Free This Plague of Days Season One (The Zombie Apocalypse Serial) by Robert Chazz Chute

found boogers, he rolled them between his fingers and flicked them into the pool. After he dug in his ears he smelled under his fingernails, checking for ear wax. The boy knew he was forbidden to do that, but the old man was allowed. More mysteries of human behavior. Sometimes, Jaimie wondered if he was something other than human on safari on a strange planet with customs no outsider could hope to decipher.
    Mostly, Jaimie watched the old man’s haphazard patterns as Al Bendham pushed the long vacuum cleaner pole around the bottom of his pool. He   decided the appearance of action was more important to the blind man than actually cleaning the pool. He and Mrs. Bendham dog-paddled around in it occasionally in the evening, and sometimes their fat son (a real estate agent, Dad said) brought their little grandchildren, twin girls, over for a swim when the summer heat waves hit.
    Jaimie waited. Though the radio blared, Mr. Bendham did not appear. The boy opened his bedroom window. Cold air spilled over him. However, his mother was already in the backyard, planting seeds.
    Mrs. Bendham stopped what she was doing and called over, “It’s not too early for most things, but if you’ve got tomato plants, you should wait till the May long weekend! You’ll have to wrap whatever sprouts in plastic for a while. We’ll have a couple frosts yet!”
    Jack stood, dusted off the knees of her pants and walked toward Mrs. Bendham, though not so far as the fence.
    Mrs. Bendham smiled, her face tightening into more seams, wrinkles and lines. “You’re up early, today, Jacqueline.”
    His mother gave a jerky nod. “Haven’t slept much in two nights,” she said. “You’re up early, too.”
    “Yes, I hope my radio doesn’t disturb you. Mr. Bendham doesn’t feel like getting up this morning but he does love his radio. Sometimes I get so sick of it, I turn it to classical. He objects, but he seems quite dedicated to lying down at the moment.”
    “He okay?”
    “He’ll be fine. Just a little hot. He insisted we go to the hospital last week. They couldn’t find anything wrong with him, but he complains he’s feeling poorly ever since.”
    “Oh?”  
    Jaimie was confused. His mother’s voice sounded neutral, but her colors yellowed more. He thought if he stood beside her, he’d taste lemon juice. The boy was glad he was safe in his flannel pajamas. He instinctively drew back from the window, not so much as to avoid being seen as to watch from a safer distance.
    “…nothing serious,” Mrs. Bendham said. “He had a checkup at the prostate clinic. Some follow-up scans and blood work. I thought we should wait, but his surgery last year scared him so he wanted to be sure everything was fine. He’s the anxious type. I tell him most of what we worry about never happens. Al always says most of what we worry about eventually happens. Since the surgery, it’s like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop on his head.”
    Jaimie knew about the surgery. Last winter he’d gone next door with his father to shovel the driveway and the Bendham’s walk after a snowstorm. Theo said that in Maine, they’d use snow shovels, but heavy snowfall was rare in Kansas City, Missouri. Instead, they used garden shovels to clear the driveway and shivered in the surprising cold.
    “Weather patterns are changing,” Theo complained, “even from when I was a kid I see a big change. The meteorologist’s predictions can’t be depended upon anymore. With climate change, the scientists say we can expect crazy storms, droughts, flooding and worse as the world heats up. I know it doesn’t feel hotter today, but more heat means more evaporation which means more precipitation, so more killer storms and tornadoes. Seems like governments can’t do anything besides blow things up anymore. Used to be, a debate would end. Now the arguments go on forever and the big problems never get solved.”  
    When they were done clearing the walk, father and son stepped