They were both aware in that moment they were having a different discussion than the words they exchanged.
The brothers went into the house.
Tom led the way down a hall and into a spacious living room that had once been light and airy. Now it was pale and filled with dust. The wallpaper had faded, and there were animal tracks on the floor. There was a cold fireplace and a mantel filled with picture frames. The pictures were of a family. Mother and father. A smiling son in a uniform. A baby in a blue blanket. Two women who might have been twin sisters. Brothers and cousins and grandparents. Everyone was smiling. Benny stood looking at the pictures for a long time and then reached up and took one down. A wedding picture.
“Where are they?” he asked softly.
“In here,” said Tom.
Still holding the picture, Benny followed Tom through a dining room and into a kitchen. The windows were open and the yard was filled with trees. Two straight-backed chairs sat in front of the window and in the chairs were two withered zombies. Both of them turned their heads toward the sound of footsteps. Their jaws were tied shut with silken cord. The man was dressed in the tatters of an old blue police uniform; the woman wore a tailored frilly white party dress whose sleeves were dark with blood that had dried years ago. Benny came around front and looked from them to the wedding picture and back again.
“It’s hard to tell. ”
“Not when you get used to it,” said Tom. “The shape of the ears, the height of the cheekbones, the angle of the jaw, the distance between the nose and upper lip. Those things won’t change even after years. ”
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Benny said again.
“That’s up to you. ” Tom took his knife from his boot. “I’ll quiet one, and you can quiet the other. If you’re ready. If you can. ”
Tom went to stand behind the man. He gently pushed the zombie’s head forward and placed the tip of the knife at the base of his skull, doing everything slowly, reminding Benny of how it had to be done.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” said Benny.
“I’ve already said it,” said Tom. “A thousand times. I waited, because I knew that you might want to say something. ”
“I didn’t know them,” said Benny. “Not like I thought. …”
A tear fell from Tom’s eye onto the back of the struggling zombie’s neck.
He plunged the blade and the struggles stopped. Just like that.
Tom hung his head for a moment as a sob broke in his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said, and then, “Be at peace. ”
He sniffed and held the knife out to Benny.
“I can’t!” Benny said, backing away. “Jesus Christ, I can’t!”
Tom stood there, tears rolling down his cheeks, holding the knife out. He didn’t say a word.
“God … please don’t make me do this,” said Benny.
Tom shook his head.
“Please, Tom. ”
Tom lowered the knife.
The female zombie threw her weight against the cords and uttered a shrill moan that was like a dagger in Benny’s mind. He covered his ears and turned away. He dropped into a crouch, face tucked into the corner between the back door and the wall, shaking his head.
Tom stood where he was.
It took Benny a long, long time. He stopped shaking his head and leaned his forehead against the wood. The zombie in the chair kept moaning. Benny turned and dropped onto his knees. He dragged a forearm under his nose and sniffed.
“She’ll be like that forever, won’t she?”
Tom said nothing.
“Yes,” said Benny, answering his own question. “Yes. ”