Page 61 of His to Burn
The courthouse.
The walk here.
That cop crushed under his car but still moving.
There was no other conclusion.
“You saw what I did. Like that woman on the monitors with her intestines hanging out. Jorge with his chest covered with blood but still trying to get me. That cop on the walk over.”
“Yeah, I saw it. And it’s true. A bonafide zombie apocalypse.”
I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of my throat.
High-pitched, hysterical.
Jackson’s expression was the same nonplussed semi-scowl I’d come to expect from him.
It made me laugh harder.
He just waited until I finally sobered. “Iwish I could pretend this wasn’t happening. But I don’t have the luxury of pretending.”
“No, you don’t,” he finally said.
“So we agree the impossible is happening. Where does that leave us?” I asked.
“We can’t change it. We can’t control it. All we can do is be prepared and react. This is a good first step,” he said, returning his attention to the judge’s stockpile.
Our stockpile now, I supposed.
He went through the weapons more meticulously this time, and after a moment, I joined him.
It was good being close to him again. Pathetic to admit, but true nonetheless.
I crouched down and grabbed a clear plastic clipboard off the bottom shelf. “Right where I left it.” I smiled, unreasonably excited by the discovery.
“What’s that?” Jack asked.
“The judge’s inventory. He checks it every quarter, rotates stock, and resupplies.” I looked down at the paper. “See? He signed and dated it last month. So this should be a fairly accurate representation of what he has.”
Jack took the paper from me, and I watchedas he studied the list and compared it to the weaponry on the shelves—taking a quick glance at the other supplies.
“This might work,” he whispered.
“What might work?” I asked.
He looked up quickly, and for a moment, he seemed surprised that he spoke out loud.
“Just taking stock,” he said before looking back at the list.
This was new.
Jack was being evasive, and I couldn’t help but wonder why. He also tried to shut me down, no doubt his attempt to avoid talking about something he clearly didn’t want to.
As was my nature, I wanted to push back against his dismissal, but something—maybe it was fear—held my tongue in place.
I couldn’t expect anything from him, but I needed him.
Wanted him to stay.
