Disintegration ba-1

by Anthony DeCosmo

  After dinner, they left the eat-in kitchen and migrated with wineglasses in hand to the living room. Trevor slipped a CD into the stereo and hit the "play" button before sitting on the couch next to Nina at a respectful distance.

  After a moment, a woman crooned a gentle ballad

  I go out walking, after midnight, out in the moonlight, just like we used to do…

  She gazed at him in a manner that asked a question without saying a word.

  "Patsy Cline," he answered.

  "Patsy Cline? Well, that's a surprise."

  Trevor explained the connection with his eyes pointing toward her but seeing something far away, long ago. He returned to his old world and she traveled with him.

  "You haven’t seen it all until you’ve seen my dad and mom listening to Patsy. Patsy or Elvis. That is, cool 50’s Elvis not fat Elvis. I mean, we used to drive to my grandma’s out by Pittsburgh, back when I was a kid. It was like a five-hour drive. Super boring. So we’d listen to what my dad called ‘the classics.’ He’d put in a Patsy cassette and my parents would start mouthing the words to each other as they drove along. Then they’d turn and sing to me, then each other again. All the way out to Pittsburgh.

  "My dad-seeing his lips moving and hearing Patsy Cline-I mean, you could only watch that for so long before you cracked up. Poor mom would laugh right at him. Both of us would, and he’d just keep on lip syncing."

  His vision returned to Nina. She smiled; just a little.

  "You really miss your parents, don’t you?"

  His happiness faltered. She hurried, "What do you remember most about them?"

  He sipped his wine and considered.

  "You know, I think it’s how much they liked each other. I don’t mean just loved. Of course they loved each other; they married and had a wonderful kid, right?"

  "Right."

  He narrowed his eyes for emphasis. "But they really liked each other. They liked talking to each other and going places. I always felt I was a part of that, too."

  "That’s nice."

  The second track of the CD replaced the first.

  Sweet dreams of you…every night I go through…

  Trevor asked, "What about you? What do you miss about before?"

  Nina set her glass on the coffee table and stared at her folded hands silently.

  "What? What is it?"

  She exhaled louder than she should have.

  He said, "Go on, tell me. I can handle it."

  "When you sent me out…" she stopped and rephrased. "When you had me go out and wipe out the Red Hands…well, one night the guys were sitting around the campfire talking about everything they missed. Sharing stories; stuff like that."

  "Yes?"

  "They were swapping stories and I…" she stumbled." I was cleaning my rifle. Breaking it down and cleaning it."

  She pulled her eyes away from her hands and threw them to him, but Trevor could not see her point; he only saw her discomfort.

  "I was cleaning my rifle for the fourth time that night. It didn’t need to be cleaned."

  He shrugged his shoulders because he still did not understand.

  "So I’m listening and I tried to think of what I missed from before all this."

  "What was it you missed?"

  Nina did not answer with words. Her eyes drooped and her hands fidgeted.

  Trevor answered for her: "Nothing. There was nothing you missed."

  She nodded slowly. It seemed to him that Nina expected to be judged.

  "Nina, you can’t blame yourself for that."

  "Before all this happened I was always different. I felt out of place. I heard the people I worked with or the other kids I went to school with talk about their problems and whatever was their big deal of the week and all that. To me it always seemed stupid. Ridiculous. Like wondering what tune the band was going to play while the Titanic is sinking."

  "But now?"

  "Now it’s different. Now I know why I am what I am."

  " Who you are. You’re not a what, Nina."

  She went on, "The truth is that I’m more comfortable-more at home-in this world than the old one. The truth is that there is a part of me that likes all this. A part of me that would miss it if things went back to normal tomorrow."

  Not sadness now. Something else. He guessed, "Guilt? You feel guilty, don’t you?"

  She bowed her head. "I feel guilty about a lot of things, but not this."

  It astonished him to realize, "You’re ashamed. No, no. That’s not right."

  "Everyone around me misses something or is fighting to put things back to the way they were. Me? It feels like this is what I was born for."

  He said, "That just means you’ve had a purpose all your life, something that most people never know. I can tell you there are a lot of things at work here in ’all this’. For some reason, you’ve been given direction. But that doesn’t mean it’s the only thing in you. There’s a lot more. I know that."

  Did he get through? He could not be sure. One thing he had learned about Nina Forest: getting through to her meant a lot of work. Whatever lay hidden inside that woman had long ago been surrounded by minefields and barbed wire and walls. It would not be enough to break in; she would have to try to work her way out from behind the defenses.

  A familiar string of cords drifted from the speakers. Trevor broke the silence not with words, but by standing in front of her as she sat on the sofa and he held an open hand to her.

  "May I have this dance, miss?"

  Crazy…I’m crazy for feeling so lonely…

  Her eyes widened like a deer in a headlight.

  "I don’t dance. Or…I don’t dance very good."

  "It’s okay," he said. "I don’t dance very good either." She searched for another excuse. "I don’t want to embarrass myself." He looked left, looked right, then returned his eyes to her.

  "There’s no one watching."

  What she said next nearly made him melt on the spot. He actually felt his legs weaken. "You’re watching."

  He studied her. He knew her strength. Despite all that strength and courage there she sat, vulnerable. Afraid not of some monster conjured by that insane new world but by something so basic and human.

  He whispered, "I promise not to stare."

  She hesitated. Her eyes blinked bashfully.

  Trevor asked her to, "Take a chance."

  Her hand rose slowly, tentatively, until finding his grasp. Trevor guided her to the middle of the small living room where he gently grasped her right hand with his left and politely slipped his other arm around her waist. She searched for an awkward second before placing her free hand on his shoulder.

  He swayed her gently and found her blue eyes. As he did, his body trembled. There he stood, the great leader who had vanquished a legion of nightmares trembling with fear even though he danced as conservatively with her as if her father, pastor, and big brother watched.

  Nerves translated into mumbled words.

  "See, you’re doing just fine. Why, you’re a regular-"

  "Shut…up," she softly stopped his babbling.

  Nina closed her eyes and rested her cheek on his shoulder. He felt her lean against him. More than her weight: her entire person. She placed herself in his arms. Trevor wondered if she had ever done such a thing before. Yet, a strange thing happened as she did. His trembling-that fear-slipped…quietly…away.

  As he felt her give to him, his strength grew. Strength greater, more powerful than all the gifts of the Old Man or any other force in that new world.

  She slipped both hands around his waist and stepped closer. He felt the pulse of her heart. He felt her at peace. He felt himself there, too.

  …and I’m crazzzyyy…for lovin’…youuuuu…

  She whispered as much to herself as to him, "This isn’t easy for me."

  He answered, "I know."

  She must have felt the need to explain further. She pulled her head away from his shoulder to tell him — the very tips of thei
r noses brushed. Trevor felt certain his heart stopped. It was instantly the greatest single moment of his life.

  A magnetism pulled their lips together for that first, magical time. Soft and gentle and long and oh-so-nice. Everything they could possibly hope it to be. And it served as only the start. There would be no turning back.

  In a world where merely living another day seemed a tall request, they found no reason to stop what they both wanted so much; what they had both waited so long for already.

  They kissed again and again. She pressed against him; he pulled her even closer. Her body…her whole person…hugged him…an intoxicating feeling and unbearably exciting. Yet as forceful the emotion, as powerful as they both were, their embrace remained gentle, not harsh.

  His hands felt along her waist and back. Such a perfectly sculpted frame. He knew her body to be well built for battle. Now he felt those lines and curves offered in passion.

  Somewhere…far, far away…another melody crooned from the stereo.

  Nina did not consider or think. She knew she had instincts for a steady trigger finger, a quick and powerful blow. She found other instincts dwelling beneath the surface. Nina let the longing for her that radiated from Trevor unlock it.

  Her hands slid under his pullover shirt, which went up and off, forcing his arms from her waist into the air. She first kissed his smooth chest then moved those kisses to the base of his neck before finding his lips again. Her hands encouragingly stroked across his upper body.

  She felt the goose bumps on his flesh and knew the reason for them: he was electric for her. She had never been the object of such complete desire, certainly not in this way. And she wanted him, too, so strongly that she nearly drowned in the emotion.

  Her heart-that cast iron lock box-splintered and broke open as if it had been made of glass. Never before had she been so willing to give everything. Now she wanted nothing less than giving all. The defenses tumbled down. The minefields and barbed wire and walls could not slow the tsunami of emotion breaking loose from the prison within.

  She trusted him completely with her heart and she craved offering it to him.

  As her clothes came off-some by her own hand, others by his-she did not wonder if she would be judged. Just as she knew, even before their bodies twisted and rolled together first on the sofa then in the bedroom, that she would be happy, and pleased, and satisfied.

  No insecurity. No bashfulness. No hesitation. Best of all, there were smiles and laughs. This was not desperate love, it felt exciting and new and fun. Happy.

  As Trevor felt and caressed her bare person, he was amazed. So strong, everywhere. Her legs, her abbs; that same body that could be unforgiving and destructive could also be warm and inviting.

  He had been with only one other lover in his life. That did not matter now, because she would be the end for him. He could not imagine anything more wonderful, more fulfilling, or more exhilarating than holding Nina…

  …moving with her as her back arched…her body tensed…shivered… as she straddled him while her short ponytail bobbed and swayed.

  Then to feel her beneath…her rigid and firm muscles…her legs wrapped around him…despite her might she still surrendered.

  Her sighs-so gentle for a woman who proved so powerful.

  Her body was so perfect in the ways she used it-sometimes passively, sometimes more direct-so wonderful that no man dare ask for more. Yet, he found the greatest satisfaction in her eyes. When he looked into them, he could see that she went far beyond flesh and energy. That she gave everything.

  He knew that gift to be precious. He knew what a chance she took. He knew because he gave her more than he had ever given to anyone before. More than he thought possible to give.

  When their endurance reached its breaking point; after their bodies expended every last drop of energy, after their passion had been fully fed and satisfied, they fell together and slept peacefully through their first night of being in love.

  26. Round Trip

  Trevor and Nina sat in the church basement picking at scrambled eggs and bacon.

  Lori Brewer-wearing one of the biggest, cockiest grins ever seen by the likes of man-carried her tray over and sat at the table across from the two. "Mind if I join you?"

  Nina welcomed, "Hey. No, sit down." "So…" "Don’t," Trevor stopped her. "Don’t or I’ll have to-"

  Reverend Johnny rushed into the basement shouting, "Hells bells! Raise the alarm and man the battlements!"

  They discarded their trays and hurried from the church. Trevor and Nina flanked Johnny as they jogged the road toward the estate where a convoy of dangerous newcomers waited: an Abrams tank, six big deuce and a half cargo trucks, one empty flatbed, two military Humvees with 50 caliber weapons mounted on top, and another Humvee with a TOW missile launcher as well as a pair of camouflage-painted SUVs.

  Trevor, Nina, Johnny and the rest felt naked in front of such firepower. There they stood in the cold morning air facing off against a main battle tank and enough firepower to obliterate them in seconds.

  Soldiers dressed in full US Army battle gear disembarked from the trucks as did a ragtag group of civilians including parents and young kids, teenagers, a few elderly, and more.

  The hatch on the Abrams flew open. An early thirty-something soldier stuck his head out.

  "Shit, you fellows were pretty hard to find." The man hoisted himself from the cupola.

  Trevor asked, "What can we do for you, soldier?"

  The man tilted and scratched his head. "Well, gee, that wasn’t the welcome I had been expecting, considering that the two guys we met out by State College said you people were taking in refugees."

  Trevor's jaw dropped. Refugees? These guys?

  "Name’s Major Tom Prescott. This here is what’s left of the U.S. Army, near as I can tell. We’ve been wandering around for the last few months looking for a good way to die. Then we saw ‘Bear’ Ross west of here yesterday. You know he was a linebacker for the 'Skins? Anyway, he gave us directions and told us you were putting things back together."

  Trevor's concern morphed into smiles as Prescott jumped off the tank.

  "Glad to meet you, Major."

  – They gathered in the Command Center on the second floor of the estate. Stonewall, Shepherd, Jon Brewer, Nina Forest, Omar, and Reverend Johnny joined the discussion that included Prescott and his key people.

  From power issues to the food supply to available munitions, Stone explained the situation at the estate to the new arrivals. Major Prescott shared what he brought to the table: one hundred trained U.S. soldiers including ten engineers and three chopper pilots as well as nearly half that number in civilians they had picked up along the way.

  Ammunition for the Abrams was in good supply but it ate so much fuel they tended to leave it on the flatbed. They also carried plenty of small arms munitions, grenades, and mines. The fifty-caliber guns were well stocked but only one shot remained for the TOW.

  After the Major catalogued his inventory, Trevor asked the question on everyone's mind: "What happened?"

  The Major understood the question. He took a deep breath, scratched the side of his head, and told the story.

  "We were at a base in Missouri doing a training program with the Mizzou National Guard. Fact is, though, no one was ready. Not the police, not the army, and especially not the politicians. You got to remember how an army is put together. There’s an order of battle. There are procedures. When you go marching off to war, it takes weeks to put the pieces together. It isn't just about bullets and bombs; it’s about supplies and orders."

  Brewer added, "There were some units that got mobilized."

  "Sure," Prescott agreed. "But organized for what? What do you do when monsters are popping up everywhere you turn? We woke up one morning in June and found monsters running through the base gobbling people up. Christ-Jesus, a lot of the guys on base…I mean…they had families, you know? You think they ran to the parade grounds to line up in neat ranks to go marchi
ng off to save St. Louis? We were fighting for our lives from the get-go."

  Trevor rested a hand on Prescott’s shoulder. "Relax. This isn’t about blame. We just want to know."

  "Oh man, you couldn’t blame any of us more than we blame ourselves. Most of us spent our lives getting ready to fight for, well you know, God and country and all that. But this type of war…it wasn’t war. It was like we suddenly got thrown down in the middle of the jungle with hungry lions surrounding us. Do you know how long it took just to get off base?"

  Prescott shook his head and stared at the floor.

  "It took a couple of days to get our house in order. Pardon my French, but things were really messed up. I don’t know how many of our guys died that first day-a lot of them were in town for the weekend, you know? So any way, they finally got the armory opened up and started getting out the big guns. By the third day we had most of the base cleared out but, Christ-Jesus, the things kept flooding in at us. We killed things by the bucket load."

  Trevor said, "I’m guessing that was the story all over. If it weren’t for how much you guys did do in those first few weeks things would’ve been worse."

  "Oh now, we weren’t patting ourselves on the back. We knew how bad it was out there. We saw the news reports. Thank God, the phones went out because for those first few days guys would be getting calls from folks back home. Man, you ever, you ever…" Prescott closed his eyes. "…you ever listen to someone you love begging for help? Begging…when you could hear something banging in the door and your kid screaming for his daddy? You ever do that?"

  Hands from both Johnny and Brewer joined Trevor’s on Prescott’s shoulders.

  He sniffled, stood straight, and opened his eyes.

  "So, yeah, anyway. Once we got things under control, we were told to march on out and save the day. Yessir. Save the day. We had some of our tanks and plenty of bullets. We even had enough guys to do some good. But what did they tell us to do? What do you think?"

  Prescott glanced around the room, a look of contempt rippling across his face.