Rock and a Hard Place Five
Lament
Sitting here wondering how did it all come
to this. Warm fire in the hearth, lukewarm whiskey in my hand; the amber liquid
is less than half full. I gulped down most of it in one swallow. I wanted to
savor the burn down my throat, lets me know I’m still alive.
For how long, though? Shit. The
blood from my hand dripped to the floor; I watched the splatter on the white
carpet that I’m sure some OCD filled wife kept meticulously clean. Sorry Mrs.
Homeowner, but white carpet? Really?
I had been staying in this big empty
house since the outbreak, I found a well-stocked pantry and a weapons cache in
the basement. Ha, I couldn’t believe my luck. I was just intending to rob the
place, not set up residence. Times had been hard, no work; not for a felon at
least. Since I got out, I tried to stay on the up and up, but with the wife
nagging about bills and groceries, and shit like that, hell, I had to get money
somewhere.
She’s dead though, the wife, and
Shelly; my little girl. Can’t say I’m too sad about the wife, I guess that some
harsh shit to say but she was cheating on me anyway. But Shelly…my daughter. I
tried to get back to them, to lead them to the safety of this mini mansion but
I was too late. They were torn apart; there was nothing I could do. I hurried
back here and here is where I stayed. I ignored what was going on out there,
people screaming, yelling for help. How could I help them when I couldn’t even
save my own? Nah, I drank to dull the screams until finally, one day, they just
stopped. Only the dead walked out there now.
Then I saw Shelly wandering out
there. Her brunette head bobbed up and down, she always did that when she
walked. She would say, “Daddy, when fairies not flying, they walking on their
toes. I wanna walk like that. I wanna fly, daddy.” But that wasn’t Shelly, her
face was ripped, her eyes pale, and one arm was missing. No, that wasn’t Shelly
but still….Fuck.
What kind of a God would let this
happen? I have never really been much for prayer, I doubt God listens. But in
that moment, I prayed that things were different. That my Shelly was alive and
I had another chance to be the father she deserves. Maybe she was different.
Maybe she wasn’t the mindless zombie the others were.
Why her and not me? I let the tears
roll down my face freely; no one was here to see anyway. I don’t think I’ll
ever lay eyes on a living person again.
I was dumb to try and coax the thing
that was my daughter to the house. I was an idiot to try to tie her up with a
belt. I was a moron for trying to talk to her. I thought I could handle her. I
just had to make sure. She bit me and sealed my fate. Dumb. If I get a
headstone it will simply say, “Lazy Husband, Bad Father, and One Dumb Fuck.”.
Now, I’ll just sit here, drink this liquor, and think of all the things I
should have done differently. I pushed Shelly in a closet. I just couldn’t
bring myself to smash her skull in.
There was no point in waiting any
longer. I took the remainder of the whiskey and poured it over my head. It
stung my eyes. I grabbed the bottle and poured its contents around the room. I
reached for my lighter and threw it against the wall.
Flames
ate at the walls as if the fire was alive. I welcomed the heat as I sat back
down and waited for the fire to take me. The thing that was Shelly banged on
the closet door. Soon, my little girl, soon. Please, to whatever God that was
still taking request, take me to my daughter.
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