by Randy Henson
Orin walked over and dropped a towel and robe on the bench next to ours, along with a bar of soap. He then started unbuttoning his brown flannel shirt.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked him.
He just smiled at me and took his shirt off. The man was a solid lean slab of muscle. He didn’t look like he had an ounce of fat on him. I felt a twinge of jealousy… or maybe it was something else I felt. Then he unzipped his fanny pack and took out his injection gun. He then pulled a medicine pellet from the fanny pack and loaded it into the gun. Then he said, “I’m keeping myself well. We’ll dose Jack in the morning. It won’t do any good now. The first injection has to be given after he’s slept.”
Orin sat down on the bench, placed his left elbow onto his left thigh, and shot himself in the crook of his left arm with the injection gun. He then returned the injection gun to his fanny pack and zipped it closed, picked up his robe, towel, and soap, and then he walked down to the shower furthest from us and placed the towel and robe down on the sink.
I watched him as he removed his pistols from the back waistband of his jeans and placed them on top of the robe. He then unbuckled his fanny pack, slipped it off, and placed it on top of the robe as well.
He then turned toward us and said, “Oh, don’t let me forget to go back to the coffee shop.”
“We can probably get coffee at dinner,” I said.
“I meant to get my rifle. I left my rifle there.”
“Oh, okay,” I said as I stared at his bare chest and torso.
Orin then slipped his shoes off and stepped into the shower with the bar of soap.
A moment later his jeans flew out of the shower, then one sock and then the other, followed by a pair of red checkered boxers.
I heard the water turn on and I turned to Jack. I took his hands and motioned for him to stand up. I lifted his hands as high as I could, but I was five-five and he was… what? Six-two, six-three, now? And at just seventeen years old he was still growing. He was going to be as big as our mother’s brothers had been, if not bigger.
Jack just stood there staring at me with his arms only partially raised.
I stepped up onto the wooden bench behind Jack and lifted his shirt. To my amazement and pleasure, he caught on and lifted his arms all the way as I helped him out of his shirt. I then stepped down from the bench and looked up at Jack.
“Shower, clean,” I said as I pointed toward the shower I had turned on for him and was now billowing steam.
Jack turned to look at the shower and then back at me.
“Clean, clean,” he said as he put the bar of soap he was holding down on the bench and sat down. He then began pulling off his sneakers. When he stood and unbuttoned his jeans I turned around to give him privacy.
It was times like this that I was grateful Jack was a Category Three and not a Category Four or Category Five. If he had been, I would have had to clean and dress him myself. I might have found myself having to wipe his bottom as if he were a complete invalid. Thank God for small miracles.
Once I heard Jack’s feet patter across the floor and heard him yelp and moan as he stepped into the shower, I turned and walked over to close his shower’s curtain for him. I then stepped over to the shower next to his and turned it on as hot as it would go and began to undress.
I first had to sit down on the bench to tug off my heavy hiking boots. Then I stood and unbuckled my gun belt and placed it on the bench. Then I unclipped my knife’s sheath and placed it next to the gun belt. I then made a pony tail out of my hair with a fist as I worked it underneath the twine around my neck and took my locket off and placed it on top of my knife’s sheath. Finally, I wiggled out of my jeans, folded them, and placed them on the bench.
I picked up Jacks pile of clothes, folded them and placed them on the bench as well.
I pulled off my shirt and sighed as I pulled off my sports bra. I hated wearing the sports bra, but it was necessary since I’m a tad top heavy and always on the run. I then slipped off my panties, grabbed the bar of soap and the tiny bottle of shampoo, and stepped into the shower.
I closed the shower’s plastic curtain and heard myself gasp as the hot water hit me. I adjusted it so it wasn’t absolutely scalding. I then lathered the soap in my hands as the hot water massaged my body and released the tension that had built up in me over the day.
Usually I take a quick shower. I usually just scrub most parts once and the pink parts twice, but the water felt great and I felt like I had a month’s worth of grit and grime in every cranny, so I made sure I got between my toes and behind my ears and everywhere else as clean as they could get. Then I emptied the entire bottle of shampoo on top of my head and washed my hair. As I massaged my scalp with soapy fingers, I tried to remember the last time I had washed my hair with actual shampoo.
When I was finished, I turned the water off, slid the plastic curtain open, and was about to step out when I thought better of it. I’m glad I did. I poked my head out of the shower and saw Orin tying his robe closed. I looked from him to the bench where I had left my towel.
“That was fantastic, huh?” Orin said.
I turned my head back toward Orin and said, “Wonderful. You mind turning around?”
He looked at me and then over at the towels and robes still on the bench.
He smirked for a split second and then walked toward me as he said, “I’ll do you one better. Close your curtain.”
I closed the curtain so only my head was poking out.
Orin walked over to the bench and grabbed a towel. He then walked over and handed it to me.
“Be sure to dry your feet off real good. This floor is slippery,” he said.
“Okay,” I said as I ducked my head back into the shower and toweled myself off really well.
I poked my head out to see Orin sitting on the bench waiting.
I reached my left arm out and said, “Pass me one of those robes, will ya?”
Orin grabbed a robe and walked it over to me.
“Here. And stay in there a minute. I’ll get Jack sorted for you, if you’d like.”
I took the robe from him and said, “Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks.”
“No problem. A sister shouldn’t have to deal with that sort of thing.”
I closed the curtain and slipped the robe on. It felt fluffy and comfortable. I then heard the water in Jack’s stall turn off.
“Here, Jack. Time to dry off,” Orin said.
“Just hand him the towel. He knows what to do with it,” I said.
“I see that. I think he’s drying himself off better than I did myself.”
“Make sure his feet are good and dry. His balance isn’t what it used to be,” I said.
After a stretch of silence, Orin said, “Here, Jack, put this on.”
“Owen,” Jack said.
“Orin. That’s right, buddy. Good job,” Orin said.
“Good,” Jack said.
“Okay, we’re decent,” Orin said.
I stepped out of the shower stall to find both Jack and Orin grinning.
“I think he enjoyed the shower as much as we did,” Orin said.
“Of course he did,” I said.
Orin walked back over to the sink where he had left his fanny pack and pistols. He slipped a pistol into each of his robe’s two pockets. He then looped one of the fanny pack’s straps around his robe’s cotton belt instead of strapping it around his waist.
I picked up my locket and hung it around my neck. I then picked my sheathed Bowie knife up off the bench and slipped it into my robe’s left pocket before I picked up my gun belt and slung it over my right shoulder.
“Ready to do a little clothes shopping?” Orin asked.
“Ready,” I said.
“Ready,” Jack said.
“We should do something with our old clothes, though. It would be kind of rude to just leave them here for someone else to deal with,” I said.
Orin nodded and said, “You’re right.”
&nb
sp; We gathered up all our clothes and shoes and tossed them into a large trashcan that stood next to the row of lockers.
I took Jack by the hand and the three of us then walked out of the locker room, pitter-pattered down the concrete hallway with bare feet, and across the store to the escalators. We rode the escalator back up to the second floor, walked between the two armed guards, and headed to the clothing departments.
Orin stopped when we reached the men’s department and said, “Why don’t I help Jack get fitted while you do what you need to do?”
I didn’t like leaving Jack, especially for something as silly as clothes shopping, but I trusted Orin. He had saved Jack’s life, probably more than once, so I said, “Okay, thanks.”
I let go of Jack’s hand, backed away from them a few steps, and then I turned and headed toward Women’s Apparel.
CHAPTER FOUR
“What are you going to tell her?” Joe asked.
“Only what she needs to know,” Moira said.
They were seated at a Formica table in the galleria’s food court. A cup of hot tea rested on the table in front of Moira, a hot cup of coffee in front of Joe.
“And how much is that?” Joe asked.
Moira frowned at Joe and said, “Just enough to keep her here. And it’s not your place to question my methods. You’re as bad as my grandson.”
“I meant no offense. And I don’t think we’ll have any problem keeping them here, if that’s what you want.”
“It’s not a matter of what I want. It’s a matter of what she wants, and she’s going to have to want to stay. We can’t force her.”
“Sure we can,” Joe said.
“No. Not that way. You’d just make an enemy of her, and that won’t do anyone any good. You best let me handle this.”
“What do you think Matthew would do if he was here?”
“I know exactly how my grandson would handle things, which is why I’m glad he’s not here right now. That boy has his mother’s lack of patience, and we know how that turned out. This Deville girl is going to take some convincing and that’s going to be done with finesse, not force.”
“Actually, I never heard the whole story regarding your daughter and her husband,” Joe said.
“Well, I’m not going to get into all that right now, if ever. Let’s just say that you can have all the power in the world, or at least enough power to protect the ones you love from anything and anyone, but no matter how much power you possess you can never protect the ones you love from themselves.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I entered Women’s Apparel and found the undergarments right away. I unclipped a pair of black panties from a hanger and slipped them on underneath my robe. It took me a moment to hunt down a black sports bra in my size, but I finally found one. I looked around but saw no one, so I shrugged off my robe and pulled the sports bra on. I then put the robe back on, tied it closed, and started hunting for a pair of jeans.
I found the Levi’s folded and sorted along the far wall inside cubbyholes. I hunted for my size when I noticed a sign that said Jordache to my left. The Jordache sign was on top of a clothes carousel and I walked over to it. Jeans hung from hangers around the carousel and I circled it searching for my size.
I found my size and unclipped a pair from its hanger. When I did, I noticed a pair of big brown eyes staring up at me and I jumped back a bit, dropping the jeans and reaching for the pistol at my shoulder. My fingers touched the pistol’s grip when a small girl stepped out from inside the carousel.
She had blonde hair she wore in pigtails that were secured with pink ribbons. She wore a simple pink dress and a pair of pink flip-flops. She was a pretty little girl, maybe eight or nine years old, and her large brown eyes seemed to take up her entire face.
The girl took a step toward me as she looked up at me and said, “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Excuse me?” I said.
The girl looked around and then back up at me.
“It’s not safe for you here. You should leave while you can,” she said.
She then looked nervously around again.
“What do you mean?” I asked her.
The girl didn’t look back up at me again. She just said, “They’re dangerous. They’re witches. They’re all witches. Granny says so.”
Then the girl turned and, as quick as a little rabbit, she disappeared between the racks of clothes and was gone.
Weird.
I shook my head.
Kids are weird.
I picked up the pair of jeans where I had dropped them and stepped into them. I hopped a couple of times as I wiggled myself into the jeans. I then zipped them up and buttoned them. I was happy with how they fit, so I went hunting for a pair of socks as I undid my robe and strapped my gun belt around my waist. I pulled my Bowie knife out of my robe’s pocket and clipped it onto the gun belt since I hadn’t bothered picking out a regular belt, the jeans fitting perfectly and all.
I found the socks and decided on a heavy wool pair since winter was coming. They were red and white striped and looked like cloth candy canes. They looked like stockings one would hang from a fireplace’s mantel in the hopes that Santa would stuff them full of goodies. I slipped them on and headed back to Men’s Apparel. I’d find a shirt there. All the t-shirts in the women’s department had teddy bears or kittens on them. I was never a teddy bear and kitten kind of girl, even before The Plague.
I found Jack and Orin in the men’s shoe department. Jack was sitting on a wooden bench and Orin was helping him lace up a pair of black New Balance sneakers. I noticed Orin was wearing the exact same color and style of sneakers.
Jack turned and looked at me and said, “Shoes.”
Orin looked over at me, grinned, and said, “Well, that’s a new look for you. You definitely have your own style.”
I looked down and realized my robe was still open where I had strapped on the gun belt. I closed the robe and secured it with its belt.
“So, what do you think?” Orin asked as he stood and motioned toward Jack.
Orin was dressed in blue jeans and an olive and black checkered flannel shirt.
“You got a thing for flannel, don’t you?” I asked.
Orin looked down at his shirt and said, “Flannel keeps me warm.” He then looked back up at me and said, “And I wasn’t talking about me. I was talking about Jack.”
“Jack,” my brother said as he stood. He was wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a black t-shirt with a large basset hound on it. Under the basset hound, in ochre colored lettering, it read ‘HUSHPUPPIES’.
“He picked out the shirt himself. He just had to have it. No talking him out of it,” Orin said.
“Your not letting him go commando, are you?” I asked.
“No. He’s wearing boxers. He picked those out, too. They got Sponge Bob on them. I’m rocking a pair as well. Want to see them?” Orin said as he grinned.
“I’ll pass. Where’d you get his shirt?” I asked.
Orin pointed and said, “Over there.”
I walked over to where he had pointed and found the Hushpuppies shirts hanging on a rack. I found one that I thought would fit me, took off my robe, and pulled on the shirt. It was a little too snug. I peeled it off and selected one a size bigger. It ended up fitting fine, nice and loose.
“The other one fit better,” I heard Orin say.
I turned to see him smiling at me, Jack standing next to him.
I frowned at Orin and said, “Give me a break, will ya?”
Orin held his palms up and said, “Okay, sorry. You’re just a striking woman, that’s all.”
“That’s you giving me a break?” I asked.
Orin shook his head and said, “Sorry, sorry. Let’s go get something to eat.”
“Let’s go get your rifle first,” I said.
“Right, thanks for reminding me.”
I took Jack by the hand and the three of us headed toward Macy’s entrance.
“Hey, aren’t yo
u forgetting something?” Orin asked.
“Like what?” I asked.
Orin pointed at my feet and said, “Like shoes.”
“I want to stop at that sporting goods store on the way to the coffee shop. I figure I’ll find some boots there,” I said.
Orin just nodded as we exited Macy’s and made our way toward the sporting goods store.
“Hey, did you happen to see a blonde girl when you guys were trying on clothes?” I asked.
“Blonde girl?”
“Yeah, like eight or nine years old.”
Orin shook his head and said, “No, we didn’t see anybody. Why? Did you?”
“Yeah. Weird little girl.”
“Are there any other kind?”
“I guess not,” I said.
“Is this the store you meant?” Orin asked as he pointed at the sporting goods store coming up on our right.
“Yeah, this is it,” I said as I led Jack into the store.
It wasn’t the largest sporting goods store I’d ever been in, but it was pretty big. We didn’t get too far before I saw a display of Zippo lighters resting on top of a checkout counter. I remembered that I had left my lighter and last firecracker in my old pair of jeans. The flint on my old Zippo was wearing down so I figured it didn’t matter that I’d forgotten it. I’d get me a new one.
I let go of Jack’s hand and spun the display case. I opened the case’s back and reached in for a gold colored Zippo that had a green four-leaf clover embossed on its front.
“Hey, grab me that one with the Jolly Roger on it,” Orin said.
I grabbed the silver Zippo decorated with skull and crossbones and handed it to Orin as I slipped the clover Zippo in my front left pocket.
Orin looked around and said, “Do you see any fluid?”
“I got a big can of fluid in my backpack,” I told him. “What I need is firecrackers. Do you see any fireworks?”
