him, the sole reason he had been ordered to come here. But just how far was too far? And if it came down to it and Conrad stepped in and told Philip to stop, what would happen? With Michael and Kevin on Philip’s side, it was three against one.
“Kent,” Philip said. “Oh, Kent? Please say hello. Please, please, pretty please?” When the zombie still wouldn’t move, Philip looked at Eugene. “What’s wrong with your boy? He doesn’t talk?”
“You want names, addresses, contact information, I’ll give them all to you. Just please, don’t hurt my family.”
“I don’t know.” Phillip said. “I appreciate the offer and everything, but I’m afraid now it’s too little too late. However, if you’re son here says hello to me, I’ll spare his life. How does that sound?”
Eugene looked at his wife. His wife looked at him. She slowly shook her head, mouthed no, but Eugene closed his eyes, bent his head, and seemed to think for a very long time.
Finally he said, “Do I have your word?”
“Of course.”
Eugene raised his head, opened his eyes, stared down at his living son. “May I … may I get down there and talk with him?”
“Certainly.”
Philip stood up and stepped back. Eugene glanced at his wife again, his wife who was still slowly shaking her head, mouthing no, but he ignored her and got to his feet. His legs trembled as he walked across the room, lowered himself to his knees, and placed a dry and decayed hand on his living son’s back.
The zombie child cried out. It jumped, tried to get away, and Michael, still holding the end of the leash, jerked him back down.
“Please,” Eugene said to Michael, holding up a hand.
Michael looked at Philip for permission. Philip nodded. Michael tossed the end of the leash to Eugene, who immediately unhooked it from the collar around his son’s neck, then unbuckled the collar and set both it and the leash aside. He bent his head next to his son’s, whispered to him, said words of encouragement, and after about a minute Eugene leaned back.
“Okay, Kent,” he said, and glanced warily at his family on the couch, “say hello to the man.”
The zombie’s head was bent. Tears still covered its face. It wiped them away, sniffed back more tears, and slowly raised its living eyes to Philip.
“Hell … lo,” the zombie child said weakly.
Philip smiled, nodded, and said, “Hello, Kent. How are you feeling?”
Eugene said, “That wasn’t part of the deal. You said all he had to say was hello, and he said it.”
“That’s right, I did say that. But do you want to know something?” Philip placed his hands behind his back, took a few steps forward, and smiled down at Eugene. “I was crossing my fingers.”
What happened next happened quickly. Before Eugene Moss could say or do anything, Kevin hurried forward. He pulled Eugene to his feet and dragged him back to the couch as Philip stepped forward and grabbed the zombie child by the hair. It cried out in pain as it was yanked up into the air and the mother screamed and children screamed and Philip brandished the carving knife once more, holding it up in front of the zombie child’s face.
“See, Eugene, the problem is you zombie-loving extremists think blowing up a Hunter Headquarters will solve everything. But you know what it does? It just pisses us off. Some might not take it too personally”—here Philip shot a glare at Conrad—“but me? I take it very fucking personally.”
Holding the zombie by the hair, Philip used the carving knife to nick its face. Blood—real actual living blood—began its race with the tears.
Eugene started to stand up again but Kevin stepped forward, grabbed him from behind, and pulled him back toward the recliner. Michael met them there and when Kevin threw Eugene down into the chair they worked it so Michael made sure the man stayed seated, Kevin standing behind the chair and reaching around Eugene’s head, holding him in place.
“You should have let me
“Kent,” Philip said. “Oh, Kent? Please say hello. Please, please, pretty please?” When the zombie still wouldn’t move, Philip looked at Eugene. “What’s wrong with your boy? He doesn’t talk?”
“You want names, addresses, contact information, I’ll give them all to you. Just please, don’t hurt my family.”
“I don’t know.” Phillip said. “I appreciate the offer and everything, but I’m afraid now it’s too little too late. However, if you’re son here says hello to me, I’ll spare his life. How does that sound?”
Eugene looked at his wife. His wife looked at him. She slowly shook her head, mouthed no, but Eugene closed his eyes, bent his head, and seemed to think for a very long time.
Finally he said, “Do I have your word?”
“Of course.”
Eugene raised his head, opened his eyes, stared down at his living son. “May I … may I get down there and talk with him?”
“Certainly.”
Philip stood up and stepped back. Eugene glanced at his wife again, his wife who was still slowly shaking her head, mouthing no, but he ignored her and got to his feet. His legs trembled as he walked across the room, lowered himself to his knees, and placed a dry and decayed hand on his living son’s back.
The zombie child cried out. It jumped, tried to get away, and Michael, still holding the end of the leash, jerked him back down.
“Please,” Eugene said to Michael, holding up a hand.
Michael looked at Philip for permission. Philip nodded. Michael tossed the end of the leash to Eugene, who immediately unhooked it from the collar around his son’s neck, then unbuckled the collar and set both it and the leash aside. He bent his head next to his son’s, whispered to him, said words of encouragement, and after about a minute Eugene leaned back.
“Okay, Kent,” he said, and glanced warily at his family on the couch, “say hello to the man.”
The zombie’s head was bent. Tears still covered its face. It wiped them away, sniffed back more tears, and slowly raised its living eyes to Philip.
“Hell … lo,” the zombie child said weakly.
Philip smiled, nodded, and said, “Hello, Kent. How are you feeling?”
Eugene said, “That wasn’t part of the deal. You said all he had to say was hello, and he said it.”
“That’s right, I did say that. But do you want to know something?” Philip placed his hands behind his back, took a few steps forward, and smiled down at Eugene. “I was crossing my fingers.”
What happened next happened quickly. Before Eugene Moss could say or do anything, Kevin hurried forward. He pulled Eugene to his feet and dragged him back to the couch as Philip stepped forward and grabbed the zombie child by the hair. It cried out in pain as it was yanked up into the air and the mother screamed and children screamed and Philip brandished the carving knife once more, holding it up in front of the zombie child’s face.
“See, Eugene, the problem is you zombie-loving extremists think blowing up a Hunter Headquarters will solve everything. But you know what it does? It just pisses us off. Some might not take it too personally”—here Philip shot a glare at Conrad—“but me? I take it very fucking personally.”
Holding the zombie by the hair, Philip used the carving knife to nick its face. Blood—real actual living blood—began its race with the tears.
Eugene started to stand up again but Kevin stepped forward, grabbed him from behind, and pulled him back toward the recliner. Michael met them there and when Kevin threw Eugene down into the chair they worked it so Michael made sure the man stayed seated, Kevin standing behind the chair and reaching around Eugene’s head, holding him in place.
“You should have let me
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