Stumptown Survival: The Complete Collection

by Noah Porter

  Glancing at Dylan, Karen thought he looked rather attractive in his business suit. Still she’d had to persuade him to add a few touches to make it look more like a costume, and less like an ordinary businessman. It was, in fact, the suit that Dylan wore for interviews now that he was out of the military, but he hadn’t had any success landing an acceptable position so far. When she expressed surprise that he was wearing it, he had laughed and replied, “It might as well be a costume for all the good it’s done me.”

  The lack of future income did not stop him from pampering her. They first went to a really nice dinner, and now he was insisting on paying for the event. Karen felt guilty, but was unsure how to turn down his generosity without offending him. If things worked out really well and they continued to see each other, she could always offer to let him live with her, that would certainly help him out.

  Dylan was completely unaware of Karen’s long-term plans as they made their way to the outdoor area. They mingled and started to enjoy the cool night air. It was already dark, and this late in the year it should have been cloudy, but the weather had not caught on and several stars were winking among the city lights.

  Karen quickly seemed to be having a great time, but Dylan was uncomfortable. Many of the people they met started by talking about what they did for a living, which of course meant he had to say that he was currently looking for a profession. Several people asked Karen how she felt about supporting her man, an awkward situation that neither was equipped to address. After the third time, Karen decided to follow his pronouncement of unemployment by bringing up his recent military career, something that he definitely did not want to discuss with civilians he didn’t know. They started to draw a larger crowd as he tried to deflect questions. Even some of the people who had earlier dismissed him for being unemployed came back and began questioning him. All in all, he wanted to avoid the spotlight, especially specific questions about his deployments. This last was his third deployment, and the second time he had been injured. He had only been grazed by a bullet the first time. This time he had been too close to an IED that killed several of his team and broke two of his ribs and his left arm. The last thing he wanted was to relive it in front of strangers with morbid ideas of entertainment.

  Karen had no problem taking control of the conversation and recounting the physical therapy and other treatments he’d undergone to get where he was today. She seemed to love the attention. While she was detailing their first therapy session, Dylan took the opportunity to slip away to get her another drink.

  He decided to hang out at the bar for a bit, letting Karen have the spotlight to herself. Finally having a little time to himself, he reflected that he had overcome his reservations about asking her out, largely because of her persistence. Since it was their last session, Dylan figured there was nothing to lose. Despite her continual hints, she had seemed genuinely surprised when he finally asked her out. So surprised that he began to wonder if perhaps she had not meant it. Was it was something she did to help her male patients build self-confidence? And if he had been foolish in thinking she wanted to be asked, he was not about to let her pay for anything. That would just make it more awkward. Once he committed to going, he was going to make the most of it despite his limited income. He did not, however, foresee a repeat performance, they were simply too different. Dylan’s brother had invited him to come live with his family, which would mean moving out of state. Dylan was thinking about accepting tomorrow and planning to be there by the end of the month. Short notice, but it’s not like he was leaving anything behind.

  “Avoiding your own crowd,” asked a tall red head to his right. Dylan looked at her and blinked.

  “Crowds make me uncomfortable, especially when they are staring. I haven’t had any good experiences with that lately.”

  The woman gave a low laugh. She stuck out her hand, “Paige.”

  “Nice name, uncommon,” Dylan said taking her hand and shaking it.

  After a pause, “This is usually the point where you tell me your name,” she said slipping her hand around her glass and taking a long drink.

  “Oh, come now, everyone here must know my name by now. I’m Wonderboy.”

  She shook her head, “Ah, and here sits your alter ego, the mild mannered business man.”

  “I prefer Clark.”

  She smirked, “Very clever. Now where is my kryptonite?” Nodding in Karen’s general direction, “Oh wait, you brought it with you.”

  Dylan chuckled, “Dylan.”

  “Much better. So, Clark, what brings you and your lovely date to this little shindig?”

  Studying Paige, Dylan thought she looked like she should be modeling for some weird armor magazine. “I just finished physical therapy with her, and she had been hinting at wanting to come to this for quite a while. I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

  “Now the question is, can you admit that you were wrong?” She gave him a lopsided grin.

  “I can admit when I’m wrong. After all, owning up to your mistakes is something the military teaches you from day one. If you don’t, you become a walking target because no one will have your back when you need them. That said, uncomfortable is not the same as in pain.” Dylan looked over at the crowd, still unable to see his date.

  “A military man? And you just finished therapy. Sounds like a difficult year.”

  Not wanting to go into it, Dylan shrugged.

  Paige sensed Dylan’s discomfort and switched topics, “Have you had a chance to check out the exhibit yet?”

  Dylan turned to look inside. The Bodies exhibit was on display during the day, but it was closed this late in the evening. “Unfortunately, we were too late to make it. We just came for the drinking.”

  Paige chuckled, “You should check it out, it really impresses the ladies.”

  “I’ll bet. Seeing how the human body works, examining every little piece. Practically shouts romance.”

  “Exactly.” Paige took a sip and looked out over the river.

  “So, what about you, what brings you here?” Dylan turned to watch Paige watching the city lights on the water. Clouds were crowding at the corners, and he thought it was only a matter of time before the sky would be swallowed.

  “Crowds really aren’t my thing either, but some of my friends wanted a night on the town. Who am I to disappoint them,” She cast him a quick look then turned back to the table to set down her drink. “Speaking of, I should probably get back.”

  “Wait a minute, I told you a bit about myself.” This time he nodded to the crowd around Karen, “Granted it wasn’t much you couldn’t have gotten by being over there, but you got the personal touch. It’s only fair that you answer a few questions.”

  “Alight. Shoot.” Paige stopped and put her hands on her hips.

  “Who are you supposed to be? I don’t know any women who dress like that.”

  Paige laughed. Certainly not the question she had expected. When she really laughed, it was enchanting. “I’m Erza.”

  Dylan blinked at her, then rolled his hand to indicate she should keep going.

  “It’s an anime character. I’m here with Natsu,” she pointed at a guy with spiky pink hair, wearing a scarf and no shirt. “Loke,” she pointed to a guy wearing shades, spiky red hair, and a green coat with fur making him look like a lion. “Lucy,” she pointed to a woman with a blond ponytail and skimpy cheerleader-style outfit. “Gray,” she pointed at a man wearing pants and a necklace, but no shirt. “And Cana,” and she pointed to a woman wearing a bikini top and pants.

  Dylan shook his head, “Interesting group of friends.”

  “Yeah, anime tends to have a lot of scantily clad characters, a little something for both genders. Any other questions?”

  “Interesting taste in television. So, what do you do?”

  “Ah, typical conversation. I’m a firefighter.”

  Dylan nearly choked on his drink, “Seriously?”

  “Why is that so shocking?” She arched an eyebrow.
>
  “Because you look like a model. Though it explains why you’re much easier to talk to than most women.” He considered, “It’s an unusual choice for a woman with your looks and social skills. Meaning you’re more socially adept than me. And, judging by your rapid responses, I would say you have the intelligence to have your choice of career,” Raising his glass to her, “At least I can finally say I found someone with a job I can respect.”

  She smiled, “Like I said, not big on crowds and people, which really narrows the choice of profession. I mostly work with the same group of people and what we do is pretty straightforward. A fire is a problem that you can easily understand, even if it isn’t easy to fix.”

  “Fair enough. Still, what made you think of being a firefighter?”

  Paige shrugged, “It’s a family tradition. We’ve always had at least one, and, as the oldest, I wanted to make sure my siblings felt they had other options.”

  “So this isn’t really what you wanted?”

  “I didn’t say that. I was just putting a noble spin on something I always wanted to do.”

  “How many siblings?”

  “Four. Now, any more questions and you are going to owe me a few more answers.”

  Dylan smiled, “We’ll call it even. Have a lovely evening with your friends.”

  “You know, if you aren’t sure what you want to do, you could consider firefighting. It’s almost as dangerous as what you’re used to, but closer to home.”

  “That’s actually a good idea. Thanks, I will think about it.”

  “Well, I’ll be here all night if you have any questions. Otherwise, you should be able to find the squad pretty easily online, it’s not like we’re shy about trying to recruit.”

  Paige headed off toward a couple of her friends. Dylan grabbed another drink for Karen, unsure if he should. Last he saw, she was already tipsy. The bartender, eyeing Paige, said, “I can’t believe you just let her walk away.”

  Dylan pointed toward the thinning crowd, “I’ve already got a date, and I won’t kick one to the curb for another. Besides, I’m not planning on sticking around town.”

  “Two points, if you don’t mind,” the man said as he prepared a couple more glasses for the waitress standing next to him.

  “Sure,” Dylan replied, rotating the glass in his hand and watching the clouds overtake the moon.

  “Plans change. You don’t sound sold on leaving, so you may not want to write off this place just yet.” Dylan shrug, “And second, you clearly aren’t serious about the girl you’re with. There is nothing wrong with getting a number.”

  “You might be right, but that simply isn’t the way I work. I wouldn’t want to give a girl my number with her date standing by. It doesn’t say good things about a person.”

  The bartender looked out over the water, “It’s nice to see someone who sticks to his beliefs, even if they are a little quirky.”

  Dylan grinned into his glass, “Yeah, I suppose it is. The name’s Dylan.”

  The guy winked, “Yeah, I know.” He extended his hand, “Conner.”

  Dylan shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Conner. I hope you have a pleasant evening and that the guests don’t get too rowdy.”

  Conner looked around, “These things are never too bad. People like you more than make up for the obnoxious ones. Have yourself a good night.”

  Dylan picked up both glasses and made his way toward the small audience.

  "Where did you run off to?" Karen pouted.

  "You seemed to be doing a lovely job handling them. I thought I would let you enjoy it. I'm not very good at addressing groups."

  "Don't be silly. They were very interested in your story. One or two of them even seemed interested in talking to you about jobs and said their employers get really good incentives for hiring veterans."

  Dylan looked at Karen to see if she had heard herself. Realizing that she didn't spend a lot of time with vets, Dylan figured she didn't see the insult. He flashed an insincere smile and said, "Maybe I'll catch up with them later." He wasn’t about to consider a company that saw him as a tax write-off, and they generally offered menial work for minimum pay. They may have incentive to hire him, but he had no incentive to accept if that was their primary interest.

  Still unaware, Karen beamed, glad that she could help Dylan. He really had a charming smile. Her thoughts could not have been further from his.

  Roughly an hour passed. Karen laughed and smiled with every group they encountered, and continued to drink and make toasts as the evening progressed. Dylan, however, had tired of the inane conversation, pitying looks, and forced smiles, and was ready to call it a night.

  Then the mundane evening went sideways.

  They were near the gate leading to the parking lot. Dylan had been angling them toward the car for the last half hour, but Karen was talking to a couple and seemed to have no intention of leaving.

  The woman was tall and mannish. He took no notice of her name, it was something like Rob or Bob, and had made him think she was a man for the first half of the conversation. The husband was slightly shorter with a forgettable name. The pair, his least favorite of the evening, was blocking his escape.

  As Dylan wracked his brain for an excuse to leave (and he was ready to make any excuse necessary, including being blunt), some movement from the parking lot caught his attention. He lost track of the conversation while trying to make out a figure. A fog had descended, making it difficult to see any distance.

  "Look over there. I think someone is hurt."

  The others turned to look.

  They could barely make out a man heading their way across the parking lot. A dark stain ran down the front of his shirt and his gait was staggered. One if his legs appeared to bend at a wrong angle and his jerky motions threatened to topple him.

  Karen was pretty wasted, but she began to totter in the direction of the man. "Sir? Are you alright?" The man stopped walking and turned his head in their direction. Slowly, he began to stumble toward them.

  Dylan was trying to get a better look at him. Something seemed off.

  He was only about 200ft away, barely visible in the foggy night. The lights, reflected by fog, did nothing to aid their view of the guy, but something about the scene triggered Dylan’s internal alarm. He had been in enough bad situations to know something was very, very wrong about what he was seeing. It was too akin to images from bad horror movies. The victim staggering out of the fog and collapsing at the feet of a cast of characters, signaling their descent into chaos. Dylan shook his head, unable to believe his instincts.

  Karen began to step forward when the woman named Rob or Bob grabbed her arm. "Don't worry about him, sweetie. It's just another zombie. Look? Plenty of those showed up tonight. They are really popular now, thanks to the media. Hardly original, wouldn't you say?"

  Karen gave her a glassy-eyed look.

  “You can’t believe everything you see, kiddo,” the woman’s husband replied. “Regular people can be just as bad at acting as those people who get paid for it. It would save a lot of money to just use people like that. Honestly, I don’t think his performance is any worse than the last round of movies.” The injured man moaned. “Ok, his moaning could use some work. That was pretty pathetic.”

  Karen seemed convinced and went back to chatting with them. The woman was getting a little too close to Karen, touching the drunken therapist’s arm a little too often. Dylan’s attention shifted from the shambling man to his date. Although he didn’t plan to take her out again, Dylan did not like the way the woman and her husband were getting cozy with Karen. It was creepy. He gently took hold of Karen’s arm and drew her closer to his body.

  “You must be getting chilly in that dress. Why don’t we get you home?” Dylan took off his jacket and began to offer it to her.

  Karen pushed back and giggled, “That’s so sweet of you, but I don’t want to ruin your clothes. What will you wear to interviews if I get blood all over it?”

  He
draped the jacket over her shoulders and put his arm around her, “Don’t worry about it. Everything will work itself out.”

  She giggled again.

  He looked up, ready to take her to the car, when he saw the man standing right behind the other couple. The dark stain on the front of his shirt was blood, and it still oozed from a gaping neck and chest wound. There was no way that was makeup.