The Junkie Quatrain

by Peter Clines

  Holly glared at her roommate. ‘Next time you try to take my pistol, I’ll beat you senseless.’

  ‘They were going to break in!’

  ‘They liked the noise. They didn’t even know we were in here.’

  Angie closed her eyes. The web between her finger and thumb was bleeding. She’d bitten it trying not to scream during the assault. ‘How can you be so calm about this?’

  Holly shrugged. ‘What’s the point of getting worked up?’

  ‘They could’ve killed us.’

  She shrugged again. ‘They didn’t.’ She made a point of double-checking the snap on the holster. ‘I’m going to bed. Tomorrow’s going to be another long hike. Maybe we can reach Sherman Oaks.’

  * * *

  Holly woke up crying. She always did. It was the same dream and it took her a minute to remember that it was in the past. Six weeks in the past.

  She was just starting to doze off again when she realized Angie’s arm was around her waist.

  It didn’t surprise her that much. Everyone has habits in bed. Up until two nights ago Angie’d been spooning with someone. She’d probably been half-asleep when she snuggled up against Holly. She was warm.

  Besides, the extra body heat was nice considering the thin blankets.

  Holly shifted on the mattress, folding the pillow in half to support her head. She heard Angie’s breathing shift and felt warm air on her neck. ‘Sorry,’ Holly whispered. Another bed habit.

  ‘S’alright,’ murmured Angie. She sounded groggy. Her hand patted Holly’s belly twice.

  Then it slid up under her shirt to cup her breast.

  She tensed up, wide awake again. Angie seemed asleep. Holly was willing to excuse it as another random movement.

  Angie’s fingers flexed, spreading back and forth. A hot breath flowed across the back of Holly’s neck. She felt lips settle on her shoulders. The arm across her chest pulled tight, and she could feel the other woman shifting.

  ‘No,’ she said. She grabbed Angie’s wrist and pulled it away from her chest.

  Angie shook her off and grabbed the tit again. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. Her hand traced a path down the stomach and settled on Holly’s belt.

  Holly kicked the covers off and rolled out of bed. She slept with the holster on and now the Beretta was in her hand. She looked back at the bed, eyes wide in the dim room.

  Angie was naked. She’d wiggled out of her clothes during the night and they were wadded up at the bottom of the bed, the green boxer briefs and the polka dot bra near the top of the pile. Her skin was dusky gray in the uneven light filtering around the drapes. She looked at the pistol and her eyes went wide. ‘Hey,’ she said. Her voice was soft. Seductive. ‘Calm down. It’s not that big a deal.’

  ‘The hell it isn’t,’ snapped Holly. ‘Are you bi?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you? Have you slept with a woman before?’

  ‘What? No. I just thought... you know, it’s kind of chilly and we’re already in bed and—’

  ‘And you just decided to switch teams for the night?’

  Angie’s eyes went up and down Holly’s body. Her tongue slipped out to touch her upper lip. ‘What’s the big deal?’

  ‘Two nights ago you were in bed with your boyfriend, now you’re feeling up a woman you’ve known for a day.’ She thumbed the hammer on the pistol. It clicked into place, and the sharp sound echoed in the RV. ‘When did you get infected?’

  ‘I told you. The night before—’

  ‘You weren’t bitten two nights ago,’ snapped Holly. ‘Your inhibitions are gone. How long has it been?’

  Angie crossed her arms, but her eyes kept tracing Holly’s figure. ‘About a week. More or less.’

  ‘More or less?’

  ‘Eight days.’

  ‘Damn it.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘I feel fine.’

  ‘You’re maybe seventy-two hours away from eating anything you can fit in your mouth,’ said Holly, ‘whether it’s alive or dead.’

  ‘Well, I feel fine now.’ She stood up on her knees, showing off her nudity in the shafts of light that filtered through the drapes. Her fingers slid down her own body, and she tickled herself beneath the neat patch of hair. ‘You said you’re immune, so what’s the big deal?’

  ‘Sit down.’

  ‘I bet you’d like it once I got going.’

  The barrel shifted up to her eyes. ‘I’ll kill you,’ Holly told her. ‘I won’t have a choice, because right now you’re going to attack or run screaming if I just wound you. So lie down and go back to sleep. We’ll figure this out in the morning.’

  Angie’s fingers came away from her crotch. The passion left her eyes as quickly as it had risen up. ‘Fine,’ she muttered. She threw herself down on the bed and yanked the thin blanket up to cover herself. ‘Your loss.’

  Holly edged away from the bed. She fumbled for the baseball bat without taking her eyes off the prone woman. She stepped back out of the bedroom, into the main section of the RV, and pulled the flimsy divider shut.

  She settled into a chair behind the driver’s seat. It faced the back of the camper and gave her a clear view of the bedroom a dozen feet away. Angie would have to make noise and cover distance to reach her.

  She fell asleep sitting up with the pistol in her hand.

  * * *

  The divider clicked open. The pistol jumped up and Holly blinked herself awake.

  Sunlight streamed in around the drapes and cushions that blocked the windows. The RV smelled faintly of last night’s soup. It didn’t look quite as appealing in the light.

  Angie was dressed. She’d buttoned her blouse up high and zipped up her jacket as well. Her hands were wedged in the pockets of her jeans. ‘I’m... ummmm... I’m sorry if I came on kind of strong last night.’

  ‘You almost raped me,’ said Holly. The pistol stayed up.

  ‘I’m sorry. I haven’t lost it that bad before. I’ve had urges, y’know, but I’ve been able to keep them under control.’

  ‘Eight days?’

  ‘Yeah. Well, nine if you count today.’

  They said nothing for a few minutes.

  ‘So,’ said Angie. ‘What now?’

  ‘I can’t trust you,’ Holly told her. ‘You can travel with me today, but you stay in front of me the whole time. Tonight you’re on your own.’

  ‘That’s not much.’

  ‘It’s better than some people got.’

  They unlocked the door and stepped outside. Holly left the door open a crack. Someone else might need it someday.

  Angie stretched her arms. ‘Okay, then. Which way are we headed?’

  ‘North.’

  ‘Why?’

  She shrugged her backpack up onto her shoulders. ‘My brother and his family are up by San Francisco. A little place called Pleasanton. I know they’ll take me in. What’s the best way we can take?’

  Angie rolled her head on her neck until she was looking east. ‘We go about half a mile that way, we’ll be at Highland Avenue. We can either get on the freeway or take the pass into the valley.’

  ‘Highways aren’t good,’ said Holly. ‘Nowhere to hide unless you get lucky. The junkies get less food up there, too, so they hunt you.’

  ‘Really?’

  Holly tapped her left arm where her shirt hid a scar. ‘Really.’

  ‘We can probably be at the pass in an hour, then.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Holly. ‘The Cahuenga Pass?’

  Angie nodded. ‘Yeah, why?’

  The bat drifted down and clinked on the pavement. ‘Paul, my husband, he loved the old black and white Zorro television show,’ she said. ‘Zorro and the soldiers were always riding horses way out to the Cahuenga Pass for meetings and ambushes.’

  Angie blinked and looked down at Holly’s bare fingers. ‘You’re married?’

  Holly blinked away her memories. ‘Not for a couple of weeks now,’ she said. She hefted the bat and gestured. ‘Start walking.’
>
  * * *

  They’d hiked down away from the canyon and across Franklin Avenue. There was a pile of sleeping junkies, a whole pack, at one skewed intersection, and the two women skirted around them. Holly looked at the towers of the Magic Castle as they walked past it and studied the quiet spires of the church a few blocks later.

  It was high noon when they crested the Cahuenga Pass and headed down into the valley. They were passing between a huge, black office building and a car dealership when Angie looked back over her shoulder. ‘I’m getting really hungry.’

  Holly stopped and raised the bat.

  ‘Not, like, crazy-mindless-bottomless hungry,’ said Angie. ‘Just hungry, y’know? We didn’t eat breakfast.’

  The bat stayed up. ‘I don’t have much,’ Holly said. ‘I can’t waste it on you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Just the way it is.’

  Angie snorted. ‘Why are you immune, anyway?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Did you get some sort of special shot or drug or something?’

  Holly shook her head. ‘Nothing. Believe me, I’ve tried to figure out why. It’s just bad luck.’

  ‘Bad luck?’

  She coughed. ‘You know what I mean. There are always people that are immune to a disease. They’ve got some little twist or fishhook in their genes. I just happened to pull the short stick.’

  Angie looked back at her again. ‘Why do you keep saying it like that? You’re immune. Most people’d think that’s kind of awesome.’

  Holly returned the gaze and sighed. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘It’s really made my life awesome.’

  ‘Hello, ladies,’ wheezed a voice.

  They both spun around. Holly brought the bat up one handed.

  The man was small and thin, with a round face and pale eyes beneath ragged black hair. His smile was pasted on. He was crouched on the hood of a car. A rifle stretched across his lap, and its strap hung loose over his knees. He gave them a little wave, and his smile broadened to bare teeth at them.

  Holly tossed the baseball bat to her other hand and reached down to unsnap her holster. It was a loud noise in the silence of the street. She let her hand settle there.

  ‘Don’t do anything rash,’ said another voice. Holly glanced to her left and saw a woman had appeared near a white van. She was short, with dark skin and braided hair. Indian, maybe.

  The outsiders already had them surrounded. Holly counted five men and two women, and was pretty sure there more she couldn’t see. Their clothes were faded and gray, a simple urban camouflage. They all had rifles, and most of them had a holstered pistol as well.

  She was outnumbered and seriously outgunned. She took a few steps forward and then realized she’d let herself get in front of Angie. The hair on her neck bristled. Too late now.

  One man stepped towards her, into the circle of firepower. He wasn’t overly tall and almost had a bit of a paunch. He had a thick, dark beard, and without it he’d probably be baby-faced. His voice was soft and pleasant. ‘Afternoon,’ he said. ‘What brings you out here?’

  ‘Just passing through.’

  He nodded. ‘Passing through to where?’ He had a big rifle hanging on a strap off his shoulder, inside his arm. It was a glossy, lethal-looking thing with a big ammunition drum. At first she thought it was an old-fashioned Tommy gun. Then she realized it was some kind of automatic shotgun.

  ‘Just passing through,’ she repeated.

  ‘Did Bradbury hire you?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You’re not working for Bradbury?’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.

  The bearded man made a gesture. She glanced back as a man leaped from behind a dusty SUV to grab Angie. He had a thin nose, gray stubble, and a prominent overbite. It made him look like a rat. One arm was wrapped around Angie’s throat. The other held a pistol near her head, but made a point of not aiming it at her.

  ‘Hey,’ said Holly, ‘Don’t scare her. She’s—’

  Angie screamed. It was a furious screech of fear and rage, aimed at the Rat. He flinched back. They all did. The raw noise was almost alien in the silent city. The Rat smacked her. The shock shut her up and she trembled.

  ‘Hell,’ said the Rat as the echo of her scream faded away. ‘She’s infected. Late stages.’

  ‘That settles that,’ the Indian woman said. ‘No one’d hire an almost-junkie.’

  A yell came from down the road. It hooted twice and sank into gibberish. Matching howls came from up in the hills behind the office building. A few more came from the freeway behind the car dealership.

  A few blocks away someone loped out into the street. The figure was too far away to be sure if it was a woman or a thin man. It hollered at them, took a few steps, and broke into a run. It hadn’t gone ten yards when a larger form dashed out from between buildings to join it. A moment later three came from out of a Carl’s Jr. parking lot, crouched low as if they started moving before they’d even fully stood up.

  ‘Junkies,’ called one of the outsiders. ‘We got junkies.’ They scattered. Three of them covered Holly and Angie while the others yanked hidden bicycles from beneath cars and trucks. The leader stayed with them.

  ‘Sorry about this,’ he said. ‘It was just business. Nothing personal.’

  Holly glared at him. ‘You’re leaving us here?’

  ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry, but it wasn’t my people that started screaming.’ The outsiders shouted and he ran over to join them. They stood on their pedals and raced away, back up the Pass towards Hollywood.

  Angie saw the junkies. She started shaking. ‘Oh, God,’ she gasped. ‘No, no, no.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Holly. ‘We have to go now or I’m leaving you.’

  ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘NOW!’ She twisted Angie’s jacket into her fist and gave a hard tug. The other woman stumbled to her feet.

  The junkies were halfway there. Close to a dozen men and women, their feet thundering on the pavement. Some of them were foaming at the mouth like overworked horses. Or rabid dogs.

  Holly looked at the nearby cars. There was nothing big enough to protect them from this many junkies. They didn’t have time to search for an open door or to pry one open, anyway.

  The outsiders must’ve been looting the black office building. Or been holed up there. Either way, it had to be open. She shoved Angie that way and sprinted past her for the lobby door. The pounding of feet was even closer, and she could hear the junkies gasping and grunting and barking.

  The outsiders had kicked out the bottom panel of glass on one of the doors. Holly dove through it and felt a moment of terror as her backpack caught on the door’s frame. Then she skidded through the broken glass in the lobby and threw herself back to her feet. There was a clatter behind her as Angie tumbled through the opening.

  They ran deeper into the expansive lobby. It was all chrome and dark stone. The elevator links were a trap. They needed somewhere small. A ground-floor office or a closet or—

  The stairwell. She saw the sign and the arrow and the stick figure on the jagged line. She yanked on the handle. The door opened just as she heard more glass break back at the front door.

  Holly charged up the stairwell with Angie clomping behind her. The larger woman wasn’t used to so much running, that was clear. She was probably still a bit in shock, too.

  There was a card-reader on the third floor door that had been smashed. Probably the outsiders. The door pulled open with no problem. She grabbed Angie’s shoulder and shoved her into the hallway beyond. As the door settled shut behind her, she heard nonsense voices echoing up the stairwell.

  She slowed her pace a bit and pushed each door handle as she passed it. The fourth one opened and they crossed into a small reception area. Holly gave Angie a prod with the bat, guiding her deeper into the office.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  Holly jabbed her with the bat again. ‘Keep quiet,’ she said.


  Angie glared at the bat, but dropped her voice. ‘What are we doing?’

  ‘Hiding.’

  They slipped through two more doors and found themselves in a small office with a large desk. A dusty computer tower stood by the window. Holly pushed the other woman down so the desk would be between them and the door.

  Angie looked up at her. ‘Do you think it’ll work?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Holly. ‘They don’t like enclosed spaces. I’m hoping the deeper they get into the building the less they like looking for us.’ She slumped to the floor and let the bat fall between her legs. Her chest was heaving.

  ‘If it doesn’t?’

  Holly closed her eyes and let out a low sigh. ‘They were going to leave us alone. Why’d you scream at him?’

  Angie squirmed. ‘I... I didn’t mean to. He just got me so mad and I didn’t care. I just wanted to—’

  ‘Impulse control,’ said Holly. ‘Completely shot. You’re heading into stage three. Are you still hungry?’

  ‘Of course I’m still hungry. We haven’t—’

  ‘Probably already there.’ She shook her head. ‘Just like everyone else.’

  Across the office, down the hall, they heard the stairwell door. The pneumatic arm near the top, designed to make it close quietly, hissed as it opened. The noise echoed in the silent hallway.

  ‘It’s always the same,’ said Holly. ‘You just keep using me and then you go away. One way or another you all go away.’

  ‘Shhhhhh,’ said Angie. ‘I think they’re in the hall.’ Her voice rose on the last syllable and she slapped her hands over her mouth.

  Holly glared at her. ‘You’re just like Paul,’ she hissed. ‘Telling me what to do.’A series of mutters echoed through the office door. They were nonsense noises. They sounded sad. One was almost whiny.

  Angie’s eyes pleaded with Holly to be quiet.

  ‘Telling everyone I’m away too much,’ muttered Holly. Her gaze dropped to the baseball bat. ‘I’m under too much stress. I’m not a good mother. He got them to take Lisa away from me. I think he was hoping I’d get caught in China.’