La Mort et ses Merveilles
Chapter 29: I Don't Believe in Fairytales
Sitting in his driver's seat, the young man whistled as we made our way down the abandoned road, cutting through fields of golden corn. With most of the population dead, fields of corn, wheat and soy lay abandoned, the crops waiting for the harvest that will never come. It's sad to think about, but at the same time there was some sort of grace to it. Soon the frost will come and the last of them would wither away.
I sat there, taking a look at the pictures I'd taken. The field of blue flowers were in beautiful contrast to the golden light of the sun. I even had one of Leslie, a shot I sneakily took of him sitting at the back of the truck. He was looking far at the horizon, the light of the sun illuminating his scruffy face. I couldn't take my eyes off that photo. He almost seemed like a different man. A man with ambition, a vision, big plans. Not the vulnerable, broken boy that I knew.
"Oh," the young man remarked as he drove. "You took a picture of me."
"Y-yeah," I said, the heat flushing my cheeks. "You didn't realise but you looked really cool."
The young man chuckled, scratching the back of his head.
"Usually I'm not really a big fan of people taking photographs of me because of the. . ." he said, biting his lip. "You know."
"Oh my gosh," I gasped out loud. "I'm so, so sorry. I-I forgot, that was so stupid of me."
"Hey it's alright blondie," he said, turning to look at me. "Well I don't mind if you do it. Besides, it's just a stupid irrational fear."
"It's not stupid, Leslie," I told him. "If it makes you uncomfortable I won't do it again."
"Just ask next time," he said. "It's just. . . I just thought after all these years things like this shouldn't be affecting me this much."
"He's probably dead," I tried to reassure him. "He can't hurt you anymore."
"Yeah, you're right," he said, his blue eyes fixed on the road. "But don't you think it's unfair? Like what, he did all that to me and he just. . . dies? No pain, no punishment, nothing? After all that he's done?"
His voice was raised now, and I noticed his bottom lip quivering ever so slightly.
"Where's the justice in that?" Leslie continued, his tone angry and frustrated.
"There's a special place in hell for the likes of him," I said, reaching out to put a hand on his thigh. "I'm sure of it."
The young man gave a slight shrug, before snickering as he shook his head.
"You're so innocent blondie," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Still believing in that stuff."
"Well," I told him. "It's just how I get by day to day I guess. Believing that there's something better after I die. Believing that things happen for a reason."
"You believe in God don't you?" he remarked.
"Yeah I do," I told him, even though I already did a few times beforehand.
"My father was a good man, my mother. . . It's complicated," he began. "But they were both religious and God-fearing. So why'd God let so many bad things happen to me? First he took my father, then he took my mother, then he took away my childhood. Why?"
I only said the first thing that came to mind. His blue eyes staring intently at the road ahead of us were full of pain and sadness, and in that moment I just wanted to hold him in my arms.
"I don't know," I told him frankly. "Life, suffering. . . These are all tests to see how strong we are."
"I just want the pain to go away," he told me, his voice soft and mellow.
We were quiet for a while, until Leslie abruptly broke the silence.
"Sorry about that," he said, trying to recover with a nervous chuckle. "Enough about me. This trip was supposed to be about you."
"If you still have things on your mind I don't mind listening," I said to him.
"Gosh I really don't deserve you," he chuckled. "Even after everything I did you still stick around."
"Maybe it's because I don't have anyone else to choose from," I teased.
I immediately regretted saying that, the look on his face genuinely hurt and surprised. Sometimes, in some aspects, Leslie was more innocent than I was.
"I'm kidding," I told him. "Sorry."
"O-of course," he stuttered, his cheeks glowing red. "I knew that."
"Well, if you really want to know," I said. "You're really warm and caring, but sometimes you just don't want to admit that."
"Oh," he replied. "Yeah, I guess."
Conversations with Leslie always ended up with the occasional awkward moments of silence, but to be honest I wouldn't have it any other way.
"Right," he suddenly blurted out. "I uh- I picked some meadow flowers back there. It's in the back seat, I folded them in those napkins."
"That's so sweet of you," I said, reaching out for them.
Inside the napkins were a few stalks of forget-me-nots, as well as a few loose petals and heads of flowers.
"They're really pretty," I told him. "I like them."
"Thank goodness you do," he said, chuckling nervously. "I-I just thought that since you're the girl in this relationship and girls like flowers right? But a-at the same time you're not a girl, you're a boy, so I was really nervous that you wouldn't like the flowers-"
He stopped when he saw me raise an eyebrow.
"Did I say something wrong?" Leslie blurted out. "I-I'm sorry."
There he goes again, that bundle of awkwardness. Sure, if you didn't know him what he said could've raised a few eyebrows, but I knew he never meant any offense. As inappropriate and strange as what he said may seem, it was still a cute gesture.
"No," I told him. "You didn't. And I really appreciate it."
That's when the young man's lips broke into a thin, awkward smile. It was the first time he did ever since he began talking about his past just earlier. I knew it was always hard to talk about it, but who else could he talk to besides me? I was just glad I could be there for him.
We passed through a few towns along the highway, all of them abandoned and empty, save for the occasional straggling zombie. Sometimes Leslie had to take a detour because of a rubble or a group of zombies had blocked off the road. It had been a while since I've seen a zombie, what more entire groups of them. I remembered an instance where Isabella and I nearly got trapped in a store with a whole bunch of zombies outside. I nearly thought we were done for, when a few gunshots nearby took the attention of most of them away from us.
Either way, Leslie and I made it to the old motel in one piece.
"This is it," he said as he pulled up into the parking lot. "Back here."
"It's been a while," I said, as I stepped out, grabbing my hammer just in case of any unexpected zombie.
I could hear a few grunts from the distance. Our entrance seemed to have attracted a few of those creatures, as they stumbled towards us with their tattered clothes and flesh rotting off their arms in chunks.
"You gonna be alright?" Leslie asked as he took out his machete.
"I'll deal with the ones coming from the right," I told him. "If there's anything I'll shout."
"Be careful alright?" Leslie reminded me, as he rustled my hair. "I'm the only thing that you should let chew your face off. Don't break my heart, cutie."
With a mock pout on his lips, he made his way to the pack of zombies coming in from the left. Even at times like these he was teasing and joking around. Taking a deep breath, I approached the nearest zombie, hammer in hand. As much as I was grateful that I haven't seen a zombie in a while, my skills with the hammer sure needed more practice. My handiwork was getting shoddier, but soon the motions came back to me naturally. The hammer nearly slipped out of my hand, but I managed to smash the zombie's skull, bagging me my first downed zombie for the day.
My heart racing, I kicked the creature in the shin. As it dropped onto its knees, I landed the executing blow. I hit the third with another quick smack to the head, and it fell just as quick. It was then when the last zombie, tripped over the corpse of one of its fallen compatriots -right onto me.
I had fallen onto the ground, the weight of the zombie pinning me down. The rotten creature was mere inches away from me, its open mouth drawing closer and closer to my face. With my left hand I tried to push it away, while my right was going to -where was it? To my horror, my trusty hammer was no longer in my hands. It lay there on the ground, just slightly out of reach. I struggled as I inched my way for it, desperately trying to grab the handle.
"Les!" I cried out loud. "A little help here!"
As I struggled to keep the hungry jaws from me, I heard the young man's footsteps approaching. My heart thumping in my chest, I tried to elbow the creature in the chest, to hold it away from biting me.
The next thing I knew, the zombie stopped moving, slumping itself on top of me. Pushing the corpse aside, I found myself staring into Leslie's blue eyes. I was more than happy to be able to look into those eyes again.
He extended his hand and I took it, pulling myself up. I was still rather shaken from the whole thing, but I was glad that I was still alive.
"You okay?" Leslie asked me.
I only nodded my head as I picked my hammer from the ground.
"I told you to be careful!" he chided me, as if it was my fault a zombie tripped and fell on top of me.
"Sorry," was all that I could muster.
I didn't want to fight with him, especially not after just having an argument with him this morning.
"Next time," he said, dusting himself off. "You're sticking with me."
"Thanks for looking out for me," I muttered.
"It's the least I could do," he replied, putting his machete away.
With the zombies all dead, I could finally take in my surroundings. Being back at the motel was almost surreal. Honestly I'd never thought I'd ever return, especially with all that's happened.
"We're back where it all began huh," the young man remarked. "Wasn't the best of starts. . . but it's still a start."
"Yeah," I muttered, not knowing what else to say.
"So, um," Leslie replied. "Where's uh- your dad's grave?"
I pointed at the tree at the far end of the parking lot, where I had buried him. Without a word, he held my hand as we walked there.
It has certainly been a while, and the grave was now covered in a layer of lush grass. The cross I fashioned out of pieces of wooden planks was still there, jutting up from above the blades.
I stood there in silence, reaching out and resting my hand against the cross. I missed him, I really did. There was just so many things that I wanted to tell him, that we were doing alright. Yet I couldn't help but notice the pain that used to be so sharp and piercing no longer hurt as much anymore. I wanted to tell him that I missed him, but I couldn't bring the words out of my lips.
"I uh-" Leslie suddenly said, breaking the silence. "I'm really sorry."
I was about to respond, but I noticed him staring down at the grave.
"I know I shouldn't have done that, and I have no excuse over what I did," Leslie continued. "And I know I've caused so much pain for your kids. I. . . just wanted to say thanks for raising such wonderful people and that Jason and Bells are so lucky to have someone like you to look out for them.
"And I realised afterwards that I've taken someone so important to them, and that I've hurt people who've never done anything wrong. But whatever happens I- I'm responsible for them now. I promise I'll take care of them."
Leslie seemed surprised when I hugged him, but soon I felt his comforting hand on my back.
"Thanks," I muttered as I pressed my head against his chest. "You don't know how much this means to me."
"It's no problem," he replied. "I'd do anything for you. And besides, it's the least I could do to make up for it."
I just felt like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. All the guilt, all the anger, in that moment I felt like they all just vanished. I guess it didn't really make sense, but to me, seeing the two most important men in my life reconcile was liberating. Like I said, it didn't really make sense but my heart had always yearned for something like this.
We stayed there for a little longer, paying our respects to my father. Silently in my heart I poured out everything. I told him about how we were doing well, how much I missed him sometimes when I'm about to sleep, how I wished he was doing much better. But most importantly, I told him that I loved him.
"Should we make a move?" Leslie said after a while, as the sun began to move to its apex. "Or do you still need some more time?"
"Oh no I'm fine," I told him as I took a step back from the grave. "We can go now."
We made our way back to the truck, and Leslie started the engine.
"Actually," I told him as he began to drive. "I was thinking that maybe we should spend some time away from it all. You know, just the two of us."
"Well," the young man said. "You got any plans? I'm fine with anything."
"I don't know," I replied. "There's not really many things to do now for dates. It's not like we could go to a restaurant or anything."
"Well lucky for you," Leslie chuckled. "The last time I went for a date at a restaurant it was a disaster."
"Oh yeah," I giggled. "The whole thing with Clyde and the steakhouse."
"Yeah," the young man rolled his eyes. "We could go hunting, but I left my rifle back at the convent."
"I just want to sit and talk with you," I said. "Maybe cuddle and kiss."
"You got any place in mind?" he asked. "You know, someplace preferably with food and water?"
It was then when I remembered the set of keys in my bag.
"There's this farmhouse outside of Hannelore," I said. "It's quite far out, but Isabella and I stayed there for some time. It's quite well-stocked too. And there's nobody around."
"You sure there's no one there?" he asked.
"I personally buried the family that lived there," I replied.
Leslie seemed a bit surprised.
"Did you kill them?" he asked, genuinely shocked.
"Nah, nothing like that," I reassured him. "They killed themselves, and I just helped to bury their bodies."
"Ah," he remarked. "That's very kind of you."
"And I've also locked the place up and took the keys with me," I said to him. "So here's hoping that nobody had entered in our absence."
"Anyway," the young man replied. "Hanging out with you, just the two of us in an empty house. . . That sounds really ideal. It's been so long since we've been truly alone."
"So. . . Farmhouse it is then?" I asked.
"Yup."
As we cruised down the abandoned road, Leslie rolled down his window and hummed a tune as we drove. He seemed so carefree, as if something heavy has been lifted off his shoulders. His eyes on the road, I watched him as I played around with the flowers in my hand.
It's been a while since I felt this happy.