by Nunn, Alexis
I reached him after a few quick-paced hobbles. I grabbed his hair, only finding that I couldn’t fully grasp his hair since my stiff fingers slid through the short strands. So instead, losing my balance, I grabbed his shirt collar. The death grip brought him down with me. We landed with a thud. He quickly turned to me and wrapped his fingers around my neck.
“Get outta my way. I’m trying to help you and me, all of us here in the long run. We can’t risk having one of those this close to our town!” He spit in my face. Suddenly he let go, throwing me away from him.
I looked at the older man and saw a calmer look. He was looking off to our right, towards one house. I followed his gaze, raising a hand to wipe away at my face. A smaller girl about the age of six, maybe eight at oldest, stood in the open doorway. She had large doe eyes and shiny black hair with a head full of delicately loose curls pulled back into a high ponytail. Her face was light, lighter than her neck and arms. She was still tanner than me. I guessed she was in relation to the man. She frowned, holding her hands together on her chest.
She shook her head at the man. He got up, brushing off his jeans and fixing his shirt.
I got up too, suddenly whining and falling back down. The girl immediately showed concern as she quaked, extending a hand in my direction. The man looked down at me, reluctantly grabbing my arm and lifting me up. In the second I saw how he was smaller but much stronger than me.
“I can’t argue or fight when Lilya can see me. You’re lucky.”
I flinched back, feeling overwhelmingly dizzy. It was hazy, but I could tell he was leading me to his house. I swayed once inside, nearly collapsing. I felt another pair of hands, surely not the girl or the man’s taking me somewhere. I felt something soft against my legs. It clicked in my head that it was a couch around the same time I fell forwards onto it. I passed out.
Upon waking up, I knew I was not alone. I saw a figure hovering over me. It was a female. A slight bit of her hair dangled out of a black headscarf, but she pushed it back away. I blinked, glad her shadow blocked out the light. Feeling nauseous, I jerked up, only to lay back down; the feeling faded away.
“You’re awake. That’s great,” She smiled a genuine smile that welcomed you in and comforted you. She seemed to actually be relieved.
I brought my dry, chilly hands to my hot forehead, keeping it in place for a few seconds. There was a lingering ebb in my skull, a headache with every heartbeat.
Don’t ask what happened. Don’t be clichéd. I already know how I got here. Who was she?
“Who are you?” I asked instead.
“I’m Fadiyah. I’m the adopted daughter of Robert, the man you came to nearly battle outside. Lilya is his granddaughter. You saw her in the doorway,” Is it just me, or does she have an accent? After she spoke a few more times, I thought yes. I really was in Canada.
“I’m glad you woke up.”
“Me too,” I swallowed, looking around the house. I remembered in explicit detail what happened, making a ball of ice colder than the snow outside form in my stomach, “My brother!”
“The dog?”
I stilled, looking at her with bright hazel eyes, “Yeah, the dog. My brother-”
Fadiyah put her hand over my mouth, “Shh, talk quieter. Don’t let Robert know, but he’s in the back bedroom. He came back to find you, I guess he could smell you. I pulled him inside, told him not to make a noise and locked the door.”
I smiled, chipped teeth and all, “He’s safe?”
She nodded. This was great. The headache intensified. I fell back, holding my palms over my temples.
“Lay back down, it’ll be alright.”
So, I did. I laid back, hoping I really would be alright. Most importantly, I hoped Feliks would be alright. This wasn’t so bad. I mean, I’ve got a werebie brother, a caring but young teenaged girl, a kill-crazy middle aged man and his granddaughter. This will be great.
SIX
I learned more about my new neighbors over the course of the following week. I was granted access into one of the abandoned houses. Feliks lived in secrecy in the back storage room. If found, I knew I’d have to go through Hell and back to get everyone okay with him living with us.
Most importantly during those days, I learned everyone’s names, ages, and backstories. I didn’t have much to do while my foot healed. I sprained it, thought that was just my luck. How else would I start a new chapter in life? Injured, why of course.
The older man, aged forty-eight and turning forty-nine in the early spring, was named Robert Schocke. Height for him was just about how tall Feliks used to be, granted he had an extra inch above my brother. He was of African-American descent. Both of his parents moved to Canada before he was born to be with extended family. His aunt came with his mother when they moved.
Lilya was his granddaughter, aged seven. Her mother happened to be Robert’s only child. Lilya Schocke’s father was one of her mother’s college friends. He came over from India to attend the college. That summer before he left, the two students spent a night together. Lilya had been conceived and Cassidy - Lilya’s mother - never saw him again. She could’ve contacted him and told him, but she never found the energy. Lilya’s mother died the following year in an accident. Fadiyah didn’t tell me what kind of accident. I took it as a sign that it wasn’t a topic to discuss. So now, Lilya’s only guardian was Robert, and her sister/aunt was Fadiyah.
As for Fadiyah, she was adopted. After Cassidy’s death, Robert showed interest in foster homes. Fadiyah, at the time happened to be only nine, became his foster child. Later, his legally adopted daughter. She was from two Muslim parents. Immigrants. One day their home was invaded by two teens armed with long knives. They came to steal electronics and to vandalize the house but Fadiyah’s parents fought back. The court had considered their brutal attack on the parents a hate crime.
The robbers had killed Fadiyah’s parents and she was soon after snatched up by child services. Lilya and Fadiyah were raised together. They were like two mismatched buttons sewn onto the wrong coat; even though they originally didn’t belong, they now were one.
Religion, I learned, was a strange topic with her. Seeing that she wore a headscarf, I assumed she was a follower of her parent’s religion. Wrong. The scarves, called hijabs, were her mother’s and she wore them in honor of her memory. Plus, Fadiyah had then added after, it’s warm. Fadiyah herself was atheist, although she seemed insecure about the statement. She said it was not possible for there to be a god or goddess that was so heartless and allowed such atrocities such as murder. I was confused by her logic, postulated that it was possible there was a deity that simply had sadistic habits, but I accepted it. The sensitive topic made her become belligerent and start to get angry. I could somewhat understand.
I didn’t know Robert’s religion (however I could take note that the cross around his neck meant he was likely Christian) or Lilya’s. Lilya was too young to know every religion and philosophy to choose, and I just flat out didn’t want to know about Robert. It’s not that I hated Robert. He was a great man for taking care of Lilya and Fadiyah, but I can’t care about any man who would aim a gun at my brother.
It was only a few days after spraining my ankle, and I was surprised at how much I got out of Fadiyah.
Around five o’clock on the fourth night, I got up. I used a broken off mop as my crutch. It was time for me to take a shower. The house/cabin had running water by some miracle. I washed my hair under the shower, not really getting inside. I hadn’t noticed how disgusting my hair had become. After the grime was gone, it felt like my scalp was bald. My hair was naturally fine, and soft. Softer than a feather if I had to describe it. My hair color broke through. It was no longer black. It was once again my subtly dark brown. It complemented my hazel eyes well. Feliks had Mother’s eyes. I mostly had Ulf’s, our father’s.
I washed my face afterwards. Along my hairline there were red patches of bug bites and acne. What do you expect for not washing myself for months? I mean, I
rinsed my hair out sometimes in snow or even water if I found it, but that wasn’t often.
My teeth were a topic best not discussed. I had never brushed my teeth daily when I could. Now that I couldn’t, or used to not be able to, I hated it. I used to scrub what I could reach with the cuff of my sweater, but now I had an actual toothbrush. Granted, it had to have been someone else’s at some point but, oh well. In the apocalypse you can’t really be picky.
I brushed my teeth, spit, and repeated. I felt like I could choke on how minty fresh my mouth was. My mouth burned, sharp and tingling. Gagging, I rinsed out my mouth and left the bathroom. I heard the soft tap of my makeshift crutch and the tick of the clock. I wandered back to where Feliks stayed. Opening the door, I was greeted by two paws and a half-hairless wagging tail. He nipped at my shirt and tugged at me.
He galloped out around me, still dragging me with him. He let go and took off. The first thing that boy did was leap over the back off the couch and land on the cushions with a whoosh. I shook my head with a chuckle. I joined him on the couch.
“Yeah, letting a dog on the couch? Shame on you,” Feliks joked as he wiggled his way across it until he had nearly every inch taken up by him.
Sigh. I shrugged. I laid my head on the arm rest. Within a few minutes, I drifted off to sleep.
Feliks stood on the peak of a cliff. I saw the outline of his muzzle against the darkening clear blue sky. His ears arched outward, his head tilting up to the sky. The tail whipped across the air, his paws reaching forward. He leaped, bringing his body down the cliff. He flipped, somersaulting midair.
He circled about aimlessly, not ceasing for minutes. His eyes were closed, allowing his fate to welcome him in with beckoning claws.
His fur both grew and shrank. His hind legs stretched out, elongating. His paws divided into fingers, toes, digits. His muzzle disappeared. His ears shortened, sliding down on his head. String wove around him, forming a grey sweater and dark jeans. Human once more, he glided softly down onto a clearing of freshly fallen snow. A blackened figure rose up beside him, bleeding out across the sky. A dead tree. The hill.
Feliks Stern stood up, smiling at the sky above him. He brushed off himself, picking up a canvas and turning to the towering dead tree. In that second I heard a low rumble, one from deep in the throat of a dog. A spiny lump of hair crept further up the slope. Feliks whipped his head around the moment it lunged.
“Feliks!” I screeched. As I shook my blood ran marathons through my veins. My dull-colored dream ran on a brief replay, like a stuck tape. The grey scenes ran themselves over on repeat.
His head flung up from his resting place. He was thinking to himself when I nearly burst his eardrums out.
His tail tucked under him, ears back, “Darylene, are you okay?”
His nose suddenly appeared in front of my face. His eyes peered into mine. I breathed heavily, sitting up. My hand caressed over the side of his jaw as I tried to calm down.
“You okay? Lene, you okay?” He inquired again, urgently.
The dream replayed in my head once more. Repeat. I stared into my brother’s eyes, shaking harder, despite my efforts. I shook, and then I cried.
SEVEN
“Darylene! Answer me!” He barked in my face. I trembled, staring at him.
I just cried harder. His compassion was surely lacking. In a demanding tone he repeated himself. I choked on my tears, trying to breathe. I shook my head because I couldn't raise enough confidence talk to him. Everything I saw, every second I looked at him just verified my terror of a dream. A werebie attacked my brother and changed him. My state of denial was over. It was time for the acceptance of the undead fact staring at me.
Feliks nudged my face with his black nose. The skin was dry and rough, not wet like a proper dog nose. I noticed he was running the tip of his nose over my cheeks. Without any hands, he could not wipe away my tears. His nose tactics were failing. He straightened up, extending a paw and trying to use that to strike down my rolling tears. All he accomplished was scratching me.
I smiled just enough at his antics to stop crying. He tilted his head, anger gone, and pressed his muzzle to my nose.
“You okay? Please answer me this time?” He asked me. I sighed. I nodded.
“Bad dream. Don’t get so worked up,” My words stumbled out of mouth and tumbled forward onto him. My voice was still shaking along with my shivering skin. It’s not like I’m capable of just getting over something like that in seconds.
“It was really just a bad dream, Feliks. It just hit me hard,” I looked down, wiping at my own face. I could feel the slight elevated scratches.
“I’m sorry about that,” He sunk down, “I didn’t mean to mark your face up with my claws.” He turned a paw in towards himself and splayed out his toes. His eyes glossed over the claws and then laid his paw down.
I sighed, petting over his head, “No, no. It’s quite alright. You didn’t know ya’ would scratch me.”
My nerves started to settle and began to let me calm down. Feliks nodded, moving back from me. He curled up in the corner of the couch.
“I’m still sorry. You okay now though?”
I nodded.
“What was it about?” He asked, twitching his head side to side quickly, “If you wanna talk about it of course. You really don’t hafta say anything. It’s fine if you don’t. I was just curious,” He mumbled quickly to himself after catching himself. He knew better than to ask.
“Nothing important,” I lied. We both knew that was a lie. It was better than a silent answer.
A knock echoed out from the door. Then another. Then two quick paced knocks. I knew it had to be Fadiyah. We agreed on a one-one-two knock ratio to signal it was okay for Feliks to stay out in the open. Not ‘open’ per se but it meant we didn't have to shove him back into the storage room.
It was bad enough being a dog. Being essentially caged up made it worse.
“Come in!” I hollered. She must have heard me, because the door opened. I never locked our door (I probably should but I don’t) just in case Fadiyah or Lilya decided to wander over here. Robert only knocked on the door every noon as a bugle call. No one slept past noon. It was a ‘poor survival habit.’
Fadiyah’s head emerged from behind the opening door. Her hijab was blue today. She saw us on the couch and smiled. The door shut behind her and she made her way towards the couch. We made room for her in between us. She sat down on the dark green plaid couch, straightening out her sleeves. The first thing she noticed was my red cheek.
“What happened?” She gasped softly, “Feliks? Did you scratch her? You shouldn’t scratch Lee.”
“Lene,” I murmured.
“You are Lee to me, accept it. But Feliks…”
He gave a guilty thump of his tail, “It was an accident.”
She accepted it with a nod. We never doubted each other here. Either we agreed or disagreed, but never argued over what was said. We were sensible and caring like that. People are different after all in this world, and within our new family, we were like a coloring book. Different backgrounds, different experiences, different opinions. You cannot simply control those factors, so the best you can do is accept, love, and tolerate them. That was just the thing we understood.
Feliks yawned from partial boredom. Fadiyah directed her gaze back to me.
“Why were you crying?”
I blinked in surprise, “What? How can you tell? My eyes don't redden, or puff out.”
She smirked, almost as if I caught her secret power, “Oh no. I can tell. You are right. You look normal. But,” She touched a spot on my right cheek, “your tears leave darkened patterns on your pale skin.”
I’d have to look in the mirror after this. She continued, “And they leave dry, stiff places on them. You can see it in the light.”
Feliks and I both looked up to the ceiling fan. Damn fan. I ran fingers over my cheeks, feeling the dry patches and followed down my face to my neck. She was right, as always. I had to lo
ve her for her honesty. Fadiyah smiled brighter then more compassionate.
“So what got you in tears?” She asked in a lower, softened voice. A sweet voice. She’d be a great mother. She already was that type of figure. Too bad she was younger than both of us, only older to Lilya.
Feliks answered her question for me.
“Nightmare. Eveningmare?” He looked at the clock. He explained everything to her. Fadiyah accepted it all.
“Sorry about your dream, Lee,” I just shook my head at her nickname.
I thanked her for her sympathy. Fadiyah smiled at that. She seemed to always seemed to be elated whenever I thanked or complimented her. Only when I did it. Others were normal to her. Of course, I was new to her. I’d have to say, she was a strange girl. Just strange enough to be perfect.
Her eyes suddenly widened. Her body turned to face me, her eyebrows perched high with worry and her eyes contained the embodiment of fear. It shocked me. The emotion was almost there in a flash. Whatever she remembered happened to be urgent or important. Did something go wrong?
“You-”
“I have to tell you guys something! I came here to tell you about it but completely forgot!” Her head swiveled between us siblings, “There have been paw prints appearing around the settlement. Some are claws, some are padded. All of them are not average tracks. They are uneven and dragged.”
Feliks pointed his muzzle forward, waving it quickly, “So you mean… Unless we have drunk wolves running around there’s…”
“Werebies!” I gasped. Our name for them caught on here.
“Like the cat you ran into when you arrived. There have always been a few here and there, like squirrels, cats,” she motioned with a wave as if to reference her previous statement, “but they always run off or die sooner or later. We never have had a problem with them. You killing that werebie must have attracted them.”