Home Coming

"So what happened with you back there?" I asked, throwing Jack a cigarette.

"What do you mean?"

Not taking his eyes off the road that was thinly coated with dead, he replied, "The wrists, dude. I can't invite a mentally unstable guy into our midst—you know I have people to protect."

He sighed. "I have… had a wife and kid—a little girl, Emmy. She was 7 years old. We had such a hard time getting pregnant. Tammi, my wife, had given up on having kids, but against all odds it happened. Tammi took Emmy to school; I was still in bed and didn't have a chance to say goodbye. Scream's woke me up, and when I went outside they were being attacked by those things. I managed to get them into the car and drive them to the hospital, but the place got overrun... I saw them walking around dead but attacking people. I escaped, got back here, and drank myself stupid. Then, well, you can see for yourself what happened."

I listened in silence and nodded. "Look, Jack, I'm not going to lie to you and say I know how you are feeling—I don't. I have not lost any of my family yet. But you seem like a stand-up guy. We have a place you can stay, and there are people there a lot younger than you, but they're a good group."

He nodded but didn't say anything.

"We also have more booze," I joked.

"I think I have had enough for one lifetime," he smiled.

We parked the car next to the Fiesta—so someone was still home inside the flats—and we grabbed the tools and headed off.

"Dude, what the hell do you do with half this stuff? It weighs a damn ton," I asked.

"Half of it was never used," he said.

We got to the front door of the flats and it was obvious something was wrong; the door entrance way was scorched. I put the bags down and cautiously approached the door—someone was on watch. I didn't want them blowing my head off. I pressed the call button; no response. I pressed it again. After five attempts I gave up and poked my head through the broken glass window.

Toby shoved the barrel of the shotgun against my temple. "And it's nice to see you too," I said. Toby put the gun down, pulled me through the door, and hugged me, then punched me in the arm. "Don't you fucking do that again!"

I laughed and pried myself from his grip. "I won't, but I made a new friend."

Jack pulled his way through the glass with the bags. "Thanks for the help," he said, and I helped him to his feet. Jon, Lara, and Jane soon followed down the stairs—hugs, kisses, and introductions flowed for the next five minutes. We grabbed the new equipment and headed upstairs.

There was only one person I wanted to see. "Where's Sky?" I asked Jon.

"In her room. She's pretty upset; she has barely eaten or left her bed."

I nodded and entered my flat, opening the bedroom door. The lights were off and the curtains were closed. A lump was in the middle of the bed, facing away from the door.

"Go away! I don't want to talk to anyone!"

"Well, I will just go away then," I said, laughing.

Sky jumped up from the bed and ran to hug me, saying she missed me and thought I was gone forever. She also yelled at me for making her worry. I apologized, and she proceeded to show me the homework I had given her and the pictures she had drawn. I introduced her to Jack, and they seemed to immediately hit it off—not surprising since he has had a girl her age.

It was midday and we all settled down for lunch—Pot Noodle all around—but it was the best thing I had eaten in ages. The morale improved dramatically; even Jack told a few jokes. After lunch I took a shower, washing grime and dried blood from the previous few days. I got dressed and found Toby and Jon waiting for me.

"This can only be good news," I said.

We sat down, and Jon started talking, "The day after I got back, someone—well, I think we can all guess who—threw a petrol bomb through the window. We managed to put it out, but a brick came flying through the window with a note attached to it."

"What did it say?"

Jon passed me a folded piece of lined white paper.

MEET 7:00 PM FRIDAY, ROYAL VICTORIA PLACE, TOP FLOOR. COME ALONE. USE THE FOOD COURT ENTRANCE.

You have been a pain in our arse, but we just wanna talk to yous.

"See what I mean?" Jon said.

"I can see the grammar is terrible—get rid of spell check and the world goes mad," came a small snigger from Toby.

"Well, if only one of us can go, then I'm going," I said.

I'll skip over the argument that followed—as it was the same old argument again—but suffice to say, there was plenty of swearing. Today was Wednesday. That left us two days. Jon had gone to check the state of Royal Victoria Place—a small shopping center—and found the place securely locked down. No living or dead inside. It was unlikely that this was their main base, as this place would be very difficult to defend, and we had seen them retreat in the opposite direction the other day. Everyone would stay except me, just in case this was a trap to leave the place undefended.

Later, I headed down to the first floor with Jack to help him pick out a room. He selected one, and I helped him move his tools and the few personal possessions he had managed to take with him. When we were done, the place looked like a car repair garage. Jack had told me before all this happened that he had been an inventor/engineer and enjoyed tinkering with things. I asked him jokingly if he could make me some ultra-cool zombie-killing weapons.

"Okay," he said.

"Dude, I was joking," I replied.

"Give me your boots and your baton."

He was serious. I passed him my boots and baton, and he started to measure.

The next day was very relaxed despite knowing what I had to do tomorrow. We checked our supplies, read, did some cooking, and I drew pictures with Sky, who soon ran off to see why Jack had been in his room all day. I checked on her after an hour and found her sitting on a desk, watching Jack take apart part of my boot.

"She isn't bothering you, is she?" I worried that Jack might not do too well with having a girl the same age as his daughter hanging around him. Instead, he looked up and smiled. "No, it's fine, really."

I shrugged. "Okay, be good."

"Okay, I will."

They both replied, causing them to degenerate into giggles.

After dinner I went to see Jack again, bringing him down a sandwich. Sky had fallen asleep on the sofa with a coat draped over her.

"Hey, I got you some food," I said.

He turned to look at me. He looked a lot better—the color had returned to his face, the bags and lines seemed to have faded; he looked more his age of 37 rather than his 50s from the other day. He smiled and demolished the sandwich.

"Are you okay with her in here?" I asked, motioning towards Sky.

"Yes, she's fine. She reminds me a lot of Em," he said with a wistful smile.

"Just checking—how's my zombie-killing shit coming along?" I changed the subject.

"It should be ready for you tomorrow, but I'm not going to ruin the surprise. Are you sure you don't want someone to come with you?"

"No, I'll be fine. I always have been in the past. Don't see why tomorrow would be any different."

"Your luck may run out."

"Well, I try not to worry about things I can't do anything about. Did you ever hear that poem from World War I soldiers?"

"No, how does it go?"

"When you are a soldier you can be one of two things: safe or not safe. If you are safe, don't worry. If you are not safe, you will be one of two things: injured or not injured. If you are not injured, don't worry. If you are injured, one of two things will happen: you will die or you will recover. If you recover, don't worry; if you die, you can't worry. Therefore, a soldier never worries."

Jack laughed. I scooped up Sky, said goodnight to Jack, and headed upstairs. I put Sky to bed and settled down on the sofa. There were no TV channels still transmitting—some just had static, others just showed dead sets, literally dead sets with the former crew wandering around the stage. The odd radio station was still on; most of it was pleas for help from miles away or just the same prerecorded music over and over again. I settled onto the sofa as the apocalypse howled around me.