Life Among The Dead (Book 2): A Castle Made of Sand by Daniel Cotton

chips.”
    “You sacrificed your own brother.” She looks
at him with obvious disdain.
    “Don’t judge me. I gave him a better life
than he could ever have provided for himself. I gave him money,
respect, you. I let him enjoy all those carnal provisos in our
prenuptial agreement, half of which I only added to see how deep
your resolve truly was. For your follow through, you stood to
receive a massive life insurance pay out.”
    “I stood to get everything.”
    “That isn’t entirely true.” Wilkes shakes his
head. “You never did see my final will.”
    She looks at him like a child that has been
told a fib. “You said I was the primary benefactor…”
    “We told each other many things. As I had
quoted, the first marriage is for love. It is Vivian, my first
wife, that would have received half of my wealth. I love her to
this very day, and that’s actually what lead to our divorce. I was
trying so hard to make sure she had everything she could ever want
that I became obsessed by my work. She never wanted to be rich, she
just wanted me around.”
    After a few moments of silence, Gar’s
curiosity makes him ask, “Who would have gotten the other
half?”
    “Well, my twin brother of course,” Freeman
says, as if it should be obvious.
    “Then, you would be him!” Gar says.
    “Exactly. With his identification, I would
emerge to take half of my own wealth. I would, in keeping with
Mason’s reputation, put myself into a rehab facility. Upon
completion, I’d make a sizable donation to a charity or two, most
likely a children’s hospital. Then, after the media had had their
fill of me and I was old news, I’d simply fade away.”
    His wife doesn’t understand his reasoning.
“Why would you walk away from all you have, settling for only half
of your fortune?”
    “What do you get a man who has everything?”
Freeman asks. “Peace… Even with my twin making half of my
appearances for me, bolstering the reputation I have for being
everywhere at once, I felt tired. So many people and causes, all
fighting for my attention. The charities, the government agencies,
even you, my dear, became incessant panhandlers.”
    He says such awful things to her without a
shred of malice in his voice. Then the man’s kind eyes move from
his wife to manger, who watches in rapt attention. “How do you do?
I’m Freeman Wilkes.”
    “That’s who you are!” Gar points at him,
happy to have a name to match the man’s face.
    “That’s what I said.” He smiles with a
playful shrug. “Who might you be, friend?”
    Gar shakes the wealthy man’s hand and says,
“Garfield Colt.”
    “Is that Garfield as in the cat, or the
president?”
    “My grandfather.”
    “That would have been my next guess.”
    “You’re the richest man I have ever met.
Didn’t you just donate a shit ton of cash to Olive Grove
Hospital?”
    “Two shit tons to be more accurate. That
facility is woefully out of date and in dire need of some TLC.”
    “Wow! You’re voice sounds like smooth jazz,”
Gar says then immediately wishes he hadn’t. “Fuck, that wasn’t
racist, was it?”
    The black man chuckles. “I have a feeling
you’re the type that couldn’t be offensive even if he tried.”
    “Except for his smell,” Freeman’s wife
quips.
    “Sorry about that,” Gar apologizes with
embarrassment. “My shower is broken. I usually go to the YMCA, but
I haven’t been able to get there for… a few months.”
    “You haven’t bathed in months?”
    “Or, done laundry.” Gar’s honest nature
doesn’t allow the omission.
    The doors to the chapel are being slapped by
the dead things in the hall. They’re obviously drawn to the voices.
Freeman Wilkes ejects the magazine from the pistol and sees no
rounds. “I only have one in the chamber. I think we should probably
move on before they find a way in.”
    “I’m not going anywhere with you.” His wife
shakes her head.
    Freeman is on the pulpit of the small chapel
named after him, and he has