by Kate Morris
“What in the world?” his mother asked.
“Didn’t you see any of this at the airport out west?” he asked her as they shuffled along.
“No, but there were military soldiers in the terminal directing everyone,” his mother said. “Does this have to do with that address on t.v. the other night? Your father told me to watch it, but I didn’t have time.”
“You should’ve,” Roman muttered as if he were angry with her.
They made it to his Range Rover, and Roman hit the locks as he opened the hatch and threw his mother’s luggage in the spacious trunk.
“Get in, get in,” he ordered her because she was trying to arrange her bag and purse more neatly. “Mom!” he shouted. “Get the hell in the car!”
She didn’t argue, but she also didn’t move quickly enough for him, so Roman took her by the elbow and ushered her to the back seat. He told Jane to get in up front. As she was doing so, someone came out of the dark shadows near the fence and ran straight at Jane. She screamed and tried to open her door in enough time to get in. It didn’t work. He was on her in an instant.
“Get away from her!” Roman yelled as he came around the front of the car toward her.
Another man also approached. They were about to be robbed. The man behind her wrapped an arm around Jane’s waist and hauled her backward. It bothered her that he did it so easily and without much effort.
“Let me go!” she screamed and kicked, kicked the car and pushed off trying to knock him off balance, and also attempted to kick him with her heels. “Stop! Let me go!”
“Got her!” he shouted to his friend who was approaching.
Her face mask was knocked askew, and she thought it was strange that it was the thing she was worrying about most. Were these people infected?
Jane watched as Roman pulled the pistol from his holster and shouted, “Let her go, asshole! Back up!”
The man coming toward them took the hint and held his hands up in front of him. He did not stop coming, though. He took two more steps. Jane kept struggling, but the one holding her did not release her. It did not stop her from trying to get away. What if he was infected? What if he was going to kill her?
“Get the fuck back!” Roman stated with authority to the man’s accomplice.
His friend smiled at them and took another step forward.
“This is my last warning,” Roman swore. “You let her go and get the hell outta here…”
“Or what, boy?” the man jeered and rushed Roman.
Roman fired the weapon and shot him in the chest point blank. The look of surprise on his face could not be described. He hadn’t thought Roman would do it. Jane wasn’t sure he was going to, either. She was just as shocked.
The man holding her shoved hard, sending her into the side of the car as he took off at a sprint. Roman did not shoot him. It was dark, very dark where they’d parked, and the man was already gone, swallowed by those shadows. She slammed into the vehicle with such a force that she fell to the ground.
“Are you okay?” he said in a hurry and knelt beside her.
Jane rubbed her forehead and brought away slick, red fingers for the second time today. Earlier at the hospital, she’d been scratched. This seemed a little worse.
“Damn,” he said and opened her car door for her. Roman helped her in and rushed around the front.
Jane felt woozy and a little nauseated.
“Assholes!” he swore as he swerved around cars and sped away from the airport.
“I called 9-1-1, Roman. I’m on hold,” his mother said from the backseat. “We should stay here until they arrive.”
“Yeah, right. Just hang up, Mom,” he said as he raced along the street that would lead them back to the freeway. He weaved expertly in and out of traffic, ran a few lights, and made it to the highway unscathed. He reached into the console between them and took out a package of tissues. “Here, Jane. Use these. Press them against the cut.” Then he opened her visor mirror for her.
She looked up into the small, lit mirror and gasped lightly. Her forehead had a gash on it, and blood was running down into her right eyebrow. It would definitely bruise, maybe even scar. She was familiar with these types of wounds. Her mother had them often from her boyfriends, and Jane was usually the only nurse who treated them because her mother wouldn’t go to the hospital because she knew charges would be filed, and the police would get involved. Jane became good, thanks to the internet, at patching up her mother.
“Are you okay?” he asked and laid his hand on her shoulder as he passed a semi-truck that was being escorted by two military trucks.
She nodded, felt like crying from the stresses of the day, but managed to say, “Yes.”
Jane kept pressure to her forehead and used water from a bottle in her backpack to clean it.
“Roman, we should go back and report this. The police need to apprehend those men,” his mother lectured.
“Mom, they’re too busy chasing down the infected who want to kill us to bother with two would-be rapists tonight.”
“I’m going to call your father and see what he says we should do,” she told him irritably.
Roman kept quiet. Jane didn’t know what to say, either. She closed the mirror and sat back again keeping the tissue pressed against her forehead.
He just kept going and ignored his mother’s complaints about her husband not picking up. Roman dropped her at her house and walked her to the door.
“Lock up, okay?” he requested and gingerly moved her hair to look at her forehead. “Shower and wash your clothes tonight. Have your grandmother look at this cut in the morning. If you need a doctor tonight, call me.”
“This is nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Are you going to be okay with her?”
He looked back at the Ranger Rover where his mother waited impatiently and nodded.
“Lock this door,” he said.
“I will,” she replied and hugged him. They both needed a lot of comfort tonight. He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head.
Then he left with his mother. She did not envy the conversation she knew he was about to have with her.
Jane showered and washed her face mask and gloves, too. She wasn’t sure how many more they had and if they could get to the football field medical site for more. She went to bed but found sleep alluding her. She felt terrible for Roman. He really liked his father, and now he was gone. She’d texted her own father earlier in the day but still hadn’t gotten a response. Surely, he knew what was going on. Maybe it was just taking them longer than usual to get back to civilization.
She woke feeling groggy and tired still. Destiny sent her a message that said one of her twin brothers was sick. Jane’s heart sank. So many. Everyone was getting this. Perhaps God was cleansing the earth again but using a virus instead of water. Was she next? Was Nana Peaches or her father or Roman? She hoped he didn’t get it. Connor and his mother needed Roman. Maybe she needed him a little, too.
She joined her grandmother for breakfast of sausage gravy over biscuits when Roman called right as she put a biscuit on her plate. She looked at her grandmother first before answering it during mealtime and got the go-ahead.
He greeted her with a simple, “Hey, Jane. Everything okay over there?”
“Yes, fine. Are you guys? How’s your mother?”
“I told her last night. It didn’t go well. She’s mad at me. She thinks this is somehow my fault. I tried to explain it, but she’s angry that we left his body at the hospital.”
“They weren’t offering any other solutions. Did you show her the broadcast from the CDC?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice sounding slightly depressed and quieter in tone than usual. He also sounded tired. “I’m gonna leave Connor with her and come to get you. I told you I’d take you to the pharmacy for your grandmother’s meds and to the riding stables. I didn’t forget.”
“No, Roman,” she said with sympathy. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll go to the barn
by myself. I’ll be fine. Stay home with your mother and Connor. They need you more than I do.”
“No,” he immediately rejected. “I’m coming. They’re not even up yet. I think she’s asleep on the couch in my father’s office. I’ll leave her a note that I’m taking you to a few places. She needs to take care of Connor for a change anyway. Give me ten minutes.”
“Sure,” she said and looked at her grandmother who was motioning to the food in front of them. “Oh, and Nana Peaches said you can eat breakfast here.”
“Thanks,” he returned.
She hung up and felt that same tug of sympathy for Roman. It was strange that a boy who grew up wanting for nothing didn’t actually have much at all. It made her even more thankful for her father and Peaches.
“He’ll be okay, Jane,” her grandmother told her. “He’s a tough kid. Roman Lockwood is a surprisingly resilient and mature young man.”
She’d told her grandmother this morning what happened last night at the airport and more specifically in the parking lot.
“Yes, ma’am. I think he’s tougher than I would’ve thought.”
“I know how he feels about you, but what I don’t know is how you feel about him.”
Jane’s cheeks burned, and she shrugged. “I don’t know. I like him, which is surprising given our past four years at the same school.”
“You need to let all of that go now. None of that matters anymore. You both have a clean slate to start from. It may be a long time before you return to school. Roman’s a good boy. He could’ve left you in the few bad situations you’ve been in, but he didn’t. And that speaks to his character. All I care about is your safety, Jane. Roman seems to take that very seriously, as well. That’s a good thing.”
She nodded. “I care about him being safe, too. I-I do like him.”
Her grandmother smiled knowingly and went back to her breakfast. Jane placed her biscuits back on the stove and decided to wait for him to share breakfast. He pulled in a few minutes later as her grandmother was finishing her breakfast, and Jane answered the door to him. He stepped into the mudroom, and she didn’t hesitate to walk closer and slip her arms around his middle. He sighed deeply and held her tight. They stood there for a long time before breaking apart at the sound of dishes clanking in the kitchen.
Then she showed him in and served him breakfast and herself the same. He looked tired, but she didn’t tell him that. He’d been through hell yesterday. When they finished, her grandmother told them to go and that she’d clean up.
“Stay inside, Miss Barnes,” Roman said at the door. “Please, don’t go out. If you need something, I’ll get it for you when I come back.”
“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, Mr. Lockwood,” she scolded and placed a hand on her slim hip. “I’ll be just fine. You two be careful out there, though.”
He lowered his gaze and tried to hide his disappointment. “Yes, ma’am.”
They took his Range Rover to the pharmacy, which had armed officers guarding it. The line went all the way out the door and around the side of the store. Roman waited patiently with her and kept her hand in his the whole time.
“I have to pick up Connor’s inhaler, so this works,” he said when she apologized for the third time for having to take up his time.
“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t know he had asthma.”
He shrugged. “The docs say it’ll clear up, that it’s only childhood asthma. Hopefully, it does before the pharmacies run out of supplies.”
Jane rubbed her hand up and down his arm in a comforting manner. She could tell he had the weight of the world on his shoulders now that his father was gone.
“Does your mother need anything?”
“She’s got her own blend of prescription therapy,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Wine and valium. Ambien, whatever else she takes.”
“Oh,” Jane said and looked at the ground.
“She’ll be fine,” he said. “She’s a survivor. She’s tougher than you think.”
“So are you,” Jane praised. “Must be where you get it.”
“Where do you get it?”
Jane looked at him and chuckled. “Yeah, right. I don’t think of myself like that at all.”
“I do,” he said and touched her cheek as they moved up in line. They were taking groups of five at a time. It would be their turn soon.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. People were coming and going in the pharmacy parking lot and the strip mall where it was located. The drive-up window she usually used was closed, and they were making everyone go inside for their prescriptions. It was just as hectic and congested as the airport.
A man walked by them and bumped into Jane as he went. He turned and said to her, “Hey, there.” It was the tone and intent in his eyes that made her cringe. He reminded her of the men her mother hung out with.
“Keep going,” Roman stated boldly as he glared at the other man, who was shorter than him, and pulled her to the other side of him closest to the wall.
“Fuck you, little punk,” the man said. His eyes were bloodshot, but Jane thought he might be drunk and not sick with the infection.
“Get lost,” Roman told him, not backing down in the least. She didn’t know where he got his bravery. She wished she had just a tad of that.
The man seemed like he might take a swing at Roman but looked around at the many police officers and changed his mind. When he walked- stumbled was more like it- away, Jane blew out a sigh of relief. Roman kept his arm around her waist and held her tightly against him. She didn’t step away, but the way his fingers lightly caressed her side sent tingles up it.
Twenty minutes later, they finally made it into the pharmacy. The place was packed. They were only letting five people in at a time, but there were probably sixty or more people waiting around for prescriptions. They moved slowly up the line toward the prescription counter.
“I heard from Steph last night,” Roman told her and placed his arm behind her again resting against the small of her back.
“You did?” she asked with concern. “How’s her mother.”
“She passed away last night. RF1. She didn’t wake up. Steph left the hospital with her step-father last night and is at home now.”
“Oh, Roman,” she said. “That’s terrible. You should go to her. She needs someone.”
“You never cease to amaze me, Jane Livingston,” he said with a gentle smile and a confused, wrinkled brow.
“I just think if it were…”
She was cut off from further explaining herself by the sounds of multiple blasts of gunfire outside. Glass exploded behind them. She dropped slightly in her posture as the window glass blew inward, spraying everyone in line. Roman pushed her down lower and hovered over her back as she squatted. Then everything went crazy. People started shoving and hitting the police officers. One man stole a police officer’s black rifle, and others took him to the ground. People began looting and stealing items right off the shelves. Others were arguing with each other. Ahead of them, Jane watched as a man pulled out a knife and stabbed the man in front of him in the back. Several women somewhere on the other side of the store screamed. More than one group were fighting with the police officers now. It was chaos.
“Jane, come with me,” he said and pulled her hand. “Stay low.”
Gunfire outside erupted again and thudded into the brick wall beside them. She was thankful it was brick. The loud wail of sirens assaulted her ears as more people began fighting with each other and the additional cops who stormed inside.
Roman led her to the other end of the pharmacy counter where one might drop off a prescription or mail a package.
“Up, up,” he said and didn’t wait for her to understand. He simply hefted her around the waist and bottom and booted her over the countertop. He jumped over the counter as if he were a male gymnast doing the pommel horse routine. He even landed silently on his feet. Then he
took her hand and kept going.
“You can’t be back here!” a pharmacist trying to hide behind a shelving unit cried at them. She looked frazzled and frightened. Jane was sure her expression was the same.
“We need an inhaler and diabetes pills,” Roman said assertively.
“You have to…”
Her words were cut short as someone shot her through the plexiglass window. Jane screamed and held her ears. It was a headshot. She fell sideways into a display of medicines. Roman hooked his arm behind her back and shoved her down a short aisle of meds.
“Look for them!” he shouted as the melee escalated.
He stood guard at the end of the aisle as Jane frantically searched for the inhaler and diabetes medicine. She found her grandmother’s prescription easily enough but couldn’t find an inhaler for Connor.
“Do you have them?” Roman called to her and took a few steps backward.
She didn’t even know where to look. She scoured the shelves, looked in drawers and boxes, but didn’t come up with anything that looked like an asthma inhaler.
“Jane, we gotta go,” he stressed and stepped backward again. “Do you have what we need?”
“No!” she cried with anxiety.
“Do you have your grandmother’s?”
“Yes, but I can’t…”
He sprinted toward her, grabbed her hand and said, “We gotta go. Forget it.”
He pocketed bottles of medicine as he went and yelled for her to do the same. She didn’t even know what she was grabbing. She just did it because he said to. Smoke began filling the pharmacy, and she turned to look over her shoulder.
“Keep going,” he said. “Don’t look back.”
There was a blood smear streaking across the long plexiglass partition now. It was not from the pharmacist. It was on the other side.
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t reply but kept moving. They came to a door, and Roman went through it.
“This way,” he said and pulled her along.
They were in some sort of break room. Off to their left came more commotion. He turned right, and they ended up in a dark stockroom.
