by Adam Watts
‘Doesn’t sound bad at all.’ I say.
We sit for a few minutes, not talking, just staring off somewhere beyond the fences. It’s Stan who breaks the silence.
‘I reckon my uncle would’ve voted yes on the whole microwaved genitals thing, y’know?’
‘You reckon?’
‘He’d have thought it was a great idea. He always seemed like a proper gentleman, all those good manners and the nice way he spoke. But I never brought it. He’d have microwaved my cock in a heartbeat.’
Again, we sit in silence and consider our thoughts until Stan decides otherwise.
‘Do you think we spend too much time sitting in this tree talking absolute shit?’ he says.
‘That, my friend, is a very distinct possibility.’
THE WAY OF THE WORRIER.
All afternoon I prayed for the rain to intensify. I wanted thunder to tear the sky in two, I wanted trees set ablaze by ragged forks of lightning. Bring on the deluge, the floods and the drowning of camp fires. Let us all seek solitude, a noiseless refuge from the howling maelstrom so that things left unsaid can remain so.
But as the day wore on, and as Stan and I continued to sit in that tree talking about everything and nothing – like he’d never been away and like I wasn’t secretly dreading the prospect of seeing Eve tonight – the drizzle slowly petered out and the clouds rolled away. As it stands, it’s perfect weather for tennis. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Stan forged some forsaken deal with the god of weather; who’s probably also the god of facing up to things and ripping off plasters and such.
Perhaps my only saving grace is that Stan could very well qualify as the god of occupying awkward silences. So my plan is to let Stan do the talking.
In the meantime, I’ve been tasked with gathering some fire wood. Most of it’s damp, but I’ve found a good armful of the dry stuff from some shaded areas. I’m taking my time. I figure there’s no real hurry.
‘Hey, Pres.’
Such a simple salutation, but – oh my – how suddenly it quickens my pulse. ‘Hey… Eve…’ I say, squinting nervously at her. Where the hell did she spring from?
‘You ok? Stan said you were gathering fire wood, so I thought I’d lend a hand.’
‘Oh…’
‘Let me grab that for you,’ she says, reaching towards my haul.
‘Oh… yeah… thanks…’ I say, handing it over.
‘You sure you’re ok? You look a bit out of sorts.’
‘I’m fine,’ I tell her, wondering why she’s acting like nothing’s up, like everything’s just how it always was; like I didn’t completely screw everything up the other night.’
‘So, what’s this big surprise Stan’s got prepared?’
I’d almost forgotten about that. ‘No idea. Probably something he found in town. He was on about skeletons…’
‘Mmm… nice. Can’t believe he’s been to town, though.’
‘Does it make you feel homesick?’
‘Kinda,’ she says, pushing her hair back behind her ears with her spare hand. ‘Not sure I’d want to see it in such a state, though. I’d probably be quite sad about it. But that isn’t to say I’m not curious.’
‘Well I think he’s pretty keen to get back out there, so I’m sure he’d let you tag along…’
She dips her head, searches for my eyes. ‘Do you want me to go?’
I shrug. ‘He says it’s safe out there, and if you’re curious…’
‘Wasn’t really the question I asked, Pres. But ok.’ She smiles, but it doesn’t stay long.
This is exactly why I shouldn’t be allowed to say anything to Eve.
‘Hey… listen,’ she says. ‘That stuff I told you the other night about me being married and having a different name and all of that. You didn’t tell anybody, did you?’
‘No, no. I wouldn’t.’
‘Thanks. If Stan knew my real name was Kylie, I don’t think I’d ever live it down.’
‘Don’t worry, Miss Minogue, I’ll keep your secrets if you keep mine.’
‘Of course I will.’ She smiles in that way that makes warm butter of my heart. I want to stare, but I stop myself.
‘Better not keep Stan waiting,’ I say, taking it upon myself to head back over to the fire pit. ‘He’ll be aching to try some of your horse-piss drink.’
‘If my arms weren’t busy carrying wood, I’d use them to smack you,’ she says.
And I’d happily let her.
‘Think we’ll need a bit more than that tonight,’ Stan says, scrutinising the scant pile of wood Eve has dumped at his feet.
‘It’s a start,’ Eve says. ‘There’s plenty about but a lot of it’s damp. I’ll have another scout around, see if we missed any.’
‘I’m sure Pres will lend a hand,’ Stan says with a wink. Why he thinks Eve wouldn’t notice, I have no idea.
‘Sure,’ she says. ‘You coming, Pres?’
‘I kinda wanted to have a quick chat with Stan if that’s ok?’
‘No worries,’ she says, heading back towards the trees. ‘You guys obviously need a little time to finish your discussion about which of the village hunks has the nicest buns.’
‘No discussion needed, Eve,’ Stan shouts after her. ‘Got two tickets to the bun show right here.’
Eve gives a thumbs up and heads away.
‘Preston,’ Stan says, lowering his voice and staring hard into my eyes. ‘I swear on the graves of our forefathers that if you do not get yourself between those legs tonight, or at least well on your way, I’m gonna have to say something to her.’
‘Will you stop trying to –’
‘No, I will not stop trying! Because then nothing will ever happen and you’ll end up alone and old, and your old fella will waste away through starvation until it’s barely fit to piss through. You need to act. Tonight.’
‘Stop trying to push me,’ I say, returning his hard stare. ‘I’m doing this my way.’
‘Well your way sucks. You survived the fucking apocalypse through some fluke of good fortune, and then lady luck just goes and dumps this amazing girl right on your doorstep… and guess what? She fucking likes you! What are the odds? And though it’s plainly obvious to everybody that she’s got the hots for you, you’re still dithering around with both thumbs lodged palm-deep in your own backside.’
‘But if I did things your way then I’d fuck it up worse than usual, because I’m not you.’
‘But your way is getting you nowhere… probably worse than nowhere. So why not try a different approach? It can’t hurt.’
‘Look, Stan, I really don’t want to start the evening like this, otherwise I’m going to be sat there all night nervously wondering when you’re going to force me into a situation I’m not ready for or say something completely stupid that makes me want to crawl up my own arse and die of embarrassment.’
‘Yep… ok,’ Stan says, like he’s not paying attention anymore.
I feel like I need to pour some water on the situation before he completely screws it up for me. ‘Stan, seriously, I don’t want you trying to force things with Eve. I mean, maybe the reason I’m dithering so much is because I don’t want anything to happen.’
‘Fine then. Hows about we just shut up about this now?’
‘I mean… look at you and Tuesday. Look how messy that’s got. I don’t want that. Imagine being stuck with somebody who you don’t really like and not being able to do anything about it.’
‘Pres. Stop,’ he says, looking past my shoulder.
But I won’t stop, even if he’s going to try and ignore me. He needs to understand. ‘I mean… Eve’s pretty cool but I don’t know if I’m that in to her, and you saying things or trying to make things happen could just…’ I tail off, noticing the intensity with which Stan is staring past me. The look in his eyes is not one of disinterest, and he’s not telling me to shut up out of boredom or ignorance.
I turn.
Eve is forcing a smile. ‘I forgot to say earlier, but Fr
ida asked if one of you could take some wood to her too. Sorry… I only just remembered. I’ll err… come back in a bit and...’
She can’t finish her sentence. She can’t even look at me. And so she resumes her search for firewood. If I were a better man, I’d run after her and tell her why I said what I said. If I were a better man – a proper man – I would never have said those words at all.
‘Any chance she didn’t hear that?’ I say, pulling my face into a tight knot.
Stan’s response prickles with frustration. ‘Doing things your way works great.’
RIDE THE TIGER.
After what was perhaps the longest twenty minutes of my life, Eve returned with some more wood. She was smiling and laughing and making a fine job of pretending that my words hadn’t wounded her. I asked if she was ok and she placated me, as is her way, but there was no spark in her eyes, and she couldn’t hold my gaze.
But we still lit the fire and Eve brought out the booze. We all drank, and for once, Eve and I outpaced Stan, like we’d established some silent pact to drown any memory of the last hour, like maybe if we drank solidly enough we could both forget it all and create something better in its place.
We’ve been sat here for an hour or so now, and both of us are focusing on Stan. We’re using him. Not that he minds. Every now and then he’ll shoot me a scolding look. Prick... that’s what he’s saying. He’s calling me the stupidest, lamest prick on the planet, and he’s not far wrong.
‘So you brought some coffee back for Frida?’ Eve says, like she doesn’t already know.
‘Yeah. I felt a bit guilty about leaving.’
‘It might take more than a jar of coffee to earn her forgiveness,’ she says, taking a drink.
‘She was practically mourning you,’ I add, also taking a drink.
‘She knew I’d be back. You two are just trying to make me feel bad.’
‘We were worried about you,’ Eve says. ‘Thought you’d end up getting munched by the horde and turned! Maybe bring a few zombies back to the village and wreak some havoc.’ She empties her drink into her mouth before filling the glass up again.
‘It was tempting. Coulda seen what Harry Cobden’s really made of.’
Eve bursts into laughter. Stan looks confused. My jaw clamps tight. What he said wasn’t even funny.
‘So you’d happily sacrifice the rest of us just to fuck Harry over,’ I say, as Eve continues to chuckle like a stoned kid with a sock-puppet on her hand.
‘Right now? Yeah… probably. I’d sacrifice you any day, my old chum.’
Eve laughs harder still. Stan looks at me half in apology, half in confusion.
‘Just as well the horde seems to have upped sticks and migrated,’ I say.
Eve gradually simmers down. ‘There’s really no-one out there? Not even in town?’
‘Nope,’ says Stan.
‘Not even some lone-survivor type or an errant zombie? Nothing at all?’
‘Seriously, Eve. It’s dead.’
‘Nice choice of words, Stan.’ I say. I take the rest of my drink and pour another, trying to keep pace with Eve.
‘I must admit… there was part of me that wondered whether Wade was full of shit.’
‘Wade is full of shit,’ Eve says, her words now getting long and lazy.
‘Yeah, most of the time. But he was right about this. There’s nothing but empty streets out there. I was telling Pres, there’s not even any skeletons. Not one.’
Eve furrows her brow and rubs her nose on the back of her hand. ‘Why would there be skellingtons?’
‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but where there’s been death, there should also be skeletons.’
‘Maybe they got eaten,’ Eve says.
‘Why would the zombies eat the skeletons?’
Eve considers the scenario. ‘So you’re saying… it’s a conspiracy?’
I smirk behind my hand at the way Stan’s face collapses. ‘The Mystery of the Missing Skeletons,’ I say in my best cinematic tone.
‘Screw you both,’ Stan says. ‘You know, if you’re just gonna take the piss out of me, I won’t show you what else I brought back.’
‘Is it coffee? But a different brand of coffee?’ Eve asks. ‘Ooh, no… wait. Is it biscotti? Did you bring back some really dusty old biscotti?’
‘It’s not coffee or biscuits, smart arse.’
‘Is it skeleton related?’ I say.
‘Funny. But no. And I don’t care what you two think. It’s massively fucking weird that there’s no skeletons in town. Neither of you know what that place is like now. It’s creepy, like there’s eyes everywhere but at the same time it’s empty.’
‘Maybe everything’s got an invisibility cloak on it,’ Eve says, her eyes bulging, ‘A secret government invisibility cloak that only works on zombies and skeletons.’
Stan stares at her a moment. ‘Eve. You’re a nice girl… but that doesn’t mean I won’t assault you with something heavy and pointed if you don’t shut it.
‘Sounds like the best offer I’ve had in ages.’
I squirm in my seat. She’s had too much, but I do my best to hide my discomfort. ‘No need for casual threats, Stan. I’m sure the skeletons will turn up.’
‘Maybe they’ve gone back to their cupboards…’ Eve says.
‘Do either of you want to see what I brought back, or is there some more stuff to say about skeletons?’
‘We genuinely want to see what you brought back. Although, it’d better be good,’ I say, feeling sceptical.
Stan digs in his pocket.
All this build up for something that can fit in his pocket. It’ll be a mobile phone or something, a reminder of the good old days when every major decision our country faced was ordained by a bunch of morons poking at their phone screens. Decision Time. That’s what they used to call it. Every hour, on the hour; Decision Time. Time to engage with the democratic process. Jesus… I hope it’s not a fucking phone.
‘Ta-da!’ Stan holds up a small indistinct package. His eyes are wide and enthused.
Eve’s face drops. ‘What’s that then?’ she slurs.
I squint at the box, but the volume of booze I’ve consumed and the dim light make it hard to focus.
‘Can you believe it?’ Stan says. ‘Mad right?’
And then it dawns on me. I know exactly what he’s found.
‘What is it?’ Eve says, closing one eye in an attempt to focus.
‘I really hope this is a joke,’ I say, dropping my head between my knees.
‘No joke. Found a whole stash of the stuff.’
‘You should’ve left it where you found it.’
Eve gasps. The penny has dropped. ‘Shit. That’s probably not a good idea, Stan.’
‘It’s definitely not a good idea. In fact, playfully twisting a bear’s particulars would be a better idea than fucking around with that.’
‘Don’t be such a pussy, Pres,’ Stan says.
‘You need to throw it on the fire. Right now.’
‘No chance.’
‘Stan… for fuck sake! That MIDS. MIDS!’ Surely that’s all that needs to be said on the matter.
‘And?’
‘And?! And it’s MIDS! You know bloody well what that stuff did. Death. Society in collapse. People going nuts and eating each other. These fences got put up to keep that shit out and you just bring it in here like it’s no big deal… like it’s another jar of coffee.’
‘I told you, Pres. MIDS wasn’t the cause of it all, it’s just a sugar pill, that’s all.’
‘So if that’s what you believe, then why on earth would you bring it here?’
‘To try it, dingus.’
The words nearly choke me on their way out. ‘There’s no way you’re going to try MIDS. You said it yourself, just now, it’s a sugar pill, so why even bother?’
‘I’m curious…’
‘You’re curious… Well that’s just fucking super!’
‘Oh, and you’re not?’
‘No, Stan. I’m really not. Because as far as I can gather, it’s either going to do precisely fuck all or it’s going to turn me into a cannibalising terror of the night.’
‘Or something in between. Maybe we’d have a nice little trip.’
‘Great… just great. Let’s risk the security of the whole village on the off-chance that we can ride the tiger or trip the fucking light fantastic!’
‘Wade took it. He said it was fine.’
‘You’re trusting Wade?’
‘Wade’s a nob,’ Eve says, pointing an unsteady finger at the sky.
‘Thanks for the input, Eve,’ I say before returning my ire to Stan. ‘So because Wade says it’s a bit of fun, that makes this ok?’
‘Look… I agree… Wade is most certainly a wang, but he was right about town, so why wouldn’t he be right about this? Why would he lie?’
I clasp my face and grumble in despair.
‘You may not care about what caused all this, but I do,’ Stan says. ‘I want to know once and for all if MIDS is what I think it is.’
‘Stan… please….’ I murmur.
‘Look at the fucking box, Pres. It’s a health supplement, a hokey pill they flogged to the gullible with the promise of improving their lives. It’s psycho… something…’
‘Psychosomatic,’ Eve says, pointing her finger skywards once more.
‘That’s the word… psychosomatic.’
‘Fine,’ I tell him. ‘You go ahead and take your pills. But I’m not having any part in it.’
‘Chicken,’ says Stan, wobbling his head.
‘Call me what you like. I’m still not putting that shit in my body. I’m curious, but I’m not a fucking moron.’ I pull myself unsteadily to my feet. ‘Come on, Eve. Let’s get you home. You’re wasted.’
But she stays put.
Stan grins. He presses two pills out into his hand and extends the pack towards Eve. ‘You in?’
I stare down at Eve. ‘No…’ I say, shaking my head. ‘Please don’t… please.’
Eve stares lazily back. ‘You never know what might happen if you take a few chances,’ she slurs.
‘Please just come with me,’ I say. ‘Back home.’
