Home. What a wonderfully strange place to be. Tracy was working, Nicole and Justin were in trade schools and Travis was in a more or less regular school. When I came back from missions, my primary duty became dog sitting–maybe one of the best things ever. I could usually be found on the living room floor wrestling with Henry, Riley, and Ben Ben for some prize they’d found. This, and being with my family; it was why I did everything I did. But it was strange, no doubt about it. We lived in a tightly gated community; armed guards patrolling was the norm. But when I was home, I made sure to stuff my camis far back in the closet; I lived the illusion of normalcy and my family followed me straight down the rabbit hole.
We never discussed the zombies, certainly never any of my missions, and even stranger still, we did not talk about all those we lost along the way. It was always there though, like an oily film coating an otherwise pristine lake in the mountains. You could only see it from a certain angle, but one match could set the whole thing ablaze making it look like something straight from the underworld. As part of my commission in Bennington’s Corps, I was required to attend a counseling session once a week whenever I was on base. The counselor, Fred Scarborough, was overworked with a patient load that would have made him one of the wealthiest men in the free world–if we were still in a commercial market. I’d long ago learned all the key words to tell him so that he never delved any deeper into the many problems I carried around with me. I was just smart enough as to be dangerous, as the saying goes.
We were trying to move on with our lives as best we could and I was going to do my best to be that strong glue that kept our house of cards standing. If I could learn just one thing from the dogs, it was how happy they were to live in the moment. To just enjoy a game of tug-of-war, or to revel in the delight of the bacon grease I poured over their dog food. Of course, I suspected that they remembered past events and had learned from them, but they did not let those memories define them. The past did not have a stranglehold over their future like it did us lesser creatures.
“Henry, you think if I ever became a werewolf I could enjoy life as much as you?” I had the bullie’s massive head in my hands and was looking straight into his eyes. He sneezed in response.
“Werewolf?” Tracy had just come in from getting a few supplies. “That’s all we need. You already make big enough messes.” The living room was a disaster; at some point Ben Ben had got ahold of a pillow and had savagely ripped it open. Probably my fault, considering I’d been shoving it in his face to keep him from licking me.
It was strange and it was wonderful here. Gary and Tommy came over all the time, BT much less so; if not for Lyndsey I’m not sure if I’d see him at all during our down times. I don’t think it was anything he did on a conscious level, just that every time he saw me I would imagine he was forced to remember all we’d been through again, and, yeah…he was doing the same thing we were all trying to do. Just flat-out ignore the misery and death that pressed in on the fences we had built both literally and figuratively. This saddened me profoundly. BT was above and beyond my best friend on this planet and the thought that seeing me pained him? I mean, what do you do with that?
I think Bennington had a good idea establishing the line his raiders walked, as once we were inside the fortification, we were left alone. We didn’t need to show up for revelry or report in to anyone until such time as we were given a mission. I liked it here; we were making a difference. I could not help but wonder how long the illusion would last.