leaned over, spent a good while whispering through cupped hands into White’s ear before pointing back into the house. He hurried inside. For a moment of personal entertainment, I speculated about what he might come back with next.
While the Whites rummaged for no reason that I could see, Bubbles started to prance around the patio floor on her toes. Unfazed by the dancing, Nancy glared through the back door and into the dimness inside. Bluto watched Bubbles.
As discreetly as I could, I looked over the scattered flatware: f orks, spoons, butter knives, standard dinner sets, nothing that would serve as a practical weapon. Still, anything was better than nothing, or so I told myself, not considering what consequences might attach themselves to a weapon found on my person. The nearest butter knife was eight or nine feet away. I’d likely not get a chance to sneak it into my bag, but patience could work in my favor.
Another White came out of the house. This one had handfuls of blue glass beads, the kind that might be at the bottom of clear glass vase with fake flowers. Nancy recognized the shiny beads for what they were and was none too shy to express her displeasure in the usual way.
After his beating, the White hurried back into the house.
The third White came out with the good stuff. Nancy made a frighteningly joyous shriek. Bubbles giggled her way over and the two of them squatted on the patio with animated fingers. The White dropped the booty at their feet and Nancy pulled his head close to her mouth and whispered into his ear. He hustled back inside.
Nancy and Bubbles set themselves to work, sorting with meticulous attention through the necklaces, earrings, watches, and rings, tossing some aside, trying on others, but building a little pile of keepers between them.
After t he free Whites had ransacked the house to Nancy’s satisfaction, they squatted near the back wall of the patio and squabbled over a box of baking powder, a half can of Crisco, and some saltines, all of which was disappearing bite by bite into their mouths.
When it was all done, Nancy took her time in distributing the pieces between the backpac ks and shopping bags that we pack mules carried.
When it was all done, w e moved to the next house down the street and repeated the process. And that was the whole of my existence for the coming days as my energy level drained away in the incessant heat and my body withered from lack of food. I struggled each day to carry my growing load. I daydreamed about a chance to eat. I glared hatred at Nancy and Bubbles when they weren’t looking. Once, as I was glaring, I got caught. My reward for that was few a bony-handed slaps from Nancy.
No matter what I observed , no matter what I imagined, I couldn’t find a way to escape. The hopelessness of slavery started to leech away my resolve to be free.
Chapter 1 2
It was late in the afternoon on some day that I’d lost count of. The tuition that I was paying to learn about the infected had surpassed what I could afford. Having successfully dehumanized my captors in my mind, I was having a little trouble accepting that the brain-dead bunch of them still had me in their control. I was slipping into dark anger at myself, a state of mind that wouldn’t help me get free.
We were working our way up a gently sloping street away from the river. Wrinkly Nancy was leading us across an intersection with a four-way stop when the sound of a nearby gunshot to our left locked all of us in our tracks and turned every head. All sounds were stifled in our throats. Ever-busy fingers froze in anticipation. All eyes were wide. All faces pointed in one direction.
These infected knew exactly what food sounded like.
A second gunshot sent two of the free Whites running up the street and started a third’s feet to shuffling like a toddler’s pee pee dance. Only Bluto and the stupid one with the silverware fixation stayed put, eyes on Nancy and Bubbles, waiting for
While the Whites rummaged for no reason that I could see, Bubbles started to prance around the patio floor on her toes. Unfazed by the dancing, Nancy glared through the back door and into the dimness inside. Bluto watched Bubbles.
As discreetly as I could, I looked over the scattered flatware: f orks, spoons, butter knives, standard dinner sets, nothing that would serve as a practical weapon. Still, anything was better than nothing, or so I told myself, not considering what consequences might attach themselves to a weapon found on my person. The nearest butter knife was eight or nine feet away. I’d likely not get a chance to sneak it into my bag, but patience could work in my favor.
Another White came out of the house. This one had handfuls of blue glass beads, the kind that might be at the bottom of clear glass vase with fake flowers. Nancy recognized the shiny beads for what they were and was none too shy to express her displeasure in the usual way.
After his beating, the White hurried back into the house.
The third White came out with the good stuff. Nancy made a frighteningly joyous shriek. Bubbles giggled her way over and the two of them squatted on the patio with animated fingers. The White dropped the booty at their feet and Nancy pulled his head close to her mouth and whispered into his ear. He hustled back inside.
Nancy and Bubbles set themselves to work, sorting with meticulous attention through the necklaces, earrings, watches, and rings, tossing some aside, trying on others, but building a little pile of keepers between them.
After t he free Whites had ransacked the house to Nancy’s satisfaction, they squatted near the back wall of the patio and squabbled over a box of baking powder, a half can of Crisco, and some saltines, all of which was disappearing bite by bite into their mouths.
When it was all done, Nancy took her time in distributing the pieces between the backpac ks and shopping bags that we pack mules carried.
When it was all done, w e moved to the next house down the street and repeated the process. And that was the whole of my existence for the coming days as my energy level drained away in the incessant heat and my body withered from lack of food. I struggled each day to carry my growing load. I daydreamed about a chance to eat. I glared hatred at Nancy and Bubbles when they weren’t looking. Once, as I was glaring, I got caught. My reward for that was few a bony-handed slaps from Nancy.
No matter what I observed , no matter what I imagined, I couldn’t find a way to escape. The hopelessness of slavery started to leech away my resolve to be free.
Chapter 1 2
It was late in the afternoon on some day that I’d lost count of. The tuition that I was paying to learn about the infected had surpassed what I could afford. Having successfully dehumanized my captors in my mind, I was having a little trouble accepting that the brain-dead bunch of them still had me in their control. I was slipping into dark anger at myself, a state of mind that wouldn’t help me get free.
We were working our way up a gently sloping street away from the river. Wrinkly Nancy was leading us across an intersection with a four-way stop when the sound of a nearby gunshot to our left locked all of us in our tracks and turned every head. All sounds were stifled in our throats. Ever-busy fingers froze in anticipation. All eyes were wide. All faces pointed in one direction.
These infected knew exactly what food sounded like.
A second gunshot sent two of the free Whites running up the street and started a third’s feet to shuffling like a toddler’s pee pee dance. Only Bluto and the stupid one with the silverware fixation stayed put, eyes on Nancy and Bubbles, waiting for
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