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Chapter VIII

When I woke early the next morning, for a second I looked up at the waning stars and inky black sky and thought I was at the cabin. That everything that had happened was a dream, that I couldn't possibly be here, stuck on the roof of some shitty small town auto shop. The wolf that earned his knickname being so successful people used to just see me, and think of money. So much that people stopped making fun of my real first name, forgot it altogether, and Cash Cahill came to be.

I told King my real first name after our first few dates, and he laughed so hard at it even he decided to stick with calling me Cash. Which is good, because I hated my first name as much as I hated it when he called me 'Queen', but like an angry parent scolding a child, he never used it unless he was really mad at me, or wanted a rise out of me.

Before the world went to shit I had everything you could want, and even more shit I didn't need. The 'vacation' King and I were on when everything hit was a joke in itself; I worked from home when I wanted to work, I owned three houses so I could always have my pick of the city, the mountains, or the beach. Most of my 'work' consisted of deciding which car would be most impressive to drive to the office, what suit made me look the sharpest, what restaurant I wanted to waste an obscene amount of money at, and before I met King, how high I should set my standards when picking up guys at the bars and clubs.

Money makes people look past a lot, and it turns you into someone you never thought you could, or would be. I came from a poor home, and when I started to be successful, the first thing I did was take care of my family. But after that, along the way, I lost those values. I lost that perspective, and to be brutally honest I became a rich asshole. People admired me for what I was, and not who I was, and over time, that shallow feeling started to build and build. I had lots of friends and more than a few boyfriends, but I never thought about how I treated them, or if they would stick by me if all that money was suddenly gone.

How and why King tolerated me when we met I'll never know, and even now it's a mystery to me why he hasn't left. I am glad he did stay because at least he brought me down a few levels, centered me, reminded me I'm still mortal. He noticed the flash, but saw past it. He listened to the slick talk, but called me on my bullshit. He saw the houses, the cars, the art, but he also saw that I was just compensating for an emptiness in my life. And the more time I spent with him, the more Cash the asshole disappeared.

King was only the second generation of his family born in America, his grandparents came over from Africa and he worked the same farm they had, honestly, just like they did. He even joined the armed forces because that's just who he was: he was a good soul that liked to help people, even if he did have some flaws like the rest of us. He was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I'd trade everything from my old life to keep him safe, and I knew enough about him to know he'd do the same.

The thing about being happy is that you never really realize you have happiness in your life until it leaves, when it's gone. I used to think I was happy; I had every reason to be, but I had no way of knowing it for sure. And looking back, I didn't really believe I was ever happy, I just created the illusion that I was. King was the only thing in my life that I could count on to bring me true happiness. And even he didn't deserve me; I was nicer to him than anyone else in my life, but I still treated him like a child too often, placing my feelings in front of his. I listened to him but didn't hear what he had to say, somehow what I wanted always seemed to take precedent. Early on in our relationship I had thought he deserved better than me, and that thought still lingered in the back of my mind even now.

And as the sky lightened that realization hit me again, the feeling I assumed I was past, that there was no way we could go back. Sure there were some pros. I didn't have to worry about shareholder meetings, how my stocks were doing, weekly meetings and flights on weekends I wanted to stay home.

Yet in some ways it was still the same. I still could basically do what I wanted and take what I wanted, but now the things I did were for basic survival: I took food and water instead of taking over companies, I did things to stay alive instead of make money.

In a hard way I had a bad time letting go of my ego too. Before, I had enough money that things like laws were just things for my lawyer to deal with, now there weren't even any cops to give me so much as a speeding ticket. Now I walked around all day with a bunch of guns like some action hero, shooting down zombies like I was the star of my own movie. The aches and pains I woke up with every morning, the ones I used to bitch about to anyone that would listen, now I ignored them because I was just thankful to wake up again. And when I gave it some thought even that was some sort of joke, being 'lucky' to wake up to another day to this mess.

Now my life seemed silly, contrite, pointless. Now I was finding out who I really was, things like morals and character that hadn't really ever mattered to me, now that was what mattered. All the stuff that used to make me popular, successful, no one could give two shits about. Now you were something if you knew how to hunt, to shoot, to find food or make a fire. I went from a somebody in the old world to a nobody in this new world and I hadn't taken the time to process that. I hadn't ever taken the time to be a good person, with morals and charcter.

As if on cue, I opened my eyes to watch the last stars faded and the sunlight begin to peak out, and as I came out of my thoughts I heard the moans from below. Still there, still waiting. Like besieging a castle in the Middle Ages, it only took time and resources, and the dead had an unlimited supply of both. We could either wait up here to starve to death, or jump down below to be eviscerated. What a life.

Yesterday wasn't a dream, or a nightmare, it was reality. That was day to day now. No matter how hard I wanted to forget it, little by little it all started coming back. One minute we were walking in the bright sunshine and soft wind, the next we're shouting over gunfire and the groans of the undead. King and I hadn't seen too many people die directly from the walkers, but the warning Rachel gave us about the city, the situation we had ourselves in now, it all started to sink in.

There was going to be no rime or reason for who was going to live or die. No one was going to have a heroic or noble death, it was going to happen instantly and violently and horribly and nobody had any say in the matter. When we sat around our meager supper the night before we made half-hearted attempts to make light of the day's events, to laugh in the face of death. Hell, if we had leaned our heads over the side of the building we could have literally laughed in the face of death.

Each of us would mention something with a chuckle to the other, like we could laugh it off and move on, but when you looked across from you there was no nervous smile to mirror yours, just an empty stare, an expressionless face. Because it wasn't something to make light of, you couldn't laugh it off, and you had to live it every day. It hit me that that was the struggle Rachel was talking about, and I wasn't sure I had the will to go on forever just surviving, merely...existing. I didn't know how many pieces inside me could be taken out before I gave up.

Now feeling about as sorry for myself as I could, I quietly got out of my sleeping bag, trying not to disturb King in the process. I walked to the furthest end of the roof, sat on the ledge, and let my feet dangle out over the wall. Even if the fall didn't kill me, I thought, I could just take the pistol out of my bag and end things with one pull of the trigger.

As I stared into the soft morning glow of the sun, I let myself do something I hadn't done since the outbreak started. I let myself cry. First for myself, then for my family, for the loving lion that deserved better than me, for the world that was gone, for the shitty roof we were stuck on, even for those poor rotting bastards teeming and seething below me, because maybe they had it worse than all of us. Like purgatory come to life, cursed to walk the earth eternal until some merciful soul bashed their brains in.

Tears streaming down my face, racking silently with silent sobs, I almost fell off the ledge when Rachel hopped up next to me, dangling her feet over the ledge like a kid joining her friend on the playground swings. For a moment she didn't say anything, she just stared out in the distance, surveying the mess that was now everyday life. She let me cry for a while longer, just sitting there, not even looking over at me as the morning wind slowly ruffled the unkempt fur on the top of her head.

"So, bad morning huh? Do I even need to ask what's wrong?" she asked.

Unable to say anything I just spread my arms out wide, gesturing to the mess in front of us, the walkers below us.

"Ahhhh...this," she replied, mimicking the gesture I just made. "You wanna know how I got here Cash? To here?" she asked, again spreading her arms out to the world in front of us. I didn't answer but she went on anyways.

"I was on vacation too, just like you and King. Right outside Queen City in a cabin on this beautiful lake. Until I got to the mountains, I thought the sunrises and sunsets on that lake were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I had a husband, and we got up early every morning to watch the sunrise, stayed out on the water each night to watch the sunsets. In the morning the water would dance and glow as the birds slowly woke up, you could watch geese, and ducks, even a blue heron once. We'd sip coffee and sit in the silence..." she smiled brightly as the memory came back to her, pausing for a moment. "At sunset we'd do the same with a good bottle of wine, watch the sun shimmer on the water as fish splashed here and there, we'd argue about whether the sun made the sky or the water look prettier. My husband," her voice breaking a little, "always said the sun made me look the prettiest, that the sky and water always tried to compete, but they never had a chance of winning."

I looked over at the coyote, her eyes wet with tears, but she still stared into the distance. I couldn't imagine Rachel, the survivor married, a housewife? Needless to say she had my attention.

"We had a nice cabin, so the night the outbreak hit our area we knew something was up because we had the T.V. on, but everyone was so confused, first it was terrorists, then a new flu, nobody knew. Then we saw this guy," she paused rubbing a paw on her muzzle and trying to steady her voice, "this poor fucking lanky fox, running across the opposite side of the lake, screaming his head off, being chased by a huge pack of all kinds of species. I joked with my husband that since the news said the world was gonna end we needed to go party with them the next night, because they were having some real fun. Then he tripped, the roamers caught him, and my husband and I watched that fox get eaten alive as his screams echoed horribly across the lake."

Now I had wiped the tears from my eyes, and I couldn't tear my gaze away from Rachel. This coyote had gone from housewife on vacation to this? I couldn't believe it.

"He was smarter than me, my husband, he knew something bad was happening and he got us inside right away, locked all the doors and windows, pulled the shades, cut the lights. Smarter than me he was..." she broke off. "Anyways, it wasn't long before some idiot came screaming near our cabin for help, and although my husband said not to, I opened the door to look out. Never saw the guy, but dozens of roamers saw me open the door, and they were on our cabin in minutes, trapped us inside, over the next few hours there had to be over fifty of them around the cabin. So not knowing what to do my husband pours me a drink, tells me we'll be safe tonight." "'Sleep the best you can babe, and we're gonna leave in the morning, it will all get better'. He always knew what to say," she said with a faint smile.

"So he tells me he's gonna stay up, keep watch, he'll wake me if anything happens. My adrenaline was going but I fell asleep at some point in the night," she explained, tears now streaming down her face. She cried silently for a long time before going on.

"And that bastard," she choked out after a while, "that beautiful, perfect bastard snuck out a window while I was asleep, made a bunch of noise or something, and drew all the walkers away from that cabin. That son of a bitch!" she said harshly through the tears, "sacrificed himself to save me. He was everything to me, my whole world, my best friend, the only being on this planet that made me better and happier just being with him."

Rachel cried a long time after that, and all I could think to do was wrap my arms around her gently and comfort her the best I could. Words are pale and meaningless sometimes, sometimes you just have to hug somebody, because that says more than any words can.

"My point is," she sniffed after a long silence, "is that we were supposed to die together, and for a long time I went around just waiting my turn. At first I was bitter, I figured that if somebody I loved that much was taken from me like that, then fuck everybody else, fuck the world. I'm just going to care about me, that's the only way to survive. But to throw my life away after he did all that, what would he say to me if I just gave up after what he did for me?"

The sun had come up a long ways since I first sat on the ledge, and warm sunshine warmed my fur and started to dry the tears from my muzzle.

"There's always a reason to give up Cash, but the real test is to find a reason to keep going. And you have one still sleeping right over there," she said pointing a thumb back towards where King was still sleeping. "Don't throw your life away so easily, there's plenty of things out there that are willing to do it for you. If you can't fight for yourself, at least fight for him...for me," she added after a pause.

"Thanks Rachel," was all I could meekly respond.

"Anytime wolf, anytime," and she swung her legs back onto the roof, walking back towards the makeshift camp to undoubtedly start breakfast.

"Hey Rachel," I called, before she got too far, "if you don't mind me asking, what was his name?"

Again the coyote's eyes began to glisten, and I thought she wasn't going to answer as she turned away from me, but she didn't walk away.

"Kye," she said with some difficulty, "the black wolf that was my soulmate, my world, his name was Kye."

"And that lion loves you the way I loved Kye," she said boldly, wiping her eyes with the back of her arm, "I see it in the way he talks to you, treats you, looks after you. Don't throw that away either."

With that she left to start breakfast, and I could only stare as I felt tears begin to well up again, this time not for myself, but for a coyote named Rachel, a lion named King, and one hell of a brave wolf I would never know named Kye.