Free Going Home by Angery American Page A

bed for the night. There were a couple of throw pillows on it; they would do fine. I laid the poncho liner on the sofa and sat down. Between the orange glow of the heater and the light from the Glo-Toob, the room was sufficiently lit. I dragged the pack over to the sofa and fished out my radio and set the alarm for five thirty. I didn’t want to get woken up with a willer switch in the morning. This thought brought a smile to my face. Not that Edith would do it; I don’t think so, but it was kinda funny.
    I walked back to the bedroom, lighting the way with my LED flashlight, and pushed open the door. Lonnie’s mocs were sticking out from under the comforter. The light glinting off the spent shell casing caught my eye. Kneeling down, I picked it up and rolled it around in my hand. Tomorrow we had to do something with these bodies. Walking out, I tossed the casing back on the floor and closed the door. In the bathroom, I opened the medicine cabinet again. There wasn’t really anything there—makeup, a bottle of glycerin, and some odds ’n’ ends. I thought about taking the makeup, but none of it was my shade. This made me chuckle and started an interesting conversation with myself.
    He-he, now you’re slipping. My mind spoke out.
    Maybe, but imagine the look on the zombie’s face if you were walking around in full makeup and a ghillie suit! Think Eddie Izzard! This actually caused me to laugh out loud, thinking of his bit about infantry in drag.
    Back in the living room, I flopped onto the sofa and turned off the little lamp. Lying there, I started to think of home and my girls. I hoped they were okay. We did everything we could with what we had. I know we were miles ahead of most folks but nowhere near where I wanted to be. Danny and Bobbie were down the road, and I knew they would be there to help; after all, the girls lived at their house half the time as it was. Danny always wanted kids, but Bobbie wouldn’t. Since Bobbie is Mel’s aunt and only a couple years older than her, the kids havd grown up with them, and they treated them like their own. The orange glow of the heater was the last thing I saw before drifting off.
    After brushing my teeth and putting my boots on, I headed for the door, using my flashlight to get around with. I picked up the XD from the coffee table and tucked the holster in my waistband and clipped the knife onto my belt. I stepped out on the porch; it was cold, and I could see my breath. I slipped the Carhartt on. Looking over at James’s house, the windows were full of a warm orange glow. Smoke was coming from a stack, and James was standing on the porch holding a coffee cup. He raised the cup to me. “Mornin’, neighbor.”
    “Mornin’, Mr. James,” I replied and walked over to him.
    “You hungry?” he asked as he took a sip of steaming brew.
    “I could eat.” I patted my stomach.
    “Good, Edith has a big spread laid out. An’ you better fill yerself up,” he said, jutting the cup out toward me.
    “I will; if it’s half as good as supper was, it ain’t gonna be hard. Mr. James, after breakfast, can I borrow a shovel?” I asked.
    “Sure, but whut fer?” he replied with raised brows.
    “Well, I need to dig a couple of graves, I guess. Can’t really leave ’em like this.” I nodded toward the corpse lying in the yard next door.
    “Well, I been thinkin’ on that. My tractor has a bucket on the front. We’ll use that to carry ’em out to the woods. Then I’ll scoop out as much as I can. We shouldn’t have to hand dig much. Let’s go en eat. We’ll worry about that later.” He grabbed my shoulder, and we headed into the house.
    Inside, Ms. Edith truly did have a spread laid out. As I came through the door, she called out to me without even turning around from the stove, “How do you like your hen apples?”
    “Over medium if isn’t any trouble, Miss Edith,” I answered.
    “Ain’t no trouble. You take a seat, and they’ll be there in a minute.” She was