EYEHEARTZOMBIES

I drove slow to Modesto, too. A normally five hour trip ended up taking me seven hours and I didn’t get into town until relatively late. The car I was in had an AM radio, so I listened to the news and weather from Vegas.

It hadn’t taken long for the police to find the two dead men in the desert. A passing driver had noticed them and called the police as soon as she got home. The police had no idea how they had died or why they were out there in the desert, but they had the first thug’s gun and some tire prints. They had every confidence they’d be able to solve the murder before the end of the month.

They had also found Max’s body. His casino had been expecting him to come in to work around nine-thirty that night and he had never shown. Around midnight they sent someone over to see where had gotten himself off to and they found his body. They called the police and, of course, they had everything under control. No mention of Mob ties or any suspicion of the two crimes being related. I drove on, feeling a lot better about everything.

I reached Modesto around three in the morning, having stopped for lunch and dinner and to pick up the gun and ammunition. I didn’t even think about trying to find a motel, so I just pulled over into a parking lot for a supermarket and lay down in the back seat.

I had the dream again. I was scrambling for a hiding spot in my closet, but this time when the door opened, it wasn’t a gun that looked in at me. This time it was Max that looked in. He looked at me and then blood started to pour out of his nose and eyes and ears. He opened his mouth and screamed “Why? Why were you always better!?” at me and blood streamed out of his mouth, too. I screamed at him in the dream, screamed that it wasn’t my fault, and must have screamed myself awake. I sat up, the sunlight just beginning to peak over the eastern horizon. I sat there for a few more minutes to make sure my head was clear, then I drove into town to see about a motel.