Love and other Nightmares

by Gadziala, Jessica

  "Oh, Junebug, still bitter? Even with the end of the world and all that?"

  "What can I say? I need someone's face to use on my targets. I chose you."

  "How have you survived this long?"

  "I'm going to drop you off here," I said, pulling toward the side of the road.

  "I'm serious. I want to know. You were more worried about your pedicure than cardio when we dated."

  "Yes, well, a lot has changed since then. Or haven't you noticed? A girl forgets things like her pedicure when she is watching her mother get her throat ripped out."

  "Jesus," Watts said, wincing at the words.

  "It was fast."

  "That is all any of us can hope for anymore," Watts said, shaking his head.

  "Yeah. So where am I dropping you?" I said, impatient to get back, knowing I had several trips on the boat before dark. Even then, I would likely lose strength in my arms before I could get it all across.

  "Come on, June."

  "Come on, what?"

  "You're not dropping me anywhere."

  "Ah, like hell I'm not."

  "We should stick together."

  "Ah, yeah, no," I said, shaking my head. "I'd rather let one of the zombies pluck my eyeballs out, actually."

  "There's safety in numbers."

  "And there's homicide. Namely, yours," I told him.

  "June..."

  "No, Watts. You've done fine so far. Go on and keep doing fine by yourself."

  "I can't do that."

  "Why the hell not?"

  "Because you're the only fucking person alive that I care about, and I am not dead enough inside to let that go."

  Care about?

  I won't lie, there was a pathetic little heart-skipping sensation inside at that. You know, before my mind kicked in and reminded me that people who cared about you didn't treat them like Watts had treated me.

  "Don't try to rewrite history just because we might be the only people left alive. You don't care about me. You never did."

  "I cared, June. I still care."

  "You treated me like shit."

  "Now who is trying to rewrite history?" he countered, shaking his head. "I treated you like gold."

  He did.

  Damnit, he did.

  That was why the break-up had been so brutal.

  He'd gone from perfect to the worst of the worst in a blink, not even having the balls to give me a face-to-face break-up.

  "Look, I don't want to do this now," I said, shaking my head. "Just go."

  "No. We're going to be in this together now."

  "Watts, get out of the car."

  "Try to make me," he said, shrugging. "You are wasting gas sitting here. Fueling up is never a good time anymore."

  He wasn't wrong. With the grid down, getting the stored gas out of the ground was a chore at best. That was why I'd driven around and snatched everyone's red gas cans out of their sheds and garages to get me by.

  "Just take me to your place for now. If after a couple nights, you still want me gone, I'll go."

  A strange, buried, needy part of me wanted me to say yes, to have someone to talk to, to get answers from him.

  I found I didn't have enough strength to fight that part of me.

  So I put the car back in drive, and I made my way toward my place.

  "June, this is genius," Watts said. And in an old, familiar way, his praise made a warmth spread through my chest.

  "I know," I agreed, climbing out of the SUV, going around to the back, popping the trunk.

  "You take a boat across?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "How many trips to get all this shit back over there?"

  "A dozen maybe. The boat is small."

  "Well, I can cut half those trips out for you," he offered, grabbing a couple bags of dried lentils.

  "We should keep it light for this trip," I said, putting some dried beans under my seat. "I've never done the trip with two people."

  With that, we loaded a few more light things, climbed in, and paddled over toward the remaining few feet of the dock where Watts insisted he climb off first to tether the boat, then reached down to help me out.

  Chivalry, during the apocalypse.

  Would wonders never cease?

  "This is amazing," Watts said as I showed him around my place.

  I'd gotten inventive a few times to get bigger items across the water, including a mattress I'd brought over on top of pool floats, pulling it behind the boat.

  I'd set the bed up in the back in the old walk-in fridge that I had rigged to lock from the inside and not the out, giving me a fortress for the unsafe sleeping hours.

  I'd dragged out the couch and the chairs from the owner's office in the back, moving all the tables and chairs into that room, making the main space into a massive living room with lots of floor space to do my indoor workouts.

  I'd created a composting toilet system in the bathroom.

  It wasn't perfect. But it was pretty damn good.

  "It was a stroke of genius," I agreed, seeing no reason to play down what had been a smart decision.

  "They never hang out on shore?"

  "Maybe they would have in the earlier days," I said, shrugging. "But they're getting slower and dumber now. They don't seem willing to wait out a meal, choosing instead to travel to try to find an easier target."

  "Makes sense," Watts agreed, leaning down to pet Buffy's head as she weaved in and out between his legs.

  "Where have you been crashing?"

  "The lighthouse," he supplied. "Similar idea, but not as smart. Though it is fun as shit to knock the zombies down the stairs and watch them slowly break into pieces as they go."

  "Gotta find joy in the little things," I agreed, smiling.

  "It would be really fucking depressing if you don't," he agreed, gaze lowering to the floor.

  "Hey, Watts?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I'm sorry for your loss," I told him, watching as his gaze lifted, raw grief in his eyes.

  "Thank you. I'm sorry for yours too. You were closer with a lot more people than I was."

  "It's still a loss. And not just our friends. We lost everything. It's... it's a lot."

  "Yeah. But you lost more. I can see how that has hit you," he added, looking sad.

  "To be fair, some of this... hardening," I said, waving toward myself, "started long before the apocalypse."

  I added silently It started when you showed me how much it could hurt when someone took a knife to all of that softness.

  I didn't say it.

  I didn't even imply it.

  But Watts always could read me like no one else.

  "Christ, baby, don't make me feel even shittier than I already do."

  "I didn't mean to. I mean, it was a long time ago. Anyway, let's get started on the goods. I have a storage room in the back."

  I had always figured it would just be for me. In which case, with the new supply, I probably had over five year's worth of food. With someone else, I figured it came out at a cool three if neither of us overindulged. And when the food was rice and beans, the chances of that were slim.

  Three years wasn't forever.

  But my plan was to get my green thumb going so I could start limiting how much of the stored food I needed to eat at a time.

  "You know," Watts said several hours later, drinking some of the vodka I'd stored for the obvious oblivion, but also for possible wound-care, lounging on one of the chairs on the wrap-around deck, "with a little work, this could be a great garden space. Some raised beds along the railings. Maybe build and hang some window boxes off of the railing to get more going. We're lucky we live here. We can grow shit year-round."

  "We," I repeated. I meant to say it in my head, but it popped out of my mouth instead.

  "Yeah, Junebug. We. We're better as a team than on our own. I have skills that you don't. You have some I don't. We can do this long term if we stick together."

  That was fair.

  Watts
had always been good with his hands. It was one of the things I found most attractive about him. Car making a wonky noise? Watts could stop it. Wiring in your house acting wonky? Call Watts. The man had never seen a tool he didn't know how to use, or found something he couldn't fix.

  "We might be able to hook up some solar," he added, taking another swig, offering me the bottle.

  "I don't think lights would be a good idea," I said, shaking my head.

  "No," he agreed. "But maybe some quiet music? Fuck, I miss music. Or we could power a radio, trying to put a call out to the rest of the world, see if anyone else is still alive out there, what they know about the world as a whole."

  He was making a lot of sense.

  "Sounds like a good plan," I agreed, yawning.

  "Go on," Watts said. "Get some sleep."

  "You should sleep too."

  "I will. The couch is comfortable-looking enough."

  The couch was built for an office, was too small for a comfortable nap for a small woman, let alone a whole night of sleep for a hulking man.

  "It's out in the open," I said, wincing. All those windows. So many points of entry.

  "I'll be fine Junie," he said, shaking his head, his eyes warm.

  "Look, if we are going to do this for the long-haul, we need to be as safe as possible. We can share the bed. We will be secure in there."

  "You did a great job with that door," he said, getting up to follow me in, watching me go through the motion of securing the place as best I could for the night.

  Buffy refused to come into the room with me, something that had made me fret for weeks before I came to terms with it.

  So I gave her a can of food, some fresh water, and left her to her own devices, leading Watts toward the back.

  I didn't tell him that the door idea had come to me when I'd stared at it for hours before saying to myself "What would Watts do in this situation?" And just like that, the idea came to me.

  "Thanks. I'm proud of it," I agreed.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To brush my teeth," I told him, motioning toward the bathroom.

  "This right here is called a 'hooker's toothbrush'," Watts told me, taking a swig of the vodka, swishing it around his mouth.

  "No, Watts. We need to be good about our dental hygiene," I told him, shaking my head. "I don't want to have to be in charge of ripping rotten teeth out of your mouth with pliers. I can stomach a lot, but I don't think I can do that."

  "Well, with that visual," he said, grimacing, following me into the bathroom, brushing, flossing, rinsing with mouthwash, doing so with some gusto like he was suddenly seeing my wisdom in the matter.

  "Do you object to whore's baths?" he asked, motioning toward the pitcher of water I had on the counter by the sinks.

  "Not at all," I said, grabbing some washcloths, passing one to him. "I tend to lather up and then jump into the ocean to rinse off most days, but a whore's bath is necessary sometimes too. What?" I asked, brows pinching.

  "That visual," he admitted, eyes going a bit heavy-lidded.

  I knew that look.

  Very, very well.

  It was always there, right before his hands were on me, his lips were on me, before things developed from there.

  Desire, something I thought all but forgotten, sizzled across my nerve endings, mind conjuring up memories of nights when our limbs would be twisted for ours, our bodies moving together, drenched in sweat, lips moaning out our releases.

  "I, ah, you do your whore's bath first," I said, trying to back out of the room, slamming into the door as I went. "Then I will take my turn," I added, going out into the hall, leaning against the wall, taking a deep breath.

  Nope.

  No.

  Absolutely-freaking-not.

  I could not be having sexy memories about the guy who'd stomped on my heart.

  Not even if we were the last two people on Earth.

  Not even if we were going to spend the rest of our lives working together to create something sustainable and maybe even enjoyable out of this whole messy world-ending situation.

  It was just that look.

  Because it was familiar.

  Because it was attached to fond memories once upon a time.

  You know, before the entire world collapsed as we knew it.

  There was no room for sexual attraction in the apocalypse.

  And certainly not for the man who you loved more than you loved yourself at times, who had taken all that love, and thrown it in your face.

  No.

  Not gonna happen.

  "All yours, Junie," Watts said, making my jolt, turning to find him standing in the doorway to the bathroom, wearing the pair of men's gray and black plaid PJ pants I liked to wear that I had put out for him earlier. And nothing else.

  He'd always claimed he got too hot to sleep in a shirt. Back when he was mine, that was certainly nothing to complain about. Who would balk at getting a view of his strong chest, his chiseled abs, that delicious V that lead to somewhere even more intriguing?

  Focus.

  I needed to focus.

  I shook my head, my gaze rising, hoping I hadn't been ogling him for too long.

  "Right. Thanks," I said, pushing past him, making sure our bodies didn't brush, not when mine felt like a live wire, and his seemed like something that could make me catch fire.

  I took a long time to clean off and change for bed, having an internal discussion with myself about how I was going to get onto that mattress, roll onto my side with my back facing him, and go to sleep.

  That was it.

  That was all it would ever be.

  "Okay. Let's do this," I said to my reflection, taking in my brown waves that had gotten much longer since I stopped caring about things like haircuts, my skin that was tanner than it used to be, my blue eyes that looked more confused than they should have since I'd just pep-talked myself the plan for twenty minutes.

  In the end, I sighed and made my way out of the bathroom, finding Watts waiting for me beside the walk-in door.

  "You have a bedroom with no windows for air, in a hot climate area, and you have three blankets on that bed," he said, smirking at me.

  "The blankets? I thought your first snide remark would be on the amount of pillows."

  He'd always made fun of me for that in the past. And, to be fair, I had taken the pillow collecting to an extreme now. Probably mostly because I no longer had to pay for all the fancy oversize throw pillows that I had always been a fan of. I had them lining the sides of the mattress on the floor like buffers. It made the bedroom a good reading spot if I remembered to charge my solar reading light that day. Plus, it made the otherwise sterile and hideous area look more cozy.

  "I thought the pillow comment went without saying," he said, giving me a smile as he moved inside, getting on what was my side of the bed. After the breakup, I started sleeping on the left side just because it had once been his side. I'd kept up the habit since. Until now, it seemed.

  I followed behind, pulling the door closed, locking us in complete darkness without the moonlight from the window-filled common area.

  I went through the motions of putting the intricate locking system into place before finally moving to the far end of the bed, shuffling the pillows, grabbing a blanket.

  He was right, the bedroom always ran warm. And it was warmer still with the furnace he called a body in it now too. But I wrapped the blanket around myself regardless, not wanting any part of me to accidentally brush him, silently chastising myself for not putting a pillow wall down the center before getting in.

  It was too late now.

  We stayed just like that for what felt like ages, me listening to the sound of his breathing, him likely doing the same.

  I didn't plan on breaking the silence.

  I certainly never planned on letting my thoughts spill out of my mouth.

  But my lips were opening anyway.

  "Hey, Watts?"

  "Yeah?" he asked, voice s
liding over my skin, making a shiver move through me at the sound. I was thankful for the darkness, so he couldn't see.

  "Why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why did you do it?" I asked, squeezing my eyes shut to try to block out some of the humiliation I felt in asking that question, no matter how long it had been on my mind.

  "Junie..."

  "We can't do this," I told him. "Live together day in and day out, relying on each other for survival. Not with this question between us. I mean, how can I trust you in the way I will need to trust you to get through this if you don't explain it to me?"

  To that, I heard his breath exhale hard, could see the shadow as his arms raised, as his hands scrubbed down his face in a familiar, frustrated gesture.

  "You're not going to like it."

  "I doubt I will dislike it anymore than I disliked being dumped via text and then being blocked."

  "You weren't blocked."

  "Ah, yes, I was."

  "No, you weren't. I didn't have my phone anymore."

  "What do you mean you didn't have it anymore?"

  "I mean the guards at the jail took it from me along with everything else I walked in there with."

  "Wait... what? What jail? Why were you in jail?"

  "You know, I always wondered if maybe you suspected something."

  "Suspected something about what? You're making no sense."

  "I guess you never did," he concluded as if I hadn't spoken. "It was never strange to you how there were always different cars in and out of my shop?" he asked.

  "Um, no. You repaired cars," I reminded him. That was what he did for a living. Oh, boy, and did that blue mechanic jumpsuit thing he wore do wonders for me back then. I'd once seduced him on the hood of one of those cars. Okay, several of those cars.

  "I repaired a few cars. Here and there. To make shit look above-board, to keep the cops off my case."

  "Wait a minute. What? What are you saying?"

  "I chopped cars, June. That was what I did for a living. That was how I afforded the nice apartment, the nights out. I chopped cars."

  "I... I don't... why didn't you ever tell me that?"

  "Because you were a good girl, June. Came from a nice family. Didn't have a speck of dirt on you. I didn't want to rub mine on you. I didn't want you to be connected in any way. I wanted, if something went down, for you to be able to pass a lie detector if necessary, and walk free, hating my guts for lying to you all those years."