he’d be able to accept.
“Did you get a look at the guy who shot at you?” he asked.
“No, why?”
“It’s probably nothing. My dad called me before the communication lines went down and said he was coming to get me and to stay put until he got here.”
I raised my eyebrows slightly at the thought of someone else being able to rescue us, still having no idea how bad this thing really was but too scared to find out. I remained in shock at the fact that I had been so wrapped up in my own misery and despair that I failed to notice a full-on undead uprising taking place right under my nose. It made me wonder what other kinds of things I may have missed over the years. With my attention span, it was probably a long damn list.
“You think your dad would shoot innocent people? A kid ?” I asked. “Why would he do that?” My voice was getting uncomfortably loud but I couldn’t seem to help it.
“I don’t know man. Maybe he thought you were a threat or something. He just wanted to save me and get us out of here. Plus he’s been on a cross-country run so he’s probably a little strung-out.”
He turned slightly – as if looking for a sound that was yet to happen – and I saw it. I missed it the first time but now I could see the light glinting off the nametag on his shirt that read “Welcome to Sportsman’s Paradise. My name is Ricky. How may I help you?” My heart sunk as I remembered the inscription on the knife I had taken from the rotund trucker intent on taking my life – “To Dad. Love Ricky.” I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger.
“Was your dad a trucker?” I asked solemnly.
Confused, he looked at me, “uh… yeah. Why?” The beginnings of anger formed in his eyebrows and extended down to his lips, “how did you know that?”
I knew I had to choose my words carefully. “Your dad…” I shook my head, “he’s not coming to rescue you. I’m sorry.”
“Start talkin’ man,” he ordered. “I’m not playin’ around. How do you know that?”
“Sea-Land, right? That’s who your dad worked for?”
He nodded to confirm, anger giving way to fear, maybe even shock.
“Listen man…” I started, pausing to make sure the words came out right, “Your dad’s the reason I look like this, ok? He was a… what did you call them? A meathead. He was trying to kill me. I had no choice.” I extended my hands away and to the sides of my body, palms partially facing skyward in a gesture that was meant to reinforce my words. Zoe’s grip on my leg never wavered. I was hoping her presence would make this man think twice about going crazy on me.
I slowly removed the sheathed knife from my pants. “This belongs to you. I’m sorry.” He clearly recognized it but was hesitant to take it. His eyes welled up, tears were inevitable. He took it from me and pulled it out enough to read the inscription, which made him smile.
“I just gave this to him last year. He’s gone so much, I had no idea he actually carried it around with him” he said, his eyes glazing over as he was undoubtedly remembering better times. He raised his arms, clamping his hands together behind his head, trying to keep himself together. He lowered his hands, exhaling deeply, “Damn man, thanks. And seriously? No need to apologize. I’ve been up against a few of these things. You did what you did to survive. I can respect that. I appreciate you giving this back to me though.” He stared at the knife, no doubt remembering some amazing time that he once shared with his father, “That means a lot.”
I simply nodded. “I need to hit the bathroom, can you watch her for me?” I asked, signaling towards the sweet little girl still super-glued to the only part of my body not in pain. Though if she kept holding onto me like this, I’d have to amend that statement. I got the feeling she wasn’t going to let go any time soon.
I looked at Ricky once again, “Zoe said there was another
Learning to Kill: Stories