Chapter 6: The Music Box
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She begins applying the purple ointment again. She takes out her silver needles and carefully positions them over the acupoints on my arm. "This will clear your meridians," she explains. "When your qi and blood flow freely, your illness will be cured."
I don't understand what meridians are. I only know her fingers have become warm and strong again.
Caleb no longer avoids us. He actively approaches our trailer and, though still quiet, sits on the steps at our doorway, keeping Brenda company as she tends to me. He's become her ally.
One morning, Caleb disappears. Brenda searches the entire camp without success. He returns in the afternoon, sweating profusely, carrying something carefully wrapped in old cloth.
He runs straight to our trailer. Before Brenda can question him, he walks directly to me. He places his bundle on the small table before me and lifts the tattered cloth.
It's a wooden music box.
The corners are worn, carved with dancing bears, most of the paint chipped away. I recognize it immediately. It was mine, from my bedside table.
Caleb must have visited our farm when he was younger. He must have snuck out of camp and traveled all that distance just to retrieve it.
Brenda holds her breath. She looks from the music box to me, her eyes full of expectation.
Caleb stretches out his small finger and winds the spring on the side of the box. He turns it slowly, carefully. The metal spring makes clicking sounds: tick, tick.
Then he lets go.
Music plays.
The notes are clear and crisp, like tiny crystals dripping onto a still lake. A simple melody repeats—the lullaby I loved most as a child.
This sound is like a key inserted into my rusty brain, gently turning. A long-forgotten, dust-covered door in my mind opens just a crack.
Images appear—blurry fragments. A room with floral bedsheets. Sunlight streaming through a window. A woman's voice humming the melody. Brenda's voice, much younger than now.
My body reacts before I'm prepared.
The fingers of my right hand twitch slightly—subtly, as if struck by a tiny electric current. I didn't command this movement. It happened on its own.
Then something flows from the corner of my right eye.
It slides down my cold, purplish face. Wet. Leaving a trail.
Brenda gasps. She covers her mouth with her hand. Her eyes widen with ecstasy and disbelief.
Caleb's mouth falls open. He stares at the wet trail on my face.
Since becoming a zombie, I've never shed tears. This is the first time.
I don't know that in the shadows near our trailer, Hank is watching. He can't see the joy in Brenda's eyes or the shock on Caleb's face.
What he sees is a boy bringing a strange box to a monster. He sees that monster shedding bizarre fluid after hearing a sound. He sees a boy frozen in what he assumes is fear.
In his mind, this scene tells a completely different story: a monster using dark magic to lure an innocent child, preparing to harm him.
Hank retreats silently and heads straight for Miller's office.
When he bursts in, Miller is studying a map.
"Miller!" Hank's voice is urgent and loud. "That kid is in danger!"
Miller frowns. "Who's in danger? Be specific."
"Caleb!" Hank bends over, breathing heavily. "I saw it with my own eyes! That female zombie was luring him! She used some kind of spell! The kid was terrified!"
Miller's expression darkens. He puts down his pencil and stands. "Are you certain about what you saw?"
"Absolutely!" Hank pounds his chest. "She shed black tears! Just like the highest-level monsters in legends! She's gained intelligence! She's toying with us! We must deal with her now, or that child won't survive!"
Miller falls silent. He walks to the window and looks toward our trailer. His patience, worn thin by months of pressure and this alarming report, has finally run out. As a leader, he can't gamble a child's life on a mother's desperate hope.
He turns to the guard at the door.
"Go notify Brenda."
His voice is calm but carries irreversible determination.
"Tell her to leave Safe Harbor with her daughter first thing tomorrow morning. And never come back."
