“Lots of lightning, little rain,” he said. “Where you trying to get to?”
“Florida,” said Wade, growing uncomfortable. Most people weren’t so nosy that he’d noticed.
“Isn’t it all ocean now?”
“Not all of it, and I’m not staying,” said Wade. He pulled out his phone, but there were no new texts from Jaxxon. Not that he really expected any.
“Coming back for Christmas, eh?” asked the man, but his face had gotten hard again.
“I don’t think I know anyone celebrating this year,” said Wade, wishing the old man would go back to silence.
“You should. I lost my entire family to the bugs. If you got family left, that’s reason enough to celebrate.”
“We’ll see,” said Wade, the best he could manage. Although the old man thankfully got quiet, it was impossible not to think about the superbugs now. Everything had changed so quickly. The weather out of control, the resistant strains of common illnesses….
The bugs had shown up eventually. Wade had been following the news more closely at work, tracking the government as the presidential position got passed farther and farther down the line, as states began to splinter off and see to their own issues as best as possible. The local news announced the presence of two virulent strains and a checklist of what to do if infected, and Wade poured beer as though nothing was happening.
He’d been living with Jaxxon for over a month at that point and wished Jaxxon would drop by while he was at work. But Jaxxon had lost his job after the president’s assassination and now spent long hours on the few acres of land he owned, hunting. A new system of getting by was growing as more people died and more businesses shut down, leaving behind only the necessities: hospitals, services. Jaxxon got into selling game at the new farmers’ market most days and taking anything extra to the food pantry. Wade wondered what he’d do when the beer ran out.
“Think I’m getting sick,” said Wade one morning when he woke up feeling more like shit than normal. Jaxxon glared at him, but he’d been complaining the day before anyway.
“Great,” said Jaxxon. “I guess I’m driving your ass to the hospital.”
He grabbed his keys but gave Wade a quick kiss that let him know he was at least a little worried.
There was little the doctors could do. Since Wade and Jaxxon had fallen solidly under the category of adults in otherwise good health, they were encouraged to go home, rest, and get plenty of fluids. Jaxxon grumbled about that, about the fact he was halfway through his last tank of gas now and there was nothing more to buy.
“I’ll take care of you. Just leave some canned soup for me,” said Wade.
And he did. Jaxxon’s fever showed up first, leaving Wade to tend to him until he felt too crappy to do much. He started sleeping next to Jaxxon, who didn’t protest, even pulled him closer one morning when they were both feverish. Wade had been about to get up and bring them some water, but instead he relaxed into Jaxxon’s embrace. He’d been hoping for this for too long now.
“Can’t figure out why you haven’t left me yet,” said Jaxxon. He brushed his lips against the back of Wade’s neck.
“You’re all right,” said Wade after a moment, and Jaxxon laughed, really laughed.
“I’ve been a bitter fuck since my wife left, I lost my girl, and the world went to shit.”
“Eh,” said Wade, closing his eyes and focusing on the feel of his skin against Jaxxon’s without the demands of sex. “You give what you don’t need to the food bank. You can’t be that bad.”
Jaxxon chuckled.
“I think my fever’s broken. I guess I’m not going to die after all. I’ll get you some water.”
Wade said nothing as Jaxxon slipped from the bed.
THE OLD man drove him until it was nearly ten in the evening, dropping him off at a park full of people settling down for the night. Wade thanked him.
“Got nothing else to do with my life,” the old man said. “Everyone else can rebuild, but I’m too old for that now. I try to offer a lift where I can.” He nodded to the park. “Safe enough here.”
Wade dug out a few bills, what he thought he could spare. He had no idea what they would be worth to the old man now that money was fluctuating so wildly in value that no one seemed to think a dollar meant the same thing.
“No really, thanks,” he said. The old man didn’t refuse the money. Wade couldn’t bring himself to tell the man he was trying to build a family again. He didn’t even know whether it was possible, and he was sure putting it to words would somehow sabotage him. He shut the door and walked off to find a spot under an old tree.
Wade had a knife with him but otherwise no other way to defend himself. Jaxxon was the hunter, after all, not him, and while he had no doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to injure someone intent on doing him harm, he was not a natural when it came to that sort of thing. He was glad the old man had dropped him off someplace relatively safe. Everyone left him alone.
He pulled out his phone and checked again despite not knowing why. Jaxxon wasn’t going to bother to send him another text. Wade scowled. Jaxxon had bothered to call his ex every week, even after he moved on to Wade, and now he couldn’t even bring himself to try to make amends. Of course, Jaxxon would not think the argument was his fault, and Wade was working on something better than an apology.
Still, the second night sleeping apart from Jaxxon was harder than the last, and Wade now hoped Jaxxon was having a hard time of it himself.
They had naturally kept sleeping side-by-side after recovering. Wade had known they both recognized how lucky they were not to die, especially considering their city and county had been hit pretty hard, but neither of them said anything about it.
Jaxxon got more considerate, though, as if weathering the bugs had been the test he needed to accept the new relationship. He smiled more, joked more, let Wade take more of a lead during sex. They tried out a few new positions and chatted more, bonded. Wade stole more kisses. They were approaching real happiness.
“Well, it finally happened,” said Wade one night when he got in from work. Jaxxon rolled over in bed, woke up. He pulled Wade close when he got into bed.
“What?” asked Jaxxon, finishing a yawn before kissing Wade’s neck.
“Laid off. Beer’s too hard to come by now. Owner said he wants to run it himself when he gets some in. I’d wanna do that too if I was him.”
“Oh, I get you to myself more, then,” said Jaxxon. He sounded half-asleep.
“You’re getting romantic.”
“Screw that.”
Jaxxon tugged him closer at night, but Wade heard him talking to the family he’d lost. He would go into Maddy’s old room, sit on her bed, and call Rose every few hours until their waves of coverage overlapped. Sometimes Wade would listen at the door.
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Rose. It should be easy to move on after the Apocalypse, right?” A pause, a laugh. “Wouldn’t you want to know.” A pause. “Yeah, I’m obviously happy for you. How is he with Maddy?” Another pause. “I’m not overreacting. Can you put her on?”
Wade tried not to be jealous of the love Jaxxon so clearly had for his daughter when he spoke to her. A child was different than a lover. But still he made sure to never be around when Jaxxon came back out of that room.
SHITTY FARMLAND seemed to stretch on forever. Wade found himself walking more of it, less people with electric cars out this direction, or at least along the roads he was traveling. None of the fields were fully plowed and few of them looked to be doing well. From everything he knew about this area of the country, periods of drought were often followed by harsh storms.
Police drones zipped by at what he assumed were regular intervals. It was possible that even if he did get Jaxxon to forgive him for everything else, he wouldn’t be able to deal with the sheer number of fines Wade was accumulating traveling. Wade smiled after a moment, laughed to himself.
“Shit,” he’d said when he woke up the morning after losing his
job. Jaxxon had made him coffee from their dwindling supply.
“We’ll get through it.”
Wade sat up in bed and took the steaming mug, looked over at Jaxxon. He couldn’t help it. He grinned wryly, searching Jaxxon’s face.
“Promise?” he asked. Jaxxon shrugged.
“Yeah, I promise. Can you hunt?”
“No way,” said Wade.
“It’s going to be difficult to find you something to do, then, isn’t it, softie?” Jaxxon set aside his coffee and leaned closer, warm breath curling over Wade’s neck. The heat began to rise under Wade’s skin. Sex in the morning always led to a good day. He lurched forward and planted his mouth on Jaxxon’s.
This time Jaxxon was tender, slow, as if he knew Wade needed something comforting rather than just release. He clutched Wade to him, sucked him dry, held him as their hearts returned to their normal beats. The coffee had gone cold.
“I guess I could make mead,” said Wade.
“If you can get your hands on honey,” said Jaxxon, rubbing up against Wade’s back like he wanted to go again. “Ever heard of colony collapse?”
“You’re not helping.”
“We’ll find you something. You have a bicycle. Maybe you can be a delivery boy?”
“You really want to go again, don’t you?” asked Wade, wanting to blame his renewed eagerness on Jaxxon.
“I’m being serious,” said Jaxxon, tilting Wade’s head back so that he could speak against the spot under Wade’s ear where jaw met neck. “Come to the farmers’ market with me today. One of the outreach groups is trying to find enough people with electric cars or willing to bike out to homes. Some people are isolated and could use supplies.”
“Do I get paid?” asked Wade, closing his eyes as Jaxxon ran fingers up his neck.
“Everything’s trade. Maybe you can find a beekeeper and get your honey.”
“The real question’s if you can stand me selling the mead once I make it,” said Wade. Jaxxon was pushing his erection up against Wade’s back even more forcefully now, devouring Wade’s neck with his mouth. Wade’s heart danced, his breath came sharp.
“You’re going to have to bargain with me too,” said Jaxxon. “Let me show you how.”
Wade did, telling himself with a perverted sort of pleasure it would come in handy later. Jaxxon rode him harder this time but likewise saw to Wade just as intensely. By the time they were finished the coffee was beyond cold.
Jaxxon drank his in one go and gagged, and Wade decided to pass on his. When he took it back to the kitchen, he saw the light on the microwave was blinking. Power was on, for now at least, and he had a hot cup of coffee after all.
WADE KNEW he had entered tornado country by the increase of destruction. There seemed to be wider stretches between towns that themselves seemed tinier, rougher. The farmland had for the most part gone to seed, covered in grasses, mullein, and other weeds where it wasn’t rutted and blown away. Debris was everywhere. As he clambered over the twisted remains of several cars on the road, he understood why he’d been unable to hitchhike for hours.
Lightning crackled across the horizon far off and the rumble of thunder rippled toward him. Sometime when he was in Illinois, the rain had completely stopped, and while Wade had first felt relieved, he was now concerned. He had not brought more than a few bottles of water with him, assuming he’d always find a town somewhere when he needed it. As the sky darkened, he was drawn to a nearby smudge of a house.
The place had been hit at least once by a tornado. Wade grimaced as he stepped into the ruined mess, few walls still standing, wood and bits of furniture and other random items scattered everywhere. Everything had been thoroughly picked through from what he could tell, and a pathway had been cleared to the cellar door. He stepped over shards of plates and bowls and yanked open the door to the cellar, nearly blasted back by the smell.
“Damn,” he said, staggering back and gasping. The odor was that of a portable toilet on a hot day, but he moved closer to peer down into the cellar anyway. “Anybody there?”
After receiving no answer, Wade pulled out a flashlight and descended, choking on the air, but the wind had picked up and he feared being caught in a tornado at night. If he had to sleep here, then he would. He just hoped there was a better way back than this. Dragging a kid into all this….
Still, everyone, young and old, had been subjected to some pretty nasty things in recent months, from the superbugs to the collapse of order to disasters like drought and storms. What was a stinky old cellar if it kept a person safe? Wade had grown more comfortable with unpleasant things than he ever expected to. It had been a rough transition, though. At first Jaxxon had laughed at him.
“Washing your hands again?” he asked as Wade scrubbed after pedaling himself home. Wade scowled. He’d gone around with another runner to a few houses, bringing meat and other supplies and trading for eggs and milk. He’d biked through mud and scoured the rest of himself as best he could, but he couldn’t seem to get the grit out from under his fingernails.
“You’re telling me you like getting your hands full of guts,” he said, and Jaxxon only shrugged and grinned. He’d learned to hunt young and apparently had no problem with any aspect of it. Sometimes he teased Wade by threatening to hunt cute rabbits, but he stuck to turkey and deer.
“I like getting my hands full of something,” said Jaxxon, hooking an arm around Wade. When he thrust a towel in Wade’s face, he finally stopped washing. As he dried he wondered how horny Jaxxon was again. “Besides, you’re only going to get muddy again tomorrow.”
“I can’t go to bed filthy.”
Jaxxon’s grin intensified.
“I take that as a challenge.”
Wade rolled his eyes but was excited by the time he followed Jaxxon back to the bedroom.
“SHIT,” MUTTERED Wade as he stubbed his toe on a hunk of wood. He hadn’t slept well in the cellar and got up early to stumble through the dark to the road. The crumbling asphalt was easy enough to find, but walking it before sunrise was another matter. He moved more slowly after banging up his feet several times.
He’d gotten used to the stale electric smell of the air and wondered why there weren’t more fires in this part of the country. As the sun rose, turning the sky from utter darkness to choppy gray, he began to go through a plan in his mind. He was thirsty and had one full bottle left, so the first stop would be to the nearest town. He could figure out how close he was to Florida from there too. And once in Florida….
Something swirled at the horizon to his left and he turned, his stomach dropping out. Wade knew what the funnel shape meant. He swiveled around, but the nearest shelter was back at the house he’d left. Swallowing back his fear as best he could, he pressed on, keeping the distant tornado in the corner of his eye, turning to look at it now and then. The air felt worse now, but there was nothing Wade could do but keep going.
After about an hour, the thing grew fainter and disappeared, and Wade sat on the least unpleasant-looking chunk of scrap, resting. He had little sips of the water. He wondered about tornadoes, and he wondered about hurricanes. More common now. Deadlier. How did it feel to be caught up in one?
Jaxxon had heard the news first, on the solar-powered radio he kept out in the barn where he strung up the deer. Wade had been washing clothes in the bathtub when Jaxxon burst in, grabbed his phone, and made a call. He paced the hallway with it pressed up against his ear, Wade turning to watch him move back and forth in front of the bathroom door.
“Put me through, dammit,” muttered Jaxxon. “Fuck!” He hung up, dialed again. Repeated this several more times.
“Jaxx,” said Wade. Jaxxon ignored him, swore, dialed again. “Jaxx!” Wade stepped out of the bathroom, grabbed Jaxxon’s shoulders. “Calm down. Who are you calling?”
But Wade had already known. There was only one person Jaxxon called. When their eyes met, Wade’s stomach dropped out.
“There was a hurricane,” said Jaxxon, voice completely
flat. “A bad one.”
Wade left him to pace in the hallway and went into the kitchen to pour brandy. They’d stocked up on alcohol not long after Wade moved in but had been rationing it, although if this wasn’t a situation that called for a drink, Wade didn’t know what was. He brought the drinks to the couch and sat.
When Jaxxon stopped pacing, Wade knew the coverage had cut out. The sudden silence was painful, and though he half expected Jaxxon to throw his phone, after a few minutes he appeared at Wade’s side. He accepted the brandy Wade passed him.
“What, no hollow words of hope?” asked Jaxxon after he drained his glass.
“Yeah, ’cause I really wanna promise you that sort of thing,” said Wade. He was glad he’d thought to bring the bottle over with him so he could refill Jaxxon’s glass without having to leave. “I prefer to pour.”
“Rose used to nag me about my feelings on shit like this, when my dad died, at least,” said Jaxxon. He shook his head. “Why the fuck did she go down there?”
Wade didn’t have the answer to that, so he stayed quiet and drank.
“I should have kept Maddy with me,” said Jaxxon. “Her birthday’s next month.”
“There should be a list of names posted on the Internet,” said Wade, knowing stating the obvious was unhelpful but unable to stop himself. “When we get electric back—”
“Screw that,” said Jaxxon, standing and grabbing the bottle of brandy. “They list off the names of the dead on the radio. Come on.”
Wade followed him outside to the barn, taking a seat on an old dirty chair as Jaxxon turned on the radio. He watched, almost unable to believe the world was still going, that he was here with Jaxxon now, carving out some sort of approximation of a life. The Apocalypse had been over half a year ago now, and they were holding on.
Jaxxon sat on the filthy ground right next to the radio as though that would help. Wade wished he had enough brandy to drink for every name the announcer read off, but they were already drunk enough. It took two full hours to get to Rose’s name, and when it was read, Jaxxon groaned.
First New Year's After the Apocalypse Page 2
