by Jones, K. J.
“Yeah. I totally do.”
“My mom might as well be dead, she’s so lost to me.”
“Don’t say that. Brandon believes we’ll get out of here.”
Phebe scoffed. “Your boyfriend has a lot of delusions.”
“If anyone needed to get out of here, it’s you. With the baby. A woman needs her mother when having a baby.” Her face grew sad. Her own mother was gone.
“Yeah.” Phebe looked away.
“Has anyone told you what happened? The guys.”
“Matt said something about a SuperCobra blew up the skiff. There were three other people with them. A man and his two children.”
“Kids died?”
Phebe nodded.
“Oh, my God. This all is so merciless.”
“All we can hope for is it’s over. The government will finally fuck off.”
“Funny that’s what we hope for in a catastrophe.”
“We don’t even know if there’s anything out there anymore. The Zone could be the whole country by now. The whole world.”
“Let’s hope not.”
“You didn’t answer my original question.”
“I don’t remember what it was,” said Emily.
“About your safta.”
“Oh. Well, um, I don’t know. I sure as hell haven’t achieved it. Maybe the person has to really like jazz music.”
“How does that come into this?”
“She loved jazz music. She’d dance in the living room.”
“So … if we loved jazz music …?”
“We’d have more joy in our lives, yeah.”
They looked at each other across the table. Smiles slowly formed. They burst out laughing.
Chapter Three
1.
Peter did not want to get out of bed.
“Not an option, Sullivan.”
“Can you possibly fuck off?”
“No,” said Phebe. “You have to continue to drink water. The Imodium will not flush it out. Only prevent you from making a mess again. And you have to eat.”
“I ate the stupid fucking gator meat.”
“That was yesterday.”
He pulled the blankets over his head, shielding himself from the sunlight streaming in from the windows she opened. “Fuck off.”
She threw her hands up in frustration. “We fucking rescued you. You do this as thanks?”
The blankets whipped down. “You should’ve let me die.”
“If you think I’m going to be a single parent, you got another thing fucking coming. Go ahead and be an asshole.” She stormed out.
Tyler backed out of her way in the doorway. But he resumed his position, staring at Peter.
Phebe went downstairs. Matt had the lounger, since Peter wasn’t coming down.
“He’s avoiding Sully,” Mullen told her.
“Fuck all of them. I’m going for a jog.”
“Not alone, Pheeb.”
“Than some other asshole come with me to guard me.”
“Whoa. Don’t yell at me.”
“Sorry.”
“I’ll go with you if you don’t take it out on me.”
She raised a brow. “You would? Since when do you jog?”
“I have been. Just not with you.”
“Then hurry up.”
Running sneakers on. They wore t-shirts and shorts as the best they could do for exercise clothes. Belts on their hips, carrying holstered handguns. Phebe had a radio as well. Both had sheathed knives. Second holsters carried water bottles.
They headed towards the Jayce-guarded door. The Jayce Door. He seemed to live there. The bedding was folded off to the side.
“Yoo-hoo!” Stanton’s voice.
“Let ‘em in?” Jayce asked.
“Why not.” Phebe shrugged.
Matt sat up, eyeing the door hard. “What was that?”
A wicked smile in Phebe’s face. “Totally let ‘em in, Jay.”
“Aye-aye, ma’am.” He unbolted and opened.
Stanton wore one of his outfits. He took his ultra-feminine micro-steps. White patten leather shoes today. Air kisses to everyone at the door. Manuel carried a basket. Robert, armed, took their six through the door.
Matt glared. A deep frown.
“Shall we?” Mullen asked.
“Wait a second.” Phebe crossed her arms and smirked. “Let’s watch this.”
“Watch what? Oh. I get it. Okay.”
“We brought gifts,” announced Stanton. “Things to cheer up our wounded warriors.”
If looks could kill, they’d have dropped dead from the glare on Matt’s face.
“No way,” he roared. “This is not happening. This is a fucking nightmare.”
“What’s his problem?” Manuel asked Phebe.
“I think we found Matt’s clown-pig.”
“He’s a homophobe, I’m gathering.”
“Seems so.”
Mullen shrugged. “I’m not. No one hits on me.”
“Aw,” Manuel said. “I would if you weren’t so straight, sweetheart.” He pinched Mullen’s cheek.
Phebe laughed. “You mean, you don’t see the unicorn?”
“Shut up, Pheeb.”
She laughed all the way through the door. Mullen followed.
“Unicorn?” Manuel asked. “Does that mean he’s rare and unique?”
“No,” answered Jayce. “Not in the way she meant it.”
2.
“How’s the stitches?”
Mullen wasn’t in as good of shape as her. He huffed and puffed more, while she took long-legged, antelope strides.
“Hurts. But it’s okay. Doc wrapped up my arm.”
“You won’t be able to swim with stitches.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“C’mon. This way.”
She took the stairs up the walkway levee wall. He stumbled on the first step and grabbed the railing to not fall and cause another wound.
She slowed.
“What?”
“There’s a gator sunning up here. Go back down.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s check out that park. Follow.”
“Aye-aye, ma’am.”
East Bay Street changed names to East Battery. She banked onto South Battery. Park on their left side. Giant white mansions on their right.
She veered into the park itself. Her sneakers crunched high grass, rubbish, and occasional hollow bird bones.
“Has anyone seen any zoms?” he asked through heavy breaths.
“Nope. That Henderson asshole lives down that street, right?”
“Yeah. Are they all dead?”
“Guess so.”
“Is it over?”
“Dunno. Look how pretty it is here.”
“What’s that cannon?”
“Does the gay house really have a World War Two Browning machine gun?”
“Yeah. Probably why we lack zoms now.” He slowed to examine the ornamental cannon.
“How does somebody do that?” She used the cannon to stretch.
He scowled at her. “Dunno. How can you do that?”
“Do what?”
“That flexible?”
She pulled her leg off the cannon to then pull it straight up, parallel to her torso, held by her hand on her calf.
His eyes widened at her vertical split. “Holy crap.”
“You didn’t know I could do this?”
Shrug. “Never paid attention, I guess.”
“I’ve been in kickboxing for a dog’s age.”
“Ah. That’s the round-housing zoms thing I heard about.”
She let her leg drop. “Not useful shit, though. I need to be able to break their necks and I lack the mass and upper-body muscle for it.”
“Sully did it.”
“Oh, yeah. But the only way I could is if I wrapped my legs around the zom’s head and let my body weight drop to create the force. That is a tricky move, requiring swinging myself up the zom’s body. Or do
it on the ground, which would be easier, but opens me up to biting and other zoms getting the advantage on me.”
“Best to just shoot ‘em in the head.”
She chuckled. “Right.”
“I’ve been working out with the guys … back at the island … but I can’t do any of that. I can throw a person now. Sul taught me.”
“That’s probably what Matt is doing to Stanton and Manuel right now.”
They walked the park.
“I hope not. I like them. They’re nice. They welcomed us. Gave us house warming presents.”
She picked up speed into a jog. A step behind, he caught up.
“Why would he hate gays?”
“Well, look at his background.”
“Which part? He’s got a lot of background. You mean the conversative Wyoming cowboy stuff?”
“No. Well, I mean, I don’t know. Yeah. Maybe. But, also, in my observation, devout Christians have a tendency to be judgmental towards gays.”
“Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that. But Angela’s a Christian and she’s okay with them.”
“Women tend to be more empathetic. Usually. And we’re not intimidated by homosexuality. Especially regarding men. More relieved, I think. Not having to deal with a guy after us type deal.”
“You mean, women don’t like that?”
“Oh, Lord, really? Let’s go down the other river. Have you been?”
“Should we go that far away from home base?”
“If there’s no zoms left, why not?”
“Says the roundhouse kicking woman.”
3.
Jayce opened the door. Sweaty Phebe and Mullen entered, carrying plastic shopping bags.
“We found a garden shop,” Mullen announced.
Matt came out. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Excuse you,” said Phebe.
“You weren’t to go on a loot by yourselves. It was supposed to be a localized jog.”
“Whoa. Didn’t realize Maze and Ben died while we were gone.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“That you think you’re in charge suddenly.”
“Don’t walk past me, Phebe.”
“Hey,” Mullen barked. “Don’t grab her arm.”
“We are not continuing this undisciplined bullshit anymore. People died as a result. No more, people!”
Mazy stepped out. Brows raised. “We got a problem, Gleason?”
“Fucking yeah.” He marched towards her. “Look at them.”
“You need to chill out.”
“This nursery school bullshit ends. Today, people.”
Others came out or peered down from the piazza balconies above.
“Nursery school?” Mazy repeated. Hands on hips.
“You are following the leadership precedent of a drug addict who got our people killed.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, back the fuck up, Matt.” Mazy’s hands were raised in a stop position. “You are so goddamn out of line, I –”
“I am not. They died because of him.”
“I get that you really want to blame someone –”
He yelled over her words again, “I am holding people accountable.”
Her tone sharpened and volume raised, “That includes you, too, then.”
“Not a second gone past that have I not since they all died.”
“I need you to back up and get outta my face.”
“Is that your priority, Marine?”
“Don’t fucking try it.”
“Get Gunnery Sergeant Raven here.”
“He’s in the sniper nest keeping watch. That’s what we do here.”
“You two are the highest fucking ranks here and you’re treating this like a vacation.”
Ben’s voice bellowed from the third-floor balcony above, “Stand down, Sergeant Gleason. You are out of line.”
Matt backed up to the lawn to see Ben. He pointed at Phebe and Mullen. “They went by themselves on a loot. I’ve seen your map on the wall. The stores are outside of this immediate area. They’re running around wild and undisciplined again. Just like the island.”
Phebe had dropped her shopping bags. Her arms were in a tight cross over her chest. She glared at Matt.
“This is not the island, Gleason,” Ben yelled down. “You have been gone for days.”
“Blaming me for that?”
“No one is blaming anyone but you. You are not in the chain of command currently. So, go to your fucking room. Now, Sergeant!”
Matt huffed. He kicked a chair and headed to the front door. Stepping inside, they heard him yell, “Keep the fuck away from me, you fucking faggots.”
Manuel stepped out an open window, swirling red wine in a crystal goblet. He shrugged to them. “Can’t please all the people all the time.”
Stanton hurried out. “That man is so rude.” He fanned himself.
“His girlfriend was murdered on the island,” Tyler said.
Surprised looks at him that he was so aware of what had gone on.
“Pheebs was kidnapped,” he continued. “At the same time. And Julio and Dock Cat were killed. Then everyone else was.”
“I’m so sorry.” Stanton pressed his hand to his heart chakra. “That’s awful.”
“He’s angry. Sully’s depressed.” Tyler shrugged. “Welcome to our lives.”
Phebe watched him shuffle off towards the backyard.
“I knew about …” Stanton looked to Angela. “Your ex.”
She nodded, then looked at her children for their reaction. Nia lowered her head. But Jayce showed nothing.
Stanton asked the teenager, “Is that why I always find you at the door, young man?”
“I have to guard my family.” Jayce turned away.
“I am so, so sorry, y’all.” Stanton looked from face to face.
“Y’all saw all this?” asked Manuel.
Nods.
“I just,” Stanton said, “I just want to hug all of you and make the bad go away.” He dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief. “So much death.”
Robert cleared his throat. “That’s what I was trying to protect you two from. But you just curse me for it.”
“I’m sorry.” Stanton sniffled. “I thought the gassing was the worst. When he told us about our neighbors’ deaths.”
Phebe scooted through an open window and headed up the elliptical stairs. He had to have heard Matt’s yelling. Something told her to hurry.
She rushed to her bedroom. He was already too depressed to get out of bed, blaming himself for their deaths. He had to have heard Matt’s yelling.
“That’s a mortal sin!” erupted from her mouth.
Peter pulled the handgun out of his mouth and sighed. “I’m already going to hell.”
“You’d have me find your body? How could you do that to me?”
“Sorry. Didn’t think about that.”
“Gimme it.”
He put on the safety, pulled out the mag and chambered bullet, and placed it all in her open hand.
“You will not make me a single parent and a widow.”
“I am of no use to you and the baby. I can’t even fucking protect a cat, Phebe.”
“Last I heard, infants didn’t run around in tall reeds.”
“He’s right. Absolutely right.”
“No, he’s not. He’s angry and in pain.”
“I should kick his ass for coming at you that way.”
“No, you won’t. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself with Matt.”
“You shouldn’t have to. I’m supposed to protect you. I lost the marina. I lost Julio, Sye, Dock, and the whole fucking island. Heidi? What the fuck happened to her? I heard Eric wailing.”
“She’s gone.”
His face scrunched up in anguish. “Gimme the fucking gun and I’ll go away from here.”
She slapped him.
“What the …”
She slapped him again. He raised his arms to protect his face from an onslaught of slaps. Sh
e hit anything she could get on him. He tilted over onto his side. She kept going.
“Stop.”
“You’re an idiot.” Tears streamed down her face. “A fucking ungrateful asshole.”
“Okay. Stop crying.”
“I made sure we searched for you.” She sat down, tears continuing to fall. “I made sure we’d find you. All we did to find you.”
“Alright. I’m sorry. Just stop crying. Go back to hitting me.”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re hurting us.”
“Who else is crying?”
“You’re hurting Tyler.”
“I’m trying not to hurt anyone.”
“Gimme your word you will not hurt yourself. Gimme your goddamn word, Sullivan.”
“Okay. I promise.”
“In the eyes.”
He met her gaze. “I promise.”
“You fucking leave me by your own hand, I will never forgive you.”
“I’m getting that.”
“Lay down and rest. Drink some fucking water.”
“Okay. Laying down. Drinking water. Anything else?”
“You be a convalescent patient and stop your pity party.”
He cocked a smirk. “Pity party, table for one.”
“Fuck you.”
“Chill, babe.”
“Next, Ange comes up here with her wooden spoon.”
“Oh, God. As in … the mother with the wooden spoon thing?”
“Yes. You deserve it.”
“Gleason does too.”
“Worry about yourself.”
He laid back. “Give him the wooden spoon.”
“Go to sleep. That’s an order.”
“Yes, wifey.”
She lingered in the bedroom until she was satisfied he was asleep. Then she carried a chair out to the piazza, leaving the bedroom door open so she could listen. The handgun stowed in her empty water bottle holster. She hadn’t had a chance to change from the jog.
Another door opened. Emily poked her head out onto the balcony. “Can I join?”
“Welcome aboard the grouch bus.”
Her head withdrew. A moment later, she carried out a chair and placed it beside Phebe.
“Eric’s sedated. Really feeling like a psych nurse here.”
“We got another one. My husband extraordinaire put a gun in his mouth.”
Emily gave a colossal eye roll that rolled her head back.
“I know. We got two depressed, suicidal idiots and one angry idiot.”