More peaceful, despite the chunk of flesh missing from his neck, the blood soaking into my work pants.

Gently, I lifted his head off my legs and onto the ground, into the red rainwater, and stood.

“Chase?”

“He’s gone,” I said to Allison.

She grabbed my arm. Her head hit my chest. Her body shook as she cried.

I should have comforted her. She needed that. Hell, I needed it. Instead, I pulled opened the back seat door and used my shovel like a spear. Didn’t look. Didn’t hesitate. I plunged it into the darkness. The spade sliced through meat. The thing didn’t cry out, didn’t moan, but it gurgled. It gasped.

I pulled back and drove the shovel into the SUV again and again, stabbing blindly. Each thrust hit home. It was like digging a hole. If the thing had been on the ground, I’d of stepped on the rest on the edge of the shovel and forced it through the beast using all of my weight.

I slammed the weapon repeatedly into the creature, strike after strike. As long as the spade made contact, I didn’t stop. I didn’t stop until Josh put a hand on my shoulder.

I turned on him. Rain blurred my vision. Heat filled my cheeks. I knew my skin was red, from being cold, and wet, and angry, and feeling guilty, and responsible, and arrogant. Because I wanted an SUV. Because a car wasn’t good enough. Because the Kid was dead, and it was my fault. All my fault.

Mine.

I spun around, reached into the back seat, grabbed onto a leg and yanked. The hacked up zombie toppled out of the vehicle, plopped down beside the Kid. I used my foot to kick the woman’s body over, and away from his. She didn’t deserve to be next to him.

“Okay,” I said, “everyone into the SUV.”

No one said a word.

No one moved.

“You want us to get into that thing?” Dave pointed at the black Navigator.

The rain came down even harder. Didn’t think it was possible. Felt like ice pelleting my skin. I looked down at Jason. The Kid. No. His name was Jason. Jason.

“Jason was killed in there,” Allison said. It was a whisper.

I shut the back seat door. Opened the driver’s door. Jason’s blood was on the leather. “Get in,” I said, ignoring protest.

“Chase,” Allison said, “I can’t.”

I looked her in the eyes. “You can. You will. This kid, he died. He died so we could have this stupid SUV I wanted. We’re taking it. We’ll find gas stations that are running and fill it up. It’s ours now. It’s ours because he . . . because I will not let his death be for nothing. I won’t. He didn’t die for you. It was for me. My fault. Mine. Now, get in.”

She stood there. I couldn’t tell if she was letting my words sink in, or working up the courage to climb in. Either way, it took her a minute. Almost two.

Allison understood. I saw it. It was in her eyes, when she couldn’t hold my stare. When they dropped, and she walked around the front of the Navigator and sat shotgun.

“Dave. Josh. It’s now, or it’s goodbye.”

I knew what they were thinking.

The thing had been in the backseat, and I’d hacked the shit out of her back there. “I’m not waiting,” I said.

Dave said, “Shit.”

Then he climbed in behind the driver’s seat.

“We’re getting your kids. And we’re going to Mexico?” Josh said.

“That’s the plan,” I said.

“Wake me when we get to North Carolina,” he said. He made a fist, held it out. I bumped mine into his.

Josh walked around the back of the truck, and climbed in sitting next to his brother.

I couldn’t help but stand there in the rain. I looked at Jason’s corpse.

I just didn’t want to leave him there. He deserved better. At the very least, to be buried.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The Navigator wasn’t 4x4, but the tires and wheels were big. The engine was Lincoln-strong.

I used a hand to swipe away as much of Jason’s blood pooled on the leather before sitting down.

The engine started on the first try. The radio came on. Static. I took a moment and went through the preset channels. Nothing. Hit scan. Waited. It rolled through more channels without stopping once.

Allison blasted the heat on. Hot air smashed into my face. Felt good. My hands felt numb. I rubbed them together in front of the heater, and then switched on the wipers. It was time to get moving.

The Navigator was a smooth and elegant ride. Beat walking, being stuck in the elements. I pulled out of the parking spot, and in the mirror, saw Jason’s body.

It felt so wrong leaving him there. He deserved better. I stopped.

“What are you doing?” Allison spoke in a whisper.

“I can’t,” I said. My head hit the steering wheel. Eyes closed. “I just can’t.”

Allison’s hand rubbed my back.

We had garden tools as weapons. What more did we need. How long could it take? How much better would it make me feel?

“Chase?” she said.

I backed the SUV up, put it in park and climbed out, back into the cold rain. I heard another door open.

Josh and I looked down at the body.

“Bury him?” Josh said.

I nodded.

“Good call,” he said, and pulled open the rear door.

Together we lifted Jason’s body. I took under the arms at the shoulders. Josh had the legs. The kid wasn’t heavy. Light, but lifeless. We set him in back of the SUV. “Thank you,” I said.

This time, Josh nodded. “Where do you want to bury him?”

“I know the perfect place, actually.”

We got back into the SUV. I turned it around, headed in the opposite direction in the parking lot, to the exit on Maiden, and made a left. In silence, we drove past the police station, and made a left onto Pomona Dr., and a quick left into the ball field parking lot.

Up rights separated the outfield to two different softball diamonds. I checked the rear-view. Josh nodded in agreement.

Jason was not Hoffa, and this was far from a New York Giant’s end zone, but it seemed fitting. Appropriate.

The ground was wet. But not soft. The cold temperatures saw to that. Digging the grave was far more labor intensive than I expected. We all took turns. Allison spent the most time digging. Couldn’t get her out of the hole. She wanted to dig. Eventually, we stopped asking if she needed a break and let her work. Tirelessly, she drove the spade into the earth. The rain helped. About the only thing it was good for.

About three feet deep, she stopped. She leaned on my shovel. She was soaked. Despite the rain, I knew it was tears trekking down her face.

Dave held out his hand. Allison wiped wet, muddy hands onto her pants, took his and used it to step out of the grave.

Josh and I lifted Jason. We set him into the hole softly, carefully. I zipped up his hoody, placed his arms over his chest, the splinted hand close to his heart. That damn splinted wrist.

I knew someone needed to say something. I didn’t feel qualified, or worthy, even. Anything I thought to say sounded cheesy inside my own head. Sounded forced and unauthentic. “I wish we knew you better,” I said.

Everyone bowed their heads, hands clasped in front of them.

“I appreciate you checking out that stupid Navigator, Jason. I just wish it had been me that ran ahead. Not you.

“I’m sorry if it seemed like I gave you a hard time. Might only have been a short time together, but I can promise you, you will be missed. Remembered. I struggle with the idea of God. Right now, I pray I am wrong. That there is one. That there is a heaven and you are warm, and dry and happy, buddy. That’s what I pray.”

I waited. Maybe someone else wanted to add something. Seemed like a good five minutes passed, just the four of us standing around this obscurely dug shallow grave. The rain grim, determined to add misery to an already unrelenting few days.

When I was sure no one had anything else to add, I reached for the shovel from Allison. I stepped it into the pile of dirt we’d accumulated, and tossed it over Jason’s feet.