Induction

“Booyah! Suck it, boys.” This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

I just hoped that I wouldn’t turn out to be Private Pyle from Full Metal Jacket. I may have enjoyed that a bit too much. But hey, everyone has had the murder fantasy at least once in their life. I just got to play mine out. It was too bad Vinny wasn’t here to revel in the vindication.

I spent the next hour learning to shoot by experience. All those countless hours mastering Duck Hunt as a kid had come in handy. I placed the rifle against the wall and was about to sit down when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. Turning, I recognized the soldier from the day before.

“Puri, is it?” I asked him.

“Good memory. You’re Jake’s wife, Emma. Right?” The mention of my husband’s name sent a stab of pain through my heart.

“Yes, sir,” I mocked, trying to use humor to hide my sudden onset of emotion. “Did you hear from them? Are they alright?”

“No, sorry,” he said, while a look of sympathy crossed over his face. “I was actually wondering what you were doing with that weapon.”

We both looked at the rifle leaning against the wall. Shit, I thought. He’s probably pissed I touched it.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I just—”

“That weapon needs to be cleaned.”

“Oh,” I replied, a little surprised that he wasn’t tearing me a new asshole for taking it in the first place. “I can do that. Should I use Windex? Or something more like Armor All?”

He looked at me in horror, like I had just said his mom had a big ass or something.

“Follow me,” he ordered.

So I did. Picking up the rifle, I followed him into Target. He’d taken over the customer service desk for what looked like a major gun-cleaning operation. The counter was covered with a white towel and on the towel were various brushes, rags, and bottles of some kind of oil. Next to the brushes was a loose piece of paper with what looked like a checklist neatly printed in black marker. The page had been laminated and, judging by the curling edges, it had been around the block.

I sat down across from him and watched him meticulously realign everything. “So, Puri,” I started.

“Call me Seth.”

“Okay, Seth. What do I need to do?” Looking back, I would regret that question.

He proceeded to hold up his sixteen item checklist and provided me with a detailed explanation of each step. After he demonstrated how to field strip the rifle, I had to repeat the process back to him three times before he was satisfied. At least he didn’t time me or ask me to do it blindfolded. I noticed he kept winding his watch. In fact, even when he wasn’t winding it, his thumb absentmindedly stroked the face.

“That’s a nice watch.” I gestured at the timepiece. The design was simple, but elegant. A shiny steel band encircled his wrist, looking as flawless as the day it was purchased. Its black dial stood out against the band, and the face housed three smaller dials. The glass was clean and free of scratches. By the pristine condition of the item, it was clear it was more than just a watch to Seth.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “they don’t make ‘em like this anymore.” His eyes fell on the watch, and he got this far away look in his eyes. There was an awkward few seconds of silence before he shook his head a little bit and came back to the present.

“It’s an Omega Speedmaster. My dad got it in the sixties when he was in the Navy, and I inherited it when he passed a few years back.” He let the statement hang in the air for a few seconds before motioning for me to continue stripping the rifle.

For three hours we sat there stripping, cleaning, and reassembling the weapon before he was confident I could do it on my own. A few times the conversation steered into the danger zone of loved ones and he would abruptly change the subject. I decided I liked him. His rank was Chief Warrant Officer W-5, which didn’t mean a damn thing to me. The only thing I needed to know was that he was able to fly the helicopter.

Chapter 15 This is Jeopardy

Nursing a sore shoulder, I sat on the patch of grass next to the card table and began to think about Jake again. The wandering corpses had begun to thin out and I wondered if they were migrating elsewhere or if someone else was killing them. I knew they hadn’t begun dying off from decay because the ones that wandered into our vicinity looked like they had gone through a meat grinder. The air had a constant rancid odor that I suspected would only get worse as the days passed. Through my rifle’s scope, I got an up close and personal view of the maggot riddled corpses. What I first thought to be the heat creating a rippling effect in the air turned out to be millions of maggots infesting the undead. They writhed in open wounds and fell out in clumps as the zombies moved.