Status: L O A D I N G . . .

T.A.H.I.T.I

Part Two

It had been five months since the silver haired boy made his way into our lives but he was a growing memory. I still thought about him from time to time. The gentle tension of his muscles as rigor started to eep out of them and the stark white palor of his skin under that harsh glow. Some would say he was beautiful but to me it was just sad. Such a waste of what could have been. Death was so unfair. What could that man have been, I had found myself wondering of late, and I had come up with quite a long list of everything he could have accomplished. He could have been the doctor to cure cancer. He could have been an Olympian, a champion for the USA or wherever he was from. He could have walked his daughter down the aisle. He could have been a dad or someone’s husband. He could have been a grandfather who told stories of his youth in battle torn cities like Sokovia or about his time in the government group SHIELD- he could have been someone great or special. Everyone was special to someone and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering who he belonged to. Who shed tears longing to hear that man’s voice just one last time? Who didn’t get a chance to say goodbye? I was beginning to give myself headaches from all the depressing questioning and the way I sounded like Deacon made my stomach lurch. Deacon was constantly thinking about death and its finality. He was transfixed but he had his reasons as all people do for their obsessions. He probably wouldn’t like that I referred to it as an obsession.

The stars twinkled in and out of view in an inky black and clear sky. I lay in the hammock on the back porch just staring up at them and letting my thoughts roll in and out with the tide I could hear in the distance. Living on an island by ourselves had its perks- like being able to watch the stars and hear the ocean. No neighbors with noisy music or rowdy parties. Just my dad and I, sometimes joined by Deacon or a patient. It was tranquil and peaceful for the most part which was good for the people who came to the island looking for peace of mind and recuperation. I took a deep breath and sighed slowly, letting the sterile air from my oxygen tank fill my lungs as I relaxed into the hammock and closed my eyes for a brief moment. A loud thud in the house stirred me, the sound shaking the porch subtly as I sat up and looked in through the back sliding glass door. Dad was running past and into the kitchen and then a blue blur cut him off and threw him to the ground. I grabbed my tank and hurried as quiet but as quick as I could into the room.

Dad gasped as a man hoisted him off his feet with an arm over his throat. He had curly brown hair and from the hospital gown he wore I could see scars- bullet scars. I frowned as Dad kept his eyes on the man and he spoke in a foreign tongue, voice hoarse as if it hadn’t been used in a long while.

“Bo no don’t-!” Dad gasped as the man turned his head just in time for me to whack him in the temple with my oxygen tank. I stared at the unconscious body on the floor with wide eyes. It was! It was the man from five months ago! But that couldn’t be because that man had certainly been dead. Really dead. As dead as anyone could be! “Bo why did you do that!?” Dad gasped falling to his knees to check the man on the floor.

“I saved you! He was going to eat you!”

“Eat me? You- You think he was going to eat me?” Dad asked incredulously and I nodded as if it were obvious.

“He was dead! I saw him. Five months ago that man was dead, with bullet holes like- everywhere!” I gestured to my entire torso. “And you brought him back!?” I shrieked and Dad looked up at me with confused and then concerned eyes.

“You think he’s a zombie?” he asked and I nodded with a weak,

“Yeah.” Dad looked at the body crumpled on the floor, a wet spot where he bled on his head from my blow then back up at me.

“Well- you’re not wrong.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I shrieked and Dad winced at my high pitched tone, my hands flailing about as I tried to comprehend everything that was going on. I buried my fingers in my salt dried hair and stared down at my dad as he stood and stepped over the body to where I stood. He went to speak but his voice broke from having been strangled so he cleared it and then pulled my hands out of my hair.

“I’ll explain everything but first I need to get Mr Maximoff to his room.”

“He’s staying?” I squeaked and Dad smiled as he kissed my head, my eyes trained on the body on the floor as he groaned. I grabbed for my tank and Dad stilled my hands.

“He’s our patient, Bo, he’ll need you. I need you. Just- five minutes okay?” Dad asked holding up five fingers. I nodded mutely, unable to trust my already high voice from reaching glass shattering pitches as Dad hoisted the tall man onto his shoulders military style and started for the stairs. I watched with wide doe eyes, just staring at the spectacle of my dad carrying a zombie upstairs to the guest room where he would- apparently- be staying with us for the foreseeable future. I looked at my feet and pushed a hand through my hair before closing my eyes and shaking my head.

“I need tea,” I decided in a breathless voice before heading to the kitchen and looking for the Relaxing Mint tea dad and I keep for days we found ourselves stressed. Dad keeps this up and I might help myself to the liquor cabinet, too.
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