by Tracey Ward
“Hey,” I say to him, bringing his eyes into focus again, “do I at least get me own bed or do I have to spoon your hairy back every night?”
He cracks a grin. “Sorry, baby, but I’m a cuddle bear.”
***
“You’re really leaving,” Alissa says softly from the doorway.
I’m doing the hardest thing I’ve done in a while; packing my bag. It’s hard because I don’t want to leave her. Because I promised her we’d stick together until the end, no matter what. Also it’s hard because I’m doing it one handed and my pride refuses to let me accept help. But mostly it’s hard because she looks so sad even though I know she’s trying not to be.
But here’s the thing; if I stick here with her and Syd, life will go right back to what it was before when we were on the road. It’ll be tense, angry and eventually unbearable. It’s already started getting ugly again and she knows it. I want to hold on to the way we were. I want to keep that feeling I had when I watched her pull a gun and step between me and death. Or the complete and utter insane lust I felt watching her pistol whip that doctor who mouthed off to her. She’s no longer a sexy female Hawkeye to me. She’s her own action hero right here in front of me in the flesh and I don’t even care if I only have one hand left to touch her with. It’ll slow me down, let me take my time. Let me drive her crazy and hear her—
“It’s for the best, Al,” Syd calls from up front.
Alissa turns to him with a scowl. I’m mentally thanking the man for pulling me out of my thoughts because they were headed somewhere with only one exit worth taking and it’s not the time or place for that. But it does bring up another point in favor of me moving out – my own place away from Syd.
“He’s right,” I agree, shoving a shirt inside my bag. “It’ll be better.”
“For everybody,” Syd agrees.
“No tears, Syd!” I call out to him. “You promised.”
“I’ll do my best to keep my feelings inside.”
I’ll miss that man. Really…
Alissa violently slides the divider between the bedroom area and the rest of the camper closed.
“Open door policy, Al!” Syd cries.
“That’s not even what that means!” she shouts back.
“It means keep that door open!”
“You can still hear us just fine!”
“Not if you’re doing something wrong!”
“Oh! If we were doing something wrong, believe me, you’d hear it!”
“Open the door!”
“Give us five minutes or I’ll show you what ‘wrong’ sounds like!”
Silence.
I sit down on the edge of the bed trying my hardest not to laugh. Alissa is seething angry, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her cheeks flushed pink with anger. It’s beautiful in a slightly scary way.
Finally she looks at me. She finds me chuckling silently and immediately smiles, the tension leaching out of her.
“Take me with you,” she pleads in a dramatic whisper.
I reach out to take her hand in mine. “I would if I could.”
“But you can’t.”
“He’d kill me.”
“I’m glad you’re going,” she blurts out.
I don’t know what to say. I’m glad I’m going too, it’s for the best, but I’m surprised to hear her agree. She sits down hard on the bed beside me and lays her head on my shoulder.
“Is that weird?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, making a conscious effort not to shrug.
“It feels weird, but it’s true. I’m glad you’re going because this,” she gestures to the closed door then to me, “isn’t working.”
“No, it’s not,” I agree softly.
“But it feels strange, too. You’ve been with me since the start. You’re a huge part of my survival and to have you go… I don’t know. It’s kind of scary.”
“You’re safer now than you ever have been. And you’re more than able to take care of yourself.”
“I know that,” she whispers, her voice getting softer every time she speaks.
“Then what’s there to be scared of?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead she grips my hand a little tighter, leans into me a little harder and buries her face in my neck. I hesitate for just a moment before wrapping my arm, my right arm, around her. I pull her close to my side the best I can without my hand but she comes easily. She fits beside me, warm and whole, sweet and soft, and I wonder what it will be like tonight to go to sleep knowing she’s so far away. I’ll worry about her. It’s selfish, but I’ll worry about me too. I worry I’ll have the nightmare about Beth just as I’ve been worried I’ll start dreaming about the zombie in the trees. What if I go to this new place with new people and I cry out in my sleep? What if I have bad dreams and have to be wakened like a toddler by his mommy? I already feel like less of a man than I ever have, I’m not sure I want to add bedwetting and whimpering in my sleep to my list of shortcomings.
Suddenly Alissa takes her hand back from mine. She swipes it across her cheeks before taking hold of me again. I can feel the wetness on her skin.
“You’re my best friend,” she breathes shakily.
“You’re mine too,” I whisper into her hair.
I know now what she’s scared of.
And just like that, I’m scared of it too.
Chapter Twenty One
“This is Billings, Alvarez and Simmons,” Kyle rattles off, indicating no one particular with each name.
He’s gesturing to a group of three men ranging in age from mid-twenties to late forties. All of them have short cut hair and clean cut faces, the calling cards of military members. But they’re not in uniform. Every one of them is dressed casually in jeans or cargo shorts and plain T-shirts. They’re sitting around inside one of the tents at a table covered in maps, scattered papers and a battered looking laptop. Despite their lack of uniforms, each of them is wearing a large walkie on their hip with a gun holstered on the other side.
“Guys, this is Jordan.”
“So,” the youngest guy (I think this is Simmons) drawls, spinning around dramatically in his chair, “you’re our Lazarus?”
“You’re an idiot,” the oldest guy (definitely Alvarez) says, barely looking up from the laptop.
“Why?”
“Have you ever read The Bible?”
The guy scoffs. “No one has read The Bible.”
“Are you serious?” Billings demands. “You think absolutely no one has ever read The Bible?”
“Of course someone has. Priests and stuff.”
“Priests and stuff,” Alvarez chuckles quietly to himself.
“What was wrong with calling him Lazarus? He rose from the dead, right?”
Billings turns to me. “Jordan, did you rise from the dead?”
“No.”
“You’re an idiot,” Alvarez repeats.
“Fine, then what would you call it?” Simmons demands of the room.
“Not dying,” I tell him dryly.
He shakes his head in frustration, looking away. “I got nothing’ for that. That’s just people.”
“Holy hell, Simmons, you cracked the case!” Billings exclaims, tearing up paper and throwing it over the guy’s head. “He’s a living human being. Someday we’ll tell tale of your brilliance on this day. Mark the calendar, Fritz. This is huge.”
“Who’s Fritz?” I ask.
“You’re standing next to him.”
I frown at Kyle, feeling sorry for him. “Your last name is Fritz?”
“Fitzsimmons,” he says heavily.
“Fritz Fitzsimmons?”
“No,” he groans, leading me toward the exit. “they shortened my last name to Fitz so I wouldn’t get confused with Simmons, but then the Bible scholar over there got it wrong, called me Fritz and it’s been with me ever since.”
“If I get called Laz just because he’s an idiot, I’m kicking his ass.”
“Get in line!” Billi
ngs calls.
We exit the tent into the blinding light of day. I go to shield my eyes with my right hand to get a better view of the town below but, of course, my hand isn’t there. I end up popping myself in the eye with a whole lot of bandage.
“Takes some getting used to huh?” Kyle asks as I curse and drop my hand.
“Yeah,” I grumble. “A lot.”
“I’ll get you some sunglasses.”
“Thanks.”
“This is where we sleep.”
He leads me into another tent identical to the last one only there are flaps drawn down inside to create small compartments. Each compartment fits a bed, a small case at the foot and a narrow fold out table to be used as a nightstand. It’s nothing fancy at all. In fact, it’s cramped and uncomfortable but the full length bed Kyle shows me to looks like heaven to my 6ft frame. That bench in the RV, along with the old guy playing guard dog, were killing me.
“There’s no bathroom up here,” Kyle whispers. There are three other people in the tent, each asleep on a bed. “There’s a spot to pee but any number two business has to be done down in the town or at the hotel.”
“Where’s the spot to pee?”
“Off the edge of the plateau.”
“Classy.”
“You’re welcome to head back down to earth and play house in that RV. Hang out with the neighbors as they sharpen their pitchforks.”
I throw my bag onto my new bed. “Pass.”
“How’d your girl take you leaving?”
I look around, shrugging. “Pretty well. She takes everything pretty well.”
“You’re lucky.”
“Some days more than others,” I mutter.
I feel uncomfortable talking about Ali. There’s a pinching in my chest and the churning feel of anxiety in my stomach when I think about her. I’ve become so used to being with her, to counting on each other to stay alive, that being separated from her is unnerving. Like the sinking feeling you get when you’re convinced you left the stove on and your house will be nothing but an unrecognizable pile of ash and rubble when you return.
Kyle takes me around to meet the other people living up here. There’s someone in the radio room at all times. At the moment, it’s a woman named Gabrielle in her 30’s with long blond hair piled up on her head and pinned with a pencil. She has her feet up on another chair and a tattered paperback romance in her hands. She looks like at one point she may have been high maintenance. Manicures, pedicures, hairstylist once a week. Now she’s sweating in a vent-less room listening for a silent radio to come to life, smiling at Kyle with a little something extra. Something I recognize immediately.
“Are you into her?” I ask when we leave.
“What? No.” His answer is too quick.
“Are you sleeping with her?”
He pulls his sunglasses down over his eyes. “Shut up.”
“Nice.”
“I’m not.”
“But you want to,” I press.
He looks around to make sure no one else is in ear shot. “Did you see her? Of course I do. Who wouldn’t?”
“Me, for one.”
He waves me off. “You’ve got Ali.”
“Even without Ali, older woman have never really done it for me.”
“Me either, but there’s something about her. I don’t know. Maybe it’s her smell or her skin or—“
“Stop there,” I tell him firmly. “I’m getting jealous. You’re ruining this bromance for me.”
“Sorry, man. I promise, you’re the only one for me.”
“Thank you.”
I meet a couple of guys on patrol next. They each have rifles with scopes, a pair of binoculars around their necks and walkies on their hips like the guys in the tent. Kyle introduces them as Franklin and McGillvery, making me certain I need to give up on learning anyone’s first name. I’m surrounded by military and civilians that have been absorbed by military. At one point Franklin asks me if I’ve met Matheson yet. Turns out Matheson is Gabrielle but Kyle is the only one who calls her by her first name. I give him a knowing look when I discover this, to which he responds with a stern middle finger in my face.
“Incoming,” McGillvery calls out.
“How many?” Franklin shouts back.
McGillvery has already lifted his rifle to peer through the sight. “Just one. I got it.”
There’s a pause while he sights his target. I find myself holding my breath waiting for the shot, a reflex learned from hours of archery and firearm lessons from Alissa and Syd. I still jump slightly when the crack of gunfire sounds. One piercing clean shot, another brief pause then I see the figure in the distance drop to the ground, motionless.
“Crow’s Nest to Day Spa,” Franklin says into his walkie.
There’s silence then the crackle of a walkie coming alive. A bored voice laced with annoyance answers.
“Day Spa here.”
“Keep a sharp eye on the north side. We just took out a Z coming your way.”
Pause. “We know. We saw it.” The guy on the other end of the walkie is pissed. “We had it sighted before you took it out.”
“You let it get too close,” Franklin replies calmly, unaffected by this guy’s obviously angry tone. “This isn’t a game. The people over there are counting on you.”
Silence.
“Day Spa!” Franklin shouts into the walkie.
“We copy,” a different voice responds calmly.
Franklin mutters a few choice words as he stows his walkie.
“Cummings?” McGillvery calls.
“Who else?”
McGillvery shakes his head as he continues his patrol around the rim of the plateau.
“There are guys on another guard like ours at the hotel side,” Kyle explains. “We don’t all get along. They’re a little lax sometimes.”
“A little?” Franklin asks in disbelief. “That section would have fallen weeks ago if we weren’t helping watch it. Mark my words, if there’s ever a breach, it’s happening there.”
The anxiety in my stomach bubbles up into the back of my throat, hammering my heart in my chest. I remind myself to calm down. They’ve lasted this long without a breach and even though Ali lives in the resort area, she works at the hospital over here in town. In fact, she’s there right now working her shift. She’s safe. She’s close.
“Have I met everyone?” I ask Kyle.
“Yeah, tours over. You got somewhere you gotta be?”
“The gym. Rehab,” I remind him.
“Arm him,” Franklin says curtly. No one is dressed in uniform so I can’t see ranks but I’m picking up more and more that this guy is in charge.
“I’ll just go with him,” Kyle tells him.
“No, you need to stay. We need you to relieve Matheson.”
I snicker quietly. Not quietly enough.
“Dude, I’ll punch you,” Kyle warns me.
“Just go do your job, Fritz,” Franklin tells him, walking away.
He offers me a knife but I turn it down. I don’t really know why. I probably need it. When the time comes I’ll be sorry I don’t have it but it feels like taking it is inviting something to happen. Like I’m asking for trouble.
That night, after another all day workout session, I swing by the RV. It was going to happen. I’ve been with her 24/7 for months now and knowing I’m going to sleep tonight without seeing her doesn’t sit well with me.
Unlucky for me, she’s not in.
“Where is she?” I ask Syd.
He’s sitting outside beside the BBQ and the river. There’s a fire roaring in the pit in front of him and I notice that there’s only one empty chair across from him now instead of two. That didn’t take long.
“She’s at work. She asked to go on nights.” He takes a sip of the water he’s nursing, his eyes not even bothering to fix on me. Instead, they’re staring intently into the fire, watching the flames snap and pop. “I think she wanted to be around that nurse.”
“L
eah,” I confirm with a nod.
“Yeah, her.”
His tone is off. It’s not its usual full self. Full of himself, full of anger, of annoyance, of stone and solid surety. Something’s thrown him and I find that flat out fascinating.
“Mind if I sit?”
He looks up at me briefly. I get a quick jut of the chin toward the empty chair as my answer. I take it and the seat. We sit in silence for a long time and I’m surprised by how not uncomfortable it is. It’s not exactly comfortable, don’t misunderstand me, but he’s not hostile toward me anymore. I’m here but I’m gone. I won’t be laying down to sleep anywhere near Alissa. She’s nowhere around so I can’t sneak off to some corner and defile her in any way. As far as Syd is concerned, he’s off duty. I’m seeing him relaxed for the first time and I think I kind of like it.
“How’s the hand?” he asks suddenly.
I look up to find him watching me. I shrug. “It’s still gone.”
“Huh,” he grunts, sounding unimpressed with my flippant answer.
More silence as he stares at me, drawing me out. Finally I cave.
“It hurts.”
He nods. “Yeah, I imagine it does. You’re taking it well, though.”
I chuckle. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“You’re not blaming anybody. You’re not angry. You’re not sitting in a corner crying or staring into the distance messing yourself and not caring.”
“I didn’t know that was an option,” I mutter.
“It’s not. Not a good one. You’re coping. It’s good.”
It sounds like a compliment. At the very least, it’s not an insult. I’ll take it.
“Thanks.”
“You’re a lot like Al,” he says quietly, surprising me. I glance at him to find him staring into the fire again. “She’s resilient. Tough.”
“She been through a lot,” I agree. I’m not sure what to say here. I know what Alissa has been through but I didn’t see it, not first hand. Not like Syd did.
“So have you. I was sorry to hear about your sister.”