by Guy James
“What about it? It’s their problem, not mine.”
“Their problem,” Dr. Westreich repeated. “I see.”
“You want to hear about something that actually gets to me, so you can help me?”
“That’s the idea, more or less. But if you want to talk about some other things, we can do that, too. Whatever you want to talk about during these sessions, you may talk about. You own the floor.” Dr. Westreich smiled. “All yours.”
“Do you need some more material for your paper on POSD—Post Outbreak Stress Disorder?”
Dr. Westreich flushed and stared at Lorie. His cheeks looked to be on the verge of turning purple. “How do you know about that?”
“Why wouldn’t I know about that? Do you think you’re the only psychiatrist that’s tried to get his hands on us? We get other calls...sometimes the way they try to convince us is by saying you’re only in it for...what was it...the publishing opportunities.”
“What?” Dr. Westreich muttered. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know,” Lorie said.
“I’m sure it was Dr. Radisson. I have no doubt—” Dr. Westreich swatted at an invisible gnat and then gained control of himself. “Never mind who it was. That’s not important right now.” He took a deep breath. “I assure you, Lorie, that regardless of any so-called publishing opportunities that my sessions with you and Sven and Jane may present, I involved myself to help you, and to help others. Publishing a paper on some of your experiences, if it ever comes to that, will help other survivors of the outbreak. I’m not going to pretend that I’m not grateful to have the chance to work with you and the effects of the unique but terrible experience you went through, but you have to understand that I’m in this, first and foremost, to help you and others in your situation.”
Some of the color left Dr. Westreich’s face and he began to look more like himself. “I understand that you don’t like these sessions, Lorie, and that’s okay too. I used to see a psychiatrist when I was a little older than you, so I think I can relate to at least some of the feelings you’re having.”
“You think you can relate to me? What were you seeing your psychiatrist about?”
Dr. Westreich’s eyes shifted from side to side, then returned to Lorie. He lowered the volume of his voice, almost to a whisper, and gave his beard two furious scratches. “I had a deathly fear of—” he paused and looked around the room, then sighed and looked sad, “—walls.”
“What?” Lorie asked, not sure if she had heard him right.
“Walls,” Dr. Westreich repeated. “Walls,” he said again, returning his voice to its normal volume. “It’s strange and embarrassing, but completely true. I used to wish that it weren’t true, but I don’t wish for that anymore, because I realized that it was my bizarre and ostracizing fear of walls that led me down my current career path. It was my phobia that introduced me to the study of the mind, and showed me that I was fascinated by it and wanted to spend my life studying the mind and helping others to understand their own minds.”
“Isn’t a fear of walls just claustrophobia?”
“No, claustrophobia is a fear of enclosed spaces. Confinement within a space wasn’t relevant to my phobia, it was the walls themselves.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it could’ve been the exterior wall of a building that was bothering me, even if there was plenty of space around me.”
“So what were you afraid of, exactly?”
Dr. Westreich glanced around the room, his gaze lingering in spots. Lorie tried to follow his eyes and see what was captivating him, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary...nothing but walls.
“Touching them,” Dr. Westreich said.
21
Lorie frowned. “Touching…the walls?”
Dr. Westreich nodded gravely. “I could never get too close to them, or have anything that was touching my body touching a wall. That made a lot of things difficult: sleeping, for example, if my bed was touching a wall. I couldn’t move it myself, because that would mean that I was touching something that was touching a wall. So I had to get my parents to do it. And in college, I had to get my roommate and friends to do it. Well, actually, it made having friends difficult. My roommate didn’t have a choice.”
“What if you wore gloves or something?”
“No good, because the material of the gloves would be touching something that was touching the wall. It didn’t matter how many degrees removed the contact was, I couldn’t handle it. I started seeing someone about it halfway through college. It was starting to become a real problem then, putting a damper on my social life, precluding the possibility of any social life, really. After spending some quality time in a patient’s chair similar to the one in which you now find yourself, I was able to function like a normal person. Walls—” he hesitated and his voice became a whisper, “don’t bother me anymore.”
“And that’s why you became a psychiatrist?”
“To help others with problems similar to the one I had,” Dr. Westreich said, returning his voice to its normal volume.
“So you’re totally cured?”
Dr. Westreich glanced around the room again and Lorie thought she saw him shudder.
“Yes,” he said, whispering again. “Almost totally.”
Dr. Westreich looked down at the pad on his desk and seemed to Lorie to lose all interest in talking to her. He gazed downward, not like he was reading the pad, but more like he was looking through it. Whatever he saw there, at least by Lorie’s estimation, upset him.
“Are you alright?” Lorie asked.
Dr. Westreich raised his head slowly until he was looking Lorie in the eye. She thought he looked so pitiful, almost as if he was about to burst out crying right there. He made a low whimpering sound and began to lower his head again.
“Maybe there is something I want to talk about,” Lorie said.
Dr. Westreich raised his head and a glint of hope appeared in his eye, and then vanished. “You mean...about the walls?”
“No, not about the walls, about me.”
The glint of hope reappeared, and this time, remained. Dr. Westreich cleared his throat and said, “Alright, Lorie. I’m listening. Are you sure you want to talk?”
“Yeah,” Lorie said, feeling heartened. “I’m sure. There is something that’s been bothering me...and I guess I haven’t told anyone about it, and no one would really understand besides Jane and Sven, but I don’t want to bring it up with them, you know?”
Dr. Westreich nodded. “Because they have their own feelings about it...and you don’t want to remind them?”
“Uh...exactly. That’s exactly it, actually, I just hadn’t thought about why I didn’t want to talk to them. You’re right. I don’t want to add any more stress to what they’re already feeling. I mean Sven is really busy with his new job and all the pressure of standing up to the people who don’t want us here, and Jane is busy taking care of all of us.”
“And that’s exactly where someone like me comes in handy.” Dr. Westreich smiled. “So what’s been bothering you?”
“There are some kids at school who...” Lorie looked up at the ceiling. “I’m not sure how to put it. They just get to me. They make me really uncomfortable. And they’re not the ones who come out and say that I don’t belong there or that I have the virus or anything like that. Those don’t bother me. The ones I’m talking about don’t even speak to me. They’re just there...in the background.”
Dr. Westreich narrowed his eyes. “Where do you encounter them?”
“I pass by them in the hallways or see them after school. Some of them hang out together, and some of them are just loners. I guess I should be more specific. They’re weird. They’re like... I’m not sure. It’s not like they’re nerds or something, because everyone at Stuyvesant is a nerd...they’re just really weird on top of the nerdy. Like they sometimes get together and sit in the hallway and play these card games... I don’t know.”
“Are they Goths?�
�
“No, the Goths don’t get to me. The ones I’m talking about hang out with the Goths sometimes, but they always seem alone, even when they’re with the Goths.”
“Hmmm, alright. Can you describe some of them to me?”
“Yeah, there’s a couple I can think of off the top of my head. They’re both boys, and they aren’t Goths but they sometimes hang out with them. They wear nondescript clothing, so nothing with overt patterns or brands or punk rock bands on them or anything like that. Just clothes that look really lived-in, you know? Oversized, too.”
Dr. Westreich nodded. “Maybe they’re poor?”
“No...that’s the thing. I know that they’re not. It’s not just the clothes, though. It’s everything about them. The way that they don’t look you in the eye ever. I don’t really know what I’m trying to say.”
“Do you ever talk to these two boys?”
“Never.”
“Do they talk to each other?”
“I don’t know, but if they do it’s only in passing. Even when they’re playing those weird card games with the Goths and Goth wannabes, they barely talk to anyone.”
“They sound like they could just be ordinary, run-of-the-mill misfits. Do you have any idea what it is about them that bothers you?”
“I’m not sure...I...”
“May I take a guess?” Dr. Westreich asked, scratching at his beard.
“Uh, okay.”
“I think that they remind you of someone, or of something,” Dr. Westreich said, pursing his lips every few words. “Maybe of someone you saw during the Virginia outbreak, or someone you met?”
Lorie shifted in her chair.
Dr. Westreich watched her. “I am on the right track?”
“Maybe,” Lorie said. “They are kind of like someone we met during the Virginia outbreak.”
Dr. Westreich nodded. “Good. Go on, Lorie.”
Lorie opened her mouth to say something, but then hesitated. “I’m not sure... I’m not...” She shook her head.
“We don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to. We don’t have to talk about it at all. I just think it might help us better understand what happened, and what’s happening in your life now.” Lowering his voice, he said, “I remember that when I was having my problem, talking through it helped, and the more I talked through it, the more it helped.”
“Well,” Lorie said, “okay. It’s just that Sven and Jane haven’t told anyone about everything that happened during the outbreak. So I’m not sure I should talk about everything, you know? Some things shouldn’t be out there for everyone to know.”
“You’re right, Lorie, and whether you want to share what’s on your mind with me or not is a choice that is completely yours. But remember, anything that you tell me here is strictly confidential, just between you and me. It won’t be out for everyone to know, as you put it, because it won’t leave this office.” Dr. Westreich smiled.
“If you say so.” Lorie sighed. “There were some other people at the Wegmans where we hid. You know, other survivors who didn’t make it. One of them...one of them was named Milt. These boys at school...they even look like him, like they’ll grow into their bodies and look just like he did when...”
Dr. Westreich scratched a few notes in his pad with furious bursts, then looked up at Lorie expectantly. “Just like he did when?”
“When...”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Westreich,” Lorie said, looking away. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, not right now, anyway.”
Dr. Westreich pursed his lips. “That’s alright, Lorie.”
Lorie checked her phone. “My time’s up. I better go.”
Dr. Westreich sighed. “That’s alright. We’ll talk again soon, and we’ll figure all of this out. Talking is the way to move past it and heal.”
Lorie got up. “Okay. See you next time.”
“See you, Lorie. Get home safe.”
“Thanks. Bye.”
Lorie opened the door and walked out of Dr. Westreich’s office, shutting the door carefully behind her.
Dr. Westreich got up and walked to the window. He watched the sidewalk below until Lorie appeared. He watched her turn right, dodge some hurrying pedestrians, and vanish from his line of sight.
He returned to his desk and wrote down some more notes. A few minutes later, Dr. Westreich stood up and walked over to the nearest wall. He put his hands on it and rubbed, then leaned forward and rested his forehead against it.
“You did it again, Mr. Wall,” Dr. Westreich said. “Like you always do. She keeps opening up like this, and I’ll have enough material to get the largest publishing deal in history. She thinks it’s all for some paper. A paper? Try the best-selling book of all time. Maybe I’ll call it: Inside the Survivor’s Mind: How a Little Girl Lived through the Virginia Outbreak, and You Could Too.” He laughed. “A stupid title for the stupid masses.” He laughed again. “Zombies…how ironically poetic.”
Dr. Westreich remained there, pressed up against the wall, for almost ten minutes.
22
SVEN, JANE, AND LORIE’S APARTMENT,
SUTTON PLACE, NEW YORK
“Jane,” Sven said through a mouthful of stew, “this is amazing.”
“Yeah,” Lorie said, nodding and slurping stew, “it’s even better than last time, and last time was really good too.”
Jane smiled. “Oh stop. You guys are just saying that.”
“No,” Sven said, “it’s true.” He looked at Jane, then at Lorie. “If I got out a turkey jerky stick and used it to stir my stew...would you guys judge me?”
They stared at him.
“Maybe I should rephrase that,” Sven said. “How much would you judge me?”
Jane opened her mouth to say something, but then just smiled and shrugged.
“Go for it,” Lorie said. “I’ll give it a shot, too.”
“Nice,” Sven said. “I’ll grab a bunch of jerky sticks.”
Sven got up and went over to the storage freezer, opened it, and took out an open packet of turkey jerky sticks. He brought it back to the dining room table and sat down, then held the packet in front of Lorie.
“Here,” he said, “have your pick.”
Lorie picked out a jerky stick, and Sven picked one out for himself. Then he offered the pack to Jane. “You sure you don’t want one?”
“I’m sure,” Jane said. “I can still taste all the ones I ate in Virginia.”
“Those were different,” Sven said. “These are much, much better.”
“All the same,” Jane said, “I’ll pass.”
Sven nodded and set the packet down on the table.
“This is so good, Jane,” Sven said, gesturing at his bowl of stew with the jerky stick, and Jane smiled again.
They ate in silence for a few moments and Sven finished his stew. He was about to get up to refill his bowl when Jane said, “Can I get you some more, Sven?”
Sven looked up and saw that she was watching him. “I’ll get it, thanks.” He stood up and walked to the kitchen. “I can use the exercise,” he said over his shoulder. “Harry’s got me sitting at my desk so much. I’m not used to it. I feel all stiff, rickety even.”
“I thought you two worked out together,” Lorie called into the kitchen.
“What, Harry and me? We did a couple times, but not for a week now. He’s too busy, and I guess I’ve been letting it slip.” Sven refilled his bowl. “Do you guys need anything while I’m in here?”
“I’m good,” Lorie said.
“Me too,” Jane said.
Sven returned to the dining room, carrying his stew. He sat down and began to eat.
Jane looked at him. “Do you want to start working out together some?” she asked.
Sven looked up at her, a spoonful of soup hovering in front of his mouth. “What, like old times?”
Jane reached for the pepper shaker and turned it in place. “Yeah, something like that.”
> “Okay,” Sven said. “Absolutely. It’s time for me to start that up again...get back in shape.”
Jane smiled. “It’ll be fun. Maybe we can start with weekends and a couple days during the week after work? The gym in this building is actually pretty decent. It doesn’t have the poundages you used to lift, but it’ll be a good start.”
“That sounds great,” Sven said. “You know though, that’ll mean I’ll be hungrier.” He smiled. “I’ll have to up our stock of these.” He raised the jerky stick and nodded at it.
Then Lorie, who had been watching the exchange while trying to suppress a smile, put on her best pouty face and said, “What about me?”
Jane and Sven turned to her.
“What,” Jane said, “you don’t get enough of a workout with track and karate? You still got more energy to burn?”
“I always have energy to burn,” Lorie said. “And it’s not karate, it’s Jeet Kune Do: what Bruce Lee did. Karate’s Japanese.” Lorie looked from Jane to Sven, back to Jane, and said, “Oh, I get it. You guys want some alone time.” Lorie grinned.
Jane and Sven looked at each other.
“Yeah,” Lorie said, “I get it.”
“Or,” Sven said, “it’s just Jane’s way of telling me I’m letting myself go. I’d rather this than a full-on TV intervention.” He laughed again.
“Well,” Lorie said, smiling, “you are starting to look like an office dweller.”
“That’s it,” Sven said, “it’s settled. Six days a week of training, carb cycling, supplements...it’s on. It’s so on.” He grinned, and tore off a large bite of turkey jerky.
“Lorie,” Jane said, shaking her head, “now look at what you’ve done.”
“Oh I see it,” Lorie said, and looked at Sven. “Sven’s back.”
23
Lorie looked over at the clock. It was 4:17 AM. She groaned, rolled over, and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Go to sleep,” she murmured. “You have to get up in a few hours.”
She began to count sheep, picturing the fluffy animals walking west on
