighteen
Another milestone had come and gone. Four months, they’d been at MacDill now. But on that night, they gathered at the club to celebrate a different sort of milestone.
“Happy birthday, Howie!” The salutation rang out around the table, as they all looked to their guest of honor.
Howie nodded his thanks, grinning almost embarrassedly. He was normally so stiff and stuffy that it came as a surprise when he lifted his glass and said, “Thank you, everyone. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have made it to thirty-six.” Of course, he’d already thanked them, many times over, for saving his life with their blood, but the way his brown eyes sparkled with moisture behind his glass made the rare touch of sentiment even more poignant.
“Thirty-six!” crowed AJ. “God damn, you’re an old man, D!”
The smile slipped from Howie’s face, and Kayleigh scoffed, “Jeez, way to ruin a moment, AJ.”
“Now c’mon, y’all…” Even when it was mellow, Kevin’s deep voice was commanding enough to cause them all to stop, look, and listen. “Let’s do this right,” he said, and raised his glass. “To Howie, on his birthday. We couldn’t imagine life here without you.”
“To Howie,” they all echoed, holding up their glasses in a toast to Howie’s survival.
Brian had seen the way tragedy brought people together, and it seemed that ever since Howie’s near-death experience, they had forgotten their differences and banded together, closer than ever. They were a single unit now, united against the undead, dedicated to protecting each other and their new home. Their bickering was more just friendly banter now. Everyone was pulling their weight, and everyone had earned his or her place in the group. Together, they felt stronger than they ever had before.
Jo had cooked Howie’s birthday dinner, improvising with the ingredients she could still get to prepare a traditional Cuban meal. The dishes weren’t all authentic, seeing as how fresh food was hard to come by, but she served rice and beans and tamales made with canned pork. To Brian, a home-cooked meal was a home-cooked meal, and he thought the food was tasty, considering.
Everyone was complimentary to the cook. “Ya did good, J-Lo,” said Nick, patting his stomach once he’d finished his meal.
“Oh, it’s J-Lo now?” laughed Jo, her eyes twinkling.
Gabby looked horrified. “Uh, no, Mom, it’s not! Do not call her J-Lo ever again,” she ordered Nick. Unbeknownst to her, Brian twisted his features into a snotty face and snapped his fingers in a circle, mocking her attitude. “What?” Gabby asked, looking around, when Nick started cracking up.
“Nothing!” chirped Brian in a high-pitched voice, folding his hands angelically beneath his chin.
Gabby crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. “Were you making fun of me?”
He dropped his voice to its normal tone. “Now Gabby, look at this face.” He flashed her a cheeky grin. “Would I ever make fun of you?”
“Yes!” she insisted, glaring at him. But he knew she wasn’t really mad. Gabby could be moody, but she was playing along, just as he was. He missed going back and forth with his own daughters this way, and it made him wonder what they would have been like at Gabby’s age. He would never know. She reminded Brian of them sometimes, especially Brooke, who’d had the same kind of spitfire personality. Bonnie, the more reserved of the two, might have grown up to be more like Kayleigh or Gretchen.
He caught Gretchen’s eye across the table, and she winked at him. Even though she hadn’t had children of her own, she understood them well, and he liked that about her. It was something they had in common, and as time had gone on, they’d spent hours sharing stories of his twins and her students, all gone now, but not forgotten. Never forgotten.
After the dinner plates had been cleared away, Gabby shut off the lights, and Jo came in, carrying a large birthday cake that was covered in flickering candles. “Happy birthday to you…” she started.
“Happy birthday to you…” Brian joined in, singing the harmony.
“Happy birthday, dear Howie…” they all sang. “Happy birthday to you.”
Jo set the cake down in front of Howie. The candles danced in the darkness, lighting up his face with their warm glow. “Make a wish!” cried Kayleigh, and Howie smiled. Then he sucked in a deep breath and blew out all thirty-six candles in one, sweeping gust of air.
They all clapped, bringing back memories of the seven special birthdays Brian had celebrated with his twins. There should have been so many more. But today was Howie’s day, and he tried to put himself in the moment, rather than dwell on the past.
Jo removed the candles and cut the cake, and Gabby started passing pieces of it around the table. It was a chocolate cake with vanilla icing, and the first bite was like heaven to Brian. It had been a long time since he’d tasted cake.
“This is wonderful, Jo,” said Howie appreciatively. “Thank you.”
The others nodded in agreement, echoing the sentiments. The room got quiet as they ate their dessert, savoring each sweet bite. But when there were only crumbs left on the plates, Kevin spoke up. “Whose turn is it for guard duty tonight?”
“Mine,” said Brian at once. They took turns keeping watch at the main gates each night, for no one wanted another repeat of the ambush in the chapel. No one really looked forward to guard duty; the nights were long and boring, but they always went in pairs, which made it easier. Except for Gabby, everyone was expected to take their turn, and since there were nine of them, the rotation always changed, so they were paired with a different person each time. Brian looked around to see who would be joining him that night.
“I think it’s my turn, too,” said Howie.
“Aww, on your birthday? You shouldn’t have to stay up all night on your birthday,” said Kayleigh, her lip jutting out sympathetically. “Unless you’re out drinking, of course!” She grinned. “I think Howie should get a bottle of tequila to take to guard duty tonight!”
“Absolutely not,” Kevin replied sharply, with a disapproving frown. He didn’t get that Kayleigh was joking… at least Brian thought she was.
Kayleigh blew air through her lips. “Party pooper,” she pouted. “Fine, then I’ll trade with Howie tonight. You can take my shift on Friday,” she added, smiling at Howie.
“Thanks, Kay,” said Howie, looking surprised, but pleased.
Kayleigh beamed. “Consider it a birthday present.” She stood up and pushed in her chair, oblivious to the fact that everyone was staring at her in astonishment.
Kayleigh had come a long way since they’d arrived on the base, but still, they didn’t often see her volunteering to do others’ duties. But she had always been close to Howie, probably for the same reason Brian felt close to Gretchen, and Nick to Riley. They’d all bonded with the first living person they encountered after the dead rose, the same way a newly-hatched duckling imprints on the first moving object it sees. Nothing like a horde of zombies to bring people together, Brian thought wryly.
“You coming, Brian?”
“Yeah.” He stood up, too, and touched Howie’s shoulder on his way over to join Kayleigh. “Happy birthday, Howie.”
“Thanks, Brian. You two stay safe,” Howie replied, his large brown eyes flitting between him and Kayleigh with concern. No one exactly felt comfortable sending two of their own out to the main entrance every night, where they would be separated from the undead by only a gate, but they would feel less comfortable with no guards at all.
“We will,” said Kayleigh, and she and Brian walked out. They climbed into the pick-up truck, and Brian drove, following Bayside Boulevard along the shoreline to the first of the three main gates. They would pass the time by rotating among the three of them, following the tall, chain-link fence that ran along the perimeter of the base to the center gate on MacDill Avenue, then to the gate at the Visitor’s Center on the west side of the base.
They started at the Bayshore Boulevard gate, which was Brian’s favorite because it was near the beach, and he could hear the waves lapping gently against the sand and feel a cool breeze coming in off the water. He found it soothing. It was too nice of a night to sit inside the stuffy guard’s kiosk in the median of the road, so he and Kayleigh sat outside, right on the curb.
As darkness fell, he thought of his childhood, of playing outside on the streets of Lexington on warm summer nights such as this, until the streetlights came on, and his mother hollered for his brother Harold and him to come home. He turned to Kayleigh and asked, “You ever play chicken as a kid?”
“Chicken? Like in the pool?”
“No, like in the road.”
“No?”
Brian chuckled. “It’s a pretty dumb game, really. You lie in the middle of the road, late at night, and wait for a car to come. Then you see how long you can stay there before you turn chicken and get outta the road.”
In the moonlight, he could see the glint of Kayleigh’s eyes widening. “That’s a horrible game! You could get killed doing that!”
Brian grinned. “I know. Like I said… pretty dumb, right? My mama woulda skinned me alive if she had a clue.” She had always been overprotective of him, especially, because of his heart condition. Looking back, that was probably why he had enjoyed playing such games, living a little. He shuddered to think of his own girls doing that as teenagers, then realized it didn’t matter. They would never have the chance to repeat any of his adolescent mistakes. He swallowed the lump that rose in his throat and forced himself to keep talking. “It was kinda fun, though, for some reason. The thrill of it, I guess. Lyin’ there on the pavement, listenin’ for the sound of tires or the first flash of headlights, your heart goin’ a mile a minute. It made you feel alive.”
“I bet AJ played that game, too,” Kayleigh said dryly.
“Probably,” he agreed, laughing.
After a moment, Kayleigh said, “It’s like in The Notebook.”
“Huh?”
“The Notebook. You know, the movie? Ryan Gosling? Rachel McAdams?”
“Oh, yeah.” Leighanne had made him take her to see that one. It wasn’t too bad of a movie, actually, for a chick flick, though he wouldn’t admit to Kayleigh now.
“It was kinda romantic when they did it. Still dumb… but romantic.” She was quiet for a moment, apparently thinking. Then she added, “Bradley and I never tried that.” He knew that Bradley had been her boyfriend; she had spoken of him often in the early days. Not so much anymore. “I was always a good girl. I know you probably can’t imagine that, me being in a sorority, but I was. I studied hard; I only went out on the weekends. I had a 4.0 at UCF.”
Her expression was wistful, and he could relate. He thought he and Leighanne had made the most of their time together, but still, there were so many things they would never get the chance to do. To Kayleigh, he said, “You can try it now. You just gotta watch out for zombies, ‘stead of cars.”
She giggled, and he was surprised when she actually got up from the curb and scampered out into the middle of the road, then proceeded to stretch out flat on her back across the white line. He was impressed. Leighanne had been a lot like her, prissy and put-together, a genuine Southern belle. She was a lot of fun, but she never would have lain in the street with him. He was proud of Kayleigh for taking a chance.
He followed her into the road and lay down next to her, the opposite direction, so that his feet were near her head, his head at her feet. “Isn’t this nice?” he asked, jokingly.
“It is, actually,” came Kayleigh’s soft reply.
He gazed up at the stars overhead and remembered why he’d always thought so, too. There seemed to be a lot more stars in the sky now, he realized, than he’d ever seen before Infernal Friday, when the lights down on earth overpowered them. Now, with his and Kayleigh’s flashlights turned off, there was nothing to compete with the stars but the quarter moon.
For a long time, they were silent, just listening to the sounds of their own breathing and the peaceful noises of night – the constant chirp of crickets, the mournful cry of gulls, the soft rustle of breeze through the palms, the distant slosh of water meeting the land. Then one seagull’s voice rose above the rest, letting out a long squawk that sounded like a scream. Brian heard the beating of many wings as a flock of gulls took off, all at once. He saw their white shapes disappear into the black sky as they flew overhead and away, and he wondered what had made them suddenly take flight. Had something spooked them?
It was then that he realized the crickets had stopped singing.
He sat up, and a sudden gust of wind rose goosebumps on his skin. But it wasn’t from the temperature, for the air was still steamy. It was from the familiar stench that invaded his nostrils, carried on the breeze, carried off the coast. Like an animal, he lifted his nose and sniffed. This was a mistake; he gagged and started coughing.
“Ugh,” Kayleigh sighed, without moving. “There must be some of them nearby. They’re starting to smell worse and worse. How long till they just rot away completely, you think?”
“Not soon enough,” Brian choked. The base had been smelling better lately, since they’d, for the most part, rid it of the undead. But on the borders, where zombies tended to skulk on the other side of the fence, the stench of decay still lingered. The hungry moans could still be heard.
Brian heard them now, riding the wind.
Getting louder.
Closer.
Hungrier.
Brian’s blood ran cold, and without a word, he climbed to his feet. “What is it?” he heard Kayleigh whisper, but he didn’t answer. He stood still, squinting through the darkness, afraid to turn on his flashlight. He didn’t need it. As he stared toward the bay, its black waters sparkling with starlight, his eyes could just make out the dark shadows that rose out of it, splashing as they staggered onto the sand.
For an instant, he froze, as he tried to process what he was seeing. Zombies. Coming out of the water. Coming up the beach. Coming for them. There was no fence on this side of the base; it ended at the waterline, where Tampa Bay became a natural barrier.
But not for the undead.
As they emerged through the palm trees, he finally reacted. “Kayleigh!” he hissed. “Get up!”
She was still lying on the pavement, finally at ease in her new home. The base’s many defenses had lulled her into a false sense of security, as it had all of them.
They had both left their guns on the curb.
Kayleigh sat up quickly, twisting around. When she saw the zombies over her shoulder, she screamed and scrambled to her feet. Brian grabbed her hand and pulled her up, dragging her toward their weapons. He picked up his loaded gun, turned off the safety, and fired at the lumbering figures, their faces hidden in the shadows. Kayleigh fumbled with hers, her hands shaking badly. Brian had fired off another shot before she managed to take aim.
They both missed.
“C’mon!” yelled Brian, running for the guard’s kiosk. It was a small building, but at least it would offer them some protection. They could shoot through the windows, out of reach of the undead. He threw open the door and darted behind it, prepared to slam it shut and lock it the moment Kayleigh made it inside.
But Kayleigh never made it.
He thought she had been right on his heels, but at the moment when she should have crossed the threshold, he heard her scream. He stuck his head out around the door just in time to see her fall underneath the weight of the zombie that had grabbed her. Her gun discharged as it hit the ground, a shot firing randomly, ricocheting off the roof of the guard’s station. Over the sound of the blast, Kayleigh went on screaming, struggling frantically beneath the zombie.
Heart thumping erratically, Brian raised his gun and tried to steady his hands enough to aim for the zombie without hitting Kayleigh. He was afraid to shoot, but if he didn’t act fast…
He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
The gun fired, and Kayleigh kept on screaming. When his eyes snapped open again, they were both still flailing, one on top of the other. It appeared his bullet had hit the zombie in the leg, but that made little difference. It dragged its leg lamely along behind it as it crawled over Kayleigh, dead hands reaching, teeth gnashing. She shrieked again as its fists clenched around two hanks of her hair, and he heard a horrible tearing sound as it ripped the hair from her scalp in its effort to pull itself forward.
“GET IT OFF ME, GET IT OFF ME!!!” Kayleigh screamed, as Brian lunged forward, jamming the barrel of his gun into the side of the zombie’s head. He pulled the trigger and winced as its head exploded, sending a shower of skull fragments and rotting brain tissue spattering everywhere.
His relief was short-lived.
It was still raining blood and bone when a second zombie lunged out of the darkness and sprung upon Kayleigh like an animal, its wide, snapping jaws aiming right for her head. Brian had just raised his gun again when he heard the sickening crunch of its teeth breaking through bone. He staggered back in shock as a third zombie fell upon her, and together, they cracked Kayleigh’s skull like a walnut.
He pulled the trigger of his gun, but he was too late; more zombies were closing in. Out of other options, he ran for the guard’s station and barricaded himself in, cracking open the window just wide enough for the barrel of his gun. He fired, one shot after another, at the horde of zombies hunched over Kayleigh’s fallen form. She was no longer screaming, but he could see her legs twitching weakly and knew she was still alive; if he could just take them down and get to her in time…
His resolve steadied his hand, and one by one, he managed to put a bullet into each of their brains, until there was only a single zombie left moving. Brian rushed back outside to get a closer shot, but as he approached, he was met with a grisly sight. At the sound of his pounding footsteps, the zombie raised its head, and he could see that its lips and chin were slick with blood. Bits of brain clung to the patchy remnants of its beard and mustache. It swallowed and moaned, then lowered its head to the hole in the side of Kayleigh’s skull once more, slurping up its contents.
Brian raised his gun, aimed, and closed his eyes once more as he pulled the trigger. He heard, rather than saw, the zombie’s body hit the pavement with a dull thump. Then he dropped his weapon, doubled over, and vomited.
When he had expelled the contents of his stomach – birthday cake, rice and beans, and Jo’s tamales – onto the street, he straightened up, wiped his mouth, and went to Kayleigh. He picked up his flashlight on the way. He didn’t want to look, but he knew he had to, in case there was any chance of saving her.
She was still twitching when he got to her. He sank to his knees at her side and whispered her name as he leaned over her. “Kayleigh…” He shined the flashlight over her face, or what was left of it. The eye that was still there was half open and unfocused, rolling vaguely in its socket. The pupil was dilated wide, even in the bright light. Blood oozed from the hole where the other eye should have been. Her hair was wet with it. His stomach turned again as he recognized the wormy remains of her brain protruding through the shattered side of her skull.
How she was even still alive, though barely so, was beyond him, but somehow, her heart was still beating. Her body was still convulsing. He knew she must be in the throes of death, that there was nothing he could do to save her physically, so he did the only thing he could think of. He took her hand, squeezed it in his, and prayed for her soul.
“Our Father, Who art in Heaven,” he murmured, “hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…” A lump closed his throat as he thought of the inexplicable evil that had done this to Kayleigh. He swallowed hard before he finished, “for Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen.”
Kayleigh was breathing raggedly now, her chest heaving as her body shook, the air rattling in and out in short, uneven gasps. Her fist had clenched tightly around his hand, and though she wasn’t lucid, he knew she was in unspeakable pain. In his desperation to comfort her, a passage from the Book of Revelation came to him, and he whispered, “God is with you, Kayleigh. And He shall wipe away all the tears from your eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying; neither shall there be any pain, for the former things are passed away…”
And gradually, Kayleigh’s grip on his hand loosened. Her breathing slowed, and her chest relaxed and did not rise again. Her body twitched one last time and then came to rest, limp and still. Her remaining eye stared at the sky, fixed and glassy. Brian reached out and drew his thumb over her eyelid to close it. Then he bowed his head over her body and began to weep.
He wept not only for Kayleigh, but for Leighanne, and for Brooke and Bonnie. He wept for his own shaken faith. He wept until he heard the distant moans that signaled more zombies on the way, and only then did he wipe his eyes and pick himself up from the ground. He left his gun where it lay and instead lifted Kayleigh’s lifeless body in his arms and carried her to the truck. He hoisted her into the truck bed and lay her out flat. Then he climbed into the cab and turned the ignition.
For a moment, he sat there with the engine idling, dreading the drive back to the others, dreading the moment when they found out Kayleigh was dead. Ever since they had discovered the connection between their common blood type and their immunity from the Osiris Virus, they had begun to feel almost as if they were invincible.
But they weren’t invincible. No one was invincible.
Not even the Son of the Lord had been invincible.
The savaged body in the back of the truck would serve as a devastating reminder to the others that the undead were still a threat, and that they were all, very much, still vulnerable.
***
As midnight approached, they gathered in the chapel once more. It was eerie to be back there, eerie to see Kayleigh lying so flat and still across the altar, her hands folded neatly over her chest, a towel draped over her face to hide her massive head wound. The flickering candlelight did nothing to help the atmosphere. Brian felt jumpy, imagining zombies lurking in every shadow.
No one spoke much. He heard mostly sniffles. Jo was distraught, weeping into a handkerchief someone – Howie? – had offered her. Gabby sat at her side, her mother’s hand in her lap, her face dry and stoic. She stared straight ahead, not crying, barely blinking. Her expression seemed wooden. It intrigued Brian to watch the totally opposite ways in which they dealt with grief, the reversal of roles between mother and daughter. Gabby was the composed one, silently comforting her mother, rather than the other way around.
Beside them on the pew, Howie and AJ formed a similar pair. Howie, who had been closer to Kayleigh than anyone else, didn’t bother to hide his tears, while AJ’s face was impassive behind his dark sunglasses. Brian suspected his eyes were red underneath.
Gretchen sat at his side, tears pouring silently down her cheeks. On her other side were Nick and Riley, their hands tightly entwined. And then there was Kevin, his face a hardened mask of grief and guilt. “We should never have made her go,” Brian had heard him say, before they’d left for the chapel. “She didn’t know what she was doing. From now on, AJ and I will take turns doing guard duty.”
“What about me?” Riley had spoken up, sounding almost offended. “I can shoot!”
“So can I,” Nick had added, still eager to be considered useful. “We’ll still take our turns.”
“Stop,” said Howie flatly. “Stop arguing about it; this isn’t the time. We don’t have to decide now. We should be thinking about Kayleigh.”
And they’d thought about Kayleigh. For hours, they’d thought of nothing but her. But decisions had to be made.
Kevin’s voice cut through the heavy silence. “We need to decide what to do with her.”
Brian could always count on his cousin to take the lead.
“She deserves a proper funeral,” Howie jumped in quickly, almost defensively, as though he thought they were just going to dig a big hole in the ground, dump her body in, and be done with it.
“Of course,” Kevin agreed. “And she’ll have one.” Then he turned and looked at Brian, his eyes boring into his cousin’s.
Brian swallowed hard, steeling himself. Then he nodded. “I used to be a minister,” he spoke up, his voice hoarse and ragged. “I can officiate.”
Heads snapped in his direction. Gretchen was the only one who did not look at him in surprise. She just smiled, and silently patted his hand.
Kevin nodded. “Good.” His lips twitched in a brief smile, meant only for Brian’s eyes. “And afterwards?”
“I don’t think we should bury her,” said Howie. “I don’t want those things digging her up…” He shuddered.
“They’re probably not interested in dead bodies.” Nick shrugged. “Otherwise, wouldn’t they have started eating each other by now?”
“We’ll cremate her then,” said AJ, with a tone of finality. “We can build her a big, wooden funeral pyre, like they did in ancient Roman times.”
Brian saw Jo shudder, but no one protested. It seemed no one else wanted to think about it.
Kevin gave a nod of approval. “The men will build the pyre tomorrow,” he decided. “The women can get the chapel ready for the funeral. We’ll have it tomorrow evening.” When, again, no one spoke, he added, “We should think about heading back. It’s late, and we have a long day ahead of us.”
But no one moved to get up. Finally, Howie said, “I’m not leaving her here alone. What if they come back?”
“I told you, man, they’re probably not interested in dead-” Nick stopped abruptly when he saw the look on Howie’s face.
“Maybe one or two of us should stay,” Kevin agreed.
“We will,” AJ volunteered at once. “D and I.” Beside him, Howie nodded.
“Okay. You two have your weapons?” They each held up a gun. “Good. Be careful. We’re not as safe here as we thought.”
Brian knew it killed Kevin to admit that. After the incident on the beach, they should have known something like this could happen, but they had completely overlooked the fact that one side of the base was protected only by water, and that zombies could apparently cross bodies of water with no problem. It was only a matter of time before they made it across Tampa Bay.
The base had been compromised, and Brian knew Kevin wouldn’t rest until they had done something about it. But they had to lay Kayleigh to rest first. “At least she’s safe now,” Brian said to Gretchen, on the drive back to their house. “At least she’s no longer afraid, or in danger, or in pain.”
Gretchen nodded. “She’s home now,” she added. “She’s back with her family.”
Brian smiled sadly. For an instant, he was almost envious, imagining Kayleigh being welcomed home by Jesus, her family and her Bradley Lee waiting to greet her with open arms inside the gates of Heaven. One day, he would see his own loved ones there. His two little girls would run to meet him, their arms outstretched, ready to throw around his neck as he scooped them up. Leighanne would be there, too, more beautiful in Heaven than she was even on Earth, a true angel, instead of a monster.
He swallowed hard. “You really believe there’s a Heaven?” he asked Gretchen.
She didn’t hesitate. “I do.”
After a moment, Brian nodded. “So do I.”
He had to believe. Faith was the light at the end of the tunnel, the only thing that could guide him through this dark, dark night.
As Gretchen drove, Brian thought about what he might say at Kayleigh’s funeral the next day, what readings he might do. He would stay up late, preparing, before he set out to help build the pyre in the morning. He had thought ahead and grabbed something on his way out of the chapel to help guide his thoughts.
In his lap, he held a Bible.
