by Dan Yaeger
“Well, I haven’t introduced myself yet but this is my home; you are welcome to stay here if you want to live well and like a bit of company. I think it is fair to say I am a good person.” She nodded subconsciously and smiled. She was really unsure of whom I was and I felt she was taking an enormous gamble in doing what she was doing.
“I’m Jessie, Jessie Stadler.” I extended my hand. She took it and there was a little jolt between us; the touch was lovely. I had missed human contact terribly. “I am Jennifer Jensen, a survivor too.” She said proudly but gently, almost wearily. “But call me Jen,” she smiled, “all my friends do.” She was making the same efforts I was to break the ice. Like always, I had too much enthusiasm and almost bowled her over.
“You’re a survivor too? Where have you been staying? Is there news from the major cities- Sorry,” I was talking fast and over-excitedly at the interest and intrigue that another survivor posed. I took a breath and calmed the conversation back down and remembered my manners “Please; let’s sit down. I want to get to know you. We have so much to talk about and I could really use a cup of tea. Cuppa?” I smiled gently. She nodded. “It has been a rough but productive few days in my travels.” I continued. “You do look like you need some TLC,” she looked into my eyes with a look that had me captivated. I hadn’t seen a woman in a long time and this one was something else; she would have had me just as interested as before the Great Change. I couldn’t believe my luck.
We hadn’t let go of each-others hands since our introduction and we released suddenly when we realised it was an awkward pause. I gestured to my living room and the couch where the fire already burned. Jennifer obviously knew the place to relax already.
“I’ll give you a moment,” I said. “I have to get some powdered milk and supplies from the truck.” She looked at me strangely a moment as if something bothered her, then she said, “Milk… -Yes. Milk, would be nice.”
“In the meantime, you can get into some other clothes if you like.” I said and felt so awkward; nodding and placing my hands together, nervously. First date sort of stuff. “You don’t like what I’m wearing?” she said feigning dislike. “No, you look fine to me. Just wanting to make sure you are welcome and comfortable.” I went a little red and smiled, leaving her to her own devices for a moment. “I’m just messing with you,” she beamed, “my other clothes were septic, so I burnt them outside. I’ve been borrowing yours hoping you would come back and find me some more.” She winked at me. She was a nice lady thus far; a bit of sass and cheek and a warm personality that I could work with. “Yeah, tell me about it,” I shook my head. We knew each other’s world, obviously. “Timing is everything!” I said emphatically. “I found some things you might like,” I nodded to myself satisfactorily. “I’ll bring in some clothes with the milk.” I turned to front door again, paying no attention to the fact I was now unarmed.
I was a maximiser and loved the idea that all the clothes I had scavenged at the holiday park would have a great potential use. I found myself staring at her as I thought about those clothes, smiling at her like an amorous little boy. “I scavenged a huge amount of clothes, including a bunch of women’s clothes for myself-so I could-“ I said in a matter-of-fact kind of way. She started laughing at me and I stopped that sentence and blushed. It hit me; she teased that the women’s clothes were for me. We both laughed a little. She had a great sparkle in her eyes.
“Nothing gets past you does it?” I smiled and chuckled along. “What I MEANT to say was that the women’s clothes were going to be used for rags; cleaning things like rifles and machinery and so on. You can have your pick of the lot.” She was good company. “That would be great. I hope you have something in my size,” she stopped the kidding around and was back to being practical.
I felt comfortable and left her as I went to the truck and unloaded garbage bags of clothes and carried them to the doorstep. I left them there and returned with some of the food supplies for that much needed cup of tea. The truck was still almost full and I would unload it later; more important things to do. I hoped this would work out for all the right reasons.
I returned to the house with the last of the clothing and my go-bag, a box of powdered milk, some biscuits and my shower-bag. “Jen, I am going to get myself cleaned up. It has been a long day and I could use a shower and a change of clothes.“ She had paused a moment and was still fixated on the clothing. “Sure, no worries, ah…-Jesse!” She smiled and pointed at me, getting used to my name.
I went to the bathroom and had a cold shower. Looking in the mirror I saw myself staring back; a tough, mature man but with my hormones raging like a fresh-faced teenager. “You can do this Jesse, whatever this ends up being,” I smiled, checked my teeth. “Need a brush, I thought.” After a couple of minutes, I had minty fresh teeth courtesy of toothpaste and a toothbrush from the latest trip to Tantangara. This really was feeling like a first date. I emerged, smelling good and wearing some of the fine clothes Samsonov had provided.
I had returned to the open-plan living area and entered the kitchen to make the tea I had promised. I found the bags had all been opened and Jennifer was quickly working through them. She wasn’t a passenger and we seemed to have a good interplay with one another. Things weren’t too awkward, given the circumstances. “We are making a good team already,” I said, my inner monologue still not working, as I sat down. “Yes,” she said, her mind working fast and it seemed to be she was a milTiger miles away at that moment. Like me, I was sure she had been through more challenges than one person deserved in a lifetime and she was doing well in this set of circumstances. I went into the kitchen and made the tea while I formed my questions.
From the kitchen, I could look down on the living room. Jen had gathered a pile of jeans, tops and underwear. Strangely and without any fuss or warning, she dropped the robe to reveal she was naked underneath. What a figure, just beautiful, just captivating. I had not seen a woman, like that and in that way in a long time.
“Today was my lucky day.” I shook my head in disbelief I thought she knew I could see but wasn’t sure, so I asked about the tea, reminding her I was in the open-plan room. She quickly put on a pair of underwear and was doing up the bra when I said: “Jen - how do you have your tea?” I was apprehensive in case she reacted badly. She looked up at me, in my eyes, unashamed and said, “White with one, thanks.” A big smile was given; no issue. She was used to mucking in with others.
As I collected the cups, I watched her pull on a pair of jeans and a casual shirt. Then she put on some men’s outdoor sandals that fit her long, hardened but elegant foot, with just a few adjustments from the straps. I liked the way she just got on with things and seemed to be versatile. The simple clothes she had chosen looked comfortable but she shined, this woman would look fit and tidy in almost anything.
I had found a packet of biscuits that seemed to be alright despite their “best before” date being some time before that day. In the day and age I lived, it would be better than fine and was nicer than I had had or Jen had probably had in some time.
Jennifer was excited at how much of the clothing fit. It was like before, before the Great Change, when women would go shopping together and smile and talk and laugh. Men had become increasingly of the same ilk but it wasn’t my focus in life. She had her own monologue, talking to herself, and putting things up against her body to get a first impression before trying it on. There was a mirror in the living room that she used as though she was a teenager in her bedroom. I watched, captivated by this woman as she sorted through clothing. It had been too long since I had company and far too long since it was the company of a woman like that. Old, almost forgotten feelings welled up and I had to wait a minute or two before taking the tea down to her or it would have been obvious. I had to calm down a bit. It really was like old times. I almost laughed at myself out loud. I tidied up and thought of some boring things, cold days, former jobs, just to bring the heat down. I was at half-mast but couldn’t delay emerging or s
he would have thought it odd.
It was a funny scene. I brought down an ornate silver-service tray with proper teacups and a fine china dish of biscuits and my blackened billy to heat the water for the tea. “The Swagman and Gentry Tea Party,” I thought to myself. The tray was placed down carefully on the large timber coffee table, trying to make the best of impressions and then put the billy, full of alpine rainwater, onto the fire to heat up. We had a couple of minutes before the billy boiled so I enjoyed watching my new friend and tried not to look too much the voyeur.
It was a great night for me; nothing like it for so long. Jen was enjoying herself and so was I. In my nervousness, I over-checked the billy and tried to look somewhat busy rather than just watching her every curve and feature. Her pile of things to keep was substantial and I was glad. I had hoped she would feel at home and I hoped she would stay and this would become “our” home. It was all too soon to think like that but the world was a very different place to what it had been. A man could but dream. “Calm down, Jesse. It’s the first night and first hour,” I reminded myself.
I used a crocheted tea-towel to lift the billy’s handle from the fireplace and poured the steaming liquid into the tea-pot which contained a nice blend of loose-leaf tea. I placed the billy on the stone edge of the fireplace where its steam continued to flourish out. “Well that does it!” she said, almost jumping and slumping casually onto the couch. “I’m done,” she sighed happily. “How do I look?” she smiled and looked at me for a reaction; “Oh yeah…” and my face said it all as I nodded. She winked back and smiled excitedly. ”Is this for me?“ her eyes saw straight through me and gestured at the teacup. “Yes, that’s yours.” I smiled gently. She wasn’t without manners but was pretty laid back and grabbed the teacup, making an emphatic sip and sigh. She was fitting in just fine. She was a real person and I gazed at her as if she was an illusion or a mermaid.
“Oh, before I accept any more hospitality, I have something for you.” Jen smiled broadly and with a hotness that makes a man feel like one. She removed something from around her neck and put it around mine. As she came in, I could smell her, breathe her in and I wanted to put my hands on her waist and hips as she bent down. I was a little blinded by her comeliness but I did notice the leather throng this was on was the same type Skinny had been wearing. “This is something I found,” she touched my neck affectionately. “It’s just a little luck charm.” I looked down at this Gryphon; a mythical creature that is part Tiger and part eagle. She didn’t realise how appropriate it was. I was apparently all mythology but would prove powerful too; the Doc was hunting me down. What I didn’t realise was the gryphon was really an icon of her.
“Thanks beautiful,” I smiled with a genuine thanks. I did notice she still had a gold heart with encrusted gems on her chest. It was on a gold chain and looked expensive. I felt better knowing she hadn’t given me her only trinket. She got up and got back to her tea and biscuits.
Jen was clearly hungry and wolfed down a couple of biscuits before I spoke again. “So tell me,” I wanted to start gently but find out more about what had happened at the Alamo. “You shot that zombie back at Tantangara? Was it you standing there while I was KO’d?” I asked smiling. She looked a little reserved in her response “Yes, I had been following you and watching you for a few days. I was looking for another survivor,” she said. It was as intriguing a story as she was a woman.
“Thanks again,” I said, with a brief pause as I looked her in the eye for authenticity, “for saving me.” I nodded and looked at her with some conviction and emotion. She held the gaze and smiled back warmly. “You’re welcome,” was her genuine and warm reply.
“So why did you leave me there? I may not have survived? Would we have been better off together, working as a team?” I asked a hard question in a friendly enough way. “Perhaps,” she said, looking away as she sipped some more tea. “The other guy there at the Tantangara shops had attacked me a few days before,” she continued, now looking me in the eye. “A woman has to be very careful with who she approaches and who she trusts.” Jennifer stated, returning her gaze and smile to me. It was a little bit of a warning as much as a rationale.
“Anyhow, I didn’t want to see you die but wanted to know more before approaching.” She smiled and looked down at her teacup. “Besides, I didn’t know how many more zombies would come. I had to get out of there. You’re a survivor too right?” she looked me in the eye and I nodded, thinking back on the Samurai.
Jennifer was doing her best to make things clear for me. Her motivations seemed genuine. “I watched you go up to the farmhouse over the hill and I watched that battle with…them.” she looked a little grave. “You really did a number on them.” She widened her eyes and shook her head slowly. “You knew Maeve and her squad?” I asked sitting forward and a little excited. She looked shocked, almost embarrassed for a moment. “No, I didn’t.” She said. I felt it an odd answer and there was something there, recognition, but it was too early to pry more on this. “OK. So you saw me battle the neo-zombies, led by a woman called Maeve, who you don’t know. But in that battle, out of that battle you knew you could trust me? How does that work?” I was trying to make the connection that led her here and into my world. “Yes, well I let my shotgun off there and saved your arse again. Maeve, that man-woman, stopped to look and then you shot her. What are you getting at?” Her eyes narrowed and she looked uneasy and annoyed. “And Neo Zombies? What are they?” Jennifer was uncomfortable.
“Well, they are people who are somehow treating themselves, keeping the virus at bay.” I said frankly. “How do you know this?” she asked, looking alarmed. “I did an autopsy on one of Maeve’s people.” She looked further taken-aback. Her look turned into shock as I described the basic autopsy I had done and early conclusions and observations on the zombie phenomenon. “So people are really just suffering some sort of spinal infection? Who would have thought?” she said smiling, changing the subject. “Can I have another cup?” she looked at me expectantly. “As much as you want,” was the reply. I poured her a sultry cup of calm and conversation and added some powdered milk.
Jen sipped her tea and then looked into the fire, addressing something that had troubled her. “But Jesse; Neo-zombies? That’s not very nice. Aren’t they just survivors trying to survive? They may not have been nice people but aren’t they people?” Jennifer seemed affronted that I would call anyone who hadn’t turned a zombie a “neo-zombie”. It seemed strange to me that she would defend something that was such a big threat. She had seen as much.
“Did you ever meet any of these sorts of zombies?” I asked. “A loaded question,” she sipped her tea and reasoned with me in a very intelligent way.
“Zombies: yes. Human survivors, yes. Neo-zombies, no, because there aint such a thing,” she looked a little reproving at me and set me on her view of what was right. She was going to call infected people who had not turned “survivors”.
“So how do they get infected and not turn into slavering, shambling zombies?“ I asked assertively. She shook her head; “I don’t know”, came her reply, as her gaze focused on the fire.
There was another pause as we took in the entertainment of the fire and the warm, soothing tea. Both of us sat there, trying to relax together but with the occasional sigh.
Jen spoke again, almost whispering, telling me something she hadn’t told anyone else before. “I had been hiding out in Cooleman and saw a group. They just seemed like survivors who I could trade with and I didn’t spend too much time with them. They weren’t good to me Jesse, they are dangerous people” She looked down and I could sense emotion welling in her. “I know,” I said to her. “I’ve faced a few of them now.” We both nodded. “To hell with them and to us,” I took a high-ground and we toasted tea-cups, smiling a little awkwardly.
My gut told me something was not right but my heart didn’t want to know. Jen continued, looking down sadly and not making eye-contact with me. “Being alone as a woman, it’s saf
er not to let your guard down.” She was looking forlorn and miserable as she considered her journey to my home. So I changed the subject.
“I hope you were able to find some food in here.” The statement was really asking how she had gotten on in my absence. Her mood changed and she perked up again.
“Your garden is great! There were some apples and plums, some potatoes too. The cellar had so much meat, and wine! I hope you don’t mind? I’ve been eating like a queen!” She looked a little embarrassed. I smiled; “No, not at all. I’m glad you have been able to eat well for a change. That sort of food is hard to come by, speaking from experience.” I said. “Tell me about it…” she said. There was an awkward moment, but just a moment before things went famously.
The next half hour was a chat about food, glorious food and sweet indulgences. It seemed as though Jen was reasonably good at scavenging and eating off the land. Her tales of making something out of nothing were amazing. While this was the case, I was surprised just how good a condition she was in. I figured the last couple of days of eating at my place had helped.
Evidently not fussy about food, Jen told me she liked almost all cuisines. She said she really had to, working in Cafés, restaurants and in the hotel, in various places around the world.
Jen said that she especially liked Italian food, as did I, and particularly liked homemade pizzas and pastas. “I have fresh herbs growing and hope to have a harvest of tomatoes, zucchinis and garlic,” I said. “The dream is that the olive grove will provide olives to make oil and preserved olives one day. I’m just learning but hope you can enjoy the harvest with me.” I said. That made her smile, almost blush and she returned the enthusiasm with the comment: “I would KILL for good seafood pasta.” “Consider it a date!” I said. That was a mission for me; a romantic dinner with a pasta that featured trout and olive oil