“What are we going to store the blood in?” she asks.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“What about the pear doll?” she says, giggling.
“Pear doll?” he replies, his brow giving away his confusion.
“Yeah, that person-figure-thing that mama made out of a pear. The one that you ate.”
“Oh my God, I forgot about that!”
“She’s was so mad!”
“She chased me around the room for like ten minutes. I never heard her swear so much!”
Sweetie holds her stomach, a soreness from laughing rising up. Her brother throws his head back, loud rumbles of laughter bellowing from him.
“And then she tried to make another one, but we didn’t have any more pears because you took them to the community dinner.”
“I didn’t know that!” Sweetie says, her brow raised to the fullest.
“She looked for them for like an hour!”
“Oh, no!” she manages to blurt out between giggles.
“That’s when I learned comemierda! She kept saying it over and over.”
“Stop! Stop!” the gleeful Latina says, doubled over, swatting at the air.
Outlaw’s chuckles dwindle. He places his hand on his chest, feeling his heart pumping overtime.
“I miss mama, and abuela”
“Me too.”
“Uncle Mateo too, but mostly mama.”
Sweetie gasps, “Chacho! That’s mean!”
“What?! I loved Uncle Mateo, but he was kinda a jerk.”
She slants her eyes at him for a moment, before breaking into another fit of giggles.
“Yeah, he was!”
Her brother laughs with her, the siblings reveling in this joyous moment of reminiscing. She shakes her head, composing herself.
“Hey, how come you don’t speak Spanish much anymore?”
“I don’t know, it’s-it’s just not the same without mama and abuela.”
She drops the bucket of strawberries and throws her arms in the air, in a most exaggerated manner.
“Chacho! You got me!”
He rolls his eyes, a grin smacking across him.
“You know what I mean.”
She picks the bucket up, and bumps her shoulder into his.
“I know, but I’m here for whatever you need. You know that.”
“Yeah, I do.”
His gaze falls to the ground, his lips scrunch and curl to the side.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, her brow furrowed curiously.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What, uh, what’s it like to be with someone?”
“You mean me and Ros?”
He gestures confirming her question, but doesn’t speak.
“It’s great, she’s great. I just feel lucky all the time. It’s like-”
She bites her bottom lip, taking a moment.
“It’s like the whole world is bright, like the sun is shining extra. Anything that bothered me before seems, I don’t know, just small. Everything seems worth it just to be with her. I know if I get mad or have a bad day that she’ll be there waiting for me. That she’ll make me feel better, that I will feel better, because I have someone I trust. Someone that shares the same space as me.”
“That sounds nice. I’m happy for you, you know, both of you.”
She bumps into his shoulder again.
“I know. It’s rare to have these days, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t find it too. You’re still young chacho, give it time.”
“If I have time.”
“Don’t say that! We all got time, we keep each other safe, we make sure we got time, right?”
He chuckles, cracking a grin.
“Right.”
He watches her for a long moment as she picks more strawberries, and adds them to her bucket.
“You remind me of mama, you know.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that? Loud and swear a lot?” she says, giggling again.
“Well, I mean yeah, but you’re tough, and you care, you just don’t want people to know that you do.” -he turns to the patch next to him, removing one of the sweet fruits- “Mama was stubborn like that too.”
“I think that’s the nicest thing you ever said to me.”
He responds with a playful gesture, his back still to her. A peaceful silence falls them as they pick more of the red, savory fruit. After a long moment a rustling cuts the air, not far from them.
Outlaw turns to where the sound is coming from. He hears it again, something is moving toward them. His attention moves to his sister, who’s gaze is already fixed on him. She moves across the patch, quickly, taking his side. She slowly, and quietly, puts her bucket down, and withdraws her handgun. Outlaw does the same.
The siblings wait, not wanting to make any noise, and realizing it would be unwise to run without knowing exactly what is coming their way. The rustling draws nearer and nearer, morphing from a rustle to the shuffling of feet. It’s low and steady, and sounds like only one.
“Sweetie?” a voice calls out, somewhere out of sight.
A sigh of relief gushes from the sister sibling. Her brother finally exhales the deep breath he’d been holding.
“Over here Ros!”
“Fucking scary asshole!”
Sweetie smacks his arm, but gives him a sly smirk.
"¡Chacho! You’re not wrong, but still, calm down!”
He shoves her away, returning her act of sibling tough love. She smooshes a strawberry against his cheek.
“¡Cabrón!” he says, as he wipes the fruit off his face.
She sticks her tongue out at him. He returns her attack with the throw of a strawberry, bouncing it off her forehead. Her mouth drops, her eyes grow wide.
“You don’t want to start this chacho!”
“You started it!”
She returns fire with a volley of sweet fruits, four of them hurled at him at once. He ducks his head away, throwing his hand up for protection against the juices of war. When her onslaught has ceased, he takes his turn, pegging her torso with a barrage of his own. She yelps, hopping and spinning, a weak, and unsuccessful, attempt to dodge the incoming divot filled missiles.
“So, are we just wasting breakfast now?” Rosaline says, having just pushed through the brush into their view.
“Hey Ros.” Outlaw says, stopping his attack upon hearing her.
“Hey nena!” Sweetie croons as she skips over to companion.
“Hey cutie!” Rosaline replies, a joyous smile upon her.
Rosaline opens her arms to embrace her partner. The two smitten women sway, hugging each other tightly. Sweetie pulls back enough to be face to face with her girlfriend, then leans in and kisses her.
“What’re you doing here?”
Rosaline peers around Sweetie, regarding Outlaw.
“I finished early, so I figured I’d come help.”
“Aww, nena, did you rush just to come see me?”
Rosaline bites her bottom lip, staring longingly at her lover.
“Maaaaaybe.” she replies, grinning from ear to ear.
“How did you ever survive without me?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
Sweetie presses her lips together, her eyes beaming with glee. She leans in again, sharing another kiss with the tender warrior.
“So, are we actually gonna finish picking fruit, or just be lovey dovey all day?”
Sweetie hangs her head back, bringing her brother into her view.
“Pipe down chacho!”
She pulls herself back into Rosaline, their lips meeting again.
“I could kiss you all day but-”
“Let’s do that then nena.”
Blushing, her cheeks reddened, Rosaline giggles.
“We’ve got all night for that.”
“Gross.” Outlaw exclaims, having already turned away from them to resume picking fruit.
“I said pipe down!”
“We really should fini
sh this up, only a couple hours of daylight left.”
“Ugh, fiiiiiine nena, but you’re making it up to me.”
“Making it up to you? I came to help you!”
“I said” -she leans into her partner, kissing her again- “making it” -she presses their lips together once more- “up to me.”
“Oh no, I surrender, you win.” Rosaline playfully replies.
“I always win.” the Latina says, winking at her.
“I always let you win.”
”¡Ay, bendito!” -Sweetie sarcastically pats Rosaline’s chest- "You confused little warrior.”
"Oooookay, let's pick the fruit." Outlaw says.
The women pay him no attention. Sweetie giggles again, wrapping her arms back around Rosaline's neck.
"One more, then we finish working."
Rosaline shakes her head, filled with compassion and love for the woman holding onto her so tightly. She leans up into Sweetie, their eyes close, their lips meet again, and hold longer than the previous passionate embraces.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Norman watched as Karo and Daisy turned his lost husband over onto his stomach and cut his legs open. He watched as they filled canteens and jars with the blood of the man he loves, the only person to ever make him feel like himself.
He was horrified by the event, but couldn't find the strength within himself to protest it. He knew why they were doing it, even if he couldn't hear their conversation. He's a doctor, he understands their reasoning, and the purpose for their actions, but still he finds it crude and disrespectful.
He tried to let logic take over and analyze the situation. Jack was bitten by an infected, bodily fluids transferred, there's no chance they didn't. Jack did not turn into a diseased, the infection didn't alter him, for some reason the infection didn't happen at all, not to him. The most hopeful answer to this is that Jack is immune, and a vaccine, or even a cure, can be made with his blood.
That leaves Norman with one question, who will make the cure? This is the question that troubles him the most. The prospective answer to this question surges a wave of anger and doubt throughout him.
Daisy doesn't know anyone that can do this, he doesn't know anyone that can, Patrick wouldn't know anyone that can, and Karo is banished from the place that might contain people who can do this. So, then, he wonders, how is collecting Jack's blood going to lead to anything, or benefit anyone?
Karo and Daisy fill up the last jar with Jack's blood. Karo cleans the knife and sterilizes it again, before returning it to the pouch in his backpack.
"Do you think we have enough?" Daisy asks.
"I don't know. We took as much as we can, best to have as much as possible, in case we lose some."
Her lips smack as she nods, not feeling the need to audibly reply. Norman approaches from behind them. He speaks to them, his voice low and weak.
"If you're finished mutilating my husband, I'd like you to bury him now. He's earned that."
Karo regards him for a moment, not wanting to waste anymore time in this area, but chooses not to oppose Norman. Instead, he only motions in agreement.
"When we got here I saw a shovel and some other tools behind the trailer. I'll bury him. You can rest."
The hardened man rises to his feet and leaves to retrieve the shovel. Daisy turns to Norman, her brow loose, her lips frowned, her eyes wet.
"Norman, I-I-"
He waves her off, interrupting her.
"You don't have to. I know why you did this, doesn't mean I have to like it, but I understand."
She's not sure why, but hearing him say this hits her like a truck. Her wall crumbles, and she weeps. Without warning she latches onto him, holding him tightly.
"I'm so sorry Norman, I'm so sorry."
Norman can't hold his contempt or his anger. They wash away upon feeling her embrace. The memories of his life with Jack before the outbreak come rushing to him like an unstoppable flood. Their first meeting at a mutual friend's wedding, their first date at the park, their first kiss, the first movie they watched together, the night Jack proposed, the moment he said “I do” under the setting sun, their first steps in the house they bought together, and all of the good times they experienced together, as two souls intertwined in harmony.
No, Norman isn't callous enough to hold onto the anger he's feeling. He's not that kind of person. She weeps, her tears cascade down her face, dropping onto his shoulder. She trembles, her chest convulses, she feels grief and shame. This, too, hits Norman like a truck, and he's reminded that she was Jack's friend. She knew him well, she loved him, she had her own experiences with him, and she misses her friend.
Norman's sadness overtakes him again. He drops the backpack, throws his arms around Daisy, and weeps with her. Time slips and distorts, the moment expanding out beyond the conventions of perception. He closes his eyes for what feels like a few seconds, and when he opens them again, he peers over Daisy's shoulder to see Karo piling dirt back into a hole. A hole that is nearly filled to the top.
He feels pressure against his chest and his back, hair against his cheek and his neck, and he realizes that Patrick has joined them. His head is pressed against Norman's shoulder blades, his arms are gripped together on Daisy's back. Patrick knew Jack too, and in his own way he cared about him. This isn't a loss only for him. They all grieve the tragic events of this day.
Karo smooshes the dirt on the top of the mound down, smoothing it out. He slams the shovel into the mush one final time, leaving it standing in the middle of the grave.
"Does anyone want to say anything?"
Karo's voice is loud, but not in the usual stoic manner that he displays. There is an underlying wave of compassion riding his words. Norman unclenches his hands from around Daisy, she and Patrick follow suit, breaking their shared embrace. Norman wipes his eyes as he approaches the grave that holds his husband.
"No, um, I don't think we should. Jack's life is worth more than a few words, and I could never adequately say what he really means to me. We all know him, we all have our own relationships with him, and I think it's better that we just know that. I love Jack, that will never change, but I'm not ready to talk about him like he's not here, not yet."
Daisy rubs Norman's back, motioning her agreeance. Karo picks up his backpack and slides his arms through the straps.
"I have a question for you, though." Norman says, his tone still weak and damaged.
Karo's brow raises, he motions for Norman to continue.
"You think Jack's blood can lead to a cure?"
"I don't know, maybe, that's not something I can figure out."
"Then why did you take it?"
"Because maybe someone can."
"In Oasis?"
The rugged man somberly nods.
"But you can't go back, so I don't understand."
"If I bring a cure to them-"
It strikes Norman without warning, no build up, no precursor, just instant rage. He snaps, balling his hands into fists and shaking them at Karo.
"What?! They'll let you back in? You think you can use this to get good graces? You said you could protect us! You said you could protect us! And-and now Jack's dead, he's fucking dead!" Norman viciously snarls, his body quaking with fury.
Karo's hands wave about in the air, an attempt to show submission.
"No, no, that's not what I think at all."
"Then what?! Huh? What?! Tell me what good your protection is? You couldn't save him, how can you keep us safe?! You think you can just go back there with all his blood and get back in?! You just want to save yourself!"
"Norman, please, I'm sorry-"
"Fuck you! Fuck your sorry! What does that do? How does that bring back my-"
His lips quiver, his eyes shake, he falls to his knees next to Jack's grave.
"How does that bring back my husband. My Jack, my-my..."
He trails, his mouth opens again, but only damp air and saliva follow. His hands dig into the soil covering Jack's
body. He clutches the dirt, his head falls over, pressing into the earth. His shoulders bounce up and down, writhing with torment. Karo's head drops in shame.
"Listen, I know you think I'm cold, and I have been for a long time, but I'm not indifferent to this. Jack was a good man, you're good people, and I failed you, all of you."
Karo runs his hand through his hair, spreading wet mud across it. He fidgets, uncomfortable and ashamed.
"It's my fault Jack died. I didn't check the surroundings well enough when we fled those buildings. We got followed, and I should've known it, but I was so concerned with getting Jack and me to safety that I failed to make sure we were safe to begin with."
The corners of Karo's eyes gloss. The moisture from his ducts mixes with the mud on his face, running the combination down his neck, to the top of his shirt.
"I failed you Norman. I failed Jack. There's nothing I can say to make that better, but I am sorry. Jack deserved better than this, he earned better than this. I can't create a cure, or a vaccine, or anything else, but there are people at Oasis that might be able to. They won't let me back in, and that's not why I'm doing this. I told you I would protect you, all of you, and if I can deliver you to Oasis with a potential cure, that's probably the best way of keeping you safe."
Karo kneels down, his face looking to the ground.
"I know what loss is. My wife and child might still be alive, in Oasis, but I'll never see them. To me, they're gone, but if they're still alive, then Jack's blood might make the world a safer place for them too. So that's why I want to take you all to Oasis. It's the best way I can think of to keep you all safe, and it might make the world a better place for everyone, including my wife and child. I don't need to make anything better for myself, but if I can give that to those I care about, then that's what I'm going to do."
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“Mikey, don’t run in the house!” Rosaline says, a bit of irritation underlining her words.
Mikey flies by the kitchen, Rad and Outlaw chasing after him, the child in a mad dash to escape the out stretched arms of his playful friends.
“Mikey!”
The sudden stamping of feet come to an abrupt stop.
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