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DAY FOUR

DAY FOUR: IN A CAGE

“SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!” I scream at them as if they can understand me. Maybe they can. Who the fuck cares anymore. I’ve been trapped in this fucking cage for four or five days now. I don’t know. There’s no day, no night and no end to that constant moaning. It’s enough to drive a person insane. Add to the situation that there’s no food, water or toilet in here and we got ourselves one serious problem. Oh… and no way out. I hadn’t thought about for a while. Except maybe five minutes ago. And probably every two to five minutes before that. I don’t have a whole lot else to keep me occupied these days.

So for the eight thousand and first time, let’s take a quick look at my world of shit. I’m trapped in the lay-a-way cage of my local Z-Mart since the day my shift as a stock-man quickly got extended till the end of my life. Whenever that will be. I’m surrounded with a few shelves filled with cardboard boxes. I’ve been through every box at least five times. I guess its common sense but people don’t seem to put food or drinks into lay-a-way. “Or fucking toilet paper!” I yell out loud as I smash my hand against shelf. And… “Oww! That hurt!” I yell again as pain in my hand flares up for doing something stupid like punching a metal shelving unit. I hold my hand against my stomach and nurse my ego more than anything. I look around for any sort of applause from my rapt audience but they don’t seem to care what I do as I long as I’m still breathing. Well, I’m sure they would care if I opened the door to this palace of mine. I’m sure they’d love that. Zombie, party of 200: your table is ready.

No toilet paper, but someone did take the time to put a toilet seat into lay-a-way because they obviously must not have needed it too badly. “Oh, we should get a new toilet seat. Ya know… sometime. Let’s put one in lay-a-way so we don’t have to pay that $29.99 all at once.” I hope the people who thought of that little gem are in this crowd right now. Although I shouldn’t be too annoyed with them. That seat and a mop bucket are the only thing I’ve had to take a dump in since I got in here. It would really smell like shit in here if it weren’t for all the decaying dead bodies pressing themselves against the chain link fencing. Ah, the smell of death and shit. I wish I had some brownies.

The cage is about 30 feet wide by about 60 feet deep. There’s concrete block walls on the left side as you face the gate and at the back painted some dingy grey color. The opposite wall and the front are chain link fences that reach from floor to ceiling all the way around. The floor is smooth painted concrete and the ceiling is open exposed beams, conduits, cabling and pipes. There are seven beams across this cage of mine. I counted them. There’s a desk at the front next to the door and a four drawer file cabinet next to that. There are twelve shelving units lined up in four rows of three shelves each starting from the back wall. There are two pencils, five pens, a bottle of correction fluid and 47 paper clips. There’s also a plastic ruler and a small stapler with 33 staples in it. I counted them.

God I think I’m losing my mind in here. The constant noise and smell would be enough to send anyone over the edge but with no food or water… I really think I’m starting to lose it. I did have a stroke of genius yesterday though. While pacing around, I noticed that one of the many pipes over my head must be a water pipe because it was dripping onto one of the shelves in back. I immediately rummaged through a few boxes and came up with a plastic pitcher with multi-colored flowers all over it. I put it under the dripping spot in the pipe and sat and watched it. I think I figured that the drips fall about once every four seconds. Like. Watching. Water. Boil. But it never boils. Oh my god it was dripping so slowly. After about an hour of that there was barely enough water in the pitcher to cover the bottom. It didn’t matter; I still grabbed the pitcher and drank what was in it. A mouthful of water is better than nothing at all. I put the pitcher back under the drip and started pacing again while I waited for some more. It’s still there now.

I need a distraction again. I haven’t eaten or drank enough to be able to piss on the zombies watching from the front row anymore. However I do have something else fun. In one of the boxes, I had found some camping supplies that someone must have put in here for their shopping convenience. Along with a camp axe, tent stakes (but no tent), a compass, some bug spray and other miscellaneous crap I found the object that has brought me the most enjoyment of all: a camp fork. One of those two foot long metal rods with a nice wooden handle on one end and a thin two-prong fork at the other. You know, for cooking hot dogs or marshmallows over a campfire, but with a little boredom and time it can be used for other things.

I try to stay away from the fence because the bastards get more agitated the closer I get. Some have even started to shake the fencing as I walk by. As I walk up to the nearest patch of fencing, the usual agitation starts up again. They are determined enough that they can get a hand or maybe even their forearms through the fence but not much else so there’s no threat from that. At one point I had used the camp axe to chop off a few hands and arms that were sticking through but stopped once I realized I had nowhere to put the little pile of body parts I had accumulated. I briefly thought about trying to eat them but the thought sent me into a royal fit of dry heaves. I stand in front of them defiantly with my fork in my hand. The one directly in front of me will do just fine. He still has both eyes.

They don’t seem to have the same sense of danger or pain that we do. I raise the fork up to the fence and push it through the fencing towards the zombies face. It doesn’t do anything except become more agitated at my closeness. They’re as hungry as me, I guess. I slowly stick one of the tines of the fork into its eyeball and continue to push. There’s little resistance against the sharp point and soon the small dimple in the eyeball gives as the tine pierces and a small gout of greyish fluid seeps out. I continue pushing the fork in but the second tine hits bone near the eye socket and I have to give up. I pull the fork back and as it pulls free from the punctured eye it visibly deflates as even more grey and a little brown goo oozes out. The ruptured eye is still swiveling back and forth in time with the other and the zombie doesn’t even seem to have noticed what I’ve done. I take my time in rupturing it’s other eye with the same results. Even without eyes it doesn’t seem to be any less interested in me being here. Maybe they don’t rely on their eyes. Maybe it can smell me and hear me as well. Maybe it can just sense life.

I back away and admire my latest masterpiece. I scan the fence and notice a few others that I’d already messed with. None of them seem to be any less interested in me or in tearing through this fence. Absently I start wondering to myself how long it would take to poke out all their eyes. Then the perfect thought occurs to me: why just stop with the eyes? The second tine always stops the fork from doing damage to anything but the eyes but what if that second tine was removed? What if these things weakness is like in those stupid old movies and all I have to do is destroy the brain? I set the fork down on the desk and walk over to check on the water pitcher as I mull this new idea over. Looking through the side of the pitcher I see about a half inch of standing water. Damn I sure hope this is a fresh water line and not sewage or something. I take the pitcher and drink down the contents knowing that it’s the only thing keeping me alive.

There’s no tools in this cage or at least none I’ve seen so I have no way of cutting off that second tine. I bet I could bend it back though. But how? Of course: the shelving units. These things are sturdier than dead elephants. I don’t have to look hard at all to find a small gap between one of the upright supports and a shelf. I slide one tine of the fork into the gap as far as it will go and push against the main part of the fork to see if it will give. The fork’s a little sturdier than it looks but it starts to bend. I press as far as I can till the handle is up against the edge of the shelf. Pulling the fork out I can see that this is basically useless at this point as I now have to prongs sitting at a 90 degree angle from each other. Need more bending and obviously I need to change tactics. The shelves themselves are wood so I lay the fork down and press the bent tine into the wood. It barely presses into the wood but that’s all I should need. I press hard against the back of the fork and push forward and slowly bend it farther back. Admiring my work, I now have what almost looks like the barb on the end of a fish hook with one point straight forward and one bent mostly back and slightly to the side. Best I can do.

All this activity has me exhausted though. A couple of days without any food seems to be getting to me. I feel weaker and weaker and I need to rest and sleep more often. I don’t even know why I bother waking up any more. I found one of those round cosmetic mirrors in one of the boxes I had unpacked earlier. I looked at myself and I don’t even recognize the guy looking back at me. My skin is getting pale and I can see my cheek bones even more than usual. I’m no holocaust victim or anything yet, but I’m getting there. They were lucky… at least they got moldy crusts of bread now and then. Maybe the Nazis are the reason these zombies are everywhere. He-he, yeah just like a fucking video game. All I need to do is find the next power up and kill the boss zombie and I’m home free! I realize that I’m giggling loudly and I think I should stop. I pick up the fork again and admire my work. What else is there to do?

Well there’s sleep, I suppose. If I’m lucky maybe I’ll just stay asleep and never wake up. I wander back through the shelves till I get to the makeshift bed I made for myself. It seems that lots of people put sheets and pillows and comforters into lay-a-way. Just no food, water or toilet paper… fuckers. I lie down in the pile of pillows I covered with a sheet and cover up with a thin brown comforter. Maybe tomorrow will be better… maybe it won’t come at all. And if it does maybe I’ll try out that fork.

DAY FOUR: KILLING FIELDS

We stand on the porch just outside the front door. We stand there waiting to hear the sounds of the engine or tires on gravel that would mean that Robbie was on his way back from town with some news of what’s been going on ’round these parts. We’ve been out here for two hours now. Me standing at the top of the stairs with my 12-guage shotgun, my wife Marcy on the bench swing with our youngest. I take my eyes off the moonlit yard to look at our only daughter curled up asleep with her head in my wife’s lap. She looks so peaceful. I wonder if she even realizes that something is seriously wrong.

I didn’t want Robbie to go to town but he’s a stubborn teenager, our eldest, and he’s got a mind all his own just like his Pop. After we talked about it, I was supposed to go even though Robbie had said over and over he wanted to go. Of course I told him no, but the boy just don’t listen sometimes. He’s a good boy. He knows that he can get around faster than me if there’s more of those people that attacked us earlier today. I don’t know if they were lepers straight outta the Bible or what, but they were in bad shape. Lord help me, but I had to kill them. I’m not the kind to take pride or joy in killin’ another person, but they gave me no choice in the matter.

Now I’ve had enough bad experiences in the past to know to be cautious when strangers come calling. We’re pretty remote out here in the heartland and we don’t get too many normal visitors. Every now and again we get some punk kids come crashing through our corn fields with their big ol’ four wheel drive truck or a traveling salesman or religious type come knockin’ at the door to sell one thing or another. We even had a time when a vagrant came walking up our drive. I damn near busted my fists on that fella’s face when I came home to find him sneaking around back trying to find a way in to the house. Marcy was all alone that day and though she don’t talk about it, I know she was plenty glad to see me home that day.

So its no surprise that we come to keep a loaded shotgun behind the front door. Call it the poor man’s security system or what have you, but people tend to take you a little more seriously when you ask them to leave your property while holding a shotgun. I put on a good show but I’d never dreamed of shooting another person before today. Not before those two strangers came calling.

It was Beccs, that’s what we call our daughter Rebecca, that first saw them coming from the direction of the road. She was playing up in her room and called down to us saying we had visitors. My wife always has the first peek outside the window to see if it’s one of her damn fool, gossip-loving friends coming to give her the newest details on the happenings in town. It’d been a few days since we’d gotten any phone calls or visits and even though I don’t care much to hear the stories, I was starting to wonder what happened to her sources. I know she had tried to call a few of them but got no answer from any of them. So I know she was quick to pull back that curtain to see if it was someone she knew. It was quiet for a minute or so before she called for me to come take a look out the window. I was resting and reading the newspaper at the time but the tone in her voice got me up in a hurry.

I had moved to the window to peek out the other side of the curtain and saw two people acting awfully strange. Both of them were walking towards the house but they must have been twenty to thirty feet apart from each other. Almost like they didn’t know each other or even know the other was around. But they were both making for the house really slow. It was full daylight and these two were walking like they had all the time in the world to reach our door. Then I noticed that one of them was slower than the other because it was limping so much it looked like it was practically dragging their right leg behind themselves. The way they moved and walked was just unnatural. They were still a good ways off from the porch so I decided to step outside to get a better look. Neither of them ever paused or turned to look at the other or anything. From the porch I could see that they were fixated on the house and I could almost swear that they both seemed to speed up just a little bit when I came out that door. I watched them for a minute just getting closer and closer and even then I knew something was wrong. I noticed that our youngest boy, Jimmy’s his name, had come out to stand with me and watch. I told him to get on inside and fetch me my shotgun. I didn’t know what I was seeing but they didn’t look like no salespeople to me.

My son was handing me the gun, as I remember, and I yelled out “Can I help ya?” I was trying to sound friendly even though I know the sight of an armed man on his porch would generally be what would cause people to pause or turn back the way they came; but not these folks. They never hesitated and just kept coming towards us. As they were getting closer you could start to make out that there was something wrong with them. My first thought was maybe they was some druggies come to see if we got any cold medicine they could steal, but they would have noticed the shotgun and thought better. We have lots of trees that keep the front yard shaded in the heat of the day which is where these two were. One of them broke out into a clearing of bright sunlight and you could see that there was something seriously wrong about the fella. It almost looked like he’d been in a car crash and my first thought was to go help him, but then I noticed the other looked about the same if not worse. The little hairs rose up on the back of my neck and a chill ran over my skin. These two weren’t just beat up; they looked dead.

I looked back at Jimmy and noticed the faces of Beccs and Marcy plastered against the windows. Robbie could be seen framing the front entrance behind the screen door. I told Jimmy to get on in the house and to tell the others to stay inside. It seems he had been staring at the two who were now no more than forty or fifty feet away from the porch but he didn’t think twice about turning tail into the house. I had called back to Robbie to fetch his gun as well and to check the back porch. Something was deadly wrong and I don’t like surprises. I walked down the steps of the porch to put myself in between them and the house and I hollered out to them to say that they should just head on back to wherever they came from. If they heard me they showed no signs of it. I chambered a shell and pointed the gun straight at the closest that was about thirty feet away. No hesitation or recognition and that’s just plain unnerving. I swiveled to point the barrel of the gun at the other with the same lack of response. I found myself unconsciously taking a step backwards.

From that point on it was less than a minute until it was all over. The one to the left was the closer of the two and every step it took showed more detail as to how much damage this person had taken. Entire sections of skin were torn away and even the muscles visible underneath almost looked ragged or chewed up. And those eyes… these weren’t the eyes of a person. They were dead cold eyes that looked at me like I was last can of beans at a hobo convention. “Get back,” I yelled out as it got within fifteen feet of me and I pointed the gun straight at its head. All that seemed to do was agitate it as its fingers started flexing and its mouth started opening and closing like it was trying to chew its way through the air to get to me. Chills ran through me once more and sweat was pouring off me as I put my finger on the trigger.

It was ten feet away from me when it started moving faster. A few more feet and it was raising its arms and it lunged. I may not know what was wrong with these people but I do know when someone or something wants to do me harm and I have no problem defending myself. I pulled the trigger and felt the recoil against my shoulder as the shot from the shell tore the right half of their head away. I felt a fine mist blow against my face and hands and I watched the body fall back from the force of the shot. Turning away from the one on the ground to face the other, I noticed that no blood was pouring out of it. A normal person would have been losing enormous amounts of blood from that kind of wound as their bodies died. I pointed the barrel of the gun square at the chest of the other person and noticed that its expression or approach hadn’t changed a bit since I killed the first one. These things were abominations. When the second one got a little closer I fired a shell straight into its chest before it could get as close as the other one had. I know I watched that thing fall right on its ass and I could see a little bit of daylight coming out the other side of its chest wound. I also know I almost pissed myself when instead of the body falling back, it grasped at the ground and started pulling itself right back up. I could hear what sounded like a raspy growl coming from this thing as it started to stand back up with that same expression and hungry look in its eyes. I looked at the hole in its chest and realized that almost no blood was coming out from this one either.

I backed up another couple of steps to give myself room and comforted myself in the fact the first one hadn’t so much as twitched since I shot it. Then it occured to me that I had shot that one in the head. Maybe that was the difference. I no longer had any thoughts of these things as human. Humans don’t act like this and they certainly don’t take a shotgun blast to the chest and keep moving. I purposely aimed low and fired again taking its left leg off at the knee. The only effect that had was to make it fall forward with its momentum and start to claw its way to me. These things weren’t human and it was time to end this. I leveled the barrel at its head and fired one last time. It stopped and went limp. The head was the key.

I turned and started towards the house and I saw little Jimmy run up to the door and yell out that he saw someone else in the yard. I remember asking him where and he told me it was the opposite side from the barn. I immediately turned that direction to see if it was the same situation. I cleared the corner of the house and sure enough I saw another person walking along the edge of the field heading straight for the house. I started walking towards them as I’d lost any uncertainty I had previously. As I got closer and closer I could make out similar details. This time it was a young girl, maybe college age, wearing what looked like had been flannel pajamas before they had been torn apart and covered in blood. It looked like half the skin on her face had been torn off by something and you could see all the teeth and jaw bone on one side of her face from the chin back close to her ear. Just in case I was wrong about this, I stopped and called out to her. I asked her if she could hear me and if she could understand what I was saying. I know I told her to turn around and head on back. I even picked up a rock and hit her in the shoulder with it. Not one of these things got any sort of response out of her. There was no point in waiting so I got within ten paces and fired a shell that tore off most of the top of her head. Just like the first, she fell and didn’t so much as twitch. I turned my back on that mess and went into the house.

Now I know I must have had the most confused look on my face when I entered the house and my little Beccs looked at me, smiled and said I looked just like an ‘injun’. She still has trouble with some words but I knew she meant Indian. Jimmy giggled a little at her remark but no one said anything about what had happened. I had no idea what she was talking about till I got in the bathroom to wash up and saw that my face and hands were red with tiny spots of blood all over. I always imagined a shotgun would make a mess and now I know for sure. I scrubbed up probably much longer than I needed to but I just couldn’t help but feel dirty.

Now it’s nighttime and there’s a bit of a chill in the air. I tell Jimmy to run on inside and fetch a blanket for his Ma and sister since they were both asleep on that swing. No sense waking them up at this point. I walk back and forth along the porch to keep an eye out for movement as much as to get my blood pumping to stay awake. It’s been a long day and it’s going to be an even longer night if that boy don’t show up soon. Jimmy came back out the door carrying his Grandma’s old quilt and I helped him cover the two on the swing.

I remember telling the whole family what I saw and why I did what I did. There’s nothing we don’t do as a family and there’s no point hiding anything from the children. They’re smart kids and it’s better to tell them everything up front than let their wild imaginations take over and fill in the details. I knew we had to try and get a hold of the sheriff or someone in town to let them know what had happened out here. No sense trying to hide anything at this point as I’d done nothing wrong. I was also worried about leaving the family out here to fend for themselves. I suppose that’s why Robbie took off to town on his own like he did. I curse him for it, but truthfully I know that he’s more familiar with every street and building in that town that I ever could be. I rarely go to town myself; never have. My life was always spent on this farm. I didn’t have to like it but I know Robbie made the right choice when he took off before I even started looking for my keys.

Sound carries a long way at night. Jimmy and I both look at each other when we hear what sounds like the distant sound of a car horn honking followed by the faint sounds of skidding. I can’t help but cringe when I hear a faint thump filter through the trees and fields. I tell myself that if it’s Robbie then he’s fine. He probably just had a deer run out in front of the car and he had to swerve to miss it. I take a couple of steps down the stairs of the porch and stop myself. Even if he were in trouble I have no idea where to start looking. I’d just have to walk the length of the drive and then start off down the road till maybe I find something. No there’s no sense wandering off in the dark till I’m sure there’s a problem. Better to wait a little and see him driving towards the house than screw around out there. But if I don’t see anything soon I suppose I’ll need to start walking.

“Do ya think that was Robbie?” asked Jimmy when I sat down on the porch next to him.

“Could be but if it was it didn’t sound like nothing serious. I think we should just wait a while so he can get here on his own without feeling like we had to come looking for him.”

Jimmy nodded in the same quiet way I do and left it at that. I shift the gun to one had so I can pat him on the back. He’s a good kid.

Fifteen to twenty minutes pass with nothing more than the sound of a breeze through the trees and I’m starting to get worried. Even if the car was banged up, it shouldn’t take this long to get here judging the distance from the sound I heard earlier. I’m probably worrying for nothing though. Could just be he had a blow out and has to change to the spare tire. That would take at least fifteen minutes in the best of conditions. He could also be bleeding to death slumped up against the steering wheel. Waiting is not one of my best virtues. I look at Jimmy just as he’s letting out a yawn and rubbing his eyes. I ask him to run inside and fetch me the big flashlight. He looks at me for a few seconds with that serious look he wears before he nods and gets up. I watch him head for the door and I catch sight of my wife and daughter still sleeping in the cool night air. I hear the screen door hitting the door frame as I turn my attention back to the drive.

I pace the porch from end to end looking for any sight of any more intruders or of Robbie but don’t see signs of either. I don’t think Robbie took his gun with him to town but he’s a pretty strong kid and should be able to take or himself if he runs into trouble. God, if you’re listening, please let Robbie be okay out there. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to my family. I put my face in my hands to rub my eyes and wipe away anything that might look like tears.

From behind me I hear the screen door opening and I hear Jimmy yell “Pop, look!” I turn to look back at him and see that he’s pointing off into the front yard and I see that Marcy was also awake and looking. I stand up and turn to look in the direction he was pointing and I can see a small spot of light bouncing up and down, fading in and out in the distance. It’s definitely someone running with a light and I know that there was a small flashlight in the glove box of the car. I look back and see Marcy gently getting up so she doesn’t disturb Beccs who’s still asleep. Jimmy comes to stand next to me still holding the big flashlight I sent him for. I take it out of his hands as he continues to watch the bobbing light.

I realize now that we don’t have any of the lights on in the house since there was still some daylight when we came out here. I switch on my flashlight and wave it back and forth to help guide Robbie to the house. It’s cloudy and the moonlight hasn’t broken through too often tonight. My light flickers across the yard in front of the porch as I make my way down the steps and start walking towards the drive. I can tell he’s running and I’m wondering if he’s been running the whole way from wherever the car must be. The bobbing light gets closer and I continue out to meet him in the yard. I shine my light towards him and see that he’s carrying what looks like a baseball bat in his other hand.

“Are you OK?” I yell out to him as he gets closer.

He doesn’t answer but I can hear his strained breathing and understand: he’s been running for a long way. There’s a small scrape or something bloody on his cheek but otherwise he looks fine. He slows his pace as he gets near me and drops the bat and flashlight as he bends over and puts his hands on his knees. I give him a few seconds to catch his breath and I look him over to make sure he’s OK. I still don’t see anything else on him, but the bat he was carrying definitely has a couple of dents in its aluminum shape and is half covered in dried blood. He looks up at me and his first words chill my tired body to the bone: “It’s bad.”

“How bad? What do you mean?” I asked him.

“I mean those we saw here earlier weren’t the only ones. There are dead people getting up and killing people all over town. I watched through a window while a kid killed his own Mom. He looked like he’d been run over by a truck but she didn’t seem to notice. I saw what used to be Sheriff Billings chewing on his secretary’s leg when I looked for help at the station. I saw kids from my school just wandering around town till they saw me drive by. Any that saw me would stop what they were doing and start coming my way. The only ones who didn’t seem to come after me were the ones that were already eating someone. They’re people I knew and I swear they all wanted to kill me.” Robbie looked me right in the eyes when he told me all this and I know he wouldn’t lie about something like this.

I look back at the house to see if anyone else could have heard what Robbie just told me. Marcy must have woken up Beccs because I could see their shapes silhouetted in the window by the kitchen light. Jimmy was standing just outside the front door. It was a cool night but I still found myself wiping sweat from my brow.

“The whole town? Didn’t you see anyone else?” How could we not have heard anything about this? Our television only has a VCR hooked to it since we never replaced the antenna that tore off the house two years ago. That was one hell of a storm. We just didn’t use it enough to worry about. And I guess I don’t listen to the radio all that much anymore either. The kids have their little music players with the headphones that they always carry around. I guess it’s not too hard to understand that we’ve isolated ourselves to some extent. “Did you go by your Aunt Ginny’s or your cousin’s house to see if they were okay?”

Robbie switched off his flashlight and bent down to pick up the aluminum bat. “Yeah, I did. Once I saw what was going on, that was where I went next. I figured that if nothing else I could bring any family or friends out here to the farm.”

I nodded in agreement. I may not like some of Robbie’s friends but helping others is the only right thing to do.

“I went by Aunt Ginny’s first. The front door was open so I looked around when no one answered. I checked all the rooms but I couldn’t find her anywhere. I noticed a couple of her neighbors wandering around with blood all over their faces and decided to head on out in a hurry. I stopped by Matt’s apartment next. He was home.”

I could see tears forming in Robbie’s eyes from the light of my flashlight and I turned it off to save him any embarrassment. His voice changed from exhausted to broken and emotional.

“I could hear someone moving around in there but no one answered the door. I tried it and it was open so I went in. As soon as I did the smell of something dead smacked me upside the head. Just as I walked in, Matt came walking out of the hallway and one of his arms was gone. There was blood all over him and what looked like bite marks on his face and neck. He wasn’t alive, Pop! He wasn’t alive but he was walking just like the others. He came straight at me and I panicked. I saw his old baseball bat sitting by the front door and I picked it up.”

I could feel the tears coming to my eyes now too. Robbie’s voice broke as he started sobbing.

“There was nothing I could do, Pop. He tried to grab me and I swung that bat at him as hard as I could. I knocked him over but he just got right back up. When he came at me again I brought the bat down on his head. I can still remember the crunch sound that it made and I almost threw up but he didn’t stop. And I just kind of lost it Pop. I started hitting him over and over with the bat just as hard and as fast as I could even after he fell to the ground. Oh God, Pop please tell me I did the right thing!”

I pull my son in close to me and hug him for all I’m worth and it takes every bit of effort to try and keep my voice steady. “You had no choice son. You did the right thing. You did the right thing….” And I give him a minute to let it out.

I turn and put my arm around my son and we start walking back towards the light of the house. I can’t even say I understand what the boy’s going through because it would be a lie. His cousin was like an older brother to Robbie and I know this must be tearing him apart inside. I wipe the tears away from my eyes as we mount the steps to the porch. How do I tell the family about this? What are we going to do? We walk inside and no one says a word. Marcy just comes up to us and hugs us both like we were in danger of blowing away. Jimmy and Beccs join in as well.

And it seemed like time stood still and everything was okay again, if only for a little while.