never …” His words faded away as his gaze fell across Dale’s shoulder and onto an amazing sight: a man crossing the street and heading toward the building just a few yards behind them.
A very familiar-looking man.
“Jonah?” Dale asked.
“I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” Jonah whispered.
As if he could hear Jonah, the man stopped at the apartment door and looked down the street. His gaze fell on Dale. The man’s eyes widened, his jaw opened a bit, then the fellow looked away, and slipped into the building without a second glance. But it was far too late; Jonah knew who the guy was. He would have recognized the man anywhere.
Save for a little age, and a little extra weight, the man was the spitting image of Dale.
****
Chapter Eight
Sacramento, California
162 hours : 35 minutes : 25 seconds remaining
Jonah pressed the buzzer a third time, but still there was no response. “I know he saw you. He had to have recognized you. You guys look exactly alike.”
“Not exactly,” Dale grumbled, obviously insulted by the comparison. “I’m in much better shape.”
“You know what I mean.” Jonah pressed the buzzer again. “Boy, the apple didn’t fall far from that tree, did it?”
“Whatever,” Dale said, then yawned. “Hey, if you don’t care, I’m gonna wait in the car. Okay?”
“What happened to the need to feed? Besides, now that he’s seen you, it might make it easier to talk to him.” Jonah laid on the buzzer. “Why won’t he answer?”
“Ya think maybe it’s because he saw me?”
Jonah froze with his finger against the button. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Dumb ass.”
“I wonder why he wouldn’t want to see you. I mean, he sent you that letter and everything.”
Dale shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care. I hate to abandon you on your little Scooby Doo quest here, but I really need to walk around a bit more. My legs and arms are getting really stiff, man.”
Before Jonah could warn him not to wander off too far—and for God’s sake, to keep away from women—the door behind them gave a soft click. Jonah looked to Dale, who only shrugged as if it were no big deal.
“Three-eleven it is, then,” Jonah said, and went inside.
Dale, either curious or bored into the act, followed Jonah.
The apartment was laid out much like a hotel. ‘Three’ meant the third floor. ‘Eleven’ was the last door on the left, which they found standing open as they approached it. The pair of them paused at the threshold for a moment, Jonah gathering his courage to enter, and the zombie … well, doing whatever it was zombies did in this kind of situation. Jonah held his hand out to the door, signaling for Dale to enter first. After all, it was Dale’s dad they were there to see. But Dale furrowed his brow at Jonah, shaking his head in confusion. Jonah tapped Dale on the chest and pointed to the open door again. Dale stared at the door and then narrowed his eyes at Jonah, clearly unsure of what the signal meant.
“You first,” Jonah whispered.
“You first,” Dale whispered back.
“He’s your dad.”
“Yeah, but this is your fault.”
A deep voice rolled out of the open door. “Just come inside, already. I don’t have all night.”
After shooting one another a matching set of surprised looks, they did just that.
The apartment was sparsely furnished, but what little décor was there looked expensive. Any single piece was bound to be worth more than what Jonah made in a year. Mahogany bookshelves. Leather-bound furniture. A state-of-the-art entertainment center. There was also a rack of top-of-the-line guitars. It seemed that the musical gene ran in the family.
Jonah pushed away the pangs of jealousy that the fancy household roused in him.
Dale wasn’t as successful at hiding his awe. “Wow.”
“I suppose I should say the same thing,” a man said.
Jonah, who had been distracted by Mr. Jenkins’s things, now saw the man himself seated on the white leather
A very familiar-looking man.
“Jonah?” Dale asked.
“I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” Jonah whispered.
As if he could hear Jonah, the man stopped at the apartment door and looked down the street. His gaze fell on Dale. The man’s eyes widened, his jaw opened a bit, then the fellow looked away, and slipped into the building without a second glance. But it was far too late; Jonah knew who the guy was. He would have recognized the man anywhere.
Save for a little age, and a little extra weight, the man was the spitting image of Dale.
****
Chapter Eight
Sacramento, California
162 hours : 35 minutes : 25 seconds remaining
Jonah pressed the buzzer a third time, but still there was no response. “I know he saw you. He had to have recognized you. You guys look exactly alike.”
“Not exactly,” Dale grumbled, obviously insulted by the comparison. “I’m in much better shape.”
“You know what I mean.” Jonah pressed the buzzer again. “Boy, the apple didn’t fall far from that tree, did it?”
“Whatever,” Dale said, then yawned. “Hey, if you don’t care, I’m gonna wait in the car. Okay?”
“What happened to the need to feed? Besides, now that he’s seen you, it might make it easier to talk to him.” Jonah laid on the buzzer. “Why won’t he answer?”
“Ya think maybe it’s because he saw me?”
Jonah froze with his finger against the button. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Dumb ass.”
“I wonder why he wouldn’t want to see you. I mean, he sent you that letter and everything.”
Dale shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care. I hate to abandon you on your little Scooby Doo quest here, but I really need to walk around a bit more. My legs and arms are getting really stiff, man.”
Before Jonah could warn him not to wander off too far—and for God’s sake, to keep away from women—the door behind them gave a soft click. Jonah looked to Dale, who only shrugged as if it were no big deal.
“Three-eleven it is, then,” Jonah said, and went inside.
Dale, either curious or bored into the act, followed Jonah.
The apartment was laid out much like a hotel. ‘Three’ meant the third floor. ‘Eleven’ was the last door on the left, which they found standing open as they approached it. The pair of them paused at the threshold for a moment, Jonah gathering his courage to enter, and the zombie … well, doing whatever it was zombies did in this kind of situation. Jonah held his hand out to the door, signaling for Dale to enter first. After all, it was Dale’s dad they were there to see. But Dale furrowed his brow at Jonah, shaking his head in confusion. Jonah tapped Dale on the chest and pointed to the open door again. Dale stared at the door and then narrowed his eyes at Jonah, clearly unsure of what the signal meant.
“You first,” Jonah whispered.
“You first,” Dale whispered back.
“He’s your dad.”
“Yeah, but this is your fault.”
A deep voice rolled out of the open door. “Just come inside, already. I don’t have all night.”
After shooting one another a matching set of surprised looks, they did just that.
The apartment was sparsely furnished, but what little décor was there looked expensive. Any single piece was bound to be worth more than what Jonah made in a year. Mahogany bookshelves. Leather-bound furniture. A state-of-the-art entertainment center. There was also a rack of top-of-the-line guitars. It seemed that the musical gene ran in the family.
Jonah pushed away the pangs of jealousy that the fancy household roused in him.
Dale wasn’t as successful at hiding his awe. “Wow.”
“I suppose I should say the same thing,” a man said.
Jonah, who had been distracted by Mr. Jenkins’s things, now saw the man himself seated on the white leather
Similar Books
