Kody Boye - Sunrise

Guam.

As he sat there, pupils dilating and eyes flickering beneath their lids, memories so clear and vivid he could nearly touch them began to flood over his vision. Running across the shore in only his sandals and board shorts, boys his age and even younger chasing after him; lizards slinking in the weeds; birds cawing from the canopies of palm trees and monkeys screaming from their homes—all of this and more continued to bombard him, filling him with a sense of happiness he hadn’t felt since the day he was told his unit would be stationed there for a year and a half.

Gentlemen, the commanding officer had said. Welcome to your new home.

“Hello?” a voice asked.

“What?” he replied.

“I thought you were supposed to be babysitting us.”

Erik opened his eyes. Arnold stood before him, his stern but harrowing gaze looking down at him. He leaned forward as the boy took a few steps back. “I fell asleep.”

“No use in you being here if you can’t stay awake,” the boy snapped.

“Look,” Erik sighed. He set his hands on his knees and leaned forward, taking extra care to soften his gaze so he wouldn’t upset the younger of the two boys. “I’m sorry I’m such a hardass, guys, but I know what you’re going through.”

“No you don’t,” Arnold replied. “You have no fucking idea.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because you didn’t lose your brother.”

“Think again, kid, because I lost my brother when I was the same age as you.”

Arnold’s eyes widened. Jason, who had succumbed to his nerves a few minutes before, stopped rocking on his heels. He, too, watched Erik with a sense of awe and understanding that the older man found hard to take.

All it takes is a good slap in the face to show you just how much someone can be like you.

“You…lost your brother?” Arnold echoed. “When you were my age?”

“Yeah,” Erik replied. “My brother was only seven when he died from Leukemia.”

“That’s cancer,” Mark said. “Right?”

“Right, Mark, Leukemia: a bone marrow cancer. I watched my little brother die right before my eyes, which is probably the exact same thing you two saw when your brother died. You know what I did? Huh?”

“What?” Arnold asked, voice low and without its previous animosity.

“I started doing drugs. I found any prescription pill I could in the house and started sneaking them. Not too many at a time, but just enough so I wouldn’t get caught. And before you even begin to think about it, don’t think what I did helped me in any way. Drugs are never the answer.”

“Why did you take them then?”

“Because I had no one else to go to,” Erik said. “Because I had no one who understood my pain.”

“Erik?” Mark asked. “When does it stop?”

“What?”

“The hurting.”

“Never,” Erik sighed, a tear slipping out the corner of his eye. “It never stops hurting, buddy. You know why? Because there’s no cure for someone dying on you.”

Neither child said a word.

Erik set his eyes on the far wall and sighed when a picture of the family, all four whole, looked back at him.

These poor kids.

They would never lead normal lives. Never would they return to school to kick the ball or jump the rope, climb the ladder or lift the weights, nor would they likely ever find someone to make their complete part even fuller. They would never graduate from school, attend college or flip burgers to pay off student loans, and not once would they have to worry about paying rent or mortgage. Most of all, they would never have the chance to be free, like birds outside their nests when their mothers first taught them to fly.

In the end, they would probably never fully recover from their brother’s death.

Hopefully— hopefully— it wouldn’t tear them apart.

Dakota lifted a packet of watermelon seeds and examined them in the pale yellow light streaming through the dirty greenhouse windows. “Where do you plan on putting these once we get back?”

“In the windows,” Jamie replied.

“You plan on putting watermelon seeds in the windows?”

“Not in them, below them.”

“You said in the windows.”

“Don’t get all technical on me, babe. We’ll have to start growing our own food sooner or later. The canned shit isn’t going to last forever.”

“I know,” Dakota said. “It just doesn’t seem worth it.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Trying to grow something new from something old.”

“New things can always come out of the old,” Jamie said, crossing the room. He set a hand in the small of Dakota’s back and leaned forward to look at the pack of watermelon seeds. “See these seeds, babe?”

“They’re in my hand, Jamie. Of course I see them.”

“I know, but do you really see them?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The vine, Dakota. The plant. The fruit. Do you see it?”

“I…Jamie, what are you talking about?”

“I see it, Dakota. I see it growing in our front yard and feeding us after a long, hot day of work. You might not be able to see it right in front of your eyes, but I see it.”

A twig snapped somewhere behind them.

Jamie and Dakota spun, guns drawn and poised.

A black-skinned humanoid with dark eyes stood outside in the orchard, arm stretched toward an apple tree shadowing the path leading out of the greenhouse.

“What…the…fuck?” Jamie breathed, lowering his gun.

The creature tilted its head, blinked, then reached for the single apple hanging from the end of a branch. Like a child set upon the forbidden prizes of its parents’ closet, it grasped the fruit with its thin, bony fingers. A simple tug was all it took to free the grail from its holy perch.

When the apple hit the ground with an audible thump, the creature groaned.

Dakota stepped forward, lowering his gun to his side.

“Dakota,” Jamie warned, “don’t.”

Not bothering to heed his boyfriend’s request, Dakota walked toward the tree, crouched down before the creature and extended his fingers to grab the apple. Once firmly in his hand, he stood, jumping when he realized how close he’d come to the humanoid.

Don’t be afraid, he thought, slightly mystified as the creature’s fruity breath entered his nose. If it were a zombie, it would’ve already hurt you.

Then again, how was he to know whether or not this thing—this zombie— was actually docile? It was clearly no tiger bent on ripping his throat out, or it would already have done so, but that didn’t necessarily make it a lamb either.

“Hello,” he managed.

The creature blinked.

Dakota lifted his arm and extended the apple toward it. “You dropped it,” he said. “Go on, take it. It’s yours.”

“Uh,” the thing grunted.

It took the apple from Dakota’s hand just in time for Kevin and Rose to enter the greenhouse from the corridor branching into the gardening center behind Jamie.

“What the hell?” Rose breathed.

Kevin merely stared.

Not sure what to think at the sudden appearance of two new people, the black-skinned humanoid took a few steps back and situated itself beneath the dipping branches of the apple tree. It stood there, watching them with eyes that could no longer be seen, before lifting its hand and taking one large, meaty bite out of the apple.

“What is this thing?” Rose asked, drawing a gun from her side.

“It’s what Steve, Erik and Ian saw on the way up here,” Jamie said, lowering his gun, but not stowing it from view. “At least, I think that’s what it is.”