And once more, once more unto the breech my friends.

     So, when Freddy died there wasn't any funeral. I told myself it's how he'd have wanted it and it helped me sleep through the night. I couldn't have given him a funeral. I was in China at the time, but I felt bad just the same. He had to go and die while I was away. I didn't ask him to and I didn't ask him to be my friend.
     When Roberta went while I was in Pittsburgh, I figured it was just a fluke. I mean, people die all the time and Roberta was pretty sick. The doctors said it was just a matter of time, but that she had a good chance at going into remission. I guess a good chance wasn't good enough for her.
     After that, Jeremy died while I was at the store. His wife called me first and I ran over there. He'd been hit by a stray bullet from the shooting range eight miles away. I know, right? I guess the effective range on those guns is shorter than the actual.
     From there, I went home, and then realized I'd forgotten to buy carrots. I was at the grocery store again when I got a panicked call from Jeremy's elder child, asking me what to do: Jeremy's wife shuffled off this mortal coil in their living room and the boy was alone. I abandoned my shopping basket and drove like a demon to their house, calling 911 on the way. I instructed Jeremy's elder, Samuel, to do the same, but more warning couldn't hurt couldn't hurt, I supposed. At the house, I waited with Samuel until the police arrived. Together, he and I called his two relatives in town: an elderly aunt and a ne'er-do-well cousin. When they arrived, I turned Samuel over to them and bowed out. I couldn't deal with another death.
     I drove home, and flopped on the couch before I realized that I'd forgotten my carrots again. I didn't even get all the way to the car in the driveway before the phone started ringing. It was my mother. She was alarmed by a loud bang from the neighbor's house and wanted me to come over to investigate. That's the problem with living five minutes from close family. I drove over and, with Mom, went over to knock on the door. It was broken open, the lock splintered. I called the police immediately and insisted that Mom not enter. She nudged the door open with the toe of her shoe and moaned. On the living room floor was our neighbor, lying in a pool of blood. I heard the back door bang open and the rattling of a man climbing a fence, then the sound of the back door of the next house opening and slamming.
     I don't exactly remember what happened next. The following six or so hours are a blur of blood, cops and questions. They took my mom and me down to the station, sat us in separate rooms and asked questions we couldn't answer. We were released, and as we left we saw her next door-once removed neighbor being brought in. He had blool all over his hands.
     I haven't left the house again. I think I left my car unlocked before, but it's been four days now. If anybody's going to take it, they would have it by now. I've called in sick from work. I told them it was a 72 hour virus and showing no signs as yet of clearning.