the Remainder XII

XII

We introduced ourselves, and the girls and I looked through the cabinets for food. Shandre’s injured arm hung at her side as we put dinner together. While we were eating she opened up a little bit—even giggling once—but was obviously tired. More than once she looked like she was having trouble keeping he head upright. The thought occurred to me that Berke may have doped her up. Though I hadn’t looked in the medicine cabinet yet, people who owned a house like that probably had an array of pharmaceuticals. I couldn’t blame him. If she was in as bad a shape as she looked she was probably in a lot of pain.

Shandre had been sitting still for a long time when Berke touched her on the shoulder. She looked up at him, but didn’t say anything. Berke said something like ‘Time for bed,’ and then picked her up and carried her to a bedroom.

He came back quietly and we moved into the living room to sit down and talk. The sun had set, so it was dark outside. And barely any of the moonlight made it under the trees. I’d stopped counting how many zombies were outside. The moaning hadn’t gotten any louder that I could tell.

“She’s a sweet girl,” Liz said to Berke when he sat down.

“I know,” Berke said looking down. He started shaking his head then opened his eyes. “It’s so fucked up,” he said softly.

“I know it is,” said Liz sounding dazed.

“What happened to her shoulder?” Nancy asked in a hushed voice.

“Oh…” sighed Berke. He took a deep breath. “We were at my sister’s, my wife and I…” The I came out in a stutter. Berke closed his mouth for a second, and then continued. “When it started to look like things were getting serious. Some of the neighbors had packed up and left, but most of them decided to stock up and wait it out. Jaina’s...my sister’s house was much bigger than ours, it had a second floor. Tricia and I packed up some things and went over and— Anyway, the other night they got in and well, Shandre and I are the only ones that made it out.”

Everyone was very quiet for a second. “So what happened to her?” asked Dad.

“Zombie got her,” Berke said, letting out a breath. “It’s not as bad as it could have been, but…” Nancy’s face went waxy in the dark.

“Oh, God,” she said.

“She’s a fighter,” said Berke. “She’s really keeping it together pretty good. Thank God I could clean out it out once we got here.”

It reminded me,“What sort of have they got here?”

“Oh all sorts of stuff,” said Berke, then he chuckled. “The running water helped.”

“Water?” I asked

“Yeah,” said Berke.

“Is it still on?” asked my Dad leaning forward.

“Sure it is,” said Berke, looking side to side.

My Dad jumped up and started running. I got up and ran to the bathroom, stumbling through thedarkness.

“What?” Nancy asked in a modest shout.

“Power’s gone,” my Dad said. I found the spigot and turned it on full blast. “No telling when the water’ll go too.” I groped all around the tub for a stop but couldn’t find one. “Girls, why don’t you go look for some buckets in those cupboards by the door.”

“Why didn’t I think of that,” I heard Berke say as he followed the girls past the bathroom door.

“Dad,” I said walking out of the bathroom. “Do you have a lighter?” He was squatting under the counter pulling out a stack of steel bowls. He stood up, nestled the bowls under one arm, and tossed me a Zippo from his pocket. In the bathroom, I found there wasn’t a stop, but a little silver lever set into the wall of the tub, which I flipped.

The sink filled, Dad started in on the bowls. Berke and the girls were chattering, and clattering with things in the closets at the far end of the house. “Joe,” Dad said, “would you look through the fridge for any bottles.”

“Yeah,” I said but was interrupted. A loud, metallic knock rang out from the front door. Nancy shrieked, and crying started coming from Shandre’s room.

“Board up the door!” Berke grumbled, and the clattering near the door reached a new height. “Liz, will you…” he said.

Shandre opened the bedroom door and came wandering out right toward me. She was crying; her right arm out in front of her to stop her from running into things. Her hand bumped into me and I reached out and closed her in a hug. “It’s okay, Shandre.” I opened my mouth to say something, but Liz reached us, our of the darkness. Shandre pulled back and Liz took her, cooing, back into the bedroom.

As I got to the front door Berke was already hammering a board over the top of the front door, and it’s window. As I got closer I noticed the hinges hanging off one side; closet door. “Let me hold that, Berke.” He stepped back and I leaned against the board. A hand hit the door gratingly. I jumped, instinctively, and felt a little sick. It banged again. Berke started hammering at nails on either end of one side. We switched places and he finished that board. When I turned to get another board, Nancy passed up carrying two orange buckets.

“Check the bathtub,” I said to her. She nodded. Berke and put another closet door up. “Good thing you didn’t do this last night,” I said. Berke grunted and pulled another door from it’s hinges. The banging kept going, and I let out an uneasy laugh.

“Yeah,” said Berke.

“Or else…” Berke started coming back toward me, and the look on his face said stop.

“Look,” he said heaving the board up over the first one. “I didn’t think of…”

“No,” I interrupted, “I didn’t mean anything. I didn’t mean…”

We finished boarding up the door.

—Introduction and Dramatis Personæ

the Uneven Ending of Invincible

Invincible was not a great book. Which is so disappointing because it had so much potential. Both as inheritor of a fascinating plot-line that the Legacy has laid down, and with it's stellar first half. Early on, the period of time between each chapter is huge. It runs more like a sitcom: characters end a chapter talking about a big future event and a page break later we're there. What excited me about this format is that it felt more like the movies. There is a spareness in the telling early on, that coincides with the economy of run-length in movies. It also—not coincidentally—makes the narrative run quickly and feel poppy, even when going through the chore of establishing plot. 

Jania's brief time with the Mandalorians, and her search for the strength to hunt her brother in Karen Travis' near-perfect 'Revelation,' were foreboding. It's with a heavy heart that we leave Jainia at the end of that book. Wiser—somehow—but dolefully resigned to the fact that whether she has to kill her brother or not, she must be prepared to. With Ben and Luke's relationship finally repaired, and Ben's ascension to knighthood the Skywalker legacy is finally on a firm footing. Simultaneously, Han and Leia steeling themselves for the of the Solo epoch. With both male children dead, the heroic Solo name has died as well. 

Jania begins by reconciling herself with the Council and with Zekk and Jag, steeling herself for the hunt. Caedus solidifies his ties with the Empire and begins to flex his Sith muscles in influencing or manipulating them. It's interesting when Caedus shows shows glimmers of Sidious' tactical genius. It really sells the post-New Jedi Order Sith resurgence. Caedus' bolstering of the Empire is also exciting, because, at the beginning of the book, it seems to be setting up the much stronger New Empire of the Legacy comic series. Along with the hidden Sith cabal on Korriban it seems like the 'sensible' universe of the novels, and the insane universe of the Legacy comics is slowly bridging together. 

Jaina's first assault on Caedus while aboard the Anakin Solo above Nickel One was an interesting plot choice. And while definitely not completely pointless I mark this as the part of the book where things start falling apart. It's clear that neither of them will be killed in this conflict. It's in the beginning of the second act, and the intelligence that it supplies the Jedi with is inconsequential. What we get from the conflict is two-fold. It exhibit's Caedus' breadth of force knowledge through the blood-trace, which also set's up his discovery of the Jedi Base later on; and Jaina lops off an arm, which eases her eventual task of killing him. My problem with these out-of-universe, structural reasons is that it represents a drastic switch from previous novels in the series from the expounding of a long-term narrative, and good deep character development. Jaina and Caedus are static characters in this conflict and so there's nothing to be gained by it. 

Here the narrative's speed becomes a detriment. It, coupled with the increasingly obvious structural justifications, make the book a chore. Denning rushes through tying up the plot threads that the series has laid down as efficiently as possible. 

The development of Ben's plot comes as a respite, though tainted. The development of his character throughout this series has been paramount—and that's a good thing. He's come a long way since being a creepy toddler-joiner in the Dark Nest Trilogy. At the begining of the series his deep-thinking, and consequence oriented nature seemed a little unjustified—even for Lukespawn. But by the end of this book Ben's wisdom seems genuine. It's unfortunate then that the pinnacle of his character should be juxtaposed so awkwardly against one of the worst characterizations in the series: Tahiri. For crying out loud, the girl has dropped off the face of the galaxy since the end of the New Jedi Order (Didn't Leia say something about her being considered part of the family?). The decision to bring her back abruptly as Caedus' help-maid was forced. Though that was outside this book, Denning does nothing to actualize her conversion in this book. Her seduction by the dark side is as unjustified here. Denning says: "That happened in another book, I don't know anything about that. Look: some boobs."

 penultimate battle is unfortunately just as lackluster. Jaina enters the Anakin Solo and immediately becomes the straight-woman to a wily hostage she's taken. This is the sort of thing that's supposed to happen in the first act—not before finally killing the bad guy. The attempt to combine the humorous and the sanguine in Star Wars is never as effectual as it is in the movies. By the time Jaina actually confronts Caedus the battle quickly turns in her favor. Though her face and hair get singed she more or less has him under control. I know that he's down a leg and distracted, but he's a Sith Lord who's much more experienced than her. A graph of the excitement in this fight would be inverse of what it should be. Jaina cuts off another limb, it dips a little, she wins, it dips again. There's no doubt who's going to win the battle as soon as it begins. There's so little time left in the book. Each step forward Jaina makes is another improbably death-blow against the far superior opponent until the end.

The final plot misstep is in allowing Ben to have the final action sequence. If you've read the Lord of the Rings you'll understand what I mean when I say Hobbit-sized climax. The lesser hero battles a diminished lesser-evil, and wins. It's a strange device—a sort of pseudo-ending. I'm not sure that even Tolkien could make it work, but Denning certianly can't. Instead of putting the resounding success of the book, and series in a human-sized conflict it plays out the the thinly veiled foreshadowing of Tahiri's redemption, in the most banal way. She never really had a decent justification to be Sith anyway. 

Invincable parallels the whole Legacy series. With it's abrupt and uneven ending it was ultimately a disappointment. But that's not to say that it wasn't fun, and even very good from time to time. It seemed to go by very fast, maybe too fast for it's own good. But there were glimmers, from time to time, of what made the movies so good, which is all that really matters.

Women's Gymnastics

In front of the Olympic broadcast logos
Bela Karoli knows that these Chinese girls
are winning through an unfair dose of
home-grown nepotism. And I'm not sure
there's not a new wave of Orientalism
pervading the athlete's excursions into
the bleach cleaned streets of the capital
—they love it. And why shouldn't they
love it. After years of ascetic sport
preparations; to go to China-doll or
some place called Faux-Bar in deference
to old Los Angeles, but with red, and
Mountain and Water paintings on the
walls.

Hot Wax, Water

I weigh 145 pounds right now, and can
calmly wait around; I've got the time
—which is fine.

I can't support my weight and drown when
'ere I get inside the pool. And when some
divers dive and pike

their bodies go thin in the middle, organs
displaced up inside their chest cavities; like
hot wax blocks contrived

to pull apart at the centers.

I go quickly down the road on sidewalk
on the side. I'm weightless, hollow, thinning
and decried.

Cone

The cone's far side's a flat face
Who bastardized the roundness
of it's surface?

Meaning Less

To be contemporaneously bound
in meaning, however much precision
overcompensates—

To be tied down, like one is, by that
there's little hope of growing out of
it is

just not bearable. Or else it lights a
growing fire of discontent that's
terrible.

And whether our deficit in meaning
is but a thing perceived, and is not
growing—though

comparatively's growing every day.
This specter of diminishing returns'
no murmuring

yearn, and owes to precedence it's dues
of lessening.

Top Five Olympic Finishes

5. Men's 100 m Usain Bolt

Usain Bolt, Jamacia's 22 year old sprint phenom is without a doubt the fastest man in the world today. He showed that in his first medal competition in Beijing. After a good start, and holding his own in the first fifty, Usain pulled away in the second half. In the last twenty meters, after checking both sides to see if anyone was following Usain let up. Instead of running, he patted his chest to make sure everyone knew how awesome he was. He broke his own world records by three hundredths of a second. But we'll never know how fast he could have been.

4. Men's Beach Volleyball Final Dalhausser & Rogers

The US Women's team was heroic before they reached Beijing, having won each of the last hundred some-odd games—but there was no suspense. Not so with the less-so, but still heroic Men's team, Dalhausser & Rogers. There was a great deal of suspense indeed in the gold medal match's final set, when the US men were down by increasing numbers with no momentum. Until Dalhausser rejected three straight spikes at the net. It turned the tide, and the US team went on to beat the Brazilians for the gold.

3. Men's 10 m Platform Matthew Mitcham

Matt Mitcham, Australia's first openly gay professional athlete was never a threat. He failed to qualify to enter in the 3 meter springboard competition. Four days later—on the final day of the Olympics—he did qualify for the 10 meter platform. In the second to last round a fair dive put gold 33 points out of reach for Mitcham. But his final overwhelming-awesome 112 point effort shut out a Chinese sweep of the whole diving venue.

2. Men's 400 m Free relay Lezak, Jones, Phelps, and Weber-Gale

This event was only Phelp's second in Beijing, and universally recognized as one of his weakest. The US team were slow to start, and well behind the pack during most of the race. Phelp's third-up performance closed the US team to a quarter pool length from first. But it was Jason Lezak swimming anchor, who closed the distance to a half body length. With twenty meters left in the race he dug down to find a reserve of strength the French didn't have to win gold.

1. Men's 100 m Butterfly Michael Phelps

The 100 m Butterfly is Phelps' race. His seventh swim should have easily added to his six Beijing golds. He began the race in typical style with an imperfect start, and laggy first length. After the turn, Phelps (in classic form) pulled away from the pack but still didn't have the lead. Serbia's Čavić was out ahead down the final length. But it was Phelps' genius final half stroke that out-touched Čavić by a heart stopping one hundredth of a second; the smallest margin of victory possible.

the Remainder XI

XI

I didn’t have the strength to throw the corpses over, so I pushed them to the side. Berke’s sweater was covered in mess. But he stood up straight and had a blank look on his face. He was holding the door open.

Inside it was mostly dark. There were two long hallways that met at the door, paneled in dark wood. A series of cupboards lined one wall and ended at a floor-to-ceiling glass wall. Dad came in behind me, and stopped.

“Go on in,” Berke said.

“Are there any of them in there?” I asked.

“No,” Berke said, closing the heavy looking steel door. The lock clicked and I dropped the crowbar to the granite tiled floor. It clattered loudly, and Nancy yipped. The plastic bag I gave her crinkled.

“Sorry, everyone. I’m just tired.”

Dad let out a huff, and moved off down the long hallway.

“Straight ahead,” said Berke. And we all followed Dad down the hallway. I passed another dark hallway stretching toward another floor to ceiling window. The light coming in shone harshly off the floor and walls, and off the door’s chrome handles.

The end of the hallway was a kitchen, walled on the outside in glass. Zombies were visible in the distance in the harsh sunlight, coming toward the house. There was a big black table surrounded by chairs; everything boxy, and dark, and shiny. I passed a floating wall made up of the oven, sink, and fridge, and there was a living room. When I got to the glass wall I looked down. I couldn’t see any zombies under the house, but I could hear them faintly. Everyone sat down but Berke, and I dropped onto a chair made of black mesh and metal.

“Thanks,” Nancy said.

Liz winced. Berke took off his sweater, balled it up and mopped his face with it.

“So who’s everyone,” he said.

I just looked weakly at Dad, of all people.

“Stan,” he said, leaning over and holding out his hand to Berke. “Nancy, and Liz,” Dad said. Berke tossed aside the sweater behind the couch.

“I’m Joe,” I said, raising my hand.

“Great,” Berke said smiling, “Just great.” He sat on the couch. He sighed comfortably. “I didn’t know what to make of the huffing, and pummeling sounds at first. I’m...just,” he said, getting overwhelmed. “You’re alive.”

Liz raised her eyebrows in recognition; nodded her head.”

“Thanks for letting us in,” Nancy said. “We didn’t really have a plan for getting inside your house.”

We didn’t, I realized. I wondered what point Nancy was trying to make. I knew that I’d taken on a leading role, but I didn’t think I was doing that bad a job. We were all still alive...or most of us. I was so tired. I tried to think of something to say to Nancy, but was too tired.

“Oh,” Berke let out a chuckle, “It’s not my house. We just got here last night.”

“We?” I inclined my head.

“Shandre,” he said, “my sister’s kid. She’s asleep in a bedroom.

“That everyone then?” asked my Dad.

Berke looked confused for a second. “That’s all of us.”

Everyone sat quietly for a second. The chorus of moaning rose up into the room like someone had turned a knob. I laid down onto the lounge chair and closed my eyes breathing slowly and tried to fall asleep, but couldn’t. It’s constant tone was hypnotizing.

“So,” Nancy said warily after a few minutes—then stopped short. She coughed a little bit. “So where areyou from. Berke.”

“Here in Ellington,”

I opened my eyes. I couldn’t believe we’d already made it to Ellington. I thought for sure were were still in the city limits. Ellington was two suburbs north; a day, walking, past the end of the lake.

“I think so,” Berke continued. “Shandre and I were only on the move for half a day. Close to Ellington anyway.”

“We’re from the city,” Liz said. I looked at her. Her jeans were dirty, she was sitting deep in the black leather armchair against the dark wall. Her face stood out stark white against it.

A sharp wail emitted from the wall behind her. It broke into gasps and then finally the crying of a small girl.

“Sorry,” Berke said standing up. “She’s hurt.”

“Is there any medicine here?” Dad asked, He began opening his backpack. It was mostly full of cans. “I’ve got—”

“There actually is,” said Berke pointing to a door. “This is the bathroom. There’s another door on the other side. The medicine cabinet’s in there. It’s stocked.” And he disappeared around the corner. His feet echoed on the tile and we heard a door open and close. The crying stopped.

“I don’t know about him,” I said.

“Stop it,” said Nancy.

“Stop what?”

Nancy lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’ve got no reason to think that. You're just tired, and we’re not going to do that. I’m not.”

I sagged into the chair.

“I thought you just brought cans,” I said to my Dad.

“And paranoid,” said Nancy, eyeing me steadily, reassuringly.

“That’s the most you’ve said all day,” I said.

She just looked at me, hurt.

“Look,” I said, “I’m just tired.”

“Let’s just sit quietly for a second” she said.

I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep again. Nobody said anything for at least a half an hour before I fell asleep. When I woke up again the sun was going down. Nancy and Liz were sitting on the couch talking quietly. Dad walked back in from the kitchen holding his rifle. He said something to me, trying to be funny. I pushed myself up into the chair and looked outside. Nancy said that Berke hadn’t been out of the room all day.

Eventually he did come out. A girl, about seven, hid behind his back clinging to his shirt scruff.

“Shandre,” Berke said, “Come on.” And he put his hand on her head.

Nancy leaned forward encouragingly. “Hi,” she waved, “I’m Nancy.”

“Hello,” Shandre said in a small voice. She came out from behind Berke. Her skin was much lighter than Berke’s. She was wearing an overlarge tee-shirt, the neck hanging around the top of a shoulder. Underneath it, mounds of bandages were wrapped around her skin. Despite the amount of skin her bandages covered a huge bruise was visible, dark and veiny stretching over her neck and chest. Her eyes were a little red, from crying I assumed. She looked like she’d been through it.

—Introduction and Dramatis Personæ

the Remainder X

X

Nancy and I looked at each other amazed, not saying anything for a few moments. From the height I could see dimly a plane roughly connecting all of their heads.

“What is it?” Liz asked quietly. Dad started walking up the hill, crunching over branches every step.

“No,” I said, holding up my hands. “Come on Nanc’.”

We picked our way back down the ridge as carefully as we could, but made a lot of noise anyway.

“There’s a house,” I said.

“And,” said my Dad.

“There are a lot of them,” Nancy said.

Liz rolled her eyes. “Great, which way should we move around?”

“No,” I said, “I think we can make it.”

“Make what?” said Liz.

“I only saw about twenty; you guys know how they move.”

“Yeah,” said my Dad, “but…”

I interjected, “But the house. It’s on stilts.”

“Stilts?” Liz asked in a hushed voice.

“It’s raised off the ground,” Nancy said evenly, gesturing up with her hands.

My Dad just shook his head.

“It’s about a story and a half up. There is a set of stairs leading up to one side, but there are some of them are on it.”

“Twenty?” my Dad asked.

“Seven, or eight on the stairs.”

“This hammer’s no good,” Nancy said. “I’ve got to be too close.”

“Maybe there’s a branch, or a log somewhere,” said Liz looking toward the ground. She looked down. We all looked for a few minutes, but there wasn’t anything big enough, really.

“You can stay behind us,” I said. Liz gaped at me. “It’s better than nothing until we find something new. I’m sure there’s something inside the house.” I stood for a moment, and she closed her mouth. “I really think we can do this. If there’s some food in there, maybe some water, we could live here for a while. There would just be one door to board up.”

“And what if the inside’s full of them?” asked my Dad.

Nancy gestured back through the ridge, “I didn’t see any in there. It’s mostly made of glass.

“A glass house,” said my Dad.

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, ready?”

Liz clutched her bat tightly making a noise.

Liz and I went over first. Four that were near that side of the hill noticed us and began hobbling toward us.

“Okay,” I said.

We took them out quickly. One good hit from the crowbar usually downed them permanently. Liz got one of them on the ground, and started bashing maniacally at it’s head. Another closed in from the far side. I finished my second quickly, but before I could get to it Liz lifted her head. The zombie beneath her was still flailing with it’s arms, but it’s face was so smashed it couldn’t see where she was. Liz swung her bat around one handed. She hit it’s head so hard there was a loud wet crunch; it’s face went soft as it fell to the ground.

The noise rebounded off the glass walls in a low ebb. The relatively sedate mass of zombies started moaning ravenously. Dad and Nancy cross down the hill behind us. Nancy looked frantic.

“It’s alright,” I said. We’re doing fine.” Liz nodded behind me.

“Well,” my dad said quietly, still walking. Liz and I followed him the the next closest group, and put them all down. By the time we finished Liz was breathing hard. When we started moving toward some others and her breathing still didn’t slow Nancy said, “Let me take that Liz.” And she relinquished the bat quickly. The next bunch went relatively quickly. They were slow, and stupid. Dad worked out that he could knock them to the ground with a kick, or even get behind them and push. Once he had he put their heads in with the butt of his rifle.

After we cleared the underside of the house, we regrouped a little back from the bottom of the stairs.

“Let me go,” Liz said, moving to take the bat from Nancy.

“No,” she said, the she continued more casually “I’m actually fine. I mean…”

“I’m going to go first, anyway,” I said, “Hopefully, one good hit will knock them over the side. Nancy you take up the rear. Okay?”

When we got the the bottom of the stairs the zombies started descending unsteadily. I backed everyone up so I could get a good swing crunched into the first head and knocked it over the railing. It laid still on the ground. Dad followed me, and Nancy closed Liz in the middle. There weren’t any from the far side of the house coming, so Nancy wouldn’t have anything to deal with.

I knocked off the second one who landed noisily on the ground but kept moaning. He fell off slowly, revealing the next. It looked strangely alive. It was a man, or what used to be a man. He wore a tattered tuxedo and no shoes. His face was cut up in places and whole patches of scalp were missing but his skin looked bright. I swung the crowbar around, and he ducked.

I was shocked still for a moment and it lunged at me, a snarl on it’s face. It’s hands locked around my neck. I just had enough time to put my hands out before he leaned in for my face with his gaping rancid mouth.

The butt of Dad’s gun lanced out from behind me. It came over my shoulder and knocked the zombie in the forehead, knocking it out and pushing him back onto the metal stairs.

“Come on Dad,” I said without pause, jumping over him to the stair above. I grabbed his shoulders. “One, two, three,” I said, and we tossed him over the hand rail

At the top of the stairs the door popped opened. A dark shape moved behind a small frost glass panel set in the door. The zombies still on the top step moved toward the open crack. The door flung open hard, knocking the zombies back, toppling the rest on the stairs as we backed up. A huge black man came out from behind the door, six feet, six and a half. He was wearing a torn grey sweater, and holding a bent steel poker.

“Come on,” he said coming down the steps, poker held high.

I moved forward, and lifted the crowbar, but my arms shrieked in pain. It came down weakly on the face of a zombie who was propping itself up from the others on top of it. The black guy killed the first one and went swinging away at the others. He beat at the face of the last one until his poker hit the metal of the stair beneath it. A clang shot out filling the clearing. New zombies were standing on the hill to the west. They were all moving for the stairs.

“I’m Berke,” said the black guy.

—Introduction and Dramatis Personæ

the Games of the XXIX Olympiad

Olympics drawing to a close
with basketball, and other long
tournaments.

Running. Beijing's not doing great,
and neither is China, nor all of it's
people.

How post holes held, the remnants
of our inactions—dust, detritus, packed
hard into

black deposits on the desk, small
and velvety.

the Remainder IX

IX

It was pitch dark under the trees, but there wasn’t any moaning. The chorus of postmortem exhalations from the zombies behind us grew louder and louder. My dad’s gun went off.

He was lowering the rifle when I turned. The zombies that I could still see in the field all turned toward us. The bullet thunked into the car or trailer at distance. “Dad!” I shouted, unable to restrain myself. Liz was shepherding Nancy over the mess of branches. I started to move back toward him. He raised the rifle again. As I passed the girls, the crowbar in my hands began to rise into the air. Nancy looked up under the hood; fear in her eyes. Dad squeezed off another round. The zombies all took a step forward. Metal thunked again, but was immediately drowned out. 

I squinted first, at the flash of light, then the explosion’s shock-wave hit us. I crouched instinctively, dropping the crowbar and covering my head. A dark outline of the truck crashed back down the ground, all of the zombies turned toward it and started moving in. My dad slipped the gun behind his backpack and moved toward me.

Zombies in the distance walked toward the burning hulk—silhouetted completely black, until they disappeared into the fire.

“Good idea,” I said as he passed me.

“We should get going,” he said.

I moved up ahead of the girls and kept the crowbar ready at my side, Dad took up the rear. There weren’t any zombies ahead of us that I could see—but it was so dark. Even so, in a hushed voice a drew everyone to stop every hundred feet or so to listen. In the quiet, with only the sounds of crunching branches and leaves underfoot, I finally got a chance to catch my breath. Our situation had quickly gone from bad to worse. I didn’t know much about the area. I only went outside the city occasionally, and then only on the freeway, out west to the mall or north to some restaurant in the suburbs. If I remembered correctly we were going east, which meant we would run into the lake sooner or later. I didn’t think that sounded like a good idea. 

Our cache of things in the trailer and truck-bed would have kept us fed—at least—for a month or more, even if the kids hadn’t…died. I didn’t know what we had then. I’d filled the bag with things from the cupboard: some food. I knew I had a flashlight, but I didn’t want to waste the battery or draw attention. I started to slide the bag off my shoulder to look inside it when I heard a faint moaning.

“Hey,” I hissed stopping. I hoped that it was just the wind. The rushes of adrenaline and lack of sleep had started making me loopy. It could’ve been the wind; it could’ve been nothing at all. 

I didn’t hear anything. A void appeared in my chest before I realized that I was hearing a sound, too close. It took me another half beat to realize that it was just the bag sliding down my arm. I breathed deeply, blinking in the darkness as my heart rate exploded. My hands were shaking as I turned around. 

“Close ranks,” I said, waving everyone in. “We’ve got to keep moving, but I’m not doing so good.”

“I’ll take point,” my dad said. “Switch me the crowbar.”

“That’s not what I mean Dad,” I said. I turned back around and kept moving. 

“Will you two stop talking like that,” Elizabeth said.

I took a deep breath and let it out through my mouth. My heart rate was slowing back down, but I felt tired. “I’m feeling a little sloppy. What did you guys bring?”

“I don’t have anything,” Nancy pouted.

“Alright,” Liz said, “all right.”

I handed my bag to Nancy. “It’s okay Nanc’,” I said, and kissed her on the cheek quickly. “Look through this one.” She took it from me and started to rustle around inside.

“Don’t have anything like that,” Dad said. “I just grabbed cans.”

“That’s okay Dad,” I said, “It was probably the best idea.”

“I just brought cans too,” said Liz.

There was a huge tree downed in front of us and to one side. The sun was starting to rise above horizontal. The light filtered in through the leaves, which had already started to change. The tree’s massive trunk was at least five feet wide. The distanced flattened it out so that it looked like a glowing wall.

“There’s a jackknife in here, a sponge,” Nancy said. “Some instant coffee.”

“That’ll work,” I said.

I opened the can, stripped off the silver film, and poured some into my mouth. It tasted mostly like tar and my tongue started to sting, but immediately I felt my eyes open wider. My mouth dried out, and I took another mouthful before getting sick. I closed it and handed the bottle back to Nancy who put it in the bag.

The sun rose higher and higher. In the light more zombies became visible off in the distance. Once, on our right in a clearing a hundred feet off, we saw five. They were all hunched over tearing at something that must have been a carcass. Mostly they seemed content to leave us alone. Just before noon the started to appear more often. Four or five times, I had to run ahead of the others and beat one frantically for a few minutes until it stopped moving. It seemed that Dad had finally grasped that the gun would draw their attention. He had actually been really helpful lately. He was a terrible man, who had done things in the past that were unforgivable. I hadn’t even thought about him for years, when I realized his guns when we first heard of the outbreak. But now—he’d been very useful. He was showing real concern. If nothing else, I was comforted by the fact that if something happened to me, there’d be someone to help Nancy—and Liz. 

We found a decent place to stop and eat something. Nancy turned me away from the others, and told me that she was worried about me, and kissed me on the cheek. “I can help,” she said. I just looked at her. “No, really,” she said.

We ate quickly, and kept moving. When we reached a small rise with three of them on top, Nancy looked at me intently.

“You should take the bat.” I said gesturing to Liz. Nancy moved toward her and I looked to my father, whose face had no expression. We climbed the rise together, and Nancy took the first swing. I swept the legs out from under the other two and came down hard on their faces lengthwise before the could struggle up. Nancy was pummeling the other one in the stomach. I went up to them and repeated the face smashing blow.

“They go down if you get their heads hard enough,” I said.

She started whipping the bat to clear it of stuff.

I looked over the ridge and there was a giant modern house, all glass windows and straight lines—on stilts. There were some twenty zombies around it, walking around the pylons, or up the stairs on the side. The inside of the house was dark. I noticed that there wasn’t a car beneath it. There wasn’t a driveway—no roads anywhere.

—Introduction and Dramatis Personæ

False Prophets

These things don't move with certainty,
not horizontal lines that blaze behind
their greenhorn trails. Flailing each
time it finds a wholesome place, for
saving.

The sports-cloth blent with burlap cowl
'round the head and down the contours
of his side: something all alighted with
his musculature, I can hear it's rasping
ardor—even

here. And though the dark saint's avant-
gardism in hair (played out here by close-
shorn locks, whose color at their endings
slog) still does the things that longer hair
does. Holds

in more light, finds heat and keeps it,
covers up the scalp and meets it every
morn'. His sum effect in waiting is inborn.
—At what infinite and growing distance
from him would I not return?

the Remainder VIII

VIII

A few minutes after the sun set, and Nancy had finished her sandwich she fell asleep on my lap. Liz and I sad with our backs to the trailer talking for a while before I thought we should really go in. I shook Nancy awake; Liz let out a loud sigh as she stood up. The sky where the sun had gone down was purple, still lit warmly from the wan sun beneath the horizon. My dad mumbled something at us when we opened the door to the trailer, I ignored him and went inside; Nancy was still groggy and heavy-lidded.

“You two should take the bedroom,” Liz said.

“Liz,” I said.

Nancy said, “Thanks,” and moved back past the kitchen.

“I won’t be able to sleep anyway,” said Liz, “Not there anyway.”

“You’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I can relieve your dad later.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded, and I turned to the bedroom.

“I’m leaving the door open,” I said.

“Okay,” she said.

Nancy was already laying down on the bed. A box of food had fallen from the stack; cans were scattered across the bed. I pushed them to one side, and moved the box onto the floor. I laid down next to Nancy and fell asleep listening to her breath.

I woke—what seemed like moments later—to the trailer shaking. Dim orange sunlight came through the window over the bed lighting up the wall near the door fluorescent. My dad bounded in through the trailer.

“Get up!” he shouted at me looking intently into my eyes.

I froze for a second mesmerized by him. In an instant he opened a backpack and began filling it with cans looking at me—he clapped. I sat up with a start. Something fell to the ground outside with a huff, and it moved along the trailer whimpering.

"What’s wrong?” I barked.

“We’re going.”

I shook Nancy violently. “Nanc’,” I said.

I slid off the bed—my shoes were already on— and moved off into the kitchen and threw open the cupboards.

“What’s going on?” Nancy asked.

“We’re going,” said my dad.

The trailer door opened and Liz jumped in holding her baseball bat. “Won’t the car start?” She said looking stricken. I started piling things into a plastic grocery bag. I knife I threw in absentmindedly ripped through the bottom and everything fell out onto the floor.

“Where’s your hammer, Nancy?” my dad said in a hush. There was a sound of rumpling sheets.

I dropped to the floor and started putting the things from the bag into another bag. “What’s it like?” I asked.

“They’re coming.”

I rolled my eyes and Liz started loading a bag with things. “How many?”

“Lots, but we’ve got a second.”

Nancy turned on a light in the bedroom. It glinted off the rifle’s barrel leaning next to Liz. My dad leapt across the bed and pulled Nancy down, extinguishing it.

“Fuck. Nancy,” I said in a quiet shout.

“Not the time,” my dad said quietly.

I finished loading the new plastic bag, leaving the knife out. “Thanks for not drawing their attention, Liz.”

She slung the bag over her shoulder and picked up the baseball bat. “My name’s Elizabeth,” she said. And pushed the unlatched door back open.

I grabbed my jacket and crowbar from the table and followed her. There weren’t any zombies too close, and so I started pulling on my jacket. Elizabeth, already wearing hers started moving off toward the treeline down the hill.

“Elizabeth,” I said quietly. The sun just peaked out from behind the trees. It shone in my eyes for a second, obscuring Elizabeth. My hand raised instinctually and she came back into focus. She had turned around and, still in the shadow of the trees, looked at me darkly. I felt awkward still trying to pull on my jacket with my hands full. “We’ve got to wait for them.” I turned around. Dad was hurrying a groggy Nancy toward us; a zombie shuffling closely behind.

I locked eyes with Nancy for a second, and rushed toward them; crowbar held high. Nancy’s eyes widened, and she broke into a run. Dad spun around and started backing away from it. As I passed him, the stench hit me. It was a dull, sour smell; rotting flesh.

I brought the crowbar down in forceful blow to it’s shoulder. Bone crunched and a metallic clang worked it’s way up the crowbar into my hands. It’s knees gave out from under it, and it fell to the side. I heard a bubbling wet sigh come out of it. It’s arms shot out, and grasped for me but I was too far away. I recoiled.

Zombies were pouring into the field from the road at both ends in a stead stream. Some twenty others littered the field, but none too close. The smell was overwhelming, and I turned back to the others: Nancy in Elizabeth’s arms, Dad still walking backward aiming and re-aiming his gun.

“Don’t shoot anything.” I said passing him. I put the plastic bag around my shoulder and moved past the girls into the trees.

—Introduction and Dramatis Personæ

Punctured Tube, Possible Futures

Put away your preconceptions
that are carved of lead in def-
erence to the growing web of
possible future predilections;
coming from your chest.

Give it a rest, and cover dutifully
the puncture that is leaching air,
and carrying the inner tube of us
along the moving radient paths a-
round us 'fore you even get

a chance to get there.

I am not now, and never have been
prescient. But see the way the flailing
imminently can affect us.

the Remainder VII

VII

Nancy eventually moved Liz to the bedroom and she laid with her until she fell asleep crying. She came at around noon looking shell-shocked and sat across from me at the table.

"He's been awake for a long time," I said looking out the window.

"What?" Nancy said coming out of a blank stare.

"He's been driving all day," I said, and Nancy stayed quiet. "I’m perfectly content to let him drive,” a pause “Come here.” Nancy got up slowly and sidled up to me on the bench. I put my arm around her, and held her shoulder tightly.

We sat in silence for a moment. As the buildings thinned around us the road was less and less crowded with stalled cars or smoldering wrecks. Most of the morning had been spent on an empty two lane highway. I'd seen a few zombies outside, coming through the trees—maybe having heard our car—but they didn't pose any problems.

"We're going to be okay Nancy," I said.

She exploded into sobs, and hung her head over her chest. "What the hell makes you think that?" she blubbered.

"Hey," I said quielty, "Hey." I buried my face into her hair and kissed her head. "I know." She kept sobbing. "I know I was, whatever with the kids, but I loved them.”

"I know but—"

"I loved them. But what?"

"Nothing."

I wanted to know what the but was, but I couldn't push her.

A few minutes later, despite not having stopped crying she got up and started looking for things to make lunch.

"Nancy, let me do that," I said.

When I got to her she was pulling a thing of cheese and a can from one of the boxes of food. I took her hands and slipped the things from them. She stood up, breathing in deeply and moved back to the table. I looked at the cheese, which had spots of mold on it already; it was room temperature. The can was navy beans.

"We've got to use that cheese," she said, "it's going to go bad."

I scraped the mold of the cheese with a dirty knife and made us both cheese sandwiches. Nancy ate hers sedately when I brought it to her.

It was early evening when the whole trailer jumped. Nancy, who had dozed off on the chair by the door, woke up with a start, My eyes went wide as a box in the bedroom came crashing down, and the trailer rocked again as the road seemed to dip quickly. I crawled my way over the table to the window and threw the curtain aside. A tree trunk whipped past the window; not two feet distant. We were on a field of brown grass on the side of a hill. I looked back at the highway behind us and saw above it the sun was setting over the trees.

"We're just pulling off the road," I said to Nancy as the door opened.

"How's it look?" she asked.

I turned around, Liz was coming out of the bedroom. Her hair was scrunched on one side, and I could just see in the darkening trailer her eyes were bloodshot pretty badly. "Actually, it looks really good."

Nancy blinked the sleep from her eyes flatly, "I can go drive, Joe. You've been up too much lately."

"Well," I said turning around, "I think you should both see this."

The trailer pulled farther down the hill and stopped. I went to the door first and looked out the window; all clear. I popped it open and walked out with the crowbar ready. Nancy and Liz followed me, and my dad opened the door. The long barrel of his gun preceded him coming from the car. I could feel Liz recoil behind me, and hear her grip tighten on the baseball bat that had been Kimberly's.

"Why'd we stop?" Nancy asked.

"Didn't you guys see—

"Lets," I interjected, "show them." He nodded his head knowingly and gave me a weak smile that turned my stomach.

I led Nancy around the trailer by her hands. She gasped when she saw the sunset, which was orange and hot red blazing through the clouds. Liz's voice broken quietly from behind the trailer. I turned as she crossed from behind and saw it, her jaw dropped, tears welling in her eyes. Dad squeezed his arm around her and she let out a sigh as a tear fell down her cheek.

I went to Nancy and hugged her from behind.

"I thought this would be a good place to stop for the night," my Dad said. 

"Pretty open," I said.

"Oh guys," said Nancy.

My dad turned around "I'll going to get a cup of coffee. Then I'll get up on the roof for first watch."

Nancy pulled out of my arms and said "I'll go with you and get some food."

"You don't have to, Dad,' I said. "I'll do first watch, you've been up all night."

"I'm fine," he said disappearing behind the trailer with Nancy. "Just need some coffee."

Liz gave me a severe look. She turned back to the sunset a broke out in another bout of tears. Before I knew what I was doing I cross the feet between us and put my arms around her. She hung her head over my shoulder and then looked back up at the sunset and gasped. I rubbed my hand over her back, and she shivered violently. "Sorry," she said.

Nancy and Dad reappeared from behind the trailer. She was carrying a bag of bread, some cheese, and apples. My Dad was sipping from a can of coffee.

"Help me up to the roof, Son?" my Dad asked.

"Yeah," I said retracting from Liz slowly, her crying had lessened some.

Interlocking my fingers I gave dad a boost onto the car. It seemed strange to me that Liz hadn't said anything about Dad being on watch when the kids were taken. Nancy handed me dad's gun, which she had been holding reluctantly and I passed it to him. After I passed him the coffee he sat on that side of the trailer looking east at the crest of the hill some hundred feet distant.

When I got back to the other side of the trailer Nancy and Liz had spread out the things and started making sandwiches. I bent down and picked up and apple and took a noisy crunching bite.

Nancy spun up and glared at me. "We've got to ration that Joe!"

She looked back down but put her hand out, palm up. I put it in her hand and walked a little farther down the hill in a huff.

"—take so long to get out of the city...Anyway," I heard Liz say as I walked out of ear shot.

—Introduction and Dramatis Personæ