The Scattered and the Dead (Book 2.5)

by Tim McBain

  “Goddamn, Breanne! I told you to knock it off with the PDA shit.”

  “I’m just trying to cheer you up,” she cooed.

  “Well quit it,” he said.

  I kicked a chair out from under the table and set my tray down. Both of them looked up at me, as if they’d just now noticed I was there.

  “Oh great. Jailbait is here,” Bennett muttered. He folded his arms on the table and hunched forward.

  “What’s his problem?” I asked Breanne, though I figured I already knew.

  His little adventure away from camp had been canceled. Boo hoo.

  “He was supposed to go with Max and Jimbo and Hanson to one of the military bases this morning.”

  I made an impatient gesture with my fork.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. So what? They called it off?”

  “No,” Bennett said, springing upright. “Everyone else still got to go.”

  The spoonful of oatmeal in my mouth suddenly tasted like wallpaper paste. Gummy and gritty and tasteless.

  “So Max left?”

  “Your little boyfriend Max and Jimbo and all the rest. But not me. Nope.” His voice took on the tone of a petulant child. “Top decided I was too important to go. Needed me to stay here. Complete fucking bullshit.”

  I swirled the flavorless gruel in my bowl around, not having much of an appetite anymore.

  "I should be out there,” Bennett said. “Not stuck here guarding a bunch of sheep and sick people."

  Breanne mashed her lips into a pout.

  “What about me? I’m here.”

  She reached for him, but he smacked her hand away.

  “I said stop that!”

  “Don’t blame it all on me,” she said. “It’s not my fault you didn’t get to go.”

  “Whatever. I got shit to do.”

  Bennett shoved back from the table and strode away.

  I lifted a blob of oatmeal a few inches before letting it splat back into the bowl.

  “He’s in rare form today,” I commented.

  Breanne scoffed, watching as he exited the tent and disappeared from view.

  “I don’t know what his problem is. It’s like he couldn’t wait to get away from here. And like, hello. I’m here.”

  I forced a mouthful of oatmeal down my throat. My gag reflex kicked in and tried to reject the porridge. I fought it and won.

  Breanne tapped a fingernail against her cheek.

  “I guess I’ll just have to remind him of what he’d be missing if he did leave.”

  My eyes watered from dueling it out with my esophagus. I sucked down half a glass of water.

  “How are you gonna do that?”

  “Don’t you worry. I have a plan.”

  “That’s why I’m worried. You always have a plan.”

  Breanne grinned.

  I went to the tree to read for a while, but I could barely focus. I closed the book and leaned my head against the trunk.

  A catalpa bean dropped into my lap. And then another.

  I glanced up. Izzy beamed down at me from a branch fifteen feet over my head.

  “Have you been up there this whole time?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “Are you waiting for your boyfriend?”

  “My boyfriend?”

  “That boy you’re always out here with. The one that gave you that book.”

  I looked down at the paperback on my lap.

  “Have you been spying on me?”

  Without hesitation, she answered, “A bunch of times.”

  If I were Breanne, I would probably be mad. But I was actually kind of impressed.

  “I have to commend your ninja skills, kid. Also, he’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Oh,” she said. “But you want him to be.”

  I sighed.

  “Yeah.”

  Neither one of us spoke for a while.

  “Uh oh,” Izzy whispered above me.

  A figure was approaching the tree. It was Sgt. Foressi.

  I cracked the book in my hands and pretended to read.

  “You know civilians aren’t supposed to leave the perimeter fence,” she said.

  There was something annoying in her tone. Bossy and overbearing. But I don’t think she’d noticed Izzy.

  “Thanks for the tip,” I said, not looking up from the paperback.

  She scoffed.

  “Have you seen Isabelle?”

  “Nope.”

  I guess I was being kind of snotty about it, but I haven’t liked her since she smashed that Play-Doh elephant.

  Sgt. Foressi just stood there glowering down at me with her dragon nostrils flared for a while.

  “Anything else I can help you with?” I asked.

  With a disgusted roll of her eyes, she turned on her heel and walked back to camp. When she’d gone, I peeked up at Izzy.

  “You better come down now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want Sgt. Foressi to catch you out here,” I said. “I’ll give you a piggyback ride back to camp.”

  That got her attention. Kids are too easy.

  I bent down in the grass, and Izzy climbed aboard. I bounced and spun around until she was giggling like crazy, and by the time we squeezed through the fence, I was entirely out of breath.

  Sgt. Foressi wasn’t in the Kids Tent when we got back, so I told Izzy to find an out of the way spot and play it like she’d been there the whole time. She really loved that.

  I hope she doesn’t get in too much trouble with the Dragon Lady.

  And I hope that wherever Max is right now, he’s safe.

  Your worrywart BFF,

  Erin

  Delfino

  Outside of New Bern, North Carolina

  4 years, 46 days after

  I huffed a little more gas tonight to help me get to sleep. I longed for no journeys to other worlds — just a little dimming of reality — so I didn’t take nearly as many breaths this time.

  Like I said, I’m not an idiot. I mean, I definitely am an idiot, but still…

  Anyway, it worked. With my brain dying pleasantly, I extinguished the lantern and lay down. It didn’t take long from there. Your humble narrator drifted along, deep in slumber. If I dreamed, I don’t recall any of it.

  It lasted a long while — perhaps a few hours. Right up until the dog woofed once. I woke, my cheek smeared in drool, and I shushed him as I wiped at the spittle with the edge of the sheet.

  Then I heard it again.

  Rustling in the weeds. A violent thrashing that cut out after a second. Closer this time, too. Right outside the broken window over the sink from the sound of it.

  I sat up, and Meatball whimpered a moment. A high-pitched startled sound. Almost a gasp.

  That freaked me the fuck out.

  This little dog runs headlong into everything he encounters. Like I said, he struts around like a pit bull, fearless and assertive, and his instinct seems to be to stick his face snout deep into anything that interests him and ask questions later.

  But now? He was scared.

  I reached a hand into the dark, fingers patting along the blanket until I found him.

  He shivered. Hackles up again. A pitiful, tiny thing. He’d never seemed so small as he did just then. And he wasn’t just scared, I knew. He was terrified. It didn’t seem right. Not at all.

  Something about that — the whimper and the shaking — made me think I should stay put, that whatever was out there wasn’t worth messing with. I guess maybe I figured the little animal’s instincts were worth trusting.

  Still, I took a few deep breaths and climbed out of bed. I had to see for myself.

  I stumbled toward the rectangle cut in the wall where the pane of glass should be, the paler place where the moonlight shone.

  The wood floor chilled the bottom of my feet enough to make me shudder. Shockingly cold. And I realized that it wasn’t just the floor. The air was heavy with the chill, sharp with it. It didn’t occur to me until just t
hen that the summer was over, at least for tonight. The fall had broken the heat.

  When I reached the window, I stared out, my eyes taking a moment to make sense of things. It was a clear night. A bright night. All of the weeds and the few trees cast shadows off to their right sides. Standing here in the window, I could make out the steady rhythm of the waves lapping at the beach that much clearer. I heard no other stirring.

  I took a deep breath. It was nothing after all. The muscles in my neck and shoulders relaxed some as I looked out at the emptiness. It was quite a relief.

  For the second time, I wondered if that rustling I’d heard was even real. Could it have been an auditory hallucination? Some remnant of madness leftover from the gas? It seemed possible. Maybe even likely.

  I turned to head back to dreamland, and that’s when I saw it out of the corner of my eye.

  A silhouette. A figure walking down the path, moving away from me.

  A man.

  Erin

  Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

  8 days after

  Kelly-

  I have good news and I have bad news.

  The good news is that two of the three teams that went out for supplies returned this morning. They came bearing a load of supplies and news from two of the nearby military bases.

  The bad news is that it’s almost dusk, and the third team isn’t back.

  Max is on the third team.

  I was almost glad to go to the quarantine tent this morning for work. It’s better than sitting around for hours, thinking up all of the horrible things that might have happened. This way, I have something important to occupy my mind.

  We “lost” another patient today, too. So that just added to the general crappiness of today.

  I still have no appetite. I guess that’s not so bad considering Sgt. Grantham announced we’d be sticking to the two-meal-a-day rationing plan until a consistent resupply could be counted on. I force the food down at mealtimes, because I know I have to eat. But I don’t really taste it. And you know it’s gotta be bad when I lose my characteristic zest for food.

  As soon as my shift was over, I practically sprinted to find Breanne to see if Max’s group had returned.

  They hadn’t.

  I did end up finding out what her plan was yesterday. You will no doubt be stunned to learn that it involved sex.

  Breanne, being the shameless minx that she is, snuck over to Bennett’s tent last night with some of her purloined booze. She got Bennett a little tipsy and then managed to convince him that doing the nasty in his tent was a risk worth taking.

  Unfortunately, upon waking this morning, Bennett apparently felt like he’d been taken advantage of (the irony) since he’s told her over and over they have to keep their “relationship” quiet.

  “He said I got him drunk on purpose. That we can’t do that stuff in camp, and I know that, so I tricked him into it.”

  “But isn’t that exactly what you did?” I asked.

  “Well, yeah, but…”

  We both laughed. I guess at least she’s aware of how ridiculous she is sometimes.

  “I still can’t believe he was mad. I’ve seen plenty of guys get pissy about not having sex. Never had one get mad because we did.” She shook her head back and forth. “I don’t know why he’s so paranoid about getting caught.”

  “It’s funny, because he should be paranoid about it.”

  She glared at me.

  “Why is that funny?”

  “I’m just saying that if you did get caught, he’d be in trouble since you’re not actually eighteen.”

  “No, he wouldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s only considered Corruption of a Minor if he knows or should have reason to believe I’m underage.”

  My brow furrowed. This seemed like dubious logic.

  “That’s really a rule?”

  “My friend Paula told me. She read it online.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “That’s where you’re getting legal advice? Your friend Paula with the law degree from Wikipedia?”

  “Shut up!”

  “OK, let’s say for a minute that this rule is real. You think it’s fine to deceive him because by doing so, you’re technically protecting him?”

  “Exactly.”

  I snorted, wondering how Bennett would feel about that rationale if he ever found out.

  After dinner, Breanne and I returned to our old routine of walking laps around camp. We saw some of the guys heading for the stream, and I started a countdown in my head. Sure enough, Breanne only made it two more laps before she was heading for the fence.

  I bent a branch from a sassafras tree out of my path.

  “Didn’t Bennett tell you he wanted some space?”

  “I know what he told me, alright?” Breanne snapped. “I don’t need you to keep harping on about it.”

  “Fine. Jesus,” I said.

  I hadn’t made a peep about it before, so I don’t know how my bringing it up once is harping, but whatever. Everyone has been a little on edge today. I guess I’m not the only one worrying about Max’s group not returning. It’s like we all know something horrible is about to happen, and we’re just waiting for the big bang.

  But she’s been so wrapped up in The Saga of Breanne and Bennett that she hasn’t even asked how I am. Maybe that’s a selfish thought on my behalf. I don’t know.

  “Besides, he didn’t really mean it,” she said.

  I realized she was still yammering on about Bennett. I could barely muster half a fuck by then, so I grunted something that sounded like agreement.

  We rounded the bend in the trail that finally brought the stream into view. Bennett and four others huddled around the dead Humvee, the one that had been sitting there since the night Breanne led me back here, and the EMP went off. It feels like that must have been months ago. It’s only been like ten days.

  Bennett was mid-rant and rolling a joint.

  “—knew Top made a mistake pulling me off that detail. Huge fucking mistake. Those pussies probably deserted,” he said, mouth puckering into a sneer.

  “You really think they went AWOL?” someone asked.

  “No way. Jimbo wouldn’t do that. Max neither,” one of the other guys said. His name is Benji. Or that’s what Max calls him, at least.

  “Well they fucked something up, that’s for sure. I bet Top is really regretting not sending me now,” Bennett insisted.

  He finished rolling the joint and handed it to Benji. His ice blue eyes flicked up to Breanne and then to me and then back to Breanne. I don’t think he’d even noticed us until that moment.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Bennett spoke quietly, but the words were every bit as cold as his eyes.

  “I just wanted—” Breanne started to say, but Bennett cut her off.

  “I’ll tell you what I want,” he said, his voice a little louder now. “I want five fucking minutes without you buzzing around me like a goddamn fly on shit.”

  “I don’t know why you—”

  The strange calm broke, and Bennett shouted, “Jesus Christ, Breanne! I said: Get! Fucking! Lost!”

  Breanne’s face went red with what I suspect was a combination of rage, embarrassment, and hurt. She whirled around and stomped back through the woods toward camp.

  “Real fucking nice,” I said to Bennett before I went after her.

  She was bawling by the time I caught up, and she wouldn’t slow down to talk to me. So I kept pace, walking by her side and patting her back while she cried.

  I followed Breanne along the side of the mess tent, where she dropped onto a stack of empty wood pallets with a sob.

  “Why does he have to be such an asshole?”

  Of course there was a voice in the back of my mind screaming I told you so! But I didn’t say it out loud.

  Instead, I plopped down beside her and said, “I don’t know.”

  I slung an arm around her, and she let her head fall sideways o
nto my shoulder. Behind us, a chorus of voices started to sing “Lean On Me,” accompanied by an acoustic guitar.

  In an effort to keep people from losing their damn minds as a result of boredom, the busybody ladies my mom pals around with have been organizing “events” in the evenings. I remembered seeing the sign for tonight’s “Live Music” event, but the hair on my scalp still prickled at the eerie coincidence of that particular song being sung at that moment. Plus, they actually sounded pretty good.

  For a while we just sat and listened and swayed ever so slightly to the music. It was kind of nice. I hadn’t realized how much I missed hearing music until then.

  When the tears slowed enough for Breanne to speak, she said, “You’re lucky.”

  “How am I lucky?”

  “Because. Max is nice. He would never yell at you like that.”

  At the mention of Max’s name, I remembered what Bennett had said. That they’d gone AWOL. I couldn’t believe that he’d do that. But could I blame him if he had? And maybe that would be better than the other most likely scenario, which is that something bad had happened to them.

  Breanne sniffled and pulled her face away from my shoulder. Her makeup was smudged all around her eyes. I held her chin in one hand and used my hoodie sleeve to wipe some of it away.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Anytime, buddy.”

  She swiped the back of her hand across her nose.

  “I wish I had some ice cream right now.”

  I smiled.

  “What flavor?”

  “Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie.”

  “It’s funny you should say that,” I said and thrust a fist inside my bag.

  Breanne’s brow furrowed.

  “Because I just so happened to find a pint of that exact flavor earlier today.”

  I pulled my hand from the bag, clutching my fingers around an imaginary tub of ice cream.

  “The only thing is, it’s invisible,” I explained, peeling off the tamper-proof plastic seal. “It’s not quite as good as the real thing, but it’s got 0% of the fat, sugar, and calories. So it’s basically a health food.”

  I removed the lid and licked it clean.

  “Mmm. Chocolatey.”

  I extended the invisible ice cream to Breanne. For a second she just stared at me, and I thought she might have found my little game annoying. Or stupidly childish.