by Eli Nixon
Chapter 4
HEROIN IS like jumping into a hot tub. No, that's not quite right—heroin is like going swimming in an Arctic river and then jumping into a hot tub. It's a warmth that sweeps over your body and thaws out sections you didn't even know were frozen until suddenly they're melting like a slab of butter and all you can do is lean back wherever you happen to be sitting and shut your eyes and let that soothing water steal across your skin and soul.
At least, that's how it feels at first.
Then comes the nausea, the kind that hides in waiting until you do something as innocent as reach for a cigarette or try to scratch that fuzzy itch on the bridge of your nose. That's when it leaps out and wrings your stomach like a soaking dish towel and you spend a good five minutes taking shallow breaths while you try to will your roiling stomach to calm down. Sometimes you win the fight, sometimes you don't.
When Rivet stepped into the bathroom, I took a running lunge at him, because right then my mind wasn't working exactly right. See, zombies don't talk, and as far as I've seen, they never offer you drugs. But my brain sort of skipped over those two little details and fixated on the fact that a man who'd clearly been dead was now standing in front of me. The blood caked all over his face didn't do anything to dissuade me from my instant assumption that Rivet was now a living, breathing, motherfucking zombie.
I hit him shoulder-to-chest in a linebacker's charge, and even though he was clearly high as a kite, he had the wherewithall to aim the pointy end of the syringe at my charging shoulder. I went down in a heap of blankets and decided to just lie there for awhile while that deliciously warm hot-tub water wrapped around my body. Rivet made the appropriate oomph sounds when I rammed his solar plexus, but he managed to spin out of the path of my falling body and keep his feet.
I was just able to watch him through a golden haze as he advanced into the bathroom, syringe held in front of him, while Jennie screamed and shrank down into the far corner.
And just like that, the shadows around my brain shrank away.
Five minutes later we had gathered in my living room, all of us in various stages of debilitation. Rivet and Jennie were on the couch, Rivet's arm around her shoulders. Jennie had slipped on her clothes from last night. I was spread out over the stuffed armchair, still shirtless, cut and scraped from the glass, listening to Rivet run through his story for the second time.
"I was just a passenger, it felt like," he said slowly, staring at the shattered coffee table between us. "There were these flashes where I could actually see what was happening, but no matter what I tried, I couldn't stop myself from doing it. I'm so sorry, Jennie. God, I'm so sorry." He tightened his embrace with almost frenetic urgency, as if she was an anchor that could hold him in reality. I had an idea of how he felt.
"What you were talking about," Jennie said. "The darkness and all that. I think I saw something, too. It wasn't much, but what I did see felt...weird. Like something choking my thoughts." She stopped and wrinkled her nose, thinking. The expression bunched her freckles into little knots on her cheeks.
"That's exactly it," Rivet said. "It was choking my thoughts, only then it started stealing them away. I couldn't think of anything, there was just this hunger, like going cold turkey and all you can think about is scoring a hit. I wanted more. More of...something. I don't know what."
I watched both of them. There was no need to add anything to the conversation; we'd all felt the same thing, apparently. But there was one question beneath everything.
"What?" I said. "What is it?"
Rivet looked at me. His earring gleamed dully. He'd cleaned up his face, but there was still a black crust clinging to his patchy sideburns that he'd missed. The puffy parts around his nose were quickly darkening to an ugly shade of midnight blue.
"The only thing I know," he said, "is that this–" He pointed to the empty syringe on the sofa arm. "–pushed whatever it is back. It let me think again. I think it was just in time, too. I was still there, just a little, but even that part was going fast."
"I thought we'd OD'd you," Jennie said. "I was so scared."
"Maybe you did, hun, but you did the right thing. Maybe you didn't know it, maybe you were trying to kill me, to stop me from killing Ray, but you thought fast." He kissed the side of Jennie's head, and she flinched visibly when his mouth came close. He looked at her with a strange expression. Anger?
"Another question," I said. "What happens when we come down?"
"That I don't know, bro," Rivet said.
"Another question," I said. "Is it just us, or is it happening to other people?"
"I don't know, bro," Rivet replied. He was starting to sound angry. "I don't fucking know."
"It's a rhetorical question," I said.
"Then keep it to yourself. How's that helping?"
"It's something we need to think about," I snapped back. What was wrong with him?
"All we need to think about is keeping ourselves good," Rivet glared at me. "Who cares about those people? This is us, man."
"Come on, guys," Jennie tried to mediate. "Let's calm down. Ray has a point," she added gently, stroking Rivet's arm.
"You're on his side?" Rivet jerked his arm off her shoulders. "Figures. That's what it is, isn't it? Sparking the ol' flame."
"What? No. Rivet, listen," I jumped in. This was ridiculous. "The only way we'll figure out what's happening to us is if we know if the same thing is going on out there." I gestured out the window.
"You know, I haven't heard any traffic in awhile," Jennie said.
"There, see? That's thinking," I said. "I haven't either. Of course, it's usually pretty quiet around here in the mornings, but still, not this quiet."
"Who lives around here that doesn't go to work?" Jen asked.
"Mrs. Winters lives over on the next block," I said, getting excited. "She's retired."
"Jesus, listen to you two," Rivet said. "Aren't you guys just cozy."
"Dammit, Rivet," I said, raising my voice.
"What?" he said, leaning forward. "What?"
" 'What' is you're being an asshole while we're trying to come up with some sort of plan."
"We don't need a plan," Rivet shouted. "There's nothing weird going on. We all kinda freaked out, sure, but that's like, what, cabin fever. Temporary group psychosis. It's over, man. Do you feel anything weird now? It's gone. We fixed it."
"Yeah," I retorted, "and for all we know you're the one who infected us in the first place."
"Infected? This isn't a goddamn video game, Ray. Nobody infected anybody. I've apologized a thousand times, and I'm going to keep apologizing for awhile, because you know what? I really am sorry. But you can't sit there and pin this on me. You felt it, too."
"And that's exactly why we need to figure out what happened!" Now I was shouting, which definitely wasn't helping the situation. I've known Rivet most of my life; he doesn't back down from a frontal attack.
"Look," I continued more softly, "I don't think I'm alone in saying that nothing like that has ever happened to me. Am I?" I looked back and forth between them. Jennie shook her head. Rivet gave a grudging, "No."
"And for the three of us to experience it at the exact same time is most likely—not definitely, but most likely—a little bit more than coincidence. Right?" They each gave a quiet affirmative. "So let's do this," I went on. "Let's just call some people. Does that work? Let's just make a few calls and see if anyone's experienced anything weird today."
"We have to know, Rivet," Jennie said. Rivet stared out the window for what felt like ages before turning back toward me.
"Okay," he said. "But I don't have a phone. I couldn't...you know."
I nodded. He'd missed too many payments. We'd all been there once or twice. I turned to Jen. "How about you?"
"Yeah," she said. "I got it."
"Great," I said. "Start dialing. Mine's upstairs, I'll run and get it."
I took the stairs two at a time while Jennie pulled her phone from her jeans pocket. My Droid was lying on th
e bed. I tried Foley first. He was my dealer, so I figured if I got him, I could also get something else to tide the rest of us over for awhile. That would at least cheer Rivet up. The ringer blipped once then cut to the deep rhythmic beeps of a busy signal. That was weird. Usually it just went straight to voicemail if he was using it. I tried my sister next, but got the same thing.
"Anything?" I yelled down the stairs.
"It's all busy," Jennie's voice called back up.
"Same," I said, running back down. "Google something. YouTube. Find some news."
"Data's down," Jen said immediately. "I already tried."
"TV," Rivet said robotically.
"I don't have cable," I said. "Just Netflix." I lifted my phone and punched Foley's name again, hoping something had changed. Nothing had.
"Okay," I said. "Rivet was right earlier. Let's not get freaked out about this. We still don't know anything for sure. Might just be a service hiccup."
"Do you really believe that?" Jennie asked pointedly. "I don't know about you guys, but the coincidences are piling up a little too high for me."
"Murphy's Law," pointed out Rivet. He seemed to be in a daze.
"Could be," I agreed. "Whatever can go wrong, will. One thing derails, and suddenly it feels like everything is. But let's be logical here. We've got food. Power's still on. Last we checked, the water was still on. Even if it turns out to be something serious, we're good here for awhile."
"For awhile, sure." Rivet seemed to snap back from wherever he'd been. "But for how long?"
I gave him an appreciative glance. He caught it. With enough time to think, Rivet always came around on the right side of things. He was smarter than the junk ever gave him a chance to show.
"What do you suggest?" I asked, deferring the decision to him.
"First we're going to fill everything we can find with water. Cups, bottles, buckets. The bathtub." He snapped his fingers. He wasn't looking at anyone, just gazing intently at the wall as he spoke. "Definitely the bathtub; get it full. Just in case we lose water later, you know."
"Good thinking," Jennie said. "A person can only live without water for three days."
"Where'd you hear that?" Rivet looked at her sharply.
"I don't know, Facebook I think."
"In three days you'll be alive, yeah, if you're pretty healthy, which we're not. But at the end of two you'll be as good as useless. Even the first day you'll be feeling like hell."
"What's with the sudden enthusiasm?" I asked.
"Just thinking, you know. Covering our bases. If this does turn out to be, well, serious, the last way I want to go is dying of thirst."
"Agreed." Jen and I said it at the same time. We looked at each other and smiled. Rivet looked annoyed.
"Then," Rivet said, "we'll go pay a visit to your Old Lady Winters." He was taking charge, which was the only way he'd be happy about any plan right now. But it was better than fighting, and I was okay with letting him lead.
"Sounds good to me," I said. "Jen?"
She nodded.
"Alright," I said. "But I'm not going out there without a weapon."
"For the last time," Rivet's voice was exasperated. "There aren't any zo–"
"I'm with Ray on this one," Jennie cut him off. "It'll at least make me feel safer."
Rivet looked back and forth between us and was about to say something, then seemed to change his mind. "Okay," he finally said. "Nothing wrong with a little security."
"Great then," I said, clapping my hands and standing up. I felt invigorated now that we had a plan. Anything was better than languishing in my doubts. I was still riding pretty high, but the edge had worn off and the heavy feeling was definitely sloping away. It was a perfect time to get started.
"I'll scrounge for bottles," I said. "Recycling wasn't supposed to come until next week; there should be some around."
"I'll get upstairs and clean the tub out." Jen was following my lead. "I've seen how Ray lives, and I'm not drinking any water from that without a bleach scrub first."
We were turning to leave when we noticed that Rivet hadn't moved.
"You helping out with this master plan of yours?" I asked.
"Of course, but first things first." He held out the little brown baggie. "Who's hungry?"