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Chapter 80


Was the trip back to Atlanta worth it? For me, it was. It was worth it to see the house one last time, even though it was ruined. It was worth it to recover some of the things I’d left behind. It was worth it to feel some sense of closure, even if I’ll never know for sure what happened to Shawn. It hurts not to know, but it would have killed me not to look. At least now I know I’ve done all that I can to find him.

I’ve accepted that it’s unlikely I’ll ever see him again in this lifetime, but it’s a comfort to have our pictures with me, to be able to see his face the way I remember it whenever I want. One of my favorites is from our engagement photos. It rained the day we had scheduled our session, but we went ahead with it, hoping it would clear so we could do some of the shots outdoors, like we’d planned. It never did, but we went outside anyway and took pictures. I thought it would be sort of romantic, like the kiss in the rain from The Notebook. Instead, it was just cold and wet and uncomfortable. My hair got drenched and frizzed right out, and his glasses fogged up so bad he could barely see. We both got soaked to the bone and came out looking like two drowned rats in the photos. Two drowned rats in love, though. We laughed so hard that day, joking about how he could have used a tiny pair of windshield wipers for his glasses, and how I was going to be nipping out in our engagement announcement in the newspaper. Obviously, we chose a different photo – one of the dry shots – but my favorite will always be the one of us laughing in the rain. And when things get bad, I’ll always be able to look at it and smile through my tears.

It’s a good thing, because there sure have been a lot of tears around here lately



Thursday, October 11, 2012
Week Twenty-Five

“This truck could use some new wipers,” Gretchen commented, struggling to see out the windshield as she drove through the rain. The skies had been clear for most of her journey with Brian back to Tampa Bay, but that morning had dawned overcast and rainy.

“I’ll put some on when we get back to the base,” Brian replied. “Unless you think we need to stop and find some now.”

“No… it’s fine. We can make it,” said Gretchen. Now that they were on the road again, she was eager to keep going.

It would have been the perfect day to stay in bed, if that bed had been the one she shared with Shawn at their house in Atlanta. But her house and her bed were far behind them now, and deep down, she knew she would never see them – or Shawn – again. Instead, she and Brian had slept in a stranger’s home, somewhere outside Gainesville, Florida.

Only a hundred more miles to Tampa, according to a green road sign she could just make out through the rain-soaked window. Even though it had been tempting to curl up under the covers and sleep until eternity, Gretchen found that she was glad. She couldn’t wait to get back to Tampa. There was nothing for her in Atlanta anymore, nothing but memories. At MacDill, there was hope. There were people. She had friends, a family, however unconventional. She found that she had missed them while she and Brian were away.

“Do you think Riley, Nick, and Kevin will be back?” she asked Brian.

“I hope so.” He didn’t elaborate, though she could infer what he was thinking. It had been almost three weeks since the other group had boarded a plane and flown west in search of survivors. If they weren’t back yet, it could only mean they had run into trouble – with the plane, with the undead, or any number of other possibilities.

“Kevin’s gonna be pissed at us for leaving,” she added, but that didn’t bother her. Once they were all back together in one piece, the relief would be so great that no hard feelings could last long.

Brian chuckled. “If he’s back at the base, I bet he’s a basket case right now, worryin’ about us.”

She smiled and nodded. “Jo’s probably right there with him.” She knew Jo, the mother of the group, hadn’t wanted them to go, either. But as a widow who had lost her own husband, she had also understood Gretchen’s need to search for hers. And when they got back, she would surely have some words of comfort to offer her.

Gretchen thought she was coping fairly well, as well as could be expected. She was still grieving, of course, but in the days since they’d left Atlanta, she had also gained a sense of peace. While it was true that she might never know what exactly had happened to Shawn, she was reasonably sure that his soul, at least, had gone on to a far better place than this one, and she took comfort in that belief.

It helped that Brian was on her side now, a fellow believer once more. He’d held a little memorial service for Shawn during one of their overnight stops. He had read some passages from the Bible, she had shared stories and favorite memories of Shawn, and together, they’d looked at pictures from the photo albums she’d recovered from the house. It wasn’t the send-off Shawn deserved, but it did bring Gretchen some closure.

Her mood lifted as the rain stopped, and the sun peeked out from behind the storm clouds. She could see its golden rays filtering through the misty gray atmosphere, and she smiled. “When I was a little girl,” she spoke aloud, pointing out the window at the visible sunbeams, “I used to think those beams of light were the souls of people who had just died, being taken up to Heaven.”

Brian smiled, too. “That’s a beautiful thought. I’d like to think it’s true.”

She liked to think so, too, but who on Earth was left with a soul to take? As far as she knew, it was just the nine of them, for the undead certainly had no souls left in them. The realization left her feeling troubled again.

Then Brian said, “Hey, look… over there.” He pointed in the other direction, and she slowed down, craning her neck to look over her shoulder. She saw it then, a faint glimmer of color against the dark gray clouds: a rainbow.

Letting the truck coast to a stop in the middle of the highway, Gretchen shifted it into park, looked around carefully to make sure there were no zombies in sight, then climbed out. Brian followed her. They stood in the road, flanked by abandoned vehicles, and stared up at the sky. Out in the sunlight, the rainbow appeared even brighter and more vivid, stretching across the backdrop of gray sky from one side of the horizon to the other. “Whoa… that’s a full rainbow,” Gretchen murmured.

Above it, they could just make out a second rainbow, much fainter, like an echo of the first. Brian was the one to point it out. “It’s a double rainbow… all the way across the sky,” he observed, tracing the arc of it with his finger.

“Wow…” Gretchen shook her head, in awe of this rare miracle of nature. “It’s so beautiful. What does it mean?” Looking up at the double rainbow, she had a strange, fluttery feeling deep inside her, like it was a sign. She smiled up at the soft spectrum of colors and thought, This is Shawn telling me that he’s all right… that I can go on, and everything will be all right.

When she told Brian this, he smiled back and squeezed her hand. “God’s miracles are all around us,” he said. “Sometimes we just have to look for them more closely. This is a nice reminder that there’s still beauty in this world.”

But not long after he’d said it, the slouching silhouettes of zombies also appeared on the horizon, shuffling toward them under the double rainbow, and they were forced to get back in the truck and keep driving.

The pair of rainbows soon faded, but Gretchen was not too disappointed. The full-on double rainbow had left her feeling fulfilled. She floored the pedal and watched the needle on the speedometer steadily creep higher. With a hundred more miles of rain-soaked highway stretching out in front of her, she just wanted to get home. That was how she would think of the former Air Force base from then on – as home.

And indeed, when she finally found herself driving down Bayshore Boulevard, guiding the truck through MacDill’s front gates, Gretchen felt an overwhelming sense of relief and satisfaction. Home, at last. She navigated the winding streets and brought the truck to a stop in the driveway of the little house she and Brian shared with Nick and Riley. After parking, she jumped out and ran into the house, eager to see if their two roommates were home yet. Brian followed, calling, “Nick? Rye?”

But there was no one home. The house was dark and silent, the air stagnant. Gretchen fought off her feeling of disappointment, saying, “I bet the others are down at the beach, still working on the wall.”

They went back outside and walked around the house, heading for the bay. Their pace quickened, the closer they got to the water. Up ahead, Gretchen could see the wall, but no sign of anyone, living or undead. She kept her ears perked for voices or the sound of hammering as they followed the wall along the waterline to its end, but still, there was no one. Yet their tools were still there - a hammer, nails, rope, and a saw lay among the chopped logs that had not yet been assembled to continue the wall. “Maybe they’re taking a break,” Brian said, looking around.

Gretchen nodded, refusing to admit anything could be wrong, though she was starting to get that sense. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but there was an eerie feeling in the air. The base seemed too quiet, even quieter than usual. The absence of moaning was a relief, but the lack of human noise bothered her. “Where do you think they went?” she asked, but Brian just shrugged. They both knew there were too many places to check on the large base.

They trudged off in the direction they had come, heading back to the housing area. The walk seemed to take a lot longer than it had before. But when they finally reached the house, someone was waiting for them by the truck.

“Howie!” Gretchen broke into a jog, arms outstretched for a hug. It had taken her some time to warm up to Howie, but she was so glad to see him, so glad to see someone alive on the empty base. When she got close, though, she lowered her arms and slowed to a walk, frowning as she studied his face.

Howie looked all right, physically, but he appeared to have aged several years in the nineteen days they’d been gone. Or had he always had those lines around his eyes? That touch of gray in his stubble? He hadn’t shaved in several days, which was unlike him. He also hadn’t showered, which was very unlike him. His black hair was greasy and disheveled. Underneath his tan, his face seemed pale, almost ashen. Was he sick? Or had something horrible happened?

“What’s wrong?” she asked, afraid to hear his answer.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said, but he didn’t smile. His voice was low and grim. “AJ’s been hurt, badly. And Jo’s dead.”

Gretchen gasped out loud, swaying with the shock of his last words. “No…” she whimpered, her eyes already filling with tears.

Brian had reached them just in time to hear Howie’s grim news. He put his arm around Gretchen and hugged her close to his side. “How did it happen?” he asked Howie.

There must have been a horrible attack, Gretchen thought, and she immediately felt guilty, guilty because she and Brian hadn’t been there to help. With so few of them left to fight and defend the base, they’d suffered heavy losses. This was the conclusion her mind immediately jumped to, so she was unprepared for Howie’s answer.

“She was attacked by one of them while we were working on the wall, two days ago. Gabby shot the zombie to save her, but her bullet went right through it and hit Jo in the chest.”

Gretchen gasped again. “Oh no… oh God… Gabby… Poor Gabby! H-how’s she doing?”

It was a stupid question. Howie just shrugged. “You can imagine. She’s inside with AJ.” He gestured to the house next door, the one he shared with AJ. “I should get back… I don’t like leaving either one of them alone.”

“We’ll come with you,” Brian said.

As they followed him next door, Howie filled them in on what had happened with AJ – the fall from the tree, the fall off the wagon. “We’ll have to watch his leg carefully for signs of infection,” he said. “Jo said if it gets into his broken bone, it could kill him. She said we’d have to amputate his leg. Of course, AJ was having none of that. With Jo gone, though, I don’t know what we’d do.”

“Just pray it doesn’t happen,” Brian murmured. Gretchen could be sure that he would, but she wasn’t so sure it would do any good. Prayers hadn’t seemed to help them much yet. She had been so relieved to make it back to the base safely, but her faith had been shaken again by the tragedy that awaited them there.

“Any news on the other group?” she asked pointlessly, already knowing there had been none.

Howie shook his head. “How about on your end? Any sign of Shawn?”

She, too, shook her head sadly. “Our house was half-destroyed. Some kind of explosion. We left a message for him, in case he ever does make it back to check, but… but I don’t think that will happen. I think that he’s… that’s he gone,” she admitted with difficulty, her voice trembling on the last words.

“I’m sorry,” Howie offered, holding out his arm. She let him put it around her, so that she was sandwiched between the two of them, hugged on both sides. They walked like that, three across, all the way to the front door. Howie held it open for Brian and Gretchen, ushering them inside.

His house was just as dark and silent as theirs had been. Gretchen felt like she should tiptoe as he led them back to the three, small bedrooms. One of the doors was closed – Gabby, Howie mouthed, pointing – but the other two were open. He brought them into one of the rooms, where AJ was laid up in bed, his broken leg heavily bandaged and splinted, elevated by a couple of pillows.

“Hey. You’re back,” he greeted them matter-of-factly, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in the faintest flicker of a smile. “You missed all the excitement,” he added, gesturing at his leg.

Gretchen shook her head, her eyes filling with a fresh batch of tears. “I’m so sorry, AJ,” she said. “I’m sorry all this happened. I’m sorry we weren’t here.”

“Hey, don’t apologize.” He shrugged. “Accidents happen. There’s nothing you could’ve done.” But he said this all very flatly, and Gretchen knew it wasn’t true. Maybe they wouldn’t have been able to prevent his fall, but they could have saved Jo. A tear slipped down her cheek, dripping onto the foot of his bed. “Any luck with the hubby?” he asked, and she shook her head, more tears falling. “That sucks… sorry.”

She sniffed and nodded, not knowing what else to say. The three of them just stood there around AJ’s bed for a few, awkward minutes, barely speaking. Then Gretchen asked, “Can we see Gabby?” She looked at Brian, and he nodded. Between the two of them, maybe they’d be able to offer the girl some comfort.

Howie took them across the hall and rapped his knuckles lightly against the closed door. “Gabby?” he called. “Brian and Gretchen are back. Can they come in?”

There was no answer.

Howie shrugged at Gretchen and Brian, looking helpless. “She hasn’t spoken since Tuesday,” he whispered. “She barely comes out of this room.”

Gretchen could tell he didn’t have a clue what to do about Gabby. “I’ll see what I can do,” she offered, reaching for the doorknob. “Gabby?” She tried the knob and was surprised when it turned easily in her hand. Having once been a teenage girl herself, she had expected it to be locked. She opened the door slowly and peeked in.

Gabby was curled up in a little ball on the bed, facing the wall. She didn’t react when Gretchen walked in.

“Sweetheart…” Gretchen started softly, in the voice she’d used to console crying third-graders in her class at school. Gabby may have been older, but she was still a child, an orphan now, in need of some tender loving care. Though Gretchen knew she could never take the place of her mother, she could provide that much. “I’m so sorry…” she said, sinking down onto the edge of the bed and reaching out to stroke Gabby’s back. The teenager stiffened at her touch, but didn’t twist away. Neither did she roll over to face Gretchen. She stayed rigid, hugging her knobby knees to her chest.

“I can’t imagine how much you’re hurting right now,” Gretchen offered, to fill the silence. “I know it’s not the same, but I’m sad, too. Your mom was an incredible woman. She did so much for us here. We all miss her already.”

Gabby still didn’t respond, so she stopped talking, figuring Howie would have tried this already. What else was there to say? There were no words that could ease the pain of such an unspeakable tragedy. She continued to rub Gabby’s back in slow, soft circles, until she heard the girl sniff.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, feeling the tension and tightness in the teenager’s muscles, the effort of holding it all in. “Let it out…”

A sob escaped Gabby’s throat, and finally, she let her guard down, rolling over to face Gretchen. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her cheeks blotchy and tearstained. Even so, fresh tears clung to her lashes and dripped from her nose and chin. Her lips quivered, though she said nothing. She didn’t need to, and neither did Gretchen. Wordlessly, the older woman opened her arms and let the girl crawl into them. She wrapped Gabby up in a warm hug and held her, feeling the grief rack through the teenager’s small body as she shook and sobbed against Gretchen’s shoulder.

She could sense Brian’s presence in the doorway, and after a minute, she glanced back and saw him there, watching. He offered her a sympathetic smile and a nod of approval, then turned and walked away, leaving her to comfort Gabby, as he had comforted her.

Grief… it had descended on the base once again like a storm cloud. In the days to come, tears would fall like rain, and anger would rage like thunder. They would ride it out together, waiting and praying for Kevin, Nick, and Riley’s return, wondering if the storm would end in a rainbow or a flood.

***