by C A Gleason
Doreen wasn’t supposed to go outside by herself at night. It was agreed upon. Jonah went with her at night so they didn’t have to wake Heike. If Heike needed to go to the bathroom at night, then she would take her mother with her, and Doreen would be armed. Doreen had been a new mom once, so she was used to getting up at all hours of the night. It was something mothers were ready to do even when their children were grown. Heike had once asked why Jonah got to go to the outhouse by himself, and Doreen had told her it was because he was the man of the house. Maybe not in charge, as he and Doreen shared that role, but definitely the man.
Glancing at the only door leading outside—there was no back door—he expected to see her come back inside, but then he noticed she was sitting on the couch and staring at the tree. That was a relief. Something was up, though. Surely she had seen him standing there, and heard him, but she’d said nothing.
He waited until impatience got the better of him. “Coming back to bed?” he whispered.
“Soon,” she whispered back.
Jonah knew what it felt like to be unaccompanied, and he was always prepared to be, but he hated the idea of being that way now. It was because of that stupid dream, but also he usually felt that way shortly after one of his. . . he didn’t really know what to call them, but emotional episodes would be somewhat apt. They didn’t happen very often, maybe only a handful of times a year. Then the love and care from his woman filled him up, and he felt strong again. He could just imagine explaining all that to his old friend, Eric, who’d died at the base in Oberstein. If he were still alive, Eric would definitely call Jonah a pussy.
As Jonah got older, those episodes got rarer, but when they came about, he knew to tend to them. It was almost like getting over the flu. He was aware that he’d experienced things during the war that had changed him, as many soldiers—those who’d survived, anyway—had, but he wasn’t crazy about examining them under a microscope. Least of all by talking about it. Especially with Doreen, dumping it on her. It wasn’t as if he had many neighbors to choose from, either, and definitely none who were professional human behavior specialists. There were only animals, so he’d rather direct all that junk into missions. Use it as fuel.
All that aside, he simply preferred to be with his woman as much as possible—unless he was in mission mode—but especially at night. He thought it was natural instinct. Most men probably wanted to be close to their women during the night, to protect them, because in the past it was when they were the most vulnerable.
He stood there, intending to go back to bed and trying to anticipate when she would join him, but she obviously had something on her mind. “OK if I sit with you?”
“You don’t have to ask,” she said sternly.
Jonah was reminded, just as he felt occasionally, that Doreen enjoyed being independent. Nothing wrong with that and he wanted to respect her individuality, but he was almost to her when he’d realized that, and he selfishly needed to be reassured about the unfamiliar feelings somewhere deep inside him where he was weak. Maybe it was normal. Pathetic really but he would go through a hundred deployments—while being aware of the irony of being away—if it meant she wouldn’t leave him.
He sat down next to her, staring at the tree also, suddenly sensing the familiar warmth he felt whenever he was near her. He never told her how much he needed her, how he loved her so much he felt like he would die without her. There were other ways to communicate that, so he disguised all of it with affection while he held her hand, kissed her, hugged her, and made love to her. But especially by listening.
“I like the lights,” Doreen said. “I mean, the decorations.”
There was no electricity, but the decorations twinkled as if they were actually electrified like regular ones. It was only an illusion, tiny mirrors that reflected the fire still burning hot in the stove. Doreen must have put another log inside. It snapped and sizzled and raged, determined to heat up the surroundings.
For a while Jonah had considered tracking down solar panels, but they didn’t really need power, and he was sure it was difficult to charge them when it was overcast, stormy, and snowy for most of the year. Plus it would mean frequently clearing flurries from the panels. Maybe solar energy could be of use in the future after they relocated, but it wasn’t necessary for them here. Plus there was no shortage of wood surrounding them. He didn’t even have to cut down trees. They fell on their own. All he had to do was chop the logs into manageable pieces.
“It’s all right if you want to be alone—”
“I never feel that way.”
“This is a small place.” Whether she felt that way or not, being independent was a good thing. How long was only personal preference. “I do.”
“Well, that’s you. And it’s OK. I’m OK with that. It’s why we’re so good together. We are unalike in some ways. I like that for some reason.”
“We think alike for the important stuff.”
“We haven’t been through all of that yet. I’m not as confident as you.”
What does that mean? He thought it but didn’t say it. “I’m confident in us.”
“I am also, but it’s important to be prepared for the unexpected.”
“I agree. See? I know what you mean. You don’t even have to explain anymore.”
“Which is why maybe I should. It is important not to be overconfident. That allows unforeseen mistakes to happen.”
“You think I’m overconfident?”
She went quiet as if she were afraid he might start arguing with her. Jonah tilted his head and cracked his neck. Then a piece of wood snapped inside the stove.
“You don’t have to answer. I know it’s true but not in the way I protect you and Heike. And I’m aware of it, which helps. I think.”
“You’re very protective over us. That didn’t even enter my mind. I was actually thinking of how you will risk your own life. And what I would do if something happened to you.”
“Oh.” So that was what she was getting at.
“Just reminding you.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. I’m glad you awoke. I do want to talk.”
“I’m here for you.”
Jonah waited, doing his best to listen and understand what she was saying. Not to take everything she said personally or get defensive. He and Doreen had been together long enough for him to know that she was on his side. She almost never wanted to hurt his feelings, only help him. She didn’t open up or talk about sensitive subjects very often, so when she did, he was wise to listen to what she had to say.
“There’s something I keep thinking about,” she said. “If you are with someone and that person dies. Doesn’t part of you die with them?”
“I’m not sure I follow. With someone?”
“It could be a romantic relationship or even a friendship. The experiences that you have together also die in a way after they’re gone because it’s only you who remembers it. It makes me sad to know that our lives, all of this . . . could . . . just vanish.”
“No,” Jonah said to the tree. “That’s not going to happen. We’re going to survive.” Before she could ask him how he knew that, he said, “Because we have no choice.” He looked over at her and saw a tear running down her cheek. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
Which meant yes and no. “He isn’t dead. Your dad.” It felt like a lie.
“Thank you. I hope he . . . I know. But I was actually talking about my . . .”
“Who?”
“My deceased husband.” Her voice got thick. “He was a good man. He was Heike’s father. We had plans for her together. It makes me sad for him that he’s gone. He doesn’t know his own daughter anymore. Hasn’t watched her become who she is. He’ll never get to see her grow up like I will.”
And he didn’t have to endure the Molting, Jonah thought but wisely didn’t mention. They sat in silence for a while, Doreen working on her thoughts about her husband who had died in a car accident and Jonah j
ust wanting to be near his woman and comfort her while she feared what lay in their future. Even though they were working through some stuff, it sure was a comforting place to do that. The burning in the woodstove almost made it too warm, and although Heike was young, she knew what she was doing when she decorated a tree.
During the same holiday the year before, Heike had attached a bell to her belt because she liked the sound when it jingled. Doreen had put a quick stop to that for obvious reasons, but Heike hadn’t understood until it was explained to her that she might as well be wearing a dinner bell. It was a good lesson for her, to avoid needless risks, but Heike had remained stubborn and had said, “Jonah protects us.” As if she could do whatever she wanted. Jonah had taken it as a compliment.
Doreen cleared her throat, exhaled, and forced a smile. It was obvious she wanted to lend a little levity to the depth of the conversation because she said, “I wonder what the divorce rate is right now.”
Jonah chuckled. “Probably pretty low. I bet there are a lot of wives putting up with some bullshit.”
“Man ideas that make them shake their heads.”
“Man ideas?”
She forced another smile. “You men. Always have something important to do.”
“That’s why I’m with you. You’re so smart.”
“It’s during tough periods that people need each other the most.”
“Which makes you enjoy the good times even more. Both good and bad can create an even stronger bond.”
“I don’t believe it’s either good or bad. So much happens in the middle.”
“That’s what I meant.”
“Sure you did.”
Jonah scooted closer, his bare leg next to hers, which was clothed in pajama bottoms. “Cozy right here.”
“Mm-hmm.” She cleared her throat. “Something like this could drive people apart too.”
“For some. Not us, though, right?”
“No,” she said. “Not us . . . of course it helps to be married.”
That made Jonah’s heart warm as much as the fire in the woodstove. It was as if it had gotten doused with gasoline. On this very couch not very long ago, their relationship had been in serious trouble, even with the Molter threat. It was difficult for anyone to be talked out of being depressed. Doreen’s misery hadn’t been a choice. It hadn’t been because she wasn’t getting along with coworkers, or was worried about what was going on in the economy or poor financial decisions, or was occupied with whatever else caused a person to feel down under normal circumstances. When they weren’t running for their life.
For Doreen, it was the most unavoidable situation that could happen to a woman—losing a baby, having a miscarriage. It didn’t matter to her that he hadn’t even been born. It was something she had been forced to deal with. Jonah hoped she would figure it out so if something close to it happened again she would be able to deal with it better. He applied that lesson to his own life.
Except how was it possible to be normal after something like that? Some mothers got depressed even after their children were born. Doreen had never taken out her anger and frustration and sadness on him exactly, but she’d been noticeably quieter ever since, and her patience for him wasn’t what it used to be. He guessed it was to be expected since they’d been together for a few years and lived in such small quarters. All of it was probably normal, but he wasn’t sure. His relationship with Doreen was his longest. His marriage to Sharon hadn’t even lasted a year.
Explain to Doreen that her behavior was affecting her relationships, even the one between her and Heike, would have been like spitting into the wind. The loss had changed her in many ways since, but Jonah had also noticed she’d gained strength, and she seemed to be slowly going back to how she used to be.
Some nights she would wake up sobbing as silently as possible so as not to wake Heike or even Jonah, but being right next to her, Jonah still woke up, and he didn’t always remember why it was happening, being sleepy himself. It was frustrating for him to see her in pain like that and know there was nothing he could do except be present emotionally, hold her if she wanted him to, just be near her or leave her be, and overall just have the patience to allow her to heal.
The loss hurt Jonah, too, of course and deeply, but he was good at unhealthily burying pain somewhere deep inside him. Something like that was different for a mother. Far more intense and severe for obvious reasons. It was physical, mental, emotional, and even physiological. It had changed her, just as any trauma does to a person. Shortly after her miscarriage, he would hold her while she quietly wept in their bed at night before falling asleep—when she allowed him to—after doing an admirable job of hiding how she felt during the day so Heike wouldn’t see.
She hardly cried throughout the night anymore, and he never brought up what had happened. He would always listen to her if she needed to talk, as she did tonight, but he would also never remind her of her pain. As the days went on, it was as if whenever she made an X on the calendar—signifying how many days Henry had been away—she rediscovered something lost within herself and brought it forward. Laughing, being in the moment, forgoing those times when she would stare off at nothing, lost in thought and doing her best to act as if she were feeling fine but was not.
“I want to be your wife,” Doreen said.
That marriage breadcrumb was only the latest since they’d met. “I want that too,” he said. He didn’t need to look over at her to see emotion. He could hear it because he knew how her breathing changed when she wept.
“And . . . I want to try again.”
Reaching over, Jonah found her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We will. Whatever you want. All of it. Everything.”
“I want you to want everything too.”
“I do. But to do any of it, we need to find a safer place than here. And I will.”
“How could anywhere else be safer than here?”
“More people living nearby. With knowledge I don’t have.”
“You’re the most knowledgeable man I know.”
He almost said, “I’m the only many you know right now,” but that would have been a mistake, reminding her of her missing father. He was thankful for the filter he’d developed, the one missing from most young people, the same one preventing them from saying the wrong thing. Just because you think it doesn’t mean you should say it.
“Thank you. I’m trained. I’m skilled in a lot of ways, but if things go wrong during childbirth, you might not survive next time. I was trained to deal with wounds on the battlefield, but I’m not a doctor.”
She sniffed. “Women used to give birth without modern-day medicine.”
As softly as he could, Jonah said, “And they died during delivery too. All the time.”
Doreen stared at the tree. The wind suddenly howled outside, and Jonah glanced at the woodstove that thankfully still warmed them, debating whether to throw another log on. They probably wouldn’t be on the couch much longer, so he decided against it. Blinking, he realized he hadn’t slept long enough because his eyes stung. He wanted them both to go back to bed but together. He was prepared to stay up as late as Doreen needed, but he hoped that wouldn’t mean seeing the first hints of morning slicing through the window.
Enough sleep or not, he had tasks to accomplish, and he would just rest longer tonight, but that meant being uncomfortably tired for the rest of the day. That was getting harder to do the older he got. The mind needed rest. Jonah had gone without sleep many times throughout his life, but that didn’t mean he could stifle a yawn.
Doreen squeezed his hand. “You’re tired.”
“So are you.”
“Go back to bed. I’ll be in soon.”
CHAPTER 10
Frox told Perry to keep his voice down because it carried. His paranoia was just part of who he was. Perry always wondered—out loud—if it would be him eventually. No matter how much he was reassured. Everyone but Frox and Archard likely believed that too. Frox guessed he and Perry had been
having the same extended, annoying conversation for over a year. In a way, he hoped it would continue for years to come.
Frox did his best to observe past Perry’s bulk, down the line of people who held their weapons at the ready. They looked as if they’d been in the exact same position for days. They practically had been, except during shift changes when rest was required, but gun barrels weren’t as at the ready as they’d been since the most recent cell door had been closed. He couldn’t remember how many days it had been. It felt like he hadn’t slept in weeks.
Fatigue, in all aspects, was unavoidable for him because he was in charge when Archard wasn’t around, and lately Archard didn’t leave the firing line. And once someone was put in a cell, a continuous team needed to stay in position. Most of them were always ready, and they were only allowed a few hours of sleep a night because once the inevitable happened, they needed every shooter. No one wanted to be blamed for needless deaths because they couldn’t get dressed fast enough to join the fight.
When that would happen was impossible to predict, though. One thing for sure was that a molting was going to take place. The man whose name they didn’t want to think about, especially now, hadn’t froze to death before the change could begin. He was still breathing in a way that made it obvious he was about to become one of them. But it had never taken so long, or at least it seemed that way to Frox. Mostly because he just wanted to get it all over with so he could get some decent rest.
“I’ve always been a bit of a gambler,” Perry said.
“Do you really want to start betting on it?” Frox said.
“Just wondering who you think it might be is all. Something to talk about.”
“Not interested.”
Perry pointed. “See it now?”
“No.”
