Page 54 of Unholy

I am one lucky son of a bitch.

D looks at the girls, confused, then heads over to sit with me, looking stressed. Shaking his head in disbelief, my brother whispers, “She’s pregnant.”

“Who?” I question back.

“Cecilia. We just found out before coming over.”

I smile. Standing, he meets me as I embrace him, and joke, “You are so fucked, brother. They both will have you wrapped around their fingers.”

“Don’t I know it. But fuck.” He pauses. I can hear his thoughts racing. “What if I’m too old for this?”

Stepping back, I laugh. “You are, but it doesn’t change anything. You will still love that kid unconditionally regardless. I mean, look, I’m about to have another grandkid and couldn’t be happier.”

Then a loud scream startles us from behind.

Cecilia must have just told Rylee, she’s jumping with glee. This catches the entire party's attention, and D takes the heat off his lady by announcing, “I knocked her up.” Everyone starts to laugh then cheer. Congratulations roll in and I step back, allowing him to mingle. He hates mingling so this brings even more joy to my day.

Before I can make my way to my granddaughter, Greta barks at me impatiently, “Now where’s that psychotic son of yours?” Yes,sheis still living here.

The Ranch was rebuilt months ago but she’s never moved in. Most of the girls returned and even a few guys. It’s great, but Greta never returned. She helps run it, but has really passed the reins over to Rylee for the more day-to-day operations. It’s a big step and secretly, I’m proud of her, because Rylee is fucking killing it as the house mother.

Pointing behind me, I reply, “He went to feed the pigs.”

The cleanup crew from last night dropped off a few bodies to Elijah. He hates overfeeding them so he rations the bodies and feeds the pigs every couple hours. It’s impressive, he cares for those pigs more than I thought he would.

And the body farm is still in my fucking backyard. And the worst part, we are used to it now. The smell doesn’t bother usand sometimes we wake up with new faces littering the yard. Rylee has even started to name them like they are her new friends.

If we let Karma outside, she pisses on them. Warning them this is her territory. And recently, Elijah has started to grow lion's mane and oyster mushrooms off their skin. I don’t want to fucking know, so I don’t ask. But I still wonder why he can’t do this at his own fucking house, look at all this land.

“Do you smell that?” Elijah sniffs the air dramatically. Sid giggles in his arms. This should be good. I laugh as he continues, “Greta, did you shit yourself?” An unexpected roar of laughter bursts from my mouth.

I can feel anger radiating from her body. If she doesn’t throw her walker at him at least once today, I’d be impressed. “Oh, you motherfucker. You know that’s your pigs.”

Rain comes to stand next to me. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her close. Kissing the top of her head, my lips move on her hair. “You can tell me. I know you know.”

The overwhelming excitement I have, to have another grandbaby, is really embarrassing, but I don’t fucking care. She slaps my chest and looks up at me, mouthing, “Boy.”

SID

EPILOGUE THREE

Age Ten

“Sid. You need to sprinkle it around. Don’t just dump it in.” My dad huffs out a deep breath of annoyance. His eyes widen in frustration because he would rather just do it himself, but I want to learn. I need to!

“Sally, Millie, dinnertime,” I shout as I begin to sprinkle the body parts around the perimeter of the pen. We've had pigs since before I was born but recently, Dad let me pick out two of my own to bring home and raise, and I take this responsibility very seriously.

“When did you name them?” My dad looks at me confused while twirling his bat in his hand mindlessly. He is itching for violence. Mom said it's been a few days so he’s a bit more ‘testy’ than usual. But I call it his kill twitch.

“Always. They are my babies like me and Blaise are yours and Mom’s.” Obviously. I don’t get what he doesn’t understand about the concept.

Then I ask, while scattering the last of the arm bits into the pen, “How did OG gran die?”

Dad looks at me, puzzled and sighs, “I killed her, Sid. I tell you this every time you ask.” I do ask a lot, but I find it comforting.

“Sorry, I just like hearing the story, is all.” I pout, pushing my lip out, and looking up at him.

He knows my games, but as Dad rolls his eyes, he gives in, my plan always works, “Fine, hurry up. I’ll tell you when we go back inside.” I’m jumping up and down, giddy with excitement, when I get an idea. A large grin adorns my face, as my eyes widen, replacing my previous ‘poor Sid’ pouty look. Glancing up at Dad, he seems uneasy about my swift mood change, concerned, he barks, “Go on then. What is it?”

Clearing my throat, I ask, “Daddy, can I kill too?”

The End.