I slid on the sweats before cleaning my feet and toes. Again, I hadn’t seen those body parts in a week. It felt nice to let them loose for a little bit, but they felt cold quickly, and I hurried to put the clean socks on. Once I was completely dressed, I folded the towel so I could hang it in the upstairs bathroom, knowing that it could be used again.
I knew too that I should have probably considered washing my hair, but I’d save that for another day. It was just nice for my body to feel clean.
When I took the pan of water to the bathroom upstairs, I poured the water inside the toilet bowl. After hanging up my towel, I looked in one of the drawers and found a brush and scrunchie. I planned to take care of my hair after returning downstairs.
Soon after, I was heading to the living room, carrying the pan, hair accessories, bag of dirty laundry, and the damp washcloth.
Larry gave me a look as I walked into the living room and handed him the pan. It felt…creepy, for lack of a better word.
But then I realized it must have been all in my mind. Living so closely in such a strange fashion was fucking with my mind. Kevin was giving me a look, too, but it was different. It…felt a lot like I often felt about him. I knew then that it was all in my head, and I sat down and began gently pulling the brush through my hair. Whether we were here for another day or another week, I vowed to not let my hair and body be that neglected again.
It was the least I could do for myself.
Chapter Thirty-eight
“Die Trying” – Art of Dying
Feeling clean (aside from the hair, which was now pulled up and back, so it wouldn’t bother me as much), I felt ready to tackle the world, but by the time we were all done, it was late in the day. I decided to make a soup for dinner. I didn’t want to use a lot of water, but I did use a good portion of one of the jugs—that was okay, I guessed, because Kevin and I had already planned on that being our morning chore from now until we left. There were lots of fresh winter veggies in my aunt’s pantry that would be a shame not to use. What was best about a soup was that I didn’t have to try to figure out how to keep it from burning on the fire, and overcooking was also not an issue.
I was craving more, though. I didn’t think I could remember how to make tortillas from scratch (and, even if I did, it would involve a lot of cleanup), but I was able to remember an easy biscuit recipe that involved mixing oil and water and adding them to three dry ingredients (flour, salt, and baking powder), and the biscuits could be shaped by hand. The problem would be baking them. I figured I’d try cooking them in a skillet on the edge of the fire. I was craving something like that and hoped it would work.
Unfortunately, they fell flat, even with using what little butter we had left or even jelly (both of which we now kept in the garage to keep them cold…and I tried not to think about those damned fumes while I ate.
When we finished and put the dishes in the kitchen to be washed the next morning, we sat in the living room by the fire, and I said, “Sorry about the biscuits, guys.”
“Don’t even worry about it,” Larry said.
Kevin smiled. “Are you kidding? Everything was hot and filling. I don’t know that I needed much more than that.”
Vera said, “Better than anything I would have made.”
I was almost shocked hearing her voice and wanted to say something positive, because the sound was a huge relief. I hadn’t heard her speak in days, so to talk out of the blue felt almost like a miracle. Still, I didn’t want to make her feel self-conscious or weird, so I simply said, “Thanks. I’m sure anything you would have made would have been great.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” From the tone of his voice, I could tell Larry was joking, but it seemed insensitive, especially since his wife was coming out of a funk. But when I looked over at them, she was flipping him off and he was grinning, so I knew then that they were playing, and this was something normal between them. Maybe her talking was the signal that he could treat her normally.
Or maybe he didn’t give a shit and always said things like that.
As much as I had been growing to dislike Larry over the past few days, I couldn’t believe that. When he’d disclosed to Kevin and me that his wife was struggling, he’d seemed sincere and worried about her.
Still, I wanted to steer the conversation away from anything potentially negative or uncomfortable, so I said, “That’s the best reason I can think of to get home—different food.” It was funny, because up until I’d come up here with these three people, food had been the last thing that had interested me. It wasn’t that I was a health fanatic—far from it—but food didn’t hold any kind of fascination for me. It was work to make a meal, and I was the only one to cook for, so why bother? Being depressed had only made it worse. Eating had been nothing more than a necessity, so I often only ate the bare minimum. When I was around people, like when I’d help my Aunt Lou with her garden, I’d usually eat more, but on a normal day, I’d eat what I needed to get by.
Now, though, food seemed more of a necessity than ever. The walk up and down the side of the mountain to the creek every day expended a lot of energy and took a lot of effort, not to mention when we did other things. The higher altitude may have also contributed to my feelings of using extra energy, but I did know I had a larger appetite than I’d had in a long time. Unfortunately, we didn’t seem to have as much food to satisfy that craving as we would have at home—America, the land of the never-ending bounty.
I saw my companions all nodding their heads slightly. I was, for the first time in a long time, wanting something specific, yearning for a food I hadn’t eaten in ages, actually desiring something other than peace and quiet or eternal rest. “When we get home, know what I wanna have?” The other three looked at me, waiting for me to answer my question. “I’m gonna have a huge, juicy cheeseburger. I don’t know if I want bacon on it or not, but it’ll be grilled to perfection. And I think I want it slathered in mustard, the bun slightly toasted, garnished with…”—I tried to imagine this burger in my mind and exactly what would be the best flavor combinations to satisfy the craving in my belly—“crisp lettuce, tomato, and a thin slice of red onion. Oh, and homemade French fries with ketchup…and an icy glass of Diet Coke to wash it all down.” My mouth was watering by this point, but I wasn’t done tormenting myself. “Oh, and then something chocolatey for dessert…something cakey too, like a brownie or no. Something richer. Something so sweet, it makes me want to stop after one bite. Only I’ll keep going. I’ll eat two or three bites before I finally put down my fork, knowing more will make me sick.”
Larry said, “You’re a cruel tease, Nina.”
A small chuckle escaped my mouth. “Sorry. I just…really want a meal like that.”
I heard Kevin speaking before I turned my head to look at him. “That sounds good, but what I really want is a huge steak…maybe a ribeye. Medium well. Oh, and shrimp.” He rested his head back and closed his eyes as if dreaming about his perfect meal. “Baked potato, loaded with butter and sour cream. Maybe some steamed broccoli on the side. A bottle of beer—I really don’t care what kind. Any kind of beer sounds good right now.” He lifted his head and looked at me. “And then I’ll finish off that brownie dessert you only had a few bites of.” We all laughed then and he added, “And what I wouldn’t give for an after meal cigarette.” He nodded, as if he knew that in just a few days, we would have our wish.
Larry joined in. “Vera makes a pot roast that’s to die for. It’s got a deep garlicky flavor and the meat just falls apart when you touch it with your fork. She makes a kind of brown gravy that you can pour over it and your mashed potatoes. An ear of corn and a homemade roll to go with it, and I’m in heaven.” He leaned over and rubbed the top of his head as if comforting himself, having inflicted himself with torment.
“I didn’t know you liked it that much.”
Larry tilted his head, still resting in his hand, to look at his wife, and then he repeated his earlier sentiment. “To die f
or.”
I tentatively ventured into unknown territory. “What about you, Vera? Anything you’re craving?”
She considered me for several moments and I began to think I’d taken a misstep, that I should have just kept my mouth shut when it came to her, especially as each second ticked away and my discomfort grew. But then she answered. “Cheesecake. Cheesecake covered in cherries. That sounds awesome.”
Yeah…especially compared to my miserable tasteless biscuits, it really did.
* * *
I awoke the next morning at dawn, alert and ready to tackle the day. I surprised myself, not needing an alarm and not feeling exhausted when it was time to rise like had been the case most of my life. I’d loved and drunk coffee all of my adult yeras, but I saw now that I didn’t need it. I thought too that we were going to bed fairly early every night, although—because I didn’t check a clock—I didn’t know for certain, and I was sure that being well-rested was part of my alertness and the ease with which I could jump out of bed.
We were falling into a routine, and it hadn’t taken much time for us to do it. We’d rise in the morning, eat some sort of breakfast, do our initial chores that we’d decided upon, and then gather to decide what we’d do next.
Today, we were going to divide and conquer—Larry and Vera in one direction, Kevin and I in another—and we were going to look for other people and hope they would be able to help us get home.
As we bundled up, Larry offered some advice. “We need to be careful. You never know when you’ll come across someone infected. I don’t know that splitting up is the best idea.”
Kevin countered. “We’ll cover twice as much territory in half the time. We’re on foot and carrying clunky weapons. If we don’t do it this way, we won’t get home till July.” He raised his eyebrows. “You folks are nice enough people, but I’d really like to get back to civilization.”
I did too, but it wasn’t because I wasn’t enjoying Kevin’s company. No, it was because of that nagging motherly need that had been gnawing at me since long before we’d arrived here. I needed to know my kids were okay. Everything else I could easily leave behind—the phone, the bills, the traffic, the coworkers I didn’t like, the ones I was neutral about, and the ones I hated—but my kids? I needed to know.
I was surprised my stomach hadn’t eaten a hole through my torso because of that continual underlying worry.
I nodded my head in support of Kevin’s statement, just so it was clear to Larry that I too didn’t want to spend all winter trapped in my aunt’s house. It was a nice enough place, infused with the memories of a lifetime, but it was also stifling in that I felt like I was half the globe away from home.
I wondered in the back of my mind if I could walk home, but I knew that was a ridiculous idea. Considering it took over an hour to drive from Winchester to my aunt’s house, it would take days to walk home. If it were summer, even with infected people roaming around, I’d have a chance. In the winter? Bad idea and certain death.
I saw the appreciation in Kevin’s eyes, and that told me a lot. He too must have been growing tired of Larry’s need to control, his need to lead when we no longer wanted a leader. I began to wonder what Kevin would have thought had I sided with my old neighbor. Would he have told us all to fuck off and gone off on his own anyway? I’d never know now.
Whatever the case, I was giving this man from my past my full support. I trusted him. He was smart and seemed strong and capable, and I felt like he and I looked at things the same way. I was starting to doubt Larry had anyone’s best interests in mind, and some small part of me felt fear because of that. Kevin looked at Larry as if telling him there was nothing else to discuss, and the other man got the message loud and clear, because he didn’t say another word. In fact, he shrugged as if giving in, and I wouldn’t have been shocked if he’d turned to Vera and said, “I told these dumb motherfuckers to listen to me, but they aren’t having any of it.”
Then Kevin looked at me and asked, “Ready?” I nodded, hoping that the small smile I felt inside wasn’t lighting up my face. Somehow, I felt like we’d scored a victory today, but humble winners don’t gloat. He looked at Larry again. “Which way do you and Vera want to go? We’ll head in the opposite direction.”
“I’m tellin’ ya, man. This is a bad idea.”
I could see then that Kevin was starting to get pissed. I wasn’t sure why Larry was being so resistant, but we had no reason not to try it Kevin’s way. We’d already spent several days split up into groups and nothing had happened. We hadn’t even seen any infected since the day we’d found the Bransons—or, rather, the Bransons had found us, edible and vulnerable targets. At least I would have been, had it not been for the man who’d become my partner for the meantime and his quick reflexes.
The idea of running into more infected did frighten me, not only because of the infected themselves, but I was scared shitless, wondering if I’d pull the ice cube act again. Did I have what it took to survive in this cold world?
If I were to be of any use to my companions, I had to try.
In spite of his anger, Kevin remained calm. “Maybe so but so is sitting in this house for days and weeks on end, waiting for fuck knows what.”
Larry frowned and raised his eyebrows, and I couldn’t tell if it was because he was giving up on us, believing us to be stupid, or if his ego was a little miffed, because Kevin wasn’t just bowing down to his superior intellect.
Kevin then repeated his earlier question. “Which way you gonna go?”
Larry sighed, pushing the air out through his nostrils, and shrugged. “I guess we’ll head east.”
Kevin looked me square in the eye. “Then we go west.” I saw his fist tighten around the tire iron that he now carried whenever we were outside the house. “Ready?”
I nodded and swallowed. As ready as I’d ever be.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Past
“Hands and Knees” – Sammy Hagar
IT WAS ONE of those shitty part-time jobs I’d acquired. I was waiting tables at night at a mom-and-pop type restaurant. The pay was good for food service, and the nice thing about tips was immediate money. There was no waiting for a paycheck (and the paycheck sucked anyway). If I had a bill to pay, that was okay, because on a good Friday night when we had our steak specials, I could earn enough to pay a utility or a chunk of the mortgage and still have enough left over for smokes and a Diet Coke.
I was lucky there was no such thing as Starbucks in my town back then. Or Red Bull.
But there was this waitress…her name was Jamie. She was nice enough at first. She was also a pretty girl, about my age, and she seemed competent enough. I and the other waitresses helped train her, and—when the waitresses weren’t being bitchy and gossipy—we made a great team.
But one day, Jamie got a little too friendly with me. It was a Saturday, after a heavy lunch rush, and she and I were both smoking a cigarette out back behind the restaurant before resuming cleanup. We began talking about our youth (not that far behind us at that point)…and she asked what year I graduated high school. When I told her, she nearly knocked me on my ass.
“Oh. You must know Kevin Savage then.”
I swallowed as I became aware of my heart beating in my chest, perhaps a little harder than it should have been. I had a family—a husband and children—and Kevin Savage was a part of my past.
But maybe something inside me still hadn’t quite let go.
The actress in me was able to brush it off, though. I made polite conversation and told her to tell him “hi from Nina.”
The next day…well, she sent a hello back. But I never saw him. Jamie quit working at the restaurant a month later and that was the end of that.
But damned if Savage hadn’t grabbed my mind again for a while, leaving me once more to wonder what could have been…even when I had no right or reason to.
Chapter Forty
Present
“So Hott” – Kid Rock
KEVIN AND I didn’t go west like he’d told Larry we would; instead, we started walking down the drive, the same path we took every morning when we went to fetch water. “Why are we going this way?” I asked.
Kevin didn’t break his stride, but I saw a smirk on his face. “We’re going to the road.”
“Okay.” We walked a few more feet before I asked, “Why?”
“First off, do you know where any people up here live?” I shook my head, although he already halfway knew the answer. “We’ll see roads and driveways that will give us an idea of where homes might be.” I nodded. “But that’s not the main reason.”
I waited for a little bit and then realized he wasn’t going to tell me why unless I prodded him. “You tease. So tell me what the main reason is.”
“What do you think, Nina? Why wouldn’t I want to walk through the forest under the cover of the trees?”
“Good question…because if we’re in the woods, it’d be a helluva lot easier to avoid infected. On the road, we’ll be prime targets.”
“Maybe, but the terrain’s a lot easier to handle. We’ll be able to walk a lot farther if we’re not scrabbling up banks and sliding down hills. And then, if we see somebody, we jump off the road and into the forest before they spot us.”
“What if they see us first?”
Kevin looked over at me as if he were growing exasperated, but I thought his expression communicated something else—that he appreciated my careful thought surrounding our survival. “If they see us first, let’s hope they’re uninfected people, people we’d want to meet with and talk to anyway. If they’re infected, I think we could outsmart them and outrun them.”
I tried not to frown. “They seem pretty fast, though.”
“Yeah, but they don’t seem to be too quick on the uptake.” He paused for dramatic effect. “They can’t even open a fuckin’ doorknob. I think we’ll have the advantage.”
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