by Jones, K. J.
“You should grow one.”
“What do you watch?”
Emily shrugged. “I enjoy documentaries. The news. And rom-coms.”
Phebe frowned. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Now, why are you looking at my second head?”
“It’s a yucky second head.”
Emily laughed. “Sounds like something out of one of the sci-fi movies.”
Phebe laughed. “Men in Black.”
“I have seen that. It was funny.”
“What do you mean? It totally rocked!”
“Well, maybe not all that good.”
Phebe reached across the table and pulled a plastic Millennial Falcon to her. “You can have the chamber pot helmet.”
“Are we dividing up worthless loot?”
“I need to hide this or my husband will break it.”
“Grown men. Not Tyler breaking these things. Interesting.”
“Tyler doesn’t know what the Falcon is. He’s like from another planet. He knows the Disney stuff, but not the originals. Children today.”
“Can we throw out this helmet?”
“What constitutes throwing out? Garbage pick up service here has been slow.”
“Good point.”
“We could spray paint it.”
“Fuchsia?”
“We’ll put a gay pride rainbow sticker on it. That would piss off the dead Nazis.”
“It would piss off Henderson, that fucking monster. Oh, by the way, we have to do a funeral for Manuel and Robert.”
“Argh,” moaned Phebe. “I’m getting tired of all these funerals. Was that really callous of me?”
“Oh, yeah. You hit the mark on that one. But I relate. But they’re really ripe smelling now. Do you think Stanton will recover?”
“No. I think we have another Heidi.”
“I liked her.”
“But she was weak.”
“That sucks.” Emily finished her coffee and reached for the French press.
“That she died?”
“That the weak don’t make it. Natural selection is happening on us.”
Phebe shrugged. “It was bound to return. We had our spoiled time and it’s over. Back to the way it always was.”
“Doesn’t that scare you? The baby?”
“Oh, I’m beyond scared. I’ve lapsed into numb.”
“That’s the only way to be.”
They raised their expensive Wedgewood bone china teacups for a toast to emotional numbness.
Chapter Five
1.
Around Market Street, high-end shops appeared everywhere. Gucci, Black Dog, Chico’s, the Sunglass Hut, the Vermont Store, on and on it went.
“We are the most styling apocalypse survivors ever,” Mullen announced. He wore his new sunglasses and a leather jacket over a Black Dog long-sleeved shirt.
Tyler wore two pairs of sunglasses – one over his eyes and a reserve on the top of his head.
“You should share sunglasses with Nia,” said Ben.
“Why?”
“Because her mother keeps her on lockdown.”
“Ain’t my problem.”
“Nice, Tyler. I’ll say that to you the next time you have a problem.”
Tyler blew out air as he made a colossal eye roll. “Should’ve told me before. Now I got no spare.”
“Oh, such problems.”
2.
Karen worked on marking shops for the map on the billiards room wall. Her dad assisted, but he could never get the streets right.
“Really wish Stanton would help,” she said. “I bet he’d know all the stores.”
“He’d start crying again.”
“He’s being horribly emotional.”
“Care Bear, that’s awfully harsh of you.”
“I lost Mother. And I’m seventeen.”
“But you did not see violent deaths.”
“No. I saw the wasting away death of someone I love. Only for her to be gassed. And Rufus.”
“I’m sorry I could not save them.”
“No, no. I didn’t mean it that way, Daddy.” She hugged him. “I’m grateful you saved me and that I have you.”
He patted her back.
She returned to the map task.
“So, tell me about Mullen.”
A pink blush rose on her cheeks. “What about him?” She worked to repress her smile.
“You like him. I can see it on your face.”
“He’s a very nice young man.”
“Is he a gentleman?”
“Yes, sir. He is.”
“Keep in your mind, we don’t really know these people.”
“Daddy, we do know them.”
He sighed. “I just want you to be cautious. In these bad times, with no law, no government, all kinds of things can happen to people.”
“You’re worrying for nothing, Daddy. These are good people.”
“It’s my job to worry about you.”
“Just don’t get as bad on me as Angela is on Nia. I couldn’t stand that.”
“We must be charitable. Angela has been through a lot.”
“So have we. She wasn’t even part of the worst like Mullen and all of them had been through. She had the children’s father, her ex, to protect her.”
“She did have to kill men. She and I talked.”
“So have we, Daddy.”
“Each person follows their own conscience.”
“Or neurosis.”
“Care Bear.” He gave her a reprimanding look.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I just don’t feel charitable towards some folks, I guess. I’m wrong for that, I know, but I just can’t help it.”
“The young adjust better. But you mustn’t lose your Christian charity in these testing times.”
She blew out air.
“Care Bear.”
“We need to finish the map, Daddy.”
“Are you losing your faith?”
She avoided looking at him. “It’s hard to believe when none of your prayers are answered."
"God is not meant to perform at our command.”
“But, Daddy,” her voice grew high pitched in protest. “Look at all this death.”
“I see all this death, sweetheart. I feel it in my heart. But we must remain strong in our faith.”
Her gaze on the floor. She muttered, “Yes, sir.”
3.
Mazy finally found a Catholic church. All the others were Protestant.
The front doors unlocked, she entered the lobby. On tables lay pamphlets. On bulletin boards, schedules for things to come that would never happen.
In through heavy oak doors, she entered the nave. She wore an assault riffle, two sidearms, and a knife. Her wardrobe felt awkward fort the location.
Serenely quiet. Sunlight shined through stained glass windows.
She dipped her hand in the holy water font and crossed herself. Then scrunched up her nose. Green algae grew along the marble bottom. She wiped her hand on her pants.
Looking down the aisle, Christ hung on the cross above the altar. But the nave was filled with the deceased. Pew after pew, skeletonized bodies wearing clothes. Many on the floor, where they had choked from the gas.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. And crossed herself again.
Part of her wanted to run away from this. But she pressed on.
“Why are we here?” Tyer carried his M4 riffle as he walked the aisle.
“Please. Just come on. A favor to me.”
“What place is this?”
“A Catholic church.”
“Looks different from my friend Brian’s church.”
“What was he?”
Tyler shrugged. “Black people.”
She wanted to chuckle, but the dead felt repressive.
“Help me with these candles. I want this. Where’s Mullen? I’m taking this Virgin Mary shrine.”
“Are we robbing a church? Ain’t that wrong?”
“We’re preservin
g the church stuff. That’s alright.”
“Not sure about that.”
4.
“Here. Present for you, cowboy.” Ben dropped it on the piazza table.
“A hat!” Matt scooped it up.
“There are boots, but I didn’t know your size.”
Matt put the cowboy hat on and smiled.
“Keep growing your hair and you’d almost look like Billy Ray Cyrus.”
“I miss music. And Sully gets tortured by country music, so added benefit.”
“You’ll have to go on the next loot. Get yourself some cowboy boots. Can’t help you on the music. I am not the biggest fan of country music myself.”
“You aren’t?”
“Just because I come from South Dakota doesn’t mean I have to listen to men whining about their heartbreaks.”
“You are missing out, brother.”
“Nuh, don’t think so.”
Chapter Six
1.
“What are we doing?” Phebe asked.
She knew Dr. Jenkins had substantially increased Stanton’s antidepressants, after learning Stanton had been on psychotropic meds for most of his life.
“Haircut time,” said Emily. “Stanton’s cutting hair.”
“Oh. He knows how to do something, cool.”
“That wasn’t harsh at all.”
Phebe shrugged. “I’m doing harsh nowadays. I heard it’s going around.”
“They’re set up in the third-floor piazza. I want to get my hair cut off.”
“Not this short. As short a mine?”
“Shorter.”
“Really?”
“Fighters shouldn’t have long hair.”
“Don’t tell Maze that.”
They walked onto the balcony
“Wow. When you said set up, I didn’t think really.”
Stanton said, “No one ask for a blowout. No electricity. We’d all have to blow on your hair.” He chortled in an awkward laugh. The sort that conveyed I’ll either laugh or break down crying.
A chair. A free-standing full-length mirror. A smock the same as in the beauty parlors. And loads of scissors along with combs and brushes of a variety of sizes, which all sat laid out on a desk. A hand mirror and water spray completed the hair salon. Stanton had the whole get up.
“We’re starting with Miss Angela,” he announced.
“Oh, Lord,” Angela said. “Here we go.”
“Off with that gruesome thing on your head, sweetie.”
Angela sat in the chair and cautiously pulled Julio’s blue bandana off her head. Her hands touched her hair self-consciously.
“You ever cut African hair?” she asked.
“Oh, honey, I’ve cut every kind of hair on this planet. Just relax.”
Nia watched, leaning on the balcony railing.
Stanton tucked a towel around the collar of the smock. Then sprayed her hair down. “You ready, honey? It’s going to go short?”
A long sigh. “I guess I have to be.”
The scissors began.
“Could y’all not stare at me like my head will explode?”
“Oh.” They simultaneously said as they turned away.
They pretended they weren’t watching through the full-length mirror.
“Where is – oh. Salon day, huh?” said Matt from the open windows.
“We’re doing it,” said Stanton.
“I got another customer. Let me go track and trap him.” He withdrew.
“Gotta be Tyler,” Mazy said.
“I can’t believe it.” Angela stood at the full-length. “Look how short.” She laughed.
“You have the cheekbones for it,” Stanton said. “You’re gorgeous, sweetheart.”
Emily sat in the chair. “Me next.”
“What do you want, honey?”
“Chop it all off.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“What kind of short?”
“Ever seen Kelly Carlson’s hair? She was in Nip/Tuck.”
“I have. She has beautiful hair.”
“Could mine do that?”
“We’ll make it do that.”
“It does get wavy when it’s short.”
Sprits with water. The scissors went to work. Long blond hair cascaded to the floor.
Brandon helped Matt escort Tyler. Then Brandon froze at the windows.
“You like?” Emily pruned in front of the full-length.
He looked from her head to her hair on the floor. “Why’d you …?”
“I like it,” she stated.
Stanton cleared his throat and implored Brandon with his eyes.
“I do too. You’re beautiful.”
Stanton nodded his approval.
“This is your next customer.” Matt pushed the kid onto the balcony.
“No,” said Tyler.
“Here’s battery-operated clippers.”
“Oh, hell no!”
Matt put Tyler into a half-Nelson. “March.”
“No!”
Into the chair, the kid’s butt was thrust.
“Stay.”
“Hate you, Matt.”
“I can live with that.”
Stanton said, “Could we have some privacy, gentleman.”
“He’ll run.”
“No, he won’t.” Stanton’s blue eyes met Tyler’s hazels. “We’ll be fine, won’t we, Master Tyler?”
“I’ll wait in here.” Matt pointed a finger at Tyler’s face. “Try to run, I’ll nab ya.”
Tyler sneered. “Not liking you, Matt.”
Matt chuckled.
“Don’t do it, Stanton,” Tyler pleaded.
Stanton leaned over and whispered, “We’ll just cut off the blue. How’s that?”
Tyler examined his appearance in the hand-held mirror. He nodded. “Okay. I could live with that. But you answer to Matt. He’s a tyrant.”
“Isn’t he so?”
The women chuckled. Tyler was using the words he heard from the adults.
Sprits. Scissor cutting. Faded blue fell to the floor.
“There. Aren’t you cute as a button again?”
Matt poked his head in as Tyler admired himself in the full-length.
“There’s still hair.”
“Tough.” Tyler took off, dashing past him. Too quick to grab. His loud, running footfalls on the stairs. A moment and he ran out the front door below and followed the Nia escape route to the backyard.
“Oh, he’s gone,” said Nia, watching from above.
“I thought I made it clear,” Matt said.
Stanton shrugged. “Not your head, honey.”
Matt rolled his eyes. Stanton smiled at him, repelling him away.
“Got him gone, didn’t I, y’all?” He laughed, more comfortable than before. “Who’s next?” His gaze rested on Phebe. “Can’t cut that anymore unless you want a boy haircut.”
“No.” Phebe touched her hair. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“I could do with a trim.” Mazy sat in the chair. “Just a trim. Don’t go crazy. I like my long hair.”
He lifted her hair. “Ooh, this is some thick, heavy hair.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Before Stanton finished trimming the ends of Mazy’s hair, Peter and Ben found their way to the third floor.
“You got those battery-operated clippers?” Peter asked.
“I can barber if y’all want a clean shave?”
“Uhm.” Peter looked with concern at Ben.
“I don’t grow a beard,” Ben said.
“Thanks for supporting me.”
Ben smirked, repressing a laugh. “There’s a straight razor.”
“I knew you were going to say that.” Peter turned to Stanton. “Just cut down the woolly mammoth thing. I’ll shave off the rest.”
“Not trusting me?”
“How are your nerves lately? Let’s see the hand steadiness.”
Stanton put his hands out horizontally. They
shook a little.
“Ah, no. If anyone is going to cut my throat, that right is reserved to my wife.”
“Damn right.” Phebe gave him a toothy smile.
“See the love?”
She chuckled.
He slid his arm around her waist.
“Do you gentlemen want a hair cut?” Stanton asked.
“I’m growing mine out,” said Ben. “I just wanted to see what you were doing.”
“He’s determined to look like Wind in his Hair.”
Ben laughed. “I’m nowhere near as stocky as him. The actor.”
“Peter, a hair cut?” Stanton asked.
“Nuh. I’m still recovering from the hair cut the Navy gave me.”
“Sit and I’ll trim down that beard before it takes over the entire immediate world.”
“I may have creatures living in it.” He sat in the chair.
“Uh-oh,” said Phebe. “Wrecking an animal habitat then.”
* * *
Brandon tried his best to put a happy face on for his girlfriend’s new short hair. But his eyes showed he wasn’t over the moon.
Peter came downstairs with toilet paper stuck to his face. “I forgot what it’s like to shave with cold water.”
“Leave any blood inside of you?” Emily asked.
“Not a lot.”
“Ya know,” said Mazy. “If we’d only bathe, we’d look like we were having a special occasion.”
“Bathing would ruin the natural aromas we’re creating.”
2.
Chris grew stronger. He was able to get out of bed.
“I’m gonna need new pants.” He showed how the sweat pants waistband was loose.
“You’ve lost a lot of weight,” said Matt.
“Not a diet I’d recommend to others.” He had to sit back down.
Matt threw a t-shirt at him. “You got a visitor if you make yourself decent.”
The t-shirt was baggy on his new build. “My moobs getting smaller. Who’s visiting me?”
“Put the shirt on. She’s a married woman.”
Chris smiled. “She okay?”
“Ask her yourself.”
He pulled on the shirt and watched the door.
Matt opened. “He’s ready.”
Phebe hurried in. Chris, sitting on the side of the bed, raised his arms to receive hugs.
