by Tinnean
“I’ve always enjoyed the time we spent here. Laurie?” Wheat nodded toward the door, and Laurie followed Althea into the cottage.
It was warm and cozy. His poor boyfriend. This was going to be tough for him. Wheat was aware things weren’t going well with his father, and it was just a matter of time before he knew they’d have to do something to keep Mr. Dupuis from becoming violent. Would Wheat rather stay here instead of going on to Vermont? If the town at the bottom of the hill—he shook his head. They could call it a mountain all they wanted, but he knew a hill when he saw one. If the town hadn’t been scavenged too badly, they might be able to stay here. He’d ask Wheat later.
Meanwhile, he took the box of hamburgers into the kitchen, where he set it on a counter, and then returned to Wheat. “We going to get the barbecue going?”
“Actually,” Althea said, “I was going to ask if there was a way to get the SUV into the garage. I know you closed the gates, but I don’t like the idea of leaving it out in the open.”
“Sure. I can open the door manually from the inside. If you’ll give Laurie the key? Okay, Laurie, you get the SUV started while I take care of the garage door.”
Althea handed him the key, and he went back outside and climbed into the SUV. He’d helped Pop with their own garage doors a few times when the power had gone out and either the family vehicles needed to get into the garage or get out of it. Wheat would release the catch on the automatic opener and then pull up the door.
Sure enough, Laurie had no sooner gotten the SUV started—what a difference from the piece of shit—than the door began to rise. He put the SUV in drive and let it roll forward. In a matter of seconds, the SUV was in and the door was down again.
“I’m so impressed,” he told Wheat.
“Why? Didn’t you expect someone like me to be willing to get his hands dirty?” There was hurt in Wheat’s voice, and he turned his back and strode toward the door that opened into the cottage.
Laurie bounded forward and caught his arm. “Oh, love, never. I’ve seen what you’re capable of.”
Wheat came to such an abrupt halt Laurie bumped into him. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course I do. You’re quick-thinking and act just as quickly.”
“No, I meant…You called me love.”
Laurie’s jaw dropped. “I did?” He thought back over what he’d said, and yeah, he guessed he had. He cleared his throat. “I…uh…”
“It doesn’t matter.” His boyfriend’s lips folded into a firm line, and a thrill of excitement shot through him. “If you don’t love me now, you will eventually. You’re stuck with me, so get used to it.”
“Silly balloo. I know your father thinks it’s too soon, and maybe it is, but that doesn’t make it any less the truth.”
“Balloo?”
Laurie felt himself blush. “Um…”
“So you do love me.”
“Of course I do.” He blushed even harder. “Uh…how do you feel about me?”
“Now who’s the silly balloo?” Wheat kissed him hard, and Laurie thought he was going to melt into a puddle of goo. He leaned back and stared at Wheat, and Wheat gasped and his eyes glowed.
“What?”
“Like I hung the moon,” he whispered.
“Huh?” Laurie studied his boyfriend’s face, but Wheat shook his head and kissed him again. “Mmm.” And he felt Wheat smile against his lips.
“I was wondering what was keeping you.” Althea’s voice sounded amused, and Laurie raised his head to see her standing in the doorway, smiling.
“Sorry. We’re coming,” he said.
“Not yet,” Wheat whispered in his ear. “But later, I promise you.”
* * * *
They left the garage, and Laurie followed his boyfriend through the cottage and out the French doors that opened to the rear of the property. Beyond the back patio was a kidney-shaped pool that had been closed since the last time Wheat and his parents had been there. A slide curved around to what was most likely the deep end, while off to one side was an inactive waterfall that would spill into a spa and from there, into the pool.
“Wow. We had a pool at home, but it was nothing like this.”
“I wish I’d known you then. I’d have enjoyed swimming with you.”
“It’s probably just as well you didn’t. My folks would have seen the way I looked at you, and they’d have known right away we were boyfriends. Um…That is…”
“No, we definitely would have been boyfriends. I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands off you.”
“Oh.” They might be facing the end of the world, but Laurie had never felt so happy. He twined his fingers with Wheat’s once again and studied the rest of the backyard.
A denuded trellis occupied the far corner. “I planned to set some grapevines here this summer.”
“I’m sorry you won’t be able to.”
“So am I.” He tugged Laurie’s hand and drew him to the area of the patio where a table and four chairs had been placed. They were covered in vinyl to protect them from the weather.
Laurie was surprised they hadn’t been stored in the shed. That was something Pop would have insisted on, but maybe it didn’t matter to rich people.
Wheat gave Laurie’s fingers a final squeeze before he yanked the sheeting off the table.
“Are we eating outside?” It was starting to get a little cool, and Laurie had left the hoodie inside, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good idea.
“No. We’ll put the grill on the table. Come on.” He walked over to the garden shed, which was a pretty little building decorated in gingerbread trim. This was what Laurie expected a cottage to look like, more so than the house behind them. The inside was crowded with lawn furniture, pool toys, and pool equipment, and in a corner was what looked like a tabletop hibachi grill. Stacked on the shelf below it were numerous bags of charcoal, as well as a few cans of starter fluid.
“Get the charcoal and starter fluid. I’ll get the grill.”
Laurie obeyed him, and they hurried back to the patio. It was getting darker.
“It’s too bad we don’t have any lights,” Wheat murmured as he set the grill on the table, and now that he studied it, Laurie could see the scorch marks the hibachi must have left on the fine grain of the wood. “But it probably would have drawn attention to the cottage.”
“Yes.” They’d have to work fast. Laurie removed the cooking grids and poured the charcoal into the hibachi. “Do we have matches or a lighter?”
“Father always kept a butane lighter in the shed. Sometimes…Sometimes he and Mother liked to rough it, and they’d do the cooking. I should have brought it.”
Laurie watched him walk back to the shed. He was worried about Wheat, not so much because his boyfriend was exhausted—the situation was getting to them, and with very little sleep, they all were tired—but more because seeing his parents becoming sick was affecting him. Laurie sighed, shook his head, and began squirting starter fluid over the briquettes.
They were good and soaked by the time Wheat returned. He squeezed the trigger of the lighter and held it to the charcoal, and the flame caught and spread from one end of the hibachi to the other.
“It will take a few minutes for the charcoal to be hot enough for the hamburgers,” Wheat said. “We may as well go back inside and get our bedroom ready.”
Althea was in the kitchen, taking paper plates from another box she’d had in her SUV. She had condiments lined up on the counter as well.
“There are plates and glasses in the cabinets,” Wheat told her.
“Your mother won’t mind?”
He smiled at her. “No. We might as well take advantage of them. If we lose water pressure, we’ll have the paper plates to fall back on.” He went to a cabinet and took out a platter that would work for the hamburgers.
“Where’s Jo?” Laurie asked. “She should be helping.”
“She is. She closed all the curtains, and then Mrs. Dupuis asked her to bring the sui
tcases upstairs.”
“Dammit.” Wheat crossed to the great room. Laurie glanced at Althea and shrugged, then hurried after his boyfriend.
Mrs. Dupuis was sitting on the sofa in the great room, while her husband was stretched out on it, his head on her lap. She smiled wanly at Wheat. “Miss Parkinson was so kind as to bring our suitcases up to the loft.”
“She’s not a servant, Mother.” Wheat’s voice was contained, but it was obvious he was annoyed.
“She offered.”
Wheat ground his teeth, and Laurie stroked his arm. “It’s all right. We have more important things to worry about.”
“Yes, but—”
Just then Jo came out to the landing at the top of the stairs. “Wheat, would you mind coming up here for a minute?”
Laurie could see his boyfriend was still irritated, but something in Jo’s voice caught his attention. He exchanged a glance with Wheat, and they both climbed the stairs.
“I apologize for my mother’s actions,” he said.
“That’s okay. My mother can be like that sometimes, too. Anyway, Althea didn’t need my help, and it gave me something to do besides closing the curtains. Come with me, please?” She led them into the master suite.
“What is it?” Wheat asked.
“I thought you should take a look at this.”
Lying on a luggage rack was one of the suitcases, while the other was still on the floor. Packed in the opened suitcase were evening gowns, high heels, and designer handbags. Everything was suitable for a gala like the one Wheat had told him he’d been to the night everything fell apart.
“What’s in the other suitcase?”
Jo flipped back the lid. Inside were tuxedos and a couple of fur coats.
“Oh, hell.” Wheat covered his eyes with his palm. “Whatever possessed Mother to pack Father’s tuxedos?”
“She was the one who packed?”
“Yes. Perhaps more useful clothes are under it.” Wheat moved the gowns and found a toiletry case. He opened that, and he shook his head and his shoulders slumped. “Bottles and bottles of body lotion and bath gel. No toothpaste or toothbrushes, no first aid items.”
“That’s okay. We’ve got them in the bugout bag.”
“I packed a first aid kit, too.” Jo worried her lower lip. “I wanted to ask—did they bring other luggage that might have held more useful things? Could that luggage have gotten left behind at that place where your parents stayed before Althea and I found them?”
He shook his head, and Laurie wanted more than anything to pull him into an embrace. “They just had the two suitcases. Mother taught me how to pack. She’s never packed like this before. This…This is all useless.”
“The fur coats should come in handy, don’t you think?” Jo asked hopefully.
“I suppose, but frankly, I don’t think they’ll be too comfortable for sleeping in. Nothing Mother packed will be.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you should know. I didn’t want to be nosy and poke around your parents’ bedroom, but did they leave any clothes here that would come in handy?”
“Yes. Mother insisted all the bedroom dressers be made of cedar, so the seasonal clothing wouldn’t become musty-smelling. There should be nightclothes and summer clothes that are more suitable for the cottage than home.”
Laurie could see how relieved that notion made his boyfriend. “Maybe that’s why she packed all the wrong things,” he offered. “Maybe she knew it wouldn’t matter too much.”
“Maybe.” Wheat shrugged
“Do you want me to hang up these clothes?” Jo asked.
Wheat checked his watch. “We have another ten minutes or so before the charcoal will be ready and we have to get dinner started. What we can’t finish now, we’ll get to later.”
“Okay.” Jo went to the closet, took an armful of padded hangers, and returned to drop them on the bed. “Will we still go to Vermont?” she asked as she picked up a lavender-colored gown. She stroked it, her expression revealing her pleasure in the touch, and then she draped it over the hanger.
Wheat glanced at Laurie.
“Let’s wait until tomorrow to discuss it,” Laurie suggested. “We’ll have had a good meal and a good night’s sleep.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Wheat said, and Laurie grinned at him. One of the things he’d told his boyfriend was his ability to make solid plans.
He left the gowns to Jo and reached for a pair of tuxedo trousers, while Wheat gathered up his mother’s toiletries and took them to the master bath.
* * * *
They made short work of it, then left Jo to put the suitcases away in the closet, while he and Wheat went down to get the hamburgers on the grill.
“Morrison.” Mrs. Dupuis frowned when she saw him. “Why is it so hot in here? I’m surprised you haven’t turned on the central air. If your father wasn’t so ill, he would have taken care of that as soon as we arrived.”
Wheat turned pale, and Laurie’s heart ached for him. The cottage wasn’t super-hot. Was a malfunctioning internal thermostat another sign of the disease?
“I’m sorry, Mother,” Wheat said in a gentle tone. “We don’t have power for the air conditioner.”
“But your father called Mrs. Rodriguez and told her to prepare the cottage. Surely she got the generator working.”
“She didn’t. I’m afraid she might not have been well enough to drive up here.”
“Not well enough?” Abruptly it was as if a lightbulb went on. “Oh. Of course. Everyone has become ill. How foolish of me not to remember—”
“Goddammit, get your hands off me!” Abruptly, Wheat’s father threw himself away from his wife and off the sofa, and he reared back on his knees. For the first time in hours, Laurie got a good look at the man’s face. It was flushed, his eyes so bloodshot not a sign of the whites could be seen. His lips twisted in a grimace of rage.
Wheat’s mother reached for him. “Edison.”
“Mother, no!” Wheat moved fast and wedged himself between them, deflecting the hands that reached for her. Only that didn’t deter the senior Dupuis. He turned those claw-like hands toward his son’s throat.
“No!” Laurie leaped over the back of the sofa, driving his weight into the man who threatened the one person who meant so much to him. Laurie was younger, and Wheat’s father was sick, but the older man was driven by a deadly side effect of the disease—uncontrollable rage.
“Wheat, get the rope on the bugout bag.”
“Not a chance.” Wheat threw himself into the fray. “Althea, get the rope.”
As much as Laurie wanted to yell at Wheat, he couldn’t. He didn’t have the breath. The older man was stronger than Laurie expected him to be, no doubt fueled by that rage.
Wheat wrapped his arms around his father, restraining him as best he could. He started dragging his father off Laurie, but then oofed as another body joined the fracas, pinning Laurie on the bottom of the dogpile.
Fortunately, it disoriented the older man, and Laurie was able to aim a balled fist against his chin, driving his head back and dazing him long enough for Wheat to yank him aside and for Laurie to roll out from under. He staggered to his feet and glared at his sister.
“What the fuck, Jo?”
“I heard the ruckus and came down to see what was going on. It looked like Wheat had gotten the virus and was trying to beat you up.”
“You didn’t see him trying to hang onto his father?”
“Um…No? Not from where I was standing,” she added in self-defense.
“Jesus.”
Wheat cleared his throat, and when Laurie turned to glare at him, he nodded toward his mother.
“Geez. I’m sorry, Mrs. Dupuis.”
She was pale. “That’s quite all right, young man.” She moistened her lips. “Why are you apologizing?”
Oh, shit.
“Morrison, you will let your father up. You’re really too old to roughhouse with him.”
Wheat went as pale as his mother.
His distraction gave his father the opportunity to take advantage of the situation, and he bucked Wheat off.
Laurie dived in again. He had a better angle this time, and he slugged Mr. Dupuis with all the force he could muster. The older man’s head snapped back, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped to the floor.
Oh my God, Wheat’s going to hate me for knocking out his father! Laurie backed away, and as adrenaline began fading from his body, he became aware of various aches. He flinched at the unexpected pain in his neck. He touched the spot and drew his fingers away, bracing himself for the sight he expected to meet his eyes.
He sagged in relief—he could feel the scratches but there was no blood.
“Jo, get out of the way.” Althea was back with the rope. “Wheat? If you’ll give me a little room?”
“I’m not getting off until he’s secured.”
“Fine. You still need to move.”
Wheat angled his upper body out of the way, and Althea was able to wind the coils around Mr. Dupuis’s wrists and forearms, keeping them snug behind his back. Once she had him tied up, she straightened.
“We can’t leave him lying on the floor,” Wheat said, and Laurie could understand that. The man was his boyfriend’s father, after all.
“No,” Althea agreed.
Laurie gazed at the stairs leading up to the master bedroom. It would be too hard to carry Wheat’s father upstairs, but he wasn’t going to say anything and risk attracting everyone’s attention to the injury on his neck.
“We can put him in our bedroom, if Laurie has no objection?”
Laurie turned away so his neck wasn’t visible. “I have no objection.”
“Good. Give me a hand, okay?”
“Sure.” He avoided his boyfriend’s eyes and tugged at the collar of his shirt in hopes that would conceal the scratches, and went to Mr. Dupuis’s head. “I’ll take his shoulders.”
As they got Wheat’s father into the second of the downstairs bedrooms, Althea said, “Would you like a cup of tea, Mrs. Dupuis?”
“Yes, please. That’s very kind of you.”
“Thank you, Althea,” Wheat called.
“Not a problem.”
“It’s a good thing Lync stocked extra MRE heaters in the bugout bag,” Wheat murmured, a little out of breath.
