“The Soulless” VII

“And why not, Tom Lestrange?” She asks with her fey little smile. She’s so light and delicate.

“Too short, I suppose.” She laughs even harder at that. “Eh, what about you? You have a boy?” 

“My father wouldn’t let me. I had to concentrate– on my studies, on the apartments, I was busy. Was. Everything has changed!” She tells me lightly, she doesn’t seem scared anymore. She seems content, which isn’t all that strange. This is the most content I’ve been in ages. 

“I’m sorry about– your father. I mean– he was a good guy,” I tell her, avoiding eye contact.  There’s a pause. She looks off into the brown fields, the dead, empty trees. 

“He had you fooled, then. My father was a coward.” I’m shocked. “You don’t know what happened that night before you and Frank saved me. My own father left me to die. He tried to save himself and pushed me out of the way. All that time– in the booth– I was hoping he’d come back for me, but I knew– even if he hadn’t died– he wouldn’t return. He needed to save himself, nothing else mattered.

“And then, when I said to come here, I thought, perhaps he made it, perhaps I will see him  again, perhaps he’ll explain he was trying to protect me– it was just a misunderstanding. But I knew it wasn’t true. He was a bastard, Tom. We’re all better off without him, you know? I trust you and Frank, two tenants, more than I ever trusted my father.”

Jeb comes in. “There you are! I’se been lookin’ all over for ya! C’mon! I wrestle with my dogs all the time- wrestled with m’boys when they were young- wrestle with my daughter, too! Education’l, s’best way I can put it!” 

“Jeb, really,” Anya insists in her soft, unimposing voice. “I can’t wrestle. Wrestle with Tom.”

“Whaddya say, boy? Maybe I can teach you something!” 

To escape from the boredom, we’ve all retired to our own techniques. We could leave, but there’s a reluctancy. Even though we need to find a location with a TV or a working radio and a place more secure, we like Anya’s camp and its warm ambiguity. 

Frank has taken to a chess set he found, fixing the radio using a pair of forceps and tinfoil. He likes maintaining the fire and at night telling us police stories. Anya enjoys making us food, she always made the tenants food. She’d make us chocolate cake and give it to us when we came home from work. If someone was looking tired or worn out she’d make them soup. She was a good cook. If she isn’t on the porch, she’s in her room. Her room is small, with a tiny twin bed and most of it is taken up by books, nearly a full wall. She reads the books and sometimes to us, I like that a lot. Jeb drinks mostly, and when he isn’t drinking he’s begging us to wrestle, and when he isn’t do that he, surprisingly, recites Shakespeare, in particular, Hamlet. Old drunk. 

And myself, I have a rigorous routine of hiding in the basement, watching Anya waltz about the house like an opal ghost. 

After effectively forgoing the suggestion to wrestle, and promising Jeb ’some other time,’ I walk around the quiet house, thinking about nothing. I go to the kitchen and start to eat some pickles that were in the pantry, they’re all right. Outside I see a deer walk by, it looks so nice and peaceful. It has great big eyes and its body is very slender and lean. I call out, 

“Hey, hey Anya, come look! Come look outside, there’s a deer!” 

Anya comes and we both stand and watch the doe quietly munch on the wet grass in the lawn. Anya grabs my hand and we stand very close to one another. The deer looks upwards, its ears are pricked up, it stands perfectly still, only its massive leg muscles flinch. Suddenly, a zombie lunges from the thick of the forest, wrapping its stout body around the neck of the deer. It begins to tear away at the deer’s flesh. 

“Oh, my god, Tom.” Anya tucks her head into my arm. I hold her, the deer collapses. I have a feeling the zombies have been waiting for us, watching us, hoping we’ll be stupid enough to leave. The deer is left mangled in the grass. All its blood seeps like oil into the murky puddles. The zombie drags the caracas back into the thicket. It looks up at us, its jaundice eyes seem to see us. I wince. 

“Holy shit! Get the fuck away!” I hear Jeb scream from the porch.