Glitch

by Brenda Pandos

  “I’ll be quick!” I yelled, before unzipping my pants and ripping them off. My inner thighs were screaming obscenities in the tune of tiny swollen blisters. What the heck?

  I brushed my fingers over the puffy skin, wincing at the conflicting need to scratch and be careful at the same time, as pain and relief flooded me. Bottles with faded labels, crossed out and rewritten over in pen, were piled at the bottom of my pack: White willow bark, ginger, peppermint, licorice root, and coconut oil.

  Oh, great wall of Brighton.

  I kept searching, hoping for anti-itch cream, for something useful, finding nothing. With a moan, I opened each bottle instead. Twigs and dried leaves fell out of most of them. In a frantic mad rush, I accidentally opened the coconut oil too quickly and spilled it everywhere. I rescued what I could and put the oil on my inner thigh. With a sigh, I rubbed it in. Reprieve.

  “Abby?” Memphis called. His voice was closer. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I took a quick look over my shoulder. He remained close to the wagon, which was good, but I knew he wouldn’t for long if I didn’t hurry up.

  I gave my jeans the evil eye. There was something wrong with them, some chemical laced inside, something that was tearing my skin to shreds. Had Lana done this on purpose? I couldn’t possibly put them back on. Not to mention the waistband had been cutting off my circulation.

  “Um, Memphis?” I stood up, holding my pack to cover my underwear. “I need you to look away.”

  His eyes bugged as he scanned my bare legs, then turned his head away. “Abby?”

  “Please. I… I’ve had an accident and I need the blanket to cover up with.” Riding into camp with a blanket around my waist wouldn’t look good. Maybe we could stop by an abandoned clothing store on our way. Or I could wear the jeans just for the blindfolded ride into camp. Oh, dear God, no.

  “What kind of accident…?” he moved forward, keeping his eyes low. Then he glanced upward and his cheeks matched the color of my inner thighs.

  “Oh, no… it’s not that.” I shook my head. Good lord. I didn’t want to talk about my period, of all things. “Something is wrong with my jeans. I have this rash…”

  He quirked his head. “Rash?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “They must be chafing me.”

  He took a few steps forward. “Let me see.”

  I took one step backward. “No,” I cried, frantic.

  “Abby, this isn’t funny,” he said, “just let me see.”

  “No!”

  He continued walking, and I continued moving backward, horrified.

  “Don’t come any closer.”

  “Or you’ll what?” He stopped, towering over me.

  “Scream?” I cringed at the tone in my voice. I didn’t want to sound so unsure of myself, but he couldn’t see me in my underwear.

  “Screaming will just attract animals,” he said, his brows pushed downward. “Where’s the rash?”

  I gulped and pinched my eyes shut. “On my inner thighs.”

  “Does it itch?”

  “Yes.” My voice quivered. The need to scratch was building to epic levels again. “Tremendously.”

  I opened my eyes in time to see his shoulders slump. He scanned the ground, walking in a tight circle. Not more herbs. “I need cream, disinfectant, a shower. Something!” I wanted to yell, but remained quiet while he searched.

  He stopped before the pretty leaves tinged in red. “Did you happen to brush up against anything that looked like this?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  With a sigh, he took off his straw hat and wiped his brow. “You sat in poison oak, Abby.”

  “I what?”

  “It’s a terrible nasty plant that gives you red welts and itches like crazy.”

  I stared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Well, without looking, it’s the only thing that makes sense since the rash appeared after you peed in the bushes.” He held out his arm, motioning for me to move forward. “I promise not to look. We need to rinse off the poison. Now.”

  I walked behind him and kept my legs bowed so they didn’t touch. The stupid tears trickled down my cheeks without permission. Once at the wagon, he wrapped me in the blanket, pretending not to notice my mild breakdown.

  I’d been kidnapped, injured, lied to, lost my family, lost my best friend, unwelcomed, in borrowed clothing that didn’t fit, no DOD, and now rashy from a poisonous plant. This day couldn’t have been any worse.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “I’m sorry, Abby,” Memphis said from the bank of the river. “It’ll go away, eventually.”

  “Eventually?” I sat in the middle of the river, my back to him, with my head planted in my good hand. Snot dripped from my nose and I whisked it away with my sleeve. “I can’t do this.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  “Exactly!” I yelled over my shoulder. “A warning might have been nice.”

  He groaned and mumbled something I couldn’t decipher.

  “I want to go home!” I yelled.

  “You can’t. I promised Kaden—”

  “Kaden? We don’t even know where he is.” He was the one to blame for all of this—him and his stupid visions.

  “You had one, too,” my inner voice said. I pinched my eyes shut, cursing for her to shut up. Just shut up!

  “He’s probably at camp. Once we get settled—”

  I shook my head. “It’s always something, isn’t it? There’s always an excuse.”

  “No, Abby.” The frustration in his voice was touching, considering my spoiled city girl tirade. “Just keep washing your legs. I’ll be back.”

  I hadn’t thought much of the square lump wrapped in parchment when it was in my pack. Homemade soap. Add a little water and poof, suds. That and the cool water soothed the area. I dreaded returning to the wagon, though. And the heat. And then the prying eyes once we arrived at camp.

  “Where are you going?” When I turned, he was gone from sight. “Memphis?”

  He’d promised I could borrow his extra long flannel shirt and the blanket, of course. At least I’d remain covered. And Lana had packed extra undies, though I wasn’t about to take off the wet ones I wore anytime soon without some privacy.

  This nightmare kept getting worse.

  Memphis returned with a triumphant smile on his face. “I found something that’ll help.”

  I watched curiously from the stream as he started a fire and filled a pot with stream water.

  “What are you doing?” I slowly turned toward him, my bound arm resting on top of my head so it wouldn’t get wet.

  “Boiling acorns.”

  Acorns? I shook my head. I needed a doctor and medicine. At least in Brighton, we had pharmaceuticals.

  After cooling the water from the stream, Memphis flashed the bottle containing the newly made “acorn water” he called it. “It helps, trust me. Come out.”

  I shook my head, though I’d started to shiver and the fingers on my good hand were wrinkled like prunes. The thought of leaving the relief of the cool water terrified me.

  He held out his hands. “I won’t look, I promise.” He pointed to where he’d draped the blanket over the edge of the wagon. “I’ve made you a changing room. Come on. We need to get to camp before nightfall.”

  At this point, I didn’t really care anymore if he saw me in my underwear, but a changing room? That was considerate.

  Once his back faced me, I took my exit. My numb legs shook as I traversed the slippery rocks. On the bank, he’d laid out a towel he’d found in the wagon—more like a hand towel, but I’d take it.

  I darted behind the makeshift privacy screen and found my pack with his flannel folded on top and a fresh T-shirt. Another sweet gesture. I wiggled out of the wet underwear and put on dry ones, and wrapped the shirt around my waist and buttoned the buttons before putting on a new shirt.

  I came out from around the blanket barefoot and stood. “So?”

  He cracked a smile. “I�
��ll have to say, you look quite nice in my shirt.”

  I pulled the knot tighter to keep my hands from fidgeting. Man, was he growing on me. But the acorn water? Holy mother of seeds, it worked amazing. “Will you put on my shoes?”

  He nodded and obliged. Then he helped me onto the seat of the wagon. In a flash, he put everything in the back and got us on the road. I added more acorn water to the compress between my legs, catching him taking a peek every so often. At this point, I didn’t mind. Somehow through the whole ordeal I felt more comfortable around him.

  “We have other remedies at camp,” Memphis added as he shifted on the squeaky seat.

  “Thanks,” I said softly. He’d saved the day.

  “It was nothing.” His dimples pressed into his cheeks as he tried to hide his smile.

  I was moved, by everything. His kindness, the way he could diffuse me, his patience, his sense of humor. Without thinking, I folded my hand into his. He gripped my fingers and I marveled at how natural everything felt with him. Then I briefly wondered what his lips would feel like on mine, and bit my lip. My throat had other ideas and involuntarily began making odd growling noises.

  Crap.

  “I take it people run into poisonous plants often,” I said, trying to distract myself from my nerves, from the interrupting fantasies of planting one on his lips.

  “Not too often, but yeah. Poison oak isn’t anything to mess with.”

  I was so thankful for the acorn water. Anymore itching and I would have gone insane.

  “When we get home,” he said, “Mom can make you something that might last longer and heal the skin.”

  “Home?”

  “Uh…” Memphis stiffened momentarily. “Camp, I mean.”

  I caught the slip. His use of “home” meant this place was more than just an outpost. Main camp maybe? Butterflies tickled inside. A shower? A soft bed? Oh, please.

  “Do you still want to blindfold me?”

  He squeezed my hand and peered at me from the side. “Only if you want me to.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Memphis.”

  He laughed. “I think you’ve been traumatized enough for one day.”

  I rolled my eyes again. Now that was an understatement.

  ~~|~~

  After dozing in and out against Memphis’ shoulder for the rest of the trip, the wagon finally stopped.

  I opened my eyes, expecting tents and campfires. A lone tree stood in the middle of a field.

  “Why are we stopping?” I yawned and stretched.

  “It’s getting late. We have to make camp for the night.”

  My jaw fell slack. “Here?”

  He casually slid off the seat like this was no big deal. “Yeah, where else? I need your help with the tent.”

  I didn’t move. Yes, he’d said there weren’t any zombies, but honestly, I didn’t trust that to be true. “Outside?”

  Memphis chuckled. “I tried calling ahead, but the Ritz was booked.”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “The Ritz? Haven’t you heard of that fancy pre-Attack hotel?”

  “What’s a hotel?”

  Memphis’ lips curled into a smirky knowing smile and I fiddled with the buttons on my makeshift skirt. How was I supposed to know about this hotel thing?

  “It’s a building filled with bedrooms you can rent for the night.” He reached up his hand to help me down, but I refused to move from my seat. “I’ll have to show you someday.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” I corrected. “We just don’t have the need for a hotel when we have homes already.”

  “I’d never call you an idiot, Sugar. It’s for when you stay away from home, like when you’re on vacation.” He reached for me. “Are you coming down?”

  Rule 18.1 almost poured from my lips. Time off is to be spent with family in recreation or volunteer work on a community project. It’s honorable to share your talents.

  Withholding my laziness lecture, I took his hand. “Yes, maybe you can show me the Ritz someday.”

  “It’s run down now, but you’ll get the idea. I’m sure it was pretty in its day.”

  He heightened my curiosity. How could a building be pretty? Ours were grey functional boxes with windows for the most part. “I’ve never had a need for a vacation.”

  Memphis laughed. “Well, Sugar, welcome to your first vacation.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?” Vacations were for the lazy.

  “Well, we’re both away from home in the outdoors, enjoying the scenery, and no one is nagging us to do any work.” He unrolled a yellow and blue tarp across the ground. “I’d say that’s pretty close to a vacation.”

  Our definitions of vacations apparently had differing meanings.

  “My grandparents said that people did this all the time before The Attack,” he added.

  “They slept outside…” with the filth and germs?

  “I prefer sleeping outside, actually.”

  I inhaled slowly, trying to control my urge to groan. A fleeting wish for a hot bath swam through my brain.

  “You’ll get used to it,” he continued. “We’re on the move a lot, so, it’s easier that way.”

  Easier, maybe, but most definitely gross. “How do you shower?”

  Memphis laughed. “I haven’t had a shower in…” He looked upward, mouthing something. “A month? It’s overrated. I should have jumped in the stream with you.” He smelled his armpit. I couldn’t contain my groan.

  He cracked a smile. “What? I smell good.”

  Memphis slid the poles into circular rings attached to the tarp and then propped them up at the corners. A small hut magically popped up before my eyes. He moved to the front of the tent and bowed at the waist; a triumphant smile lit his face. “Your Ritz, madam.”

  I laughed as he pulled aside the tarp door. I leaned forward and gaped at the small but functional room. This was way too cozy for one person, let alone two. Then the thought of where Memphis would sleep gripped me.

  “Don’t worry,” he said into my ear. “I’ll sleep outside to keep you safe from zombies.”

  I startled, stiffening my back, and bumped my head into the roofline. He winked at me just before I slugged him in the arm.

  ~~|~~

  After dusk fell, we finished off the crackers and jerky. Memphis also brewed soup by heating water and simmering dehydrated veggies, beans, and spices in a pot over the fire.

  “Won’t they see?” I asked while looking upward and warming my hands.

  “Maybe.” He leaned back and crossed his ankles. “If they do, it’ll be adios for me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Memphis gave me a heart wrenching look. “I’m not one to get all political, but if the EA does find us, I’ll be—” he dragged his finger across his throat.

  I laughed at his joke.

  “No, Abby, I’m serious. I’m proof people can survive without government interference and the EA wouldn’t tolerate that.”

  “What are you suggesting? That they’ll kill you? I don’t think so.”

  “Well…” He looked away. “Not before they tortured me to find out about my family and friends. This is the whole reason behind why I’m supposed to blindfold you. It’s for your safety just as much as ours.”

  I rolled my eyes. Lana and Peter’s insecurity was what kept me in the dark. It was needless and useless. “That’s a little drastic, don’t you think?”

  “My parents barely escaped without detection. The penalty if they’re ever found is death.”

  Rule 30.1: Penalty for leaving the walls of Brighton without permission is six weeks time in quarantine.

  “They’d quarantine them, actually,” I corrected.

  Memphis closed his eyes. “Either way, I’m not going to take my chances.” He let out a sigh. “Just tell me now. Are you serious about coming to our colony? Or should I just take Cactus and haul ass at the first sound of choppers?”

  The thought of him riding Cactus like
a bat out of hell made me chuckle. “Well, if you think you’re going to throw me over the back of the saddle and gallop out of here, maybe I should take my chances with the EA. I’ll claim Sasquatch kidnapped me, which is true.”

  His face remained serious. “You’d rather I leave you here?”

  I sighed, confused and conflicted. Maybe if I returned, I could find out the EA’s reasons for deceiving its people. No. I shook my head. The EA was eliminating blue eyes on purpose and my involvement with time travel was part of that, but Memphis didn’t need to know that. “Let’s hope we don’t need to make that decision.”

  His face fell. “I can’t believe you’d rather go back.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Out here you’re free, Abby. Don’t you see that?”

  Hiding from the EA didn’t fit my definition of free.

  I shrugged. “Brighton itself is actually a decent place to live.”

  “Really?”

  “We take care of one another and work together to better our society, besides we’re very efficient and waste nothing. Everything runs on solar energy. We’re all tested to see what jobs we’d excel at. Some work for the EA, otherwise you could be a butcher, a farmer, a steel worker, a miner… you know, communal jobs to better society.”

  “So you’re paid?”

  “Not really. You work and you receive what you need in return, and it’s based on how many people you have to support.”

  I didn’t want to tell him the EA government workers had newer homes, personal cars and the latest technology gadgets. He wouldn’t understand our mentality of sharing, personal responsibility, and contributing to the community; a complete opposite of what the selfish earth destroyers pre-Attack did.

  Rule 5.1: Waste not. Want not.

  The thought of life back home made my stomach ache. What were they doing right now? Had they given up on finding me?

  “Sounds pretty perfect.” Memphis shrugged. “Too perfect to leave.”

  I looked down, caught. “It’s not perfect, but it’s better than how people lived before The Attack.”