Real Men Don't Cry

For the first time in a long time, it was quiet. The fall air was beginning to get colder with winter coming closer. Leaves danced with the litter on the blood stained concrete when the wind blew. Besides the wind, there seemed to be no sound but the four survivors breathing. There wasn’t even a groan from a nearby zombie.

Ellis had seen many movies like this. He had his gun loaded, ready to shot at anything that moved. He knew that something like a Tank would pop out of nowhere and attack them right before they made it to the safe room.

Rochelle was the exact opposite. She had begun to calm down from the wind gently blowing a few strands that escaped her pony-tail. With no moaning or screaming, she had begun to let her guard down.

Coach only wondered why there wasn’t a single zombie around. There had only been three of them on the street. When the last one was dead, they couldn’t even hear the witch the passed on the way here. He began to wonder the same as Ellis.

Nick didn’t care. All he wanted to do was hurry to the safe room and take a long nap. He’d already be lying down, his gun on safety and by his side as he fell into a light slumber. If only the other three weren’t so worried.

“I hear a hunter.” Ellis said pointing his gun in the direction of the noise. Coach and Rochelle pointed their guns in the same direction, even though they didn’t hear a thing. Nick rolled his eyes and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket.

“There’s no Hunter, Ellis.” He said lighting the cancer stick. “You’re just hearing things.”

Nick turned his back to the other three, ignoring everything they might have done or said, and fell into his own world. In his world, he did nothing by smoke and remember his past. He closed his eyes and let himself wonder into the old days before the zombie apocalypse started.

In his world, he thought of his wedding day, remembering how beautiful Janet looked in her pure white wedding dress. Her red hair sat on her shoulders. Her smile was bright and happy. A bouquet of blue tulips sat in her painted hands. Nick wondered how he got to marry someone so beautiful. All the fights they had were forgotten when they said ‘I do’.

The perfect day made a turn for the worst when his best man, a man he barely even knew, got drunk. The man started to hit on Janet. When she pushed him away, he punched her square on the face. That’s what Nick got for inviting a man he knew was abusive when drunk. Nick remembered pushing the man away from Janet and punching him repeatedly. Before he knew it, the wedding turned into a bloody fist fight between everyone and everyone. It took three hours to calm Janet down. Even then, Janet didn’t talk to Nick for a week.

His memory changed to when Janet and him had been married a year and a half. Nick sat on the bed, counting the money he had just won from a back alley poker match. Janet walked in, a frown on her tear stained face. Nick raised an eyebrow and moved the money off the bed, motioning for her to sit next to him. Janet didn’t move. She threw a small stick at Nick. When Nick saw the pink plus sign, he left. He came back three hours last with no trace of alcohol or sex. Janet was still awake, crying. Nick held her, not wanting to cry with her because he knew that to be a man, you couldn’t cry. When Janet fell asleep, Nick broke the test in two and threw it away.

In the real world, the three survivors waited for Nick to come out of his little world while looking for the Hunter. All at once, the three screamed, “Hunter!” Nick continued to ignore them. They could take care of one Hunter themselves. Right now, he was relaxed.

In Nick’s world, he was in the hospital, letting Janet squeeze his hand until he felt it was going to pop. Janet screamed loud enough to wake the dead. Her red hair was sticking to her head with sweat. Her breathing was heavy and uneven. Janet’s screams rang in Nick’s hand even after she stopped.

Janet screamed once more and the doctor held a pink, wrinkly, screaming baby covered in blood and goo. The doctor asked Nick if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord. Nick took the scissors they handed him. His hand was shaking so badly that he had to give them the scissors back. Nick knew he would be a father, but now he was one. This was so much more than he expected.

The memory changed to a few hours after his baby was born. Nick was looking down at the small, sleeping baby boy in his arms. Nick had never known what love really was. His parents were abusive and didn’t even know what love was. Janet was the closest thing he ever had to love, and even then, he wasn’t sure it was actually love. But right now, as he held his son in his arms, he knew what love was. He swore he would care for him and love him. Not mattered what happened, he would always love Thomas Jason Morgan.

In the real world, Nick’s cigarette was half way gone. A growl was clearly heard, but Nick didn’t help the three. The survivors were standing in front of the safe room, no one moving or shooting at the Hunter Nick couldn’t see.

“He’s just a child.” Coach said behind Nick.

“I’m not killing a kid.” Rochelle said sternly with a trace of sadness in her voice. Nick would’ve shot the Hunter by now. Child or not, he was a Hunter and the Hunter had to die or he would attack. The Hunter didn’t more. He growled and waiting for one of the survivors to move.

In Nick’s world, he was helping Tommy with his first steps. He was smiling proudly when Tommy’s first word was ‘Daddy’. He was laughing while playing hide n’ seek with Tommy. He was hugging Tommy, saying that he’ll be back soon before walking out of the house. He was traveling from city to city, gambling, sleeping around, and calling Tommy, telling him he had missed him.

His memory changed again to the first time Tommy would stay over at his apartment. Whenever Tommy would stay for a week, Nick quit gambling, he didn’t smoke around Tommy, he didn’t leave to go out to bars and hook up with random women. No, for seven days, Nick spent every minute spending time with Tommy.

On the last day, Nick was had to do something he had no experience in: Calming Tommy down after a bad dream. Janet was the one experienced in this. She was the second child of six kids. Her older brother was never good at calming anyone down. Nick couldn’t remember why her parents never helped. But whenever one of her siblings had a nightmare, they would go to her. When Tommy wakes up from a nightmare, she can calm him down quickly.

Nick however, was an only child who learned to take care of himself. His parents pretty much hated him and only kept him in the house for he could clean and be used as a punching bag. All they did for Nick was put him in school and taught him to lie. When Nick ran away at sixteen, he survived by lying and scamming.

So when Tommy woke up near three in the morning, crying and waking Nick up, Nick had no clue what to do. He tried . . . and failed.

Nick tried to just let Tommy cry it out until he wasn’t scared. Tommy didn’t quit crying even after half an hour. Nick tried to get Tommy to talk about it, but Tommy couldn’t get a word out without chocking on a sob. Nick even tried to telling Tommy that his nightmare wasn’t real and that everything was going to be ok. Talk about your epic fails.

Finally, Nick got tired of Tommy getting his shirt soaked with tears. He grabbed Tommy’s shoulders, careful not to hurt him, and looked Tommy in the green eyes identical to Nick’s.

“Don’t cry Tommy,” He said. “You’re a real man, right?” Tommy nodded slightly. “Real men don’t cry, Tommy.” And with that, Tommy stopped crying and fell asleep in Nick’s bed. Nick couldn’t believe he spent so long trying to stop Tommy from crying when all he had to do was tell him real men didn’t cry.

In the real world, Nick breathed in nicotine from the cigarette before throwing it on the ground. The other three still hadn’t shot the Hunter, and honestly, Nick was pretty sure the Hunter was annoyed having to sit there, nonmoving for a long time, just to get something to eat.

“He’s just a little boy.” Rochelle said sadly. Nick sighed and gave up. He turned around and walked to the group.

“Honestly, you three are a bunch of pussies.” He pushed past the survivors, pulling his pistol from his belt strap. “A Hunters a hunter. You gotta ki—”

Nick’s words caught in his throat as he looked at the small Hunter. The Hunter was short and thin, most likely around forty something pounds and a little over four feet. His dirty blonde hair was short and messy. There were two black holes with scars around the spot where his eyes should’ve been. It looked as if he had scratched them out. His plaid shirt and brown pants where stained with blood. His toes and fingers were both claws.

When Nick saw his son, he had to keep telling himself that real men didn’t cry.