Population Zero

Chapter Seven

The night of his wife's funeral, after everyone had finally gone home, Todd's father, Randy, was visited by the pastor of the church, the one who had performed the funeral service. Todd had thought it odd that the man hadn't come back to their house to eat like everyone else. He found it odder still that the man had come back after the other guests had gone.

The kitchen table was cluttered with Tupperware containers filled with food, casserole dishes covered with aluminum foil, plates of fried chicken, pies, cakes, and sympathy cards. Todd and his father were trying to find room for it all in the refrigerator when the doorbell rang. Todd watched his father shuffle wearily toward the front door. He looked through the peephole then unlocked the deadbolt and ushered the pastor into the apartment.

"Reverend James. Come on in."

Reverend James was young for a preacher. He couldn't have been older than forty. He had icy bluish gray eyes, black curly hair, dimpled cheeks, and a square jaw with full, almost feminine, lips. He was a beautiful man, beautiful in a way that made other men uncomfortable. Everyone in his congregation assumed that he was gay. Todd's father had made the same assumption. He was wrong.

The two men went into the kitchen and his dad made the reverend a cup of coffee. Then Todd was sent to his room.

Todd was sitting on the floor playing with his transformers when the shouting started.

"You? You? You did this? And you had the nerve to preach at her funeral? You killed her! You sonuvabitch! You killed her!"

Todd could not hear the preacher's reply. He heard the wet smack and thud of flesh hitting flesh then furniture falling and breaking followed by a gunshot, a sick gurgling sound, another gunshot then the thud of something heavy hitting the floor, a long pause, followed by the sound of his father weeping.

"Oh shit. Oh shit. What did I do? I'm going to prison. How could you do this, Rachael? How could you do this to me?"

There was more silence, more tears, followed by whispering that Todd could not decipher. Then he heard the words that made him dart from his room and run toward the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Toddy. I can't do it. I just can't do it. I can't go to prison. I can't live without your mom. I'm sorry."

Todd ran into the kitchen just as his father placed the gun in his mouth. Todd saw the priest's body lying on the floor with the hands clenching and unclenching and the legs bicycling slowly as if the man was still trying to run, only half his skull was missing and he wasn't going anywhere. Blood pumped out of what was left of the man's face. Todd looked back over at his father. A single tear raced down his cheek and then he seemed to smile, even with the Desert Eagle. 50 cal. filling his mouth. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. Todd closed his eyes too. He stood there in the kitchen with two bodies twitching on the floor beside him and blood pooling at his feet for the second time in less than a week. Todd was an orphan now. He was all alone. He turned and walked out of the room and this time he did not cry.