When Ann stepped out of her bedroom Ron turned and saw the woman he remembered, totally transformed, like an instant make-over had just taken place in a span of minutes. How do they do that?
She flashed him a big smile and threw her hair over one shoulder.
In that one move Ron remembered everything he always found so attractive about Ann Freestone, ravishing beauty, checked confidence, and, above all, a bewitching disposition. Perfect.
Chapter Seven
On the way home Ron had to back up his story and buy Cassius’ eleventh jumbo-size bag of dog food. He walked out of the only open store with it balanced on his shoulder.
Ann frowned when she saw the bag. “Is that enough?”
“Yep, this oughta cover it.” He made a mental note to keep the pantry door shut, which had extra bags of food in it. Covering spontaneous lies took him outside of his comfort zone, and brought back uncomfortable memories of his last relationship, in particular the stormy ending. His ex-girlfriend Lindsay had gotten too close when she caught him coming out of Defcon-1 after he had told her the house had a condemned bunker when he bought it, and it had been sealed off. When he refused to unlock it and let her in, the relationship’s demise was practically assured. He had rattled off almost a dozen excuses trying to interlace them all as she countered with skeptical questions.
Finally, he got rid of her, and they never talked again. Two other potentially serious female interests had gone down in about the same way with regards to him hiding Ron, and he winced at the thought of revisiting those memories with Ann. It was a bad start. He hadn’t even gotten her to his house yet and he was already thinking ahead to cover a lie that would likely lead to another lie. Why do I do this to myself? He shook his head and resolved to fix it somehow, then closed the trunk and took a couple deep breaths before getting back in the car.
They pulled up in his driveway and walked toward the front entrance. Upon reaching the door Ron inserted the key in the lock and paused. It’s been awhile. Just be normal. He turned to Ann with a straight face. “My dog’s name is Cassius, and he’s huge. He probably won’t jump on ya’ but beware. If he does try, turn your back to him. He’ll stop. He’s just playin’ though. He wouldn’t bite.”
Ann shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, don’t worry, my family always had dogs growin’ up.”
They walked in and Ann’s nostrils when they were met with musky smell of dog fur. She could tell by the odor that Ron kept him clean, but his natural scent still pervaded the house. She had completed half of her initial scan of the living room looking for clues about Ron, or causes for alarm, when a giant fawn colored canine walked in and stood in front of her. The end of Cassius’ nose met her belly button, and she immediately noticed that his head spanned almost as wide as her hips, tapering off to a still massive, but narrower, body punctuated with a pointy tail. Despite his large size he looked up at her with curious, happy eyes, tail wagging, and groaned. She let her hand pass by his nose so he could get the scent, but otherwise ignored him, and continued to take in the room.
Cassius sat down and yawned then prostrated himself with heavy eyes.
Ron raised his eyebrows. “He likes you. Usually he doesn’t just let someone in like that.”
She flipped her hair around to her back. “The key is to not acknowledge them. Then they assume you’re in control and just relax.”
“You must have spent a lot of time with dogs.”
“Yeah, when I was a kid our dogs ran me ragged until my dad finally set me straight on how to treat them.”
“Oh yeah, or else they just walk all over you.” Ron smiled as Ann stepped past him.
She stepped over Cassius and entered the living room. Her eyes scanned like searchlights over the room. She saw nothing of note, or outside the norm, almost too perfect. He had everything one would expect to find when imagining a home, but nothing unexpected, more like a model home. “Your house is so…neat. Most men are slobs.”
“I like to know where things are.”
What things? She noticed some cosmetic looking pictures of his family on the mantle that looked professionally taken. She also took note of the fact that there were not any pictures of his friends, acquaintances, or any paintings. One photo of Ron and a friend holding up a big fish with beers in their hands would have put her at ease, but nothing like that existed in his house. A half empty bottle of whiskey sat on the kitchen counter, the only personal item that alluded to anything about him, other than the pictures confirming that he had family. She saw a bookshelf, but would have to examine that once he got busy with something else in order not to appear nosy. Otherwise the room’s off-white walls and white baseboards blended together into a drab interior. A flat-screen TV served as the focal point of the room accentuated with a plain, gray couch and matching chair. A coffee table tied it all together and she found it odd that it only had a couple coasters on it but nothing else. She wondered if he had clothes strewn all over his room. That would be a normal, welcoming sight.
“What a nice place.” She walked over to the mantle and picked up a portrait.
“Are these your parents?”
“Yep, that’s them,” Ron said flatly.
“They look like a happy couple.”
He nodded. “They are.”
“Where are they now?”
“Over in North Carolina in the mountains.”
“Will they be safe?”
“Oh yeah, at least as safe as here. They live in a valley ringed by mountains, like a bowl. And they have a basement carved out of rock.”
“That’s good.”
Ron looked at the picture in her hand and scratched the back of his head. “Hey do you want a drink or somethin’ to eat?”
Looking around, Ann could safely say that she stood in the middle of the most boring and un-embellished living room she had ever seen. “Whiskey.”
An hour later they sat on Ron’s couch, each with a tumbler in hand, taking sips that occasionally made Ann wince. The news provided background noise and filled the voids left by uncomfortable silences. The bottle sat in front of them on the coffee table almost empty. Ron sipped his drink quite casually, but Ann appeared to be doing battle. As the whiskey did its work they began talking more freely, occasionally filling the room with laughter. Cassius had long since stretched out on the floor and dozed off.
They had a relaxing afternoon despite the event looming over them. Every time they felt the burning of tension rising in their gut they took another swig and forced it back down, and knew full well that it would assuredly leave them with headaches, relieving none of their problems and probably create more tension later.
As the sun coasted across the sky shadows crept into Ron’s living room. They had finished the first bottle, and he had opened another one. Their afternoon seemed to skip a few hours and jump into evening.
Ann had stopped sitting up straight, and she looked over at the window and stared for a couple seconds then squinted. She saw that the sky had taken on a crimson hue, and the trees cast no shadows. Her eyes widened, and she shot up. “Oh my God, look outside! It’s nearly dark. When did that happen?”
“I guess we lost track of time.” Ron extended his arm and looked at his wrist and squinted. As he stared at his bare skin, he remembered that he had stopped wearing a watch when smart phones started doing everything. He raised his eyebrows smirked. Old habits. He stared at the TV as a thought punctured his bubble of inebriation and gently drifted down into his consciousness. He looked over at Ann and smiled then furrowed his brow as his eyes focused beyond her to the encroaching darkness outside. He sat up and patted the air at Ann as she started to do the same. “Just relax. You look so much happier now than before. I should do a couple things. You can watch TV.” I was supposed to be in the bunker by now. I gotta figure out what she wants to do, gotta play it cool. “So do I need to take you home?”
As soon as he said it, he blinked slowly and pursed his lips.
“Is that where yo
u want to take me?” She leaned back on the couch and curled a strand of hair around her finger then let it go and playfully bit the nail of her index finger which compressed her bottom lip and accented its voluptuousness.
Ron’s eyes narrowed the same way they always did when he was doing a crossword puzzle. “Why, do you have something better in mind?” He tittered and braced for a well-deserved slap in the face, but she only held her provocative pose. He saw her eyes soften around the edges and her lips curled into a smile. He waited for her words though, knowing women can physically gesture one thing while saying another.
Ann held her smile and gazed at him, and after a long pause her face sank into a frown.
Ron swallowed loudly when her expression changed and his forehead wrinkled. Did I just miss the signal? Yes, you did, stupid! Without the influence of alcohol, the entire moment might have gone to waste, but the curious drink had a way of wiping memories and suggesting new ones.
Ron brushed his hand through his hair. “Oh okay.” Then he leaned in, and their lips locked. She fell back on the couch, and he followed as their lips found every crevice from the neck up. Ron placed his hand on her hip which she immediately slid forward, arching her body in his direction. They broke from their inflamed embrace only long enough to rip each other’s clothes off the way children go through wrapping paper on Christmas morning.
Cassius looked on with curiosity with his head cocked to the side. He started to put his head down, but his ears kept flinching with every moan and groan, until he finally decided to walk out of the room in search of a less chaotic place to sleep. Yet the rapturous sounds emanating from the den followed him throughout the house.
Awhile later, Ron could not say how long for sure, they laid on the floor, skin glistening with sweat, and panting in blissful repose. Ron felt like they had just had movie sex where absolutely nothing goes wrong and music enhances the passion. It seemed like both parties had just had the best experience of their lives, and it was meant to be. Ron had no idea if it had lasted ten minutes or ten hours and did not care. It felt like a world of emotion and physical tension had just disappeared, blasted out by an intense release. For a few more moments while the hormones rampaged through their bodies, they had no worries or fears.
Ann regained her powers of speech first. “I need some water.”
Ron smacked his lips. “Good idea.” He got up, fetched two glasses, and filled them from a jug in the refrigerator. He gulped down the first glass and refilled it. He returned and handed Ann her glass. As he drank again, he noticed that night had completely taken over outside. He checked the time and his mouth dropped open. “It’s after ten o’clock!”
Ann stretched out her arms. “Really?” Then her face stiffened. “My God, it hits soon!”
“Yeah, really soon. They predicted that it hits in a couple hours.” Ron pulled on his pants and slid his shirt on while walking toward the kitchen. “We need to get some food. You hungry?”
“Actually, I am. I didn’t even realize it until you said something.”
“Okay, we need to eat and take cover soon. I don’t really believe all those rumors about hurricane force winds and earthquakes, but all that stuff about ejecta in the atmosphere and the air quality is very real.” While talking he had subconsciously grabbed a pot, pulled food from the refrigerator, and started dicing an onion. He continued working, but his eyes seemed off in another place, and then he spoke over his shoulder in Ann’s direction. “Listen, I think you should stay here for the night. With this thing so close now I don’t think we should go outside. I’ve got a safe place here if you want to stay.
“Yeah…okay, that sounds like a good idea.” Ann smiled to herself and quickly wiped it away.
Ron left a pot of water on the stove to boil and hauled a few more things downstairs while Ann sat staring at the TV. As the next hour passed, they ate a hastily prepared dinner, and continued to rehydrate their bodies from the effects of the alcohol.
Before he had to face his fears and show Ann Defcon-1, Ron made sure to cover his car with heavy blankets and a tarp that he secured with some weights and rope he had prepared earlier. Finally, the moment had arrived when Ron knew he had to take her down to the bunker. He thought of a dozen comments she might make at the sight of his arsenal, and every possible response sounded progressively stupider inside his head.
Finally, he looked up at her and sighed. “We better take cover. Come on, I’ve got a basement that will protect us.” Why’d you just call it a basement you idiot? It’s a bunker. She’ll see it in like ten seconds, and you still lie about it.
Ron called Cassius and they all started down the stairs. With every step they took toward the door, he felt a growing butterfly in his abdomen. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. He felt hot flashes come on, and a trickle of sweat rolled down his forehead. Nothin’ you can do now but let her in. After what felt like the descent of a lifetime, only twenty steps, Ron reached the door. He exhaled deeply, opened it and cringed.
Ann’s eyebrows rose as she placed a hand on his arm. “Hey, are you all right? You seem really tense about this, about bringing me down here.”
Ron’s head dropped, and he peered up at her. “It’s just...You’re the first person I’ve ever brought down here.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, Ron.” She smiled and punched him in the arm. “You gonna let me in or not?”
He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, come on let’s do this.” They walked in, and he flipped on the lights.
Ann took one look around with wide eyes. “Wow, what a place! Whoa! Guns! Lots’a guns.” Ann turned toward Ron with a toothy grin. “Listen, I won’t tell anybody as long as you promise to teach me how to use the machine gun.”
Ron’s mouth dropped open.
Chapter Eight
Jackson and Kathleen had sat at home all day soaking in the news. Occasionally one of them would get up and pace around the room chewing on a nail and then sit down again and fidget.
Jackson was scratching the back of his head in thought. “Did you get all the groceries we talked about?”
Kathleen nodded without taking her eyes off the screen. “Yeah, I got those and a bunch we didn’t talk about. I can’t remember how many times I filled up the trunk. You finished boarding up the basement, right?”
Jackson cast a sideways glance at her. “You were there for that, remember?”
Kathleen’s eyes rolled upward. “Oh yeah, I was. What else do we need to do?”
“Nothing I can think of.”
“You sure?”
“No, not really, I just can’t think of anything else to do.”
“You put all those spy holes on the boards over the windows, in the basement too?”
Jackson exhaled loudly. “Done and done, I know we got all that stuff outta the way. I’m afraid we might get down in the basement and realize that we didn’t do something important that we never thought of.”
Kathleen rested a hand on his shoulder. “I think that’s probably normal, Jackson, but I think we’ve been pretty thorough. We both sat down and thought of everything we could. If our two heads together couldn’t get it right, something very unexpected will have to come along I think.
He squeezed her hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He got up and straightened out his shirt. “I’ve gotta carry a couple more things downstairs, and I guess that’s everything.” He smiled and walked out.
While they had fortified the house, Kathleen had stepped back and let Jackson take full charge of everything for the first time in their marriage. She was the first to admit that she did not know a thing about carpentry. All of her previous attempts at hammering nails had resulted in missed strikes that smashed her thumb, sent the nail flying dangerously through the air, or simply bent it in half. She generally gave up once several minutes had passed and she had failed to hammer in one straight nail.
However, this time Jackson ha
d quickly corrected her mistakes by pointing out the flaws in her form. She was trying to strike the nail by swinging her entire arm when a little wrist action would suffice. Once she saw this error, Kathleen quickly began hammering in perfectly straight nails and even managed to get a little cocky. This brought a smile to Jackson’s face since she continued to admire her handiwork and left him to fortify the house without distractions. She loves barkin’ orders. For a couple days the inside of their house was strewn with wood shavings, loose nails, and smelled like a lumber yard. Once they had finished a procession of sweeping and vacuuming commenced followed by several trips to a nearby dumpster.
Jackson had also made some improvements to their basement. He installed a heavier door that locked from the inside with two deadbolts, but opened by swinging away from the basement. He took this precaution partially because it had always bothered him that somebody previously installed it to swing in, and if someone got into their house, he did not want them to be able to ram it open without having to go through the door frame as well. Finally, they put a mattress on the floor, installed a small back-up kitchen, and restored an old bathroom to working order. Much to Jackson’s surprise, it actually turned into a decently habitable space, even if it was only set up to support them temporarily.
Finally, the clacking and banging of wood, hammer, and nails ceased, and they embraced as they admired their handiwork. But when they returned to watching the news their expressions sank until tension burned in their stomachs and they felt weak in the knees.
The bulk of the footage centered on Asia, especially eastern China, Russia, the Koreas, and Japan. In the areas that had the highest projected damage estimates only dogs wandered the streets and rummaged through trash strewn all over the roads or tugged on dead bodies. Hardly a shop on a single street was spared a broken window, and where some buildings had stood only a heap of char remained or a charred concrete skeleton. Not one car dealership had a car, either in the lot or in the window display, and any given road might contain a pileup of damaged cars and jackknifed trucks.
The Inroad Chronicles (Book 1): Legion Seed Page 8