Blood Soaked and Contagious by James Crawford Page B

the community. It might not mean Hightower’s plans are foiled, but it would give everyone we care about a little extra time to make their own plans.”
    “I’m gonna tell the two of you, right now, that you’re spouting bullshit.” Shawn was a plain speaker, no one would ever argue that point, but he had never delivered words with that much... I’m not even sure that there’s a word for it. The closest I’d ever heard to his tone of voice came straight from movies.
    Charlton Heston in “The Ten Commandments.” Yul Brynner in “The King and I.” If Shawn had suddenly intoned, “Pharaoh, let my people go,” I would have sprung up from the bed and started looking for Hebrew slaves to free. As it was, I was glued to the mattress, and I could tell that Baj was just as stunned. Then again, he may have been thinking something like, “And who is this crazy, mountain of a redneck I have invited into this house? Is this moonshine I smell?” I doubted that, but it was a possibility.
    “There is not a single man, woman, child, or even family fuckin’ pet who would have the two of you run away if we could keep you safe.” Shawn pointed one finger at Jayashri behind me and poked the other salami-size index finger at the end of Baj’s nose. “Yeah, we’ll have your meeting and tell everyone about what all is goin’ down, but You. Are. Not. Running. Away. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
    All three of us answered with a quiet, “Yes, Sir.” I don’t know why I said it. I wasn’t going anywhere.
    “You,” he said, moving the Jayashri finger to point at me, “Go make some space in the store so we can all talk about this and make some plans. If you’ve got a whiteboard and markers, set ‘em up. We’re gonna need ‘em.” He moved the finger back to Jayashri, and continued, “You two, round up our neighbors and anyone they see fit to bring along. They’ve got an hour before I come lookin’ for ‘em. Tell everybody to meet at the hardware store in 45 minutes. That’s all. SCRAM!”
    We scrammed.
    Before I made it past him, he handed me back my .45. “Boy, you don’t scram as hard as all that. You’ve had a shitty evenin’.”
    “Yes, Sir.” I just nodded and made my way outside.

Chapter 10
     
    Night had fallen all the way, and I wasn’t even sure what time it was anymore. There were more stars in the sky since the world changed. The air was crisp, and I felt like I was really living in the moment. Even the sound of my shoes on the pavement was more real. Somewhere in the back of my head I remembered the sorts of poetry written by warriors who were about to go out and do battle with very little chance to return home alive.
    You would get words that conjured up the transitory nature of being alive, how splendid it was to be in that moment, maybe even some yearning they felt would never be realized. I thought a bit while I walked and wished that I were a poet. Words were not my art, but every now and then I stretched myself in hopes I would find them in my heart, ready to be spoken.
     
    The crisp autumn air shakes,
    the falling leaves,
    tumbling to Earth;
     
    White burning stars light
    a lonely path,
    walking here alone;
     
    A final moment grasping,
    the dreams slumbering
    between silent breaths;
     
    I never banged Shawn’s sister.
     
    Those thoughts swirled around in my cramped brain, and I realized I needed to find another hobby. Failing that, I needed to find a tribe of suburban Virginia Amazons who would club me upside my head, drag me to their Ikea-furnished boudoir and make me father a whole new generation of busty womanhood.
    “I could always take up drinking heavily,” I thought to myself as I opened the store door. I paused for a moment, looked down at the crusty dreadlock head by my foot, and silently remarked that it felt like days since I had decapitated his sorry ass. Then I kicked it down the street like a soccer ball mating with an octopus.
    Once inside I headed for the