by Shana Festa
Seth, Lowell and Ellis moved into the small base the military had claimed. The three soldiers, plus Will, were put into the patrol rotation the day after we arrived. Seth’s strength in coordinating reconnaissance and supply missions was put to good use, and he spent his days in the tents planning with the other officers.
Everyone on the island had a role to play. Jake and I spent the first two days in the house with Meg. The adjustment period proved difficult for us. It wasn’t as easy as one would think to go from constant tension and hyper vigilance back to normal everyday life. In that time, we only had one knock at the door. Apprehension and a learned fear forced us to crawl on our bellies to the front window to see what was out there before we opened it.
On the third day, our rigid bodies had relaxed and we felt ready to brave a walk to the center of our small town. Since the market for a computer programmer was nil, Jake reenlisted into military life and joined the others on patrols.
Meg decided to forgo her psych degree and instead elected to help with childcare. Many children had been orphaned in the initial outbreak and a small home had been established for them. Women suffering the loss of a child took an active role in ensuring that those kids wanted for nothing.
A small physician’s clinic had been repurposed for use as a small treatment facility. There was only one doctor in the group of survivors. When I paid him a visit, he was ecstatic to find I was a week shy of graduating from nursing school and immediately offered me a position. We weren’t set up to handle much, but just knowing there was at least some medical staff available put the people at ease.
Doc Robbins was a forty-something gastroenterologist. Translation, he’s the guy that gets up and personal with your colon when you have poop problems. Pretty fitting, considering the extreme change in diet we’d all undergone.
Ever watch that show Survivor? Jake and I never missed an episode. They never discuss the result that a rice diet has on your system. And you just know that when they win the luxury challenges and get whisked away to eat that five-course meal, they’re pissing out their ass for the next two days. Raging diarrhea wouldn’t really make for good ratings, so I get why they keep it on the down-low.
The doc had beady little brown eyes with an abundance of crow’s feet, most likely from scrutinizing over an operating table at the inside of rectums. I’ve heard that the most coveted nursing jobs are working in those little day surgery places where they do endoscopies and colonoscopies all day. It makes sense. Anyone who has ever had a colonoscopy will tell you the worst part is the day before. The actual procedure is a breeze. Doc Robbins was nice enough. He always had a smile on his face, and he didn’t exude the arrogance that many doctors do. No God complex that I could see.
Life on the island was so serene. It was almost possible to forget what was waiting for us outside the walls. Jake was assigned to the day shift, and we met at North Station for dinner every night with the rest of our group. At our first dinner we learned that Adam took a position in central supply, cataloging and organizing the community food stores.
It was no surprise to discover that Nancy had also chosen to work at the orphanage. She and Gabby were rarely apart, and Gabby spent her days playing with the other kids and attending the small school that had been established shortly after the perimeter went up. Daphne, too, had changed. She wasn’t nearly as skittish as she had been. She also, thankfully, wasn’t a barker anymore. I guess too many close calls had taught her a lesson.
The one thing that hadn’t changed was how much I adored her. She was with me twenty-four hours a day. She would sit quietly outside the shower, trot along next to me when I went to the clinic, and even lay under my table during meals. Sure, there were other dogs on the island, but they held no interest for her other than the random butt sniff.
My marriage had always been great, but Jake and I had grown even closer. His welcome home kisses gave me butterflies, and we held hands like school kids. I found his constant big brother heckling endearing. Poor Will was scared stiff around him, so much so that he had spent the first three evenings sleeping on the sofa. The best part was that Jake was only messing with Will to watch him squirm. Will was a stand-up guy, and Jake was really fine with him and Meg being together. Finally on the third night he gave the kid a reprieve. Jake was on his way to the kitchen for a bottle of water before bed. When he walked into the living room, Will jumped off the sofa like a fire had been lit under his ass.
He strolled over and clapped his hand on Will’s back. "I can’t keep it up." He blew out a low laugh when he saw Will’s confused expression. "I’m just messing with ya, kid. You’re a good man and you’ve done right by Meg, and the rest of our group. I’m fine with you being together. Now stop camping out in here and go to bed."
A goofy grin spread across Will’s face and he bounded out of the living room before Jake could change his mind.
* * *
Chapter 28
A Little Bit Louder Now
It was noon on my third day in the clinic. My only patient so far was an elderly woman complaining of arthritic pain. Without modern medicine readily available, I was limited in what I could do for her. So I gave her a massage to help loosen up her joints.
I lounged in the rocking chair by the front entry flipping through a six-month-old celebrity gossip magazine. The newest Disney child actor to shed her squeaky clean image made for an exciting story. I was thinking about what fate might have befallen the little tart when the squawk of radio sent me toppling off the front of the rocker and stumbling for the railing to remain on my feet. The doctor had told me we were in possession of one of the few camp radios in case there was a medical issue in the field and they needed help.
"Doc. Come in, Doc. Over."
Snatching the radio up, my hands trembled with the fear of what could be happening. "This is Emma…er…the nurse. Doc Robbins is out to lunch. What can I do for you?" I waited for a response and gave myself a mental head slap. Duh. "Over."
"This is PFC Sotter. ETA to clinic is thirty minutes. We’ve got a soldier with a minor laceration that needs wound care and infection prevention. Over."
"Roger that, PFC. We’ll be here." Dammit, I forgot again. "Over."
Scenarios started to play through my brain in rapid fire. I knew there was a recovery team on the way back to base. They’d been gone before we arrived on the island. I also knew the cut was not a zombie bite, because the camp had a strict policy on bites. If you are bitten, you are infected: one hundred percent of the time. Victims are given the option of a self-inflicted bullet to the brain, or they could opt for what’s behind door number two: execution by comrade. In the new world, where infection is lurking everywhere, any cut, scrape, or blister was taken seriously and treated to prevent a staph infection, tetanus, or worse.
I may have been given the title of nurse, but the fact that I was technically an unlicensed student with an extremely limited scope of experience had my nerves getting the best of me. Better to be safe than sorry, I say. So I did what any self-respecting nursing student would do. I ran to get the doctor. He was still waiting in the lunch line when I found him, and his annoyance at being summoned back to work was visible on his face. He left me in line in his place to bring his meal back to the clinic.
You would think the camp meals were bland and delivered in portions just big enough to sustain life, and you would be half right. The portions were minuscule, but the food had been excellent thus far. Judging by the mouth-watering effect the smell of beef stew had on me, today would be no exception. No way was I passing up the opportunity to cut in line and not get a meal for myself.
I may have felt a small twinge of guilt. But when I saw the stew was accompanied by a fresh baked biscuit, I was guilty no more. The biscuit didn’t stand a chance of making it back to the clinic intact. My willpower held out all of ten paces before that flaky delight was leaving crumbs down the front of my shirt. Even worse was my inner struggle to not eat Doc Robbins’ biscuit too. Biscuit? Wh
at biscuit? Fear of reprisal saved that little biscuit from meeting its maker by way of my eager tummy.
A Ford F350 was parked in front of the clinic. The shiny blue paint was visible only on the roof. The body of the behemoth truck was covered with a thick coating of both fresh and dried blood. A crack in the windshield reminded me of the bull’s-eye on a dartboard. The concentric circular pattern had multiple fractures with small chips in the glass. Stuck inside the chips were bits of flesh and hair. One tangle in particular caught my eye and made my stomach do a flip-flop.
A clump of blond locks threaded through the small opening. Dangling inside like a pair of fuzzy dice was a chunk of scalp nearly two inches in diameter. I made the executive decision to stop the vehicle inspection and passed by, intentionally turning my gaze upward. When the stench hit me, I quickened my pace and took shallow breaths through my mouth.
Two soldiers leaned on the railing as I approached. They were both laughing as they puffed away on cigarettes.
Mmm, I miss cigarettes, I thought. It had been nearly five years since I gave up smoking, and I still craved those evil little cancer sticks whenever I caught a whiff. It was no big mystery; smoking is bad for you. So after years of enduring the riot act from Jake, I woke up one day and threw a full pack in the trash. Is it irony that I quit to avoid an early death by lung cancer and now every day was a gamble on whether or not I’d see tomorrow? Perhaps I should reevaluate that decision. I think I would prefer that death to the other, and more likely, option. But, I digress.
Passing the two men, who were engaged in conversation, I noticed the smell of body odor. It was so strong not even the dense cloud of cigarette smoke could mask the odor. I tried not to crinkle my nose at them; after all, they’d just spent nearly a week outside the walls searching for supplies to keep the rest of us fed. I put on my best smile and nodded my head in greeting as I climbed the three steps up to the clinic door. The two immediately went silent, and all I could think was crap, they’re checking out my ass. I decided not to look back to verify.
The sound of Doc Robbins’ voice reached me as I walked into the clinic and through the empty reception area.
"It’s a good thing you didn’t let this go without treatment. It’s infected, but nothing that a little antibiotic ointment and some good wound care won’t fix."
I set the food on top of the filing cabinet and stood in the doorway. I won’t lie; I was a bit excited to see the wound. What can I say? The photos in my nursing books had eliminated any trace of squeamishness. You see a tunneling stage three pressure ulcer and everything else is puppies and fluffy bunnies. The soldier sat sideways on the examination table with Doc Robbins standing on the opposite side, manhandling his arm. I ran my hands down my scrub shirt to iron out any wrinkles and cleared my throat.
Doc Robbins looked up at me and smiled. "Ah, Emma, I’m glad you’re back," he said. I think he may have asked me to get something from the other room, but when the man on the table turned to look at me, everything else was lost.
I felt my body start to shake uncontrollably and I tried to say something, but my throat had gone dry. My field of vision narrowed, and I had the sensation of looking down a constricted tube. Across the room, sitting on a table mere feet from me, was Jake’s brother, Vinny, suffering the same stupefied reaction.
My hands shook and I wrung my fingers together in shocked silence. The scene took on a dreamlike quality, and I was afraid the bubble would burst if either one of us spoke. This wasn’t a mirage. I knew it wasn’t with every fiber of my being.
Vinny leapt down from the table and charged me, picking me up in a bear hug. The floodgates opened and instantly we were both crying.
Over Vinny’s shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Doc Robbins wiping at his eyes. I’m sure he’d blame a speck of dust if asked. I think he also realized I was of no use as his nurse at the moment, and he went to get the supplies to patch up Vinny’s arm.
* * *
Meg had been right. Vinny’s unit was recalled to deal with the threat on American soil. Only, he never made it home. Once his unit blew the bridges to Sanibel, he had been ordered to remain on the island and maintain the integrity of the wall. I couldn’t tell him about his parents; that bit of devastating news should come from his brother. Luckily, our conversation was so scattered that I didn’t have to worry about it. The doc cleaned and bandaged his wound while we caught up, and we left the clinic with our arms linked. I couldn’t wait for Jake to see him. I had also kept to myself the fact that I put his ex-girlfriend out of commission for good. I didn’t see the need to open old wounds.
We didn’t have to wait long. Back at our bungalow, we were seated on the little sofa for less than five minutes before I heard the front door open. I was like a kid on Christmas. My cheeks hurt from smiling, and I was nearly bouncing in my seat with anticipation.
"Lucy, I’m home," yelled Jake in his best Ricky Ricardo voice. I didn’t have to say anything because he’d have to pass right by us to get to the bedroom and change out of his uniform. Frankly, I don’t think I could have spoken if my life depended on it. I was like a teapot about to boil over. My hands were clamped over my mouth in a death grip, and I did my best to keep the insane giggling from exploding out of my mouth.
Vinny got up and tiptoed over to the wall adjacent to where Jake would enter the room. As Jake rounded the corner and smiled at me, he cocked his head to the side in confusion at my expression. A split second later, Vinny leapt from behind the wall and into Jake’s path screaming "Show me the titties!" I realize that seems pretty odd, but Jake and Vinny shared a room growing up. From what their mother told me, the room constantly smelled like old farts. Ick. She also told me that she and their dad would stand outside their door at night in near hysterics as the two boys made up goofy songs. One of their more infamous songs went something like: "Show me the titties!" And Vinny would follow it up with: "A little bit softer now, a little bit softer now". Followed by another round of: "Show me the titties!" from Jake and a final: "A little bit louder now!" from Vinny. They would try to sing as soft or as loud as they could before getting reprimanded and told to go to bed.
Priceless is the only way to describe Jake’s reaction. Immediately following his scared exclamation of, "ooh, mothafucka" and an awkward ninja move, he ran and jumped at Vinny, tackling him to the floor. The two wrestled around for a bit, laughing, and finally settled down enough to fill each other in. News of his parents didn’t affect him as much as I’d expected. Though, I guess he’d already written them off for dead. He got a good laugh that his mom had gone down fighting with a frying pan.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat. The two of them got Meg the same way Vinny had surprised Jake. The round robin of stories began again.
* * *
Chapter 29
Do Not Pass Go
We fell into a familiar schedule over the next couple weeks. It’s not that I could say life was good, but we were all still breathing so I couldn’t really complain. It took an apocalypse to bring Team Rossi closer than ever before. Vinny still slept in the barracks but came over to our place every night he wasn’t out on a scouting mission. Seth and Dale joined the scout team and we saw them less and less. Jake stayed on the wall with Will for fear of death by female. Nancy spent all her time with Gabby and the other children and we saw her only in passing after our first week on the island. Holiday decorations were on display, and the closer it got to Christmas, the more people added to the festive holiday spirit
We’d built a new life for ourselves. The Rossi’s and Will circled the wagons. The five of us were all we could worry about. Though, all the original group made a pact that if anything ever happened, we would stick together and meet at the houseboat. We made sure our contingency plan was in place and we kept the boat stocked with as much non-perishable food and bottled water as we could manage.
Jake updated us every night at dinner with news communication from other military strongholds. The island’s communication ability dwarfed th
e technology we had while held up at Target. We were able to communicate with folks as far up the eastern coastline as Pennsylvania, and we received word that contact had been made with groups as far north as Vermont. This news gave me hope that my family and friends had made it to safety up in Massachusetts.
Every night I would dream of reuniting with my parents. Some mornings I woke up happy from finding them alive. Others I woke gasping for air and in tears from a much different type of reunion. The weight in my chest grew heavier each day that passed, and I wondered how long I’d be able to stay on Sanibel. Jake would hear nothing of it when I suggested we even think about trying to go north. He didn’t understand. How could he? He knew the fate of his parents, and he had his siblings by his side. I had nothing, except Jake and his family.
Meg had found a bunch of board games stacked on the floor of her closet, and we put them to good use. One thing an Italian family loves to do is reminisce about the good times. In the decade I’d known the Rossis, I must have heard about the time Jake made Vinny cry during a game of Monopoly at least a dozen times. It went something like this.
Jake, Vinny, Meg, and their dad, Alfie, were playing a friendly game of Monopoly. For some reason, this game was always most appealing right before bedtime. Why? Because that stupid game never ends! It always started with a fight over who got to be the race car. Seriously, what’s so awesome about the stupid car? Give me the dog any day. The problem with Monopoly is that it’s never enough to just win. Opponents must be destroyed; their property’s seized without mercy and financially bankrupted. Basically, in order to play a successful round of Monopoly, you must crush your opponent’s will to live.
