The Book of a Few (27 page)

“
Don’t get me wrong, even though he is probably insane, he has been beneficial to have around.”

Will furrowed his brow.

I went on to explain, “He has been highly reckless, and he is a complete asshole sometimes, but he has saved each of us at least once. That can’t be ignored. I’m not saying he’s a saint or a good guy; I’m saying that he seems to be loyal.”

“
But doesn’t that seem odd to you? He just shows up, completely out of his mind on narcotics, and goes to all of these ends like he’s been here forever. Like he knows us when he doesn’t. He makes so many calls, it’s disgusting.”

I shook my head. “Dana is the kind of guy that we will probably eventually become anyways. I think the biggest difference between Dana and us is that he already lives like his past is gone. He takes what he can while he can. He can’t be blamed for that, and we should probably do the same.”

“
Are you promoting that we go around pointing guns in people’s faces? That’s probably his best tactic, at least in my opinion. Honestly, I’m surprised the guy hasn’t been shot yet!”

“
Will.” I looked straight at him. “It is what it is. If you don’t like it, either leave or kill him yourself.”

Taken aback by my comment, Will stuttered and shifted his weight. I was a little ruthless, yes, but I wasn’t incorrect. I think that Dana’s all right. While assuredly not my favorite person, he is tolerable. As if on cue, Dana arrived on the roof.

Both Will and I nodded in affirmation of his presence. Will walked away without speaking. With the conversation and my scenery viewing completed, I began walking toward the access door to the roof. As I reached out to open the door, Dana called out to me. I turned to him and heard him say, “I need to talk to you.”

Curious as to what it was about, I obliged. “What’s up?”

“
Well,” he scratched his head, “I’m thinking about hitting the road.”

“
What? Why?”

He shrugged and said, “I miss my wife and kid.”

“
Have you told anyone other than me?”

“
Oh, no. I wouldn’t anyway; I don’t care what they think.”

“
Why don’t you care what they think?” I paused and then added, “Why do you care what I think?”

“
The way I see it is that everyone here is on their own path. They’ve got their own ambitions and, in the end, don’t much care about anyone else’s. Their goals are all here. Branden wants his son, and Will just wants to survive without taking risks. I have a feeling that you, on the other hand, don’t really want either of their paths.”

I chuckled. “Oh? Are you saying that I
don’t
want to survive?”

“
No. I’m saying that you go to such great measures to satisfy other people’s goals. That’s all you’ve been doing.” He studied my facial expressions. “And that’s all you will do if you stay here.”

I hummed in thought since words couldn’t reach my tongue.

“
Is that really how you want to die? For other people?” he asked.

“
Maybe I do,” I said. “Maybe I don’t. The problem is
finding
how I want to die.” He sighed, and I continued, “Dana, I don’t know what I want. I don’t know that I really should want anything. Because in the end, I’ll probably just end up disappointed.”

It took him a moment to say anything else, but he eventually replied, “Chester, why don’t you come with me? To California, that is. It’ll be a ‘there and back again’ kind of trip.”

I laughed. “You just said that all I do is satisfy other people’s goals like it’s a bad thing, and you want me to go with you?”

“
I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not telling you this for the reason of getting you to help me. I’m trying to offer you some time to get away from this place.”

“
No, thanks.” I half-turned and nearly tripped over my own two feet when Dana spoke again.

“
You sure?”

“
Yep.” I proceeded to keep walking away and yelled over my shoulder, “I’m probably gonna die soon anyway!”

The air in the Warehouse was full of tension. I overheard Casey and Ethan talking about how shitty everything was and how the odds were stacked against them. Welcome to the club, guys. Been there, done that. Stressed out twenty-four-seven and always on guard. Granted, it had been easier to relax for a while there. Then Taylor passed away, and the Triple B.F.C. came here. Now I don’t think things will ever calm down.

It all makes me think about this existence, this life I have now. It’s only been twelve days, but goddamn, it feels like I’ve been living like this forever. Every day just drags on. I suppose I should make a correction on that statement: it’s been longer than twelve days. I didn’t record dealing with the Silence and the obstacles I had to overcome to try to keep my family and myself fed, which was honestly just about as shitty. Having the constant feeling of not being good enough to provide was stressful enough.

Over these past two days, I’ve come to realize something. Upon that realization, I’ve also come to a conclusion, or reached an analysis of myself. Things will never go back to the way that they were. I’ll never crack another energy drink and unwrap a fast food burger on a park bench with Miranda. I’ll never get to toss and tumble with my brothers. My revelation, you might ask? After seeing all the things that I cared about die in one way or another—Mom, my siblings, and Taylor physically, Miranda emotionally—I don’t care if I do die.

Don’t take me wrong; I’m not going to go out and seek it. But if it were my time to go, I’d probably embrace it. I think that the moment right before I pass away is the only time I’ll ever be able to feel any semblance of peace again. I’ve already accepted the fact that I am going to die, and I’m not afraid of it. I’m just tired of the literally
constant
fight to try and make a life out of these fucking scraps. Things can only go up from this state. Even if I went to hell, it probably wouldn’t be so bad; I’d never have to put up with another Iowan winter.

I went and spoke with Lisa after my talk with Dana. I found her sitting against a wall in her office. With a bottle in her hand—I don’t know where she got it from—she flipped me off the moment I walked in the door.

I asked her to explain the reasoning behind the gesture and she stated, “You took him away. Sold him to the dogs for those crazy experiments you guys were talking about the other day. Fuck you, assholes. Are you gonna do the same to me?” I tried to explain to her why it happened, but she wouldn’t listen. She was too deep in her bottle for reason.

I honestly feel pretty guilty about what happened, but I also feel like I can’t voice it to Lisa. If it wasn’t Joey, it was going to be me, and I don’t know if she would understand even if she were sober. She’s good-natured and seems to naturally want to help anyone, and in any way. She took to Joey so quickly, and in a way, I feel like she
deeply
cared about him. She’s the one that constantly kept up on him and made sure he was fed. He appeared to be the one thing that kept Lisa going. It was a task that got her up in the morning and fueled her will to survive. Protecting Joey meant a lot to her, and we took him away from her.

It’s pretty sad what this world does to people. It’s a bigger enemy than any other single person I’ve met. I suppose this is a given, considering that the world doesn’t just walk away into the other room. It just sucks seeing how circumstances can change a person. Branden, for example, has stiffened like a board. He used to be such a bubbly, friendly, caring guy. Now he’s judgmental behind his solitary veil. Not to mention reckless. Back in the day, he abstained from
drinking
because he didn’t feel responsible enough to be a father if he drank. If that doesn’t tell you he’s changed, I don’t know what could.

I have no idea about Will or Dana. I didn’t know them before the Silence, so I can’t gauge how much they have changed. I’d still imagine a fair amount, though. Especially considering that it isn’t easy for very many people to capture and subject men to the infected like Will did. It takes true grit and will to survive to do that, and then move on from it with little guilt. Dana, on the other hand, deals with his problems differently. Substance abuse is a crutch that gets him through the daily grind and his emotions. I imagine that it makes his emotions more tolerable to himself, but he doesn’t realize that he acts upon them much more when he is high.

I suppose I shouldn’t have such a negative view of the future as things, in one way of looking at them, will be getting better. Maybe the C.V.P.M. moving in and Dana leaving will be a good thing. There will be more stability here with fewer chances of random encounters. Having armed and trained men here will be nice. Hopefully, they can take care of all the infected that oftentimes roam up to the fence.

I’ll start writing down the interesting stuff now. The C.V.P.M. rolled in all high and mighty, as expected, around noon. It was only one truck, and I was surprised by how much stuff they brought. The four servicemen—yeah, Dana got his way—unloaded their stuff into the training room just off the break room. It’s a pretty good spot, considering it’s in between the main office doors and the smoking patio where it would be easy for someone to jump the fence and get inside. It’s also the room I was hiding in when I shot Bruce.

I watched from the roof as crate after crate was carried into the building. Unfortunately for my own curiosity, there was no printing of any kind on the boxes. Some were quite large and, judging by the grunting, heavy as well. What piqued my curiosity to even higher levels was that at one point, upon tripping on the parking lot curb, one of the soldiers dropped his crate. As it hit the ground, it created a clanking noise like it was full of metal parts.

I also took advantage of my aerial view from the rooftop to examine the C.V.P.M.’s gear. All of the men wore at least a pull-up bulletproof vest, while one of the men was wearing legitimate riot gear. Their firearms honestly weren’t what I was expecting. You would think they would all be wielding machine guns and have grenades hanging from their vests since that’s the stereotypical view of most modern servicemen. While they did have the protective gear, they mostly carried average firearms that I would have been able to buy before the Silence. A shotgun, a lever-action rifle (most likely of a .45-70 Government caliber, as I doubt they would shoot anything smaller, being the big shots they are), an AR-15 platform rifle, and what looks like a belt-fed machine gun of some kind. The latter is obviously from the remnants of the military.

By looking at their guns, I’ve come to the assumption that only one or two of these men, the ones with the AR style and the belt-fed, have the potential of being from the pre-Silence National Guard. The other two must be men who enlisted in the C.V.P.M. afterwards. Probably as a way to ensure that they were at least able to eat and to sleep in a secure location.

I suppose that would be a pretty decent setup, really. Food, bed,
and
you’d be able to help out the community by slaying those who have become infected and helping the hospital pursue their research. The only thing that would hold me back from joining is that I know what the C.V.P.M. has done with at
least
a few of their prisoners. Not to mention that this building is already secure and soon to be even more secure. It would be better for me to simply avoid them, however. The best path to success is to avoid complications, I think.

After they finished unloading everything into their room and locked up their truck, Dana asked one of them if his car was coming. The man replied saying that he had no idea. He was simply given his instructions: new post and the means to fulfill his new duty. He couldn’t comment in any detail about the car or his duties beyond the obvious.