INFECtIOUS

by Elizabeth Forkey

She smiles and kisses my other cheek. I find a small smile for her and her intense loving gaze. She is my reason to keep going. I promise myself again that I'll be there for her and give her what Aunty gave me.

  I hear Tim leave his room and, still sitting on the top step, I gently knock on the hallway door again. He opens the door and looks down at me as I sit there pitifully. I'm not embarrassed that he's seeing me be vulnerable. He has earned a trust that I hadn't intended to give.

  He sits down next to me on the stairs; and, after a moment of silence, he says, "I have to go tell my Dad. Would you like to come?"

  "No," I snuffle. "I don't want to see anyone else."

  "I thought maybe I'd bring Rosa to the U.R. It's Sunday morning, and I thought she could play with the other kids in Mr. Jarvis' class. You could probably use the time to yourself," he offers.

  "I guess that would be ok. Do you think she'll go with you? She might be scared."

  "Would you mind if I hug you?"

  "What?"

  "She trusts you. Maybe if she saw that you trust me it would be easier for her."

  "Oh." I guess the logic is sound.

  "You just lost your Aunt; your best friend. I think you could probably use a hug right now of all times."

  I nod and we both stand up. It feels weird and staged. I'm still holding Rosa and Tim wraps the two of us in his arms. I know the hug is for Rosa's sake, so I try to feel relaxed. It isn't too hard. He smells clean like soap. He is wearing a sweatshirt and jeans instead of the scrubs and his shirt is soft. The comfort of Tim’s closeness brings more tears.

  I let him hold me while I cry. He puts his face against my head and sort of rocks us. If I had any sarcasm left in me right now, I'd make a comment about how this was devious of him, or how he was enjoying my pain. But I know it's not true. I know this hug is for my sake and not his. I can tell he really cares, and I feel like he’s hurting with me. Aunty was right. He is a great guy. Not that I want to marry him, but I can see why she wanted me to.

  I pull away after a minute long hug. That's plenty long enough. Tim reaches over and takes Rosa from my arms like it's nothing at all—intentionally not making a big deal of it.

  "Let's get her some breakfast before you go" I say as we head back down the stairs.

  After Tim and Rosa leave, Rosa proudly wearing her Mickey Mouse hat, I am once again completely alone at the Inn. I take a long shower and get dressed. I sit down to read my Bible, desperately hoping God will send me special words of comfort this morning. I flip through the pages, unsure where to read, and I hear a tap on my window.

  Another tap.

  Another tap.

  I look out between the closed blinds, and a rock hits the window right in front of my face. It startles me and I jump back from the window in momentary confusion. I open the slats of my dark green plastic blinds so I can see better. I see Matt sitting on the ground behind a bush right beneath my window. He waves. I slip my shoes on and go around to the back door.

  "Matt?" I call in a whisper.

  "Hey!" He pops up from the bush. "Nice of you to finally notice. I've been stoning your window all morning. I figure with everyone at "church"—he makes air quotes again—and you stuck in the house, now would be a good time to go for a walk."

  "I can't."

  "Why not? Your aunt isn't going to beat you. She'll never know."

  I look away and my eyes swim with tears. I take deep breaths to keep from crying. He looks at me in confusion.

  "She died last night."

  "Oh. I'm sorry, Ivy."

  "Yeah, thanks."

  After a long, long awkward pause—neither of us knowing what to say—Matt says with forced cheerfulness, "Come on. Go for a walk with me. I'll show you my secret way in. I know you're dying to know how I get in."

  I am dying to know that.

  And I realize there's no one to answer to. I am in charge of my own life now. Surely the Elder's wouldn't begrudge me the fresh air today. I need to get out of this house. Being here alone with Aunty's body upstairs was freaking me out.

  "Let me get my coat."

  "Don't forget that goofy hat, it's cold out," he calls after me.

  Chapter Forty

  The Exact Opposite of Wisdom

  I can't help but glance all around as we walk down the street. I'm not supposed to be out of the house, and I'm walking with a zombie. If anyone saw us, I'd be in a lot of trouble. What can they really do to me though? I'm on my own now. I can make my own choices. I guess they could ask me to leave the community, but I doubt they would.

  Besides, I'm already strongly considering that. If it weren't for Rosa, I might have left already. Without Aunty, what do I have here? I feel like I'm supposed to do something more with my life. I can't stand to sit here and wait for Pravda to come for me. The particulars of where I'll live and how I'll support myself and Rosa can come later.

  "You're awfully quiet."

  "My Aunt just died. You're awfully unaware of what a big deal that is." I'm angry at his self-centered lack of concern. Tim was so— No, I'm not going to compare them.

  "People die," he says with a shrug. "You're the one who's unaware. If death is that big of a deal to you, you haven't been living in reality. You're going to have to get tougher if you're going to come with us."

  "Come with you? Come with who? What are you talking about? I thought this was just you and me going for a walk?"

  "Right now it is."

  "I'm not going anywhere with you."

  "Decided to stay and have a fairytale with Tim?" he asks mockingly.

  I stop walking and glare at him. What does he know about Tim?

  "I had Lover Boy as my only company for days while they had me locked up. Wanna guess what he talked about ALL day long?" He pauses and then answers his own question, "You."

  I make a disgusted sound and resume walking in the direction he had been taking me. Towards Thomas' house. I knew the hole was somewhere near there.

  "Ivy this and Ivy that. Ivy is so kind. Ivy's so amazing. Ivy's so beautiful. Jeez. He's a nice guy, but I don't think he knows you very well."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I stop walking again. "If you don't think I'm nice then why are we walking?"

  "I think I saw the real you."

  "Which is?"

  "When you first met me, you were dying to use that little Taser of yours. You weren't willing to trust me. That was smart. You can't trust anyone. You wouldn't have had me stay at the Inn that night. Also smart. These people are naive, Ivy. Dumb. They won't last long, and I think you have spunk. I think you have what it takes to survive. I respect that." And then he adds, "But I do agree with Tim that you are beautiful. So we have that in common."

  I blush, slightly less irritated at him now, but not at all happy about the rest of his assessment. Aside from my looks—which let's face it, isn't much of a compliment because any healthy girl would look good to someone who normally hangs out with zombies—he likes everything about all the bad attitudes I had, and he thinks those are the real me. Technically, they are the real me. But I want to Live above myself. I will do whatever it takes to deny the real me and not let her out again.

  "Didn't you read my apology letter? That was the real me. I was awful to you in the beginning, and it was wrong. I really meant how sorry I was."

  "So did you give Thomas the glove yet?"

  He has an irritating habit of changing the subject whenever you try to talk about anything serious with him. I am starting to realize that there is more to loving someone than the admiration I felt for him that day at Thomas' house. Just because I saw good in him, and it genuinely impressed me, doesn't mean he's right for me. Sure he's handsome and exciting and funny and smart and—

  Stop it Ivy.

  “Did you? Give him the glove?” Matt asks trying to read my distracted face.

  "No, I haven't seen Thomas since the day you left. I'm not supposed to leave the house. Then everything else happened."

  "Think
you could go in and check on him for me?"

  I look at Matt like he's crazy.

  "We're going right by there," he says. "I'd go in and check myself, but I don't want to set the alarms blaring." He nods upward towards the high fence just coming into view in the distance.

  He's right, we do have alarms. They are spread out periodically at the top of the fence all around the compound. But they don't sound over unwanted houseguests or burglars. They are only for something big like an invasion. They only go off if a whole section of the fence goes down. They've never been used. To be real honest, I'm not even sure if they work.

  When I don't say anything, Matt steps in front of me, stopping me, and looks into my face with those sparkling emerald eyes. "Please Ivy. I need to know how he is. I thought I could keep him safe, and I almost lost him. He's everything to me. I know you know how that feels. I really am sorry about your Aunt. She was a good person. I understand why you miss her so much."

  "Why the change of tone? Are you just trying to manipulate me or something? A second ago 'people die, end of story,'" I say in a dumb macho voice.

  "I need you to check on him for me!" Matt’s manipulative smile slips, and I see the frustration behind it. "Please Ivy? If you care about me at all?"

  So there it is.

  He's basically asking me if I care.

  And I do.

  So I will.

  "Ok. What do you want me to tell him?"

  "Tell him I said ‘hi.’ But, more importantly, I need to know how he is. Is he healing? Is he walking? That kind of stuff."

  "Just ‘hi?’" I ask with renewed suspicion about his motives. It sounds like I'm more spy than messenger. "You aren't trying to take him again are you? Because that didn't work!"

  "Ivy, I promise you, I wouldn't take him from somewhere that's safe for him. I don't want to see him in danger ever again. I want him here for as long as he wants to stay."

  "You promise?"

  "I promise." He looks me in the eyes, and I see sincerity in his.

  But I'm not dumb. I heard how carefully worded that was. He doesn't think we'll always be safe here. It's starting to be a recurring theme.

  *****

  At Jose and Ellen's house, I knock on the door. Ellen has stayed home from the morning meeting to care for Thomas, as I expected. She looks puzzled to see me, but invites me right in.

  "Are you allowed to leave the Inn now, Ivy? Have they figured out what happened to you?”

  "No, we don't know anything new. I just needed some air, and I wanted to see Thomas." I pause when she frowns, and then I tell her the rest, "Aunty died last night."

  Ellen gasps and leans back against the kitchen wall. "Oh, Ivy. I'm so sorry. How did it happen so fast? I knew she was sick, but I just saw her the other day. She thought she had more time."

  I don't say anything. I wonder how many people knew Aunty was dying. Because I didn't. She waited so long to tell me, and then there was no time. I treated her terribly after the attack in Commerce. She knew she was dying, but I was so self-consumed that I practically abandoned her. She spent some of her last days feeling alone and let down by me.

  I am thankful that God helped me fix it at the end, but it wasn't enough time. We should've had more time to talk about everything. I would've thanked her so much more for all her sacrifice. I would've asked her what I should do with myself when she was gone. Where I should go. There is so much that was left unsaid.

  Ellen gives me a long hug and tells me I'm always welcome there. Then she takes me to Thomas' room. I'm thankful when she doesn't follow me in. I wouldn't have been able to relay Matt's greeting if Ellen was there.

  Thomas is propped up against fluffy white pillows on his bed. He has a notebook and pencil, and he's trying to draw with his left hand. His right hand and arm are tucked inside a big sling around his neck. He has stitches on his cheek and on his head. His new glasses are scratched on one side and look like they've been taped together. Thomas’ curly head has been shaved, so the wounds are dark and noticeable. I know from what Aunty told me that he has even more wounds that are hidden by clothes and bed covers.

  The black spot on his forehead stands out now without his cherubic curls to hide it. It's the most tragic mark on him, the other wounds will heal with time, but the black spot will never fade.

  "Ivy!" he exclaims when he sees me standing in his doorway. "You came!"

  "Hey kid. You look great," I lie, trying to be nonchalant and light hearted. In truth, seeing him so hurt makes me really upset.

  "I'm getting better," he says enthusiastically. "I've been asking mom if you could come visit and she said you were really busy."

  "Yeah. They've been keeping me busy." I don't know if I can keep up the peppy tone of the conversation. I suddenly don't want to tell Thomas about Aunty. That was my excuse coming in here, but this kid has been through so much. And he keeps smiling. No wonder Matt loves him so much. I don't want to give him anything else to be sad about. So I say, "Everything is going real good. I just finally got a break to come see how you're doing. Are you in a lot of pain?"

  "It's not too bad," he says bravely.

  I think we're both lying to each other.

  "Are you riding your bike and running circles around Jose yet?"

  "Naw," he looks embarrassed, "I can't walk much yet. Mom wants me to stay in bed and get better. I am practicing writing with my left hand though. I'll be back to my school work soon!"

  "You're awesome, Tom," I say, realizing belatedly that I've called him "Tom" instead of Thomas, just like Matt—and Thomas notices it too.

  "Matt hasn't come to see me," he whispers with obvious sadness showing on his scarred, innocent face. "Did he leave? Mom and Jose won't tell me."

  I wink at him and say, "I have a sneaking suspicion that he's never too far away from you." Looking over my shoulder to be sure that Ellen isn't near the room, I lean in close and whisper, "Can you keep a secret?"

  He nods excitedly.

  "Matt says 'Hi'."

  Thomas smiles a toothy grin, happy to know that his big brother is still out there. I lean the rest of the way towards Tom and give him a quick hug. I can tell he'd like to ask me a million questions, so I make up a reason that I have to be going and say my goodbyes to him and Ellen.

  *****

  I meet Matt right up the road, where he is, once again, in the bushes.

  "It's starting to feel normal to find you hiding in someone’s shrubs. And I don't think that's a good normal."

  "Just keeping a low profile," he winks, stepping back out to join me on the road. "So, how is he?"

  While we walk, I recount my short visit, and Matt listens quietly. I feel bad for him. The weight of his guilt over Thomas' terrible injuries pulls his typical half-smile into a solid frown. Matt turns abruptly off of the road and into an overgrown backyard. I don't remember if anyone lives in the little house on this property. The shaggy lawn doesn't mean the house is empty. Lawnmowers went extinct shortly after Better Homes and Gardens magazine went out of print.

  Matt motions for me to follow him. He bends down and pushes an old piece of rotten plywood off to the side, revealing a well in the ground. Bending down to look closer, I see that it isn't a well at all. It's an old sewer pipe entrance. Matt drops down into the hole and disappears.

  "Coming?" he calls up to me.

  I have serious misgivings about this. I shouldn't even be walking the relatively safe streets of our community with Matt. And I should not, under any circumstances, go down into this hole with that boy alone. I should walk myself straight back home and report this to Captain Markowitz. This information might even buy me my freedom and reestablish trust with the rest of the community. Matt pops his head back up through the hole in the ground and smiles that crooked smile at me.

  "It's perfectly safe. Trust me."

  I climb down inside the dark hole.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Body Parts

  Matt puts his hands ar
ound my waist and lifts me down from the short ladder. I let out a little shriek—surprised at how easily he is able to lift me. My squeal echoes loudly in more than one direction off into the darkness. I stand next to Matt about ten feet below the ground in a small, smelly cement intersection of underground tunnels.

  It's shadowy here at the bottom, and the three tunnel openings around us lead into pitch black darkness. Matt produces a flash light from somewhere, and I blink in the sudden light. The round openings to the tunnels are low; dark, ominous sewer pipes that were long ago buried beneath our streets.

  If Matt and I are going down one of them, which I assume we are, we'll have to hunch over to walk through them. I completely regret coming down here. No amount of respect earned from Matt could compensate for the fact that millions of spiders must live down here. And most assuredly rats too.

  Matt gives me a confident smile in the light of his flashlight; I'm sure he sees the fear and regret all over my face.

  "It's not far at all. And not too dirty. Just follow me ok?"

  I shake my head “no.”

  I want to go back up.

  "You can hold my hand," he says reaching out a gloved hand for mine.

  I don't think I'll take any comfort from gripping a zombie glove while being led into that black abyss. I shake my head “no” again.

  "I thought you wanted to know," he says encouragingly, with just a trace of impatience.

  "Could you take the gloves off?" I ask pitifully.

  He smiles crookedly at me; and, putting the flashlight between his legs, quickly strips off the scary gloves. He holds out his big hand, and I take it, gripping it tightly. And, whether I'm up to it or not, he's suddenly pulled me into the middle tunnel. Following close to him, we begin to make our way through the frightening echoey darkness.

  "Why do you wear them?" I ask one of the many questions I've been dying to ask him. My voice quivers slightly with fear, and an embarrassing chill runs through my body and shakes my arm. He squeezes my hand in encouragement, and the tender gesture gives back some of the confidence that the darkness has stolen.

  "I like them," he says simply.

  I was hoping for some deeper reason. After a minute of silence, listening to just the sound of our feet and a far-off dripping of water, he rewards my silence with a better answer.