Closer To Heaven-1 by Patrick Sean Lee (best thriller novels of all time .TXT) đ
- Author: Patrick Sean Lee
Book online «Closer To Heaven-1 by Patrick Sean Lee (best thriller novels of all time .TXT) đ». Author Patrick Sean Lee
ONE
January, 2014
My father was an astronaut I think.
I canât be sure because I was only eight when they all died, and there is no one I knew back then that survived who could tell me if it was true. But Iâm pretty sure he was. He worked in Marysville where we lived, and left each morning to go to his job at Cape Canaveral, somewhere outside of the city. I remember hearing that name one day and I asked him what Cape Canaveral was. He told me thatâs where they launch rocket ships from, and that he was going to go there. Each day when he left to fly someplace he took his lunchbox with him, and my mother always kissed him goodbye at the front door, telling him to have a safe trip.
Munster, the boy I met after everything went to pieces just before Christmas, told me I was an idiot; that Cape Canaveral was in Florida, not California, and that my father had probably been on his way to the nutty farm, which Munster said is where I should be. I kicked him in the shins when he said that because Iâm not crazy, and neither was my father. He said, too, that my father could never have been an astronaut because he wasnât smart enough, and he bet Daddy never even flew a little plane, let alone a rocket ship. That he probably worked in a gas station because astronauts donât need lunch boxes, and their kids donât live in ghettos and wear crappy clothes.
I cried when he said that to me, and that made him feel bad because he apologized.
*
I met Munster when I was going up and down the street a couple of months ago, knocking on the Jamesâ front door, and the Raineysâs, and the Horvatâs. Every one of our neighbors that I knew, and lots I had never ever met. No one would answer because they were all dead, even Jason Mark James who was in my grade at school, and lived four doors away. I didnât want to think about him or his parents or little sister dead inside their house, and I began to cry. I went and sat down on their porch swing and put my hands over my face. I didnât know what to do, and that scared me very much. I couldnât call anyone because the phones didnât work anymore, and neither did the TV or the computer. But then I thought maybe it was just our phone and TV and computer that didnât work anymore. Maybe the Jamesâ phone was still working, and so I jumped off the swing and wiped the tears out of my eyes. Somebodyâs voice stopped me.
âHi.â
Thatâs what Munster first said to me, and I didnât know whether to run away or jump up and down and clap my hands. He wasnât carrying a gun or a knife or an axe, and that made me feel safer. I wasnât alone anymore. He told me his name, and he hadnât said I was stupid or crazy yet, so we became friends.
Munster told me not to bother trying to get into the Jamesâ house because heâd already broken in. They were all curled up together on their couch, he said, not breathing or moving, and he said, too, that heâd tried their phone and TV, but didnât bother with the computer. Nothing worked.
âIf you donât believe me,â he said, âIâll show you the busted window in the back where I threw a brick through and then went in.â
I told him I believed him and then asked where he lived. I lived four doors up, and I pointed.
*
I slept at his house starting that night because he had lots of candles and a lighter and I wouldnât have to cry and be so afraid at night anymore. I slept in his room. I didnât want to fall asleep all by myself ever again, but I slept on the floor because girls donât sleep with boys, at least until they get married, and I didnât like Munster enough yet to get married to him. So I slept on the floor beside his bed with lots of blankets, and a candle sitting on a shoebox close to my head, but not too close. I was so happy to have a friend again, and someone who I could sleep in the same room with. Besides, his mother and father werenât in the house, and it wasnât spooky like my house. And it didnât smell bad. Heâd taken his mother and father out into the backyard three weeks ago and dug a grave for them, he said. I asked him if heâd help me dig a grave for my parents the next day, but he said no. So I curled up and went to sleep and dreamed Daddy and Momma were still alive.
Me and Munster spent the next day and the next day and the next walking around the neighborhood where we both lived, looking for anything alive, and I didnât cry so much, being with him. Munster threw more rocks through more windows a lot, and he went inside and then unlocked the front doors for me. Sometimes Iâd go in, but I didnât like the smell, so sometimes I wouldnât go in. He took things a lot and brought them back to his house, and my house, now. I guess that was okay because the people were dead and werenât alive anymore.
I thought I saw a dog down in the ravine near my house. It might have been a coyote, though, because there are lots of them around hereâor there used to beâand they creep around at night and eat cats that get out of their ownersâ houses. If it was a dog I think it would have been happy to see us, so it must have been a coyote because they donât like humans.
Yesterday I asked Munster why his parents named him that.
âThatâs a funny name,â I said.
âIt ainât my real name. I changed it when I met you.â
âWhy?â
âBecause I didnât like the name my mom and dad gave me.â
âWhat did you used to be? Maybe Iâd like it,â I said to him.
âIt was Francis. Francis Moreno Gardella. The kids at school made fun of my name, even though I ask âem to call me Frank, not Francis, which sounds like a girlâs name. My friends called me Frank, but the older guys wouldnât. Harry Podruski isâŠwasâŠin fourth grade, and I hated him. He called me Francine and sometimes he hit me if I told him to shut up. Iâm glad heâs dead.â
âMaybe he isnât dead,â I said.
âHa! If he isnât, then he will be if I see him âcuz I found a gun, and Iâll shoot him, just like I would if I saw that coyote.â
That made me sad. I wouldnât shoot the coyote, and I sure wouldnât shoot Harry Podruski because that would be murder. I told Munster that.
We didnât see anyone, not even the coyote again, and so we went back home each afternoon after walking around all day and sometimes breaking into dead peopleâs houses. At night we played Scrabble, which I wasnât very good at because I donât know how to spell that many words, and I wouldnât cheat like Munster did by looking in the dictionary. So we started playing Monopoly, but he cheated in that game too.
Thatâs how we lived until the food at our house ran out.
*
It was raining. We were standing outside a gas station under the big awning. Each of us had a plastic bag filled with potato chips and candy bars and a few cans of Coke, but there wasnât any lightning or thunder. It was one of those mini-mart stores, six blocks or so away from Munsterâs and my house. I donât remember the name, but after we went inside I saw the guy who ran it lying behind the counter, his feet anyway, and there was another guy and a woman lying on our side. They smelled and there were flies all over them. Munster told me not to eat any of the sandwiches in the cooler because there was no electricity and the mayonnaise and meat in them were probably rotten, and itâd make me sicker than a dog. So, I didnât. But we filled a few bags with stuff we liked that wasnât meat, and didnât have mayonnaise in it, and then we left.
It was starting to get dark and I didnât want to walk anywhere in the rain because I didnât bring an umbrella or even a raincoat. Munster said we couldnât stay in the store because the flies had germs all over them and theyâd spread them on us. Weâd get sick and keel over like those dead people, so weâd have to go back home and hope the flies didnât follow us.
âIs that what killed everyone?â I asked.
âProbâly not, but those people are all rotten and filled with germs, and the flies eat âem,â he said.
âWhat do you think killed everyone then if it wasnât germy flies?â
He told me he didnât know, but that it didnât matter a bit anyway. Everyone except us was just dead. Thatâs all he knew for sure.
âI donât think everyone is dead,â I said.
âYouâre crazy as hell.
âNo Iâm not. And donât cuss at me. We arenât dead, so everyone isnât dead. I want to go over to my auntâs house, Munster. Maybe sheâs alive. Can we go there?â
It started raining harder and I could hear the drops of rain banging on the metal awning above us. It sounded like hail, but I didnât see any. It was really noisy and it made me scared. Munster looked out at the big parking lot where the gas pumps were and then took out a pack of cigarettes heâd stoled. Heâd stoled a lighter, too, but I guessed since the guy who ran the store was dead that it was okay to take whatever we wanted. Except cigarettes because theyâll kill you just like germy flies. Daddy told me that, and so did Momma. But Munster lit one anyway, and I could see he was thinking, and that he wasnât going to answer my question. So I asked him again. âCan we go?â
âGo where?â
Munster blew out a puff of smoke when he answered me, and he coughed. I knew that the cigarette would make him sick, maybe not as sick as those people inside who died, maybe from fly germs, but if he kept smoking them he would die just as dead. I didnât tell him that because I was afraid heâd get mad at me, so I just answered his question.
âI want to go to Aunt Marjorieâs house. Can we go?â
âWe canât go anywhere until this fuckinâ rain stops.â
He used that word a lot. I told him that it wasnât nice, that my parents said I shouldnât use it one day when they were still alive and Iâd asked them what it meant. I kind of knew. Itâs just a word lots of grownups and teenagers use. Itâs called an adjective, like stupid rain or dumbass rain, but they said not to use it because words sometimes have lots of other meanings. So I didnât use it.
I told Munster he shouldnât use it either a long time ago, but he said it was okay because him and me were the only ones whoâd hear it, and if I didnât like it I could plug my ears.
âHow can I plug my ears because by the time I do, youâve already said it!â
He laughed. He knew I was right. That didnât stop him, though. Anyway, no one will care if he uses that
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