Chapter 1
Last night, in Philadelphia, Tucker was in charge. He decided to get drunk and diligently pursued his mission. Whether we were disciples or lemmings, we followed him without question.
Cupcake told us that the first round of drinks was called a “Motts.” A pint glass filled with ice and then three-quarters full of vodka, a splash of pineapple, and then a float of dark rum on top. By the time you struggle through the dark rum, the pineapple and vodka go down like water.
Running through Liberty Bell Square, up and down stairs in the hotel, and fighting with zombies took more out of us than I realized. We wolfed down the plate of food Cupcake brought to the table and then proceeded to scavenge the rest of the bar for anything edible.
The scene vaguely reminded me of Easter morning but without the jealousy. I can remember being so jealous of my brother when he found an egg and celebrated like he had scored a goal in the World Cup. When it was my turn, I would try to top his celebration and always desperately searched his face for any sign of jealousy.
McLean was the first to strike gold when she found a bag of party mix. She let out a loud “whoop”—which we all scolded her for—and placed the party mix on top of the bar. We opened the bag roughly and we all shoveled handfuls into our mouths.
Todd tried to join us but it took him two drinks before he was numb enough to move. As bad as I feel for him, I am more impressed with McLean. She still had Jaden’s blood on her face and bits of brain matter in her hair. I know Todd was holding the boy when his head exploded, but Laney was the one who witnessed the event from point-blank range.
When Todd finally started moving, Cupcake directed him behind the bar to the microwave. The two started in on the process of opening and cooking the pre-packaged pizza from the cooler. Cupcake couldn’t stop marveling that the pizza wasn’t frozen; it was “prepared ahead of time to be heated fresh when needed.”
I didn’t want to tell him that it meant the pizza was at least three days old. It could have been three years old for all we cared though, it was so delicious.
Once the alcohol was in full effect, Todd and McLean went off to a corner and talked quietly. It ended in a long embrace and I felt a tinge of morbid jealousy that they shared the bond of Jaden’s blood.
Sometime after the sky grew dark, Terri messaged Cupcake from the Humvee. While cell phone networks are spotty, local Wi-Fi hotspots were still allowing messages through. At first, Terri was pissed that we had “abandoned” her. Once she realized we could see the Humvee but couldn’t get to it in the dark, she settled down. After we told her there was a rack of beer in the back, she actually seemed to be happy about being alone.
Fortunately there were a few phone chargers behind the bar, so Cupcake plugged in and left his phone out. We all took turns sending Terri messages and generally keeping her in the loop of our increasingly absurd conversations.
The last message I remember reading from her said something about going to Washington D.C. I just don’t remember if it was that we should go or not. Like many drunken nights, this one ended in an argument and Cupcake took his phone away in protest of something. All I can remember is him standing on the bar declaring, “My phone, my rules” in some attempt at solidifying leadership status.
Leadership is more about making decisions than about being wrong or right. I never really followed politics, but it seems if you have to lobby or campaign to be in charge, then you’re really not. When you decide and act with conviction, you become a leader, by default.
My actions are what have me driving the Humvee today.
The rooftop lounge of the Hotel Monaco in downtown Philadelphia was comfortable. Perfect for a night.
Unfortunately, we are on the front lines of a war against the undead and we need more than a foxhole for the night. We need a
Last night, in Philadelphia, Tucker was in charge. He decided to get drunk and diligently pursued his mission. Whether we were disciples or lemmings, we followed him without question.
Cupcake told us that the first round of drinks was called a “Motts.” A pint glass filled with ice and then three-quarters full of vodka, a splash of pineapple, and then a float of dark rum on top. By the time you struggle through the dark rum, the pineapple and vodka go down like water.
Running through Liberty Bell Square, up and down stairs in the hotel, and fighting with zombies took more out of us than I realized. We wolfed down the plate of food Cupcake brought to the table and then proceeded to scavenge the rest of the bar for anything edible.
The scene vaguely reminded me of Easter morning but without the jealousy. I can remember being so jealous of my brother when he found an egg and celebrated like he had scored a goal in the World Cup. When it was my turn, I would try to top his celebration and always desperately searched his face for any sign of jealousy.
McLean was the first to strike gold when she found a bag of party mix. She let out a loud “whoop”—which we all scolded her for—and placed the party mix on top of the bar. We opened the bag roughly and we all shoveled handfuls into our mouths.
Todd tried to join us but it took him two drinks before he was numb enough to move. As bad as I feel for him, I am more impressed with McLean. She still had Jaden’s blood on her face and bits of brain matter in her hair. I know Todd was holding the boy when his head exploded, but Laney was the one who witnessed the event from point-blank range.
When Todd finally started moving, Cupcake directed him behind the bar to the microwave. The two started in on the process of opening and cooking the pre-packaged pizza from the cooler. Cupcake couldn’t stop marveling that the pizza wasn’t frozen; it was “prepared ahead of time to be heated fresh when needed.”
I didn’t want to tell him that it meant the pizza was at least three days old. It could have been three years old for all we cared though, it was so delicious.
Once the alcohol was in full effect, Todd and McLean went off to a corner and talked quietly. It ended in a long embrace and I felt a tinge of morbid jealousy that they shared the bond of Jaden’s blood.
Sometime after the sky grew dark, Terri messaged Cupcake from the Humvee. While cell phone networks are spotty, local Wi-Fi hotspots were still allowing messages through. At first, Terri was pissed that we had “abandoned” her. Once she realized we could see the Humvee but couldn’t get to it in the dark, she settled down. After we told her there was a rack of beer in the back, she actually seemed to be happy about being alone.
Fortunately there were a few phone chargers behind the bar, so Cupcake plugged in and left his phone out. We all took turns sending Terri messages and generally keeping her in the loop of our increasingly absurd conversations.
The last message I remember reading from her said something about going to Washington D.C. I just don’t remember if it was that we should go or not. Like many drunken nights, this one ended in an argument and Cupcake took his phone away in protest of something. All I can remember is him standing on the bar declaring, “My phone, my rules” in some attempt at solidifying leadership status.
Leadership is more about making decisions than about being wrong or right. I never really followed politics, but it seems if you have to lobby or campaign to be in charge, then you’re really not. When you decide and act with conviction, you become a leader, by default.
My actions are what have me driving the Humvee today.
The rooftop lounge of the Hotel Monaco in downtown Philadelphia was comfortable. Perfect for a night.
Unfortunately, we are on the front lines of a war against the undead and we need more than a foxhole for the night. We need a
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