"How about an old hymn, like Amazing Grace?'' Simon asked.
"Are we practicing for a funeral?'' Debbie responded. "It's kinda depressing.''
"Really? I don't think it's depressing at all,'' Simon said. "It's a beautiful expression of regeneration and the transforming power of the Gospel.'' Debbie looked at Simon skeptically. "You're not the only person with a church background, you know. I used to teach Sunday school for a while,'' Simon said.
"I didn't realize that,'' Debbie said. "Why'd you stop going?''
"It's... kind of a long story,'' Simon said.
"Still playing God-awful street music?'' A man said as he walked up to them. Simon recognized him as the bystander from the argument on Broadway the other day.
"Still complaining about other people's musical tastes?'' Simon said.
"Do you guys know each other?'' Debbie asked.
"No, we don't,'' the man said. "This gentleman made me late to an important appointment the other day. Such is the extent of our acquaintance.''
"Some guys were arguing about MacArthur Park,'' Simon said.
"Yuck,'' Debbie said.
"Yeah, well, they dragged this guy into it, and he basically told all of us we wouldn't know good music if it jumped out of the sewers and bit us on the...''
"Hey, now,'' Debbie said.
"And I've yet to be proven wrong,'' the man said, "unless I misheard, and you were not in fact about to subject us to a puritanical dirge from a defunct religion.''
"Well you're just sweeter than a box of free puppies,'' Debbie said to the man.
"The Christian knows sarcasm,'' the man said as he drew a wind-up watch from his pocket and checked it. "You've evolved after all.''
"I have a couple questions for you,'' Simon said to the man.
"Excuse me?'' the man asked.
"If you answer them, just two questions, I predict I can play one of your top ten favorite songs,'' Simon said.
"I'm intrigued,'' the man said.
"Suppose your true love, the person you care about more than any other person in the world, is going to have her collar bone broken regularly every few years unless you take a pill that makes all music you hear sound like Alice in Chains. Do you take the pill?'' Simon asked.
The man paused for a moment. "That's a ridiculous question. It's completely unrealistic. But just to play along, I think I would have to be a fool to take the pill,'' the man said. "I don't consider myself a fool.''
"One more question,'' Simon said. "Who was greatest: Johnny Cash, Elvis, Bob Dylan, John Lennon, or Michael Jackson?''
"That would obviously be Elvis Presley,'' the man said before glancing at Simon's guitar. "Perhaps not as obviously as I thought; Johnny Cash is a legend.''
Simon nodded, then began to strum his guitar.
♫Put on my blue suede shoes
And I boarded the plane
Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues
In the middle of the pouring rain
W.C. Handy -- won't you look down over me
Yeah I got a first class ticket
But I'm as blue as a boy can be
♫Then I'm walking in Memphis
Walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale
Walking in Memphis
But do I really feel the way I feel
♫Saw the ghost of Elvis
On Union Avenue
Followed him up to the gates of Graceland
Then I watched him walk right through
Now security they did not see him
They just hovered 'round his tomb
But there's a pretty little thing
Waiting for the King
Down in the Jungle Room
♫Then I'm walking in Memphis
Walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale
Walking in Memphis
But do I really feel the way I feel
The man looked on in awe. "How did he know...?'' he asked Debbie. She shrugged.
♫They've got catfish on the table
They've got gospel in the air
And Reverend Green be glad to see you
When you haven't got a prayer
But boy you've got a prayer in Memphis
Simon continued playing the instrumental part. "Maybe we street musicians have a little more to us than you thought.''
"I don't think there's any doubt,'' the man said. "My name is Milton Burke, I'm a consultant for the council.''
"Burke? You used to teach mathematics here at the university, didn't you?'' Debbie said.
"I did, back when universities mattered,'' Milton said.
"Well, it's nice to properly meet you, Professor Burke,'' Simon said. "I'm Simon, this is Debbie.''
"Please, it's Milton. I'd be fascinated to learn more about a man who can read minds like that,'' Milton said. "I'd like you both to join me for dinner at my home on the Governor's Island.'' He took two cards from his pocket and handed them to Debbie. "If you show these to the ferryman he'll take you across.''
"What do you think, Debbie?'' Simon asked.
"Governor's Island? Are you kidding?'' Debbie said. "We'll be there!''
"Brilliant,'' Milton said. "I'll see you tonight. 7:30. Now if you'll excuse me.'' Milton walked away briskly.
"How did you guess that, anyway?'' Debbie asked.
"When he pulled his watch out,'' Simon said, "He dropped a Marc Cohn concert ticket on the sidewalk there. Apparently he figured it was a good enough concert to save through the zombie apocalypse.'' Simon continued to play.
♫Now Muriel plays piano
Every Friday at the Hollywood
And they brought me down to see her
And they asked me if I would --
Do a little number
And I sang with all my might
And she said --
"Tell me are you a Christian child?"
And I said "Ma'am I am tonight"
♫Then I'm walking in Memphis
Walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale
Walking in Memphis
But do I really feel the way I feel
♫Put on my blue suede shoes
And I boarded the plane
Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues
In the middle of the pouring rain
Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues
In the middle of the pouring rain♫
Simon and Debbie presented the cards to the guard on the ferry to Governor's Island. The guard looked at them with suspicion, but eventually allowed them on. The ferry took them around the east side of the island. They could see the provisional government headquarters, which had been assembled around the old national monument. The ferry ended up at a dock on the south-eastern side of the island, near several small apartment buildings. Sun had set, and Simon and Debbie could see a firepit burning behind one of the apartments. Someone was cooking something over it.
"What do you think the odds are he has fresh steaks and is grilling them for the street performers he met in the morning?'' Debbie asked.
Milton called to them from the firepit and waved.
"Not sure,'' Simon said, "but if he does he just beat out your coffee for my new best friend.'' They walked over to the firepit.
There were no fresh steaks, but there was fresh chicken, which turned out to be much easier to raise in city limits. They gathered around the firepit and enjoyed their meals and small talk for some time.
"Milton, thanks for opening your home for us,'' Simon said as he finished his dinner. "It's been a long time since I've known someone to do that. To be honest, I'm kinda left wondering why.''
"Yeah, I mean, it's really nice what you've done for us, but you didn't seem too interested in making friends at first,'' Debbie said.
"True enough,'' Milton said, "but a couple of things changed my mind. First, there was Simon's trick with the song. One way or another, that was a sharp insight, and I'd like to know a man with that kind of insight. And second, Debbie, you seem to be a devout Christian, yes?''
Debbie adjusted uncomfortably in her seat. "Yeah,'' she said.
"Well, up until yesterday I assumed only the naive and the simple could live through what we have and believe in an overseeing deity,'' Milton said. "But now that I see you are a reasonable person, I wonder how a reasonable person can live through the end of the world and still be a devout Christian. So in short, I found you both fascinating.''
"That's very... enlightened of you, I suppose,'' Simon said. "You seem to take a very detached view of the whole thing.''
"I think all of us who have gone through what we have, seen what we have seen, done what we have done, must become a bit detached in order to stay sane, don't you think?'' Milton said.
"It seems like disconnecting from the most important questions of life isn't 'staying sane,' at least to me,'' Debbie said. Simon was astonished at how unwilling Debbie was to avoid conflict.
"Perhaps you're right,'' Milton said, "in which case reason and objectivity seem to me to be goals worth sacrificing a little sanity to achieve. That's how I'd always assumed otherwise intelligent Christians held on to their belief in God, so it's only appropriate I consider its possible application to myself.''
"So you really do believe in logic above all else?'' Simon said. "That seems like a hard way to live.''
"It used to be,'' Milton said. "The prestige it brought only barely made it palatable. But when the dead form of my next door neighbor, pleasant old woman that she was, started hobbling toward my car, it was logic that reminded me that by definition what I had to do was not, in fact, a hit-and-run killing. And now it is this same objectivity of analysis that enables this fine meal of ours. So it has its advantages.'' Milton poured himself a glass of very old scotch, and offered some to the others. Debbie declined, but Simon wasn't about to pass up the opportunity.
"But my story isn't so interesting,'' Milton said. "Where do you come from, Simon? What manner of people raise a son that can read minds and then send him off to busk the streets of old New York?''
Simon chuckled. "I guess the trick is they didn't send me. I grew up in Greenfield, West Virginia, went to church every Sunday, and my parents managed to save enough money to send me to college. After my second year, though, the guys in my band decided to come to New York City to cut a record and try making it big. I decided to go along over my parents... forceful... objections. Been here ever since.''
"Did you stay in contact with your family before the crisis?'' Milton asked.
"Mostly through my brother, John,'' Simon said. "While I was trying to make ends meet working two jobs here, he decided to skip college altogether and took a job as a miner. Raised up a nice little family and everything.''
"Where is your brother now?'' Milton asked.
Simon remained silent for a while. "I haven't heard anything,'' Simon said finally.
"You should take an airship down there to find out about them,'' Debbie said.
"Maybe,'' Simon said. "If I ever save up enough for that kind of trip.''
"You say you went to church as a child?'' Milton said.
"Yeah, even taught Bible some here for a while,'' Simon said. "I really enjoyed that.''
"But you stopped going,'' Milton said.
"It got complicated,'' Simon said. "I still believe Christianity is true. I guess I'm still working out everything that's happened.''
"A reasonable reaction, all things considered. But you, Debbie,'' Milton said. "You never gave up on the church.''
"Well, the church is the whole reason I ended up in New York,'' Debbie said. "I came as an intern for the student ministry. That was my support structure, I couldn't have turned to anyone else if I'd wanted to.''
"It would have been good to have a coherent social group during the crisis,'' Milton said. "At least, I assume it was at first.''
"It was,'' Debbie said. "When things first got bad we all gathered at the church building. It just seemed like the safest place we could go.''
"I'm not sure how logical that was,'' Milton said.
"It might not have been, but it seemed right,'' Debbie said. "We organized supplies, shared resources--the church really took care of its own.''
"I'm curious,'' Milton said, "and stop me if this is too hard or offensive a question, but... who did you have to kill?''
"I'm sorry?'' Debbie said.
"The one thing we all have in common now that our progenitors never did is that we've all been faced with the choice of kill or be killed,'' Milton said. "Did you ever have to kill someone you'd known?''
"Yes,'' Debbie said. "More than one, actually. I knew a lot of students because of my job, and things spread quickly in student housing.''
"What did you do?'' Milton said.
"Yeah, now I want to know, too,'' Simon said.
"Well,'' Debbie said, "without getting too graphic, one of the members of the congregation was on the NYPD, and he owned several guns. He gave me one. I used it.''
"Debbie,'' Simon said.
"I... did what I had to,'' Debbie said.
"And through all that, you never doubted what sort of God could let these creatures loose on mankind?'' Milton said. "What sort of God stands back while brother kills brother, letting it happen in the name of 'free will' I suppose?''
"Actually, I believe the only reason humanity doesn't act this way at all times is because God holds us back,'' Debbie said. "Anyone who thinks people are naturally good hasn't really dealt with other people's crap before.''
"I suppose that is true,'' Milton said.
Simon picked up his guitar. "This is getting a little tense for me. I play when I'm tense,'' Simon said.
"And you look at that Johnny Cash signature for confidence,'' Debbie said.
"True, but then again why not?'' Simon said. "My dad got the signature a long time ago. It's kind of a symbol of having the guts to do what you need to.''
"Like Johnny Cash himself, I suppose?'' Milton said.
"Yes,'' Simon said. "He understood humanity, I think.''
The three sat as Simon played for what seemed like a long while.
"Well, it is getting late,'' Milton said, "and I still have some paperwork to put together for the morning. You are both welcome to stay here tonight, or you can use the cards to take the ferry back to the city. Good night.''
A shadow moved behind the bushes on the inland side of the yard. Simon looked over nervously before glancing at Debbie. She didn't seem to notice. A form started to come around into the firelight.
"Simon, are you OK?'' Debbie asked.
Simon looked at Debbie. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?''
"You seem on edge,'' Debbie said.
Simon looked back toward the bushes. He jumped slightly at what he saw. The young blond girl in the blue, blood-stained dress stood there. Her eyes stared blankly forward. Simon closed his eyes tightly and rubbed them.
"See, like that,'' Debbie said. "You're a pretty jumpy guy, you know that?''
"Debbie, about those students you had to kill,'' Simon said. "Do you remember their faces.''
"Every day,'' Debbie said. "It still turns my stomach to think about it. Did you have to kill someone?''
Simon looked down at his guitar. "The week before it all started, my brother John's daughter came up to spend a couple weeks of her summer vacation visiting me. When the zombies came, the first thing I did was steal a hand gun and a bunch of bullets. I figured at that point, my divinely ordained purpose was to protect her, to make sure she got back to her family. After a month or so, she got the flu. We had been getting help from a church group, but the sick were quarantined with no visitors, and I couldn't let her get put in that kind of an environment. So we swapped supplies with them from time to time, but otherwise we held up in my apartment. It was pretty safe, and I hardly even fired the gun. That was before the quicker ones, the ghouls, came.
"I'm not sure how, but we managed to make it through the winter. She was still sickly, but on the mend. She was so scared at night once the ghouls came. The shrieking... it's hard on a kid, you know? I used to play her a song to help her fall asleep.
♫Hush-a-bye, don't you cry
Go to sleep my little baby
When you wake, you'll have cake
And all the pretty little horses♫
"No matter how bad it was, I'd just play her that song, and she could be peaceful. Even on days when I had to use the gun more, we were doing OK.
"She got sick again. I don't know what it was, pneumonia, maybe. I couldn't get help or look for a doctor because of the ghouls, so she just got worse and worse. I tried to tell her not to be afraid, that I would get her back to her daddy.
♫Hush-a-bye, don't you cry
Go to sleep my little baby
When you wake, you'll have cake
And all the pretty little horses♫
"She died as I was playing. The ghouls managed to get through the barricade downstairs and into the apartment building. I wasn't about to let them have her body, so I took the gun and the rest of the bullets and blew them away. They just kept coming. Twenty, thirty, probably more---They kept running up the hallway, and I kept shooting. I ran out of bullets as the last one fell.
"When I went back into the apartment, she wasn't lying on the bed anymore. She'd gotten up and started to wander the apartment, slowly. I found her in the kitchen. She looked at me with those dead eyes and started stumbling toward me. I kept a utility hatchet handy for breaking in doors or tearing up furniture.''
"Oh God,'' Debbie said, placing a hand over her mouth.
"I was out of bullets. So I picked up the hatchet, and... and I...'' Simon's voice broke off.
"Simon,'' Debbie said. "I'm so sorry.''
"And do you know the worst part?'' Simon said. "It wasn't two weeks later they pumped the cure into those clouds. Every revenant, cured. If I'd known there was a cure... If I'd just waited...''
"Simon, you did what you thought you had to,'' Debbie said.
"Yeah,'' Simon said, "I'm not sure that's the best way to break it to John. That's the real reason I have tried to go back, to see if they're still there. If he is alive, it'd kill him to know what I did. How do you even tell someone that?'' Tears ran down Simon's face.
"That's why you're so jumpy all the time,'' Debbie said.
"I haven't told this to anyone,'' Simon said. "Not the church group, not a pastor, not to God Himself. I thought it would fade in time, but it hasn't. Every night I see her.'' Simon looked toward the bushes. "Even when I'm awake, sometimes... I can still see her.''
Debbie reached out and held Simon's hand.
"Governor's Island??'' Winston said. "You. Simon Stone. You had dinner on Governor's Island?''
"It's not that incredible,'' Simon said. "We met a professor named Milton Burke. He invited us out.''
"Well, I've never heard of this Burke, but if he lives on the island he must have some serious pull,'' Winston said. "You're gonna be famous.''
"Ha. The mathematician you've never heard of is going to make the paper pusher famous,'' Simon said.
"I'm telling you, man, you just wait,'' Winston said. "You'll be meeting people on the Council, eating steak, telling them your opinions about the political system.''
"I don't have any opinions about the political system,'' Simon said.
"You will once you meet some politicians,'' Winston said. "I know something about this stuff.''
"Winston, you're a paperwork grunt just like me,'' Simon said.
"Let's just say I haven't always been a paperwork grunt, OK?'' Winston said.
The office mailboy walked by, leaving an envelope on top of a stack of files on Simon's desk. As Simon picked up the envelope, the precarious stack crashed to the floor.
"It's from Milton,'' Simon said. "He wants me and Debbie to come to dinner again on Friday night.''
"See?'' Winston said.
"It says Councilman Franklin Abraham will be there,'' Simon said.
"Are you serious???'' Winston said. Simon showed him the letter. "You're gonna be famous. That's all there is to it. Famous.''
"You know, you could probably come along too,'' Simon said. "Give you a chance to meet some politicians of your own.''
"Thanks, Simon,'' Winston said, "but I have to pass. I tried on that sombrero once. Didn't fit.''
"Debbie, Simon, this is Councilman Franklin Abraham,'' Milton said as the four of them sat down to dinner. The firepit flickered warmly.
"Nice to meet you both. Please call me Franklin,'' the Councilman said. "Milton tells me you're brilliant musicians.''
"We enjoy playing, at least,'' Debbie said.
"Well, perhaps you can play something for us after supper,'' the Councilman said. "We don't get nearly enough music on the Island here.''
They began to eat their dinner, which consisted of grilled steak and baked potatoes. "Sorry there are no fresh greens,'' Milton said, "but some things are so rationed even the government can't get a hold of it.''
"So Franklin, I hear you are trying to elect a president?'' Debbie said.
"Yes we are,'' the Councilman said. "A strong executive is vital to continuing the reconstruction process through the harsh months ahead. We need someone with the authority and vision to make quick decisions should cities need assistance due to harsh weather or disease.''
"You don't feel the Council of Mayors is capable of handling it?'' Debbie asked.
"Well, don't get me wrong, I believe in the council. But if taking over for Councilman Douglass on the Collaborations Committee has taught me anything, it's that councils can't do everything, and they can't do anything quickly,'' the Councilman said. "It seems like it's taking forever just to decide where to go looking for surviving cities.''
"I've wondered about that,'' Simon said. "It seems like we could have just sent an few airships to canvas the whole country by now.''
"To be fair to the Council, it is a bit more complex than that,'' Milton said. "We have plenty of helium, but fuel and equipment are still at a premium, so we need to optimize while looking for survivors.''
"Milton has been developing a grid algorithm to find the most likely locations of survivors,'' the Councilman explained. "Deborah?''
"It's Debbie,'' she said.
"Right, Debbie. You work for a church, yes?'' the Councilman said.
"Yes,'' Debbie said.
"I'd love to hear how the religious constituency in Manhattan is doing,'' the Councilman said.
"Well, I couldn't tell you much about the 'religious constituency,' but the Christians seem to be holding up well,'' Debbie said.
Milton chuckled. "Councilman, I'm afraid you've failed to make a distinction that is very important to many Christians. They do not consider themselves to be religious in the broad sense, all indicators to the contrary.''
"Well, Milton, that's a bit unfair,'' Simon said. "Over-generalizing and stereotyping are problems that have been recognized for many people groups, and there's no good reason why Christians should be any different. For instance, it would hardly be appropriate to lump orthodox Christianity into either the polytheistic or monotheistic categories, since the God we believe in is one God, but three persons. The simultaneous presence of unity and diversity in the Christian God makes Him importantly different from other religions. So it seems like you should be more familiar with what we actually teach and believe before you make a caricature of us.''
"That... is true,'' Milton said.
"Well said, Simon,'' the Councilman said. "I've been looking for a man who can keep up with Milton intellectually but show a little more diplomatic perspective.''
"I'm sorry, are you offering me a job?'' Simon said.
"You'd take a job with the council?'' Debbie said.
The Councilman raised an eyebrow toward Debbie. "It's not personal, Franklin,'' Debbie said, "I'm just naturally wary of government. They have a history of questionable practices.''
"You mean like turning half the country into zombies?'' the Councilman said. Simon visibly stiffened.
"Yes. Without warning, without notice that things were 'under control,' and keeping the cure a secret until they released it,'' Debbie said. "Like that.''
"On one level you're quite right,'' the Councilman said. "It was government, of a sort, that created the nightmare of that year. It wasn't meant to be like that. The Revenant Reagent? It was being developed as a way to take injured soldiers or cancer patients or anyone else with a fatal wound and place them in suspended animation, all while accelerating the ability of the body to heal. That's why it didn't activate until those exposed were on the brink of death. The zombie-like state was a side effect that was still being ironed out. The research wasn't finished.
"But as for the government releasing it, that wasn't our decision. There was one Senator who happened to be active in the development of the project. Through manipulation of the CDC, FEMA, and the Department of Agriculture, he managed to get the reagent released into the atmosphere. It never should have happened, but it was the lack of proper government involvement that led to that decision.''
"Now, let us not forget,'' Milton said, "that it turned out to be a very good thing for the population in general. The reagent was the only reason so many were able to survive the ghouls.''
"That's true, Milton, but that doesn't excuse the Senator for going around the government in secret,'' the Councilman said.
"I thought you said that a strong executive was vital?'' Simon asked. The Councilman looked at him darkly.
"Which Senator was it, if I may ask?'' Debbie said.
"My predecessor,'' the Councilman said. "Fred Douglass.'' Simon and Debbie looked at him slack-jawed. "It's never as simple as it ought to be, is it? But that's enough of that. Those days are over now, and I'm in the mood for a song.''
"I left my Cello in my other jacket,'' Debbie said.
Simon picked up his guitar and began to play gently.
♫They painted up your secrets
With the lies they told to you
And the least they ever gave you
Was the most you ever knew
♫And I wonder where these dreams go
When the world gets in your way
What's the point in all this screaming?
No one's listening anyway
♫Your voice is small and fading
And you hide in here unknown
And your mother loves your father
'Cause she's got nowhere to go
♫And she wonders where these dreams go
'Cause the world got in her way
What's the point in ever trying?
Nothing's changing anyway
♫They press their lips against you
And you love the lies they say
And I tried so hard to reach you
But you're falling anyway
♫And you know I see right through you
'Cause the world gets in your way
What's the point in all this screaming?
You're not listening anyway♫
"Beautiful, thank you,'' the Councilman said. "Simon, Debbie, I'd like to get to the real reason I asked to meet you here.''
"You asked to meet us?'' Simon said.
"We thought Milton...'' Debbie said.
"I'm sure he would have invited you anyway, but this evening I requested you,'' the Councilman said. "I want to offer you both jobs. I've given Milton here a new assignment. We believe there may be a surviving community in the middle of West Virginia, Greenfield. Milton is going to lead a team out there to meet them and bring ambassadors. I'd like you both to go along. It's not complicated work, but...''
"I'll do it,'' Simon said.
"What?'' Debbie said.
"If John's alive, I have to find him,'' Simon said.
"Then our purposes are in agreement,'' the Councilman said. "Deb?''
"It's Debbie,'' Debbie said. "Yes. I'll go.''
"Excellent,'' Milton said. "We leave tomorrow evening. It will be an adventure on the American frontier!''
"Yes it will,'' Debbie said.
"Yeah,'' Simon said.
"I've never had a real adventure,'' Milton said. "I hope this is a good one.''
Labels: fiction, series, zombies
