The Survivor Journals Omnibus

by Sean Patrick Little

  “You say that now. See if you can continue to say it as it becomes a daily food source.”

  “I want more peaches.” Ren blew the dust from some cans of beans. “We should find an orchard.”

  “We should.” I was not about to disagree with her on that.

  “We should also find a place to live near an orchard. Walking distance. And then we should plant our own peach trees.”

  “Probably a smart plan.” I carried some boxes of plastic-sealed Wet-wipes to the RV. Even if they were dry, they could be revived with a little water. Wet-wipes were always good to have around.

  “Twist, what time of year do you think it is? September?”

  I shrugged. “Probably early-to-mid September, sure.” I glanced over my shoulder at Ren. “Why?”

  “I’m getting tired of being on the road.”

  I was, too. “We’re in the South. We could stop anytime. I had planned on going to Madisonville, Louisiana, but I guess it doesn’t matter too much where we stop. Where do you want to go?”

  Ren raised her eyebrows. A mischievous smile lit on her lips. “I got a place to go. Not to settle, mind you. But, I’ve got a place to go.”

  The place ended up being Panama City Beach, Florida. As we cruised into town, Ren at the wheel, she said, “I came here on Spring Break during my sophomore year. Busted my ass working two jobs for most of the year to save up for it. It was a lot of fun, but afterward I wished I’d just kept the money and stayed home.”

  I’d only ever seen Spring Break beach parties on MTV. “Was it everything television said it would be?”

  “Worse. Much, much worse. Everybody was bombed out of their gourds for a solid week. Vomit everywhere. Used condoms on the streets. Drunkards pissing in alleys. It was just gross. So much drama, too! I went down with a couple of girlfriends, and by the end of the week we were barely speaking to each other.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “It had its moments,” said Ren. She guided the RV carefully through town while I rode shotgun. The town was battered. In the past year, at least one, but more likely multiple hurricanes had rolled through the area, maybe not direct hits, but damage had been done. Windows smashed, trees downed, and debris scattered everywhere.

  “Looks like someone fought a war here.” Ren gave a low whistle.

  “It did. Mother Nature’s side won.”

  The roads were choked with debris and damage. We had to park the RV in the shade of a tall building, and then hike to the shore. The clean sea breeze coming off the ocean helped to chase the musty mold smells coming from the windows of the apartments and office buildings and homes in the vicinity. It chased away the lingering sewage and death smell, too. Stray dogs scampered around the city, most had returned to at least a semi-feral state where they wouldn’t approach us, but they respected us enough to stay away from us.

  The Gulf of Mexico loomed at the end of the street. At first, it looked like nothing. The sun reflected hard from its surface and made the water look like it was full of floating gemstones. The closer we got, the more the blue-green colors surfaced in the distance. Up close, the water was spectacular, a hazy crystal blue and so clear! Being from Wisconsin, I was used to the dark, black-blue colored water of the lakes. This water was worthy of romance novel descriptions. The size of it was impressive. Gentle waves were coasting in from the gulf in two-foot swells, breaking into foamy whitecaps near the shore. The beach was clean and empty. Everything that usually pollutes beaches (specifically, other people) was absent. If there had been lifeguard stands, they were gone, stripped clean by storms. If there had been tacky beach furniture, it was also gone, blown to god-knows-where. Once we cleared the final edge of buildings, there was nothing but the water, the sand, and the sea air, a heady mixture of salt and clean breezes from far off the shore. It filled my senses, and I let it.

  We walked to the beach, stopping at the edge to peel off shoes and socks. The sand was hot, almost too hot. I curled it in my toes and raked the top layer off to find the cooler, damp sand beneath. The texture of the sand was incredible, light and powdery. It was not the coarse sand I knew from the beaches on Lake Michigan or Lake Mendota back in Wisconsin. This stuff was sand from a fairy tale. If Ren had told me that she was done traveling, and she wanted to stay on that beach, I would have agreed wholeheartedly.

  “We should have brought chairs,” I said. “Or a blanket. The sand is too hot to sit on.”

  “We should have brought towels,” said Ren. She strode toward the water. At the tidal edge, she set down her backpack and her gun belt. I watched as she slipped out of her t-shirt and shorts, and then peeled her sports bra over her head. She ran to the water in only a pair of black cotton shorts, splashing for the first few steps and then diving into the first wave that rose to meet her. She disappeared under water for several seconds, but then popped up shaking her head, water spraying everywhere. She called to me. “You coming or what?”

  I followed her lead. I tossed my shirt, guns, and ruck at the spot where she ditched her gear. I emptied the pockets of my cargo shorts, tossing the odds and ends onto my shirt. Then, I ran to the water, splashing into the surf and letting the incoming swells swallow me. I closed my eyes and listened to the rush and surge of the waves crashing over me. It was a new sound, and I reveled in the freshness of it. I tasted the saltwater on my tongue and felt light and clean.

  When I surfaced, Ren was standing waist-deep ten yards to my right. She was laughing and turning her back to the waves, letting them crash over her. I sputtered and tried not to stare at her breasts. Believe me, though, I wanted to.

  Hers were not the first breasts I’d ever seen. I’d seen Emily’s, of course. Em and I never had sex, but we weren’t exactly prudes, either. I’d seen my fair share of illicit websites, National Geographic magazines, and Health class textbooks, which obviously aren’t the same thing, but all had breasts. I had seen random flashes of breasts when I was near the UW campus during Freakfest. I was no stranger to female bodies, but it had also been a year and a half and change since I’d last seen boobs, and I was still an eighteen year old, red-blooded, American male. I couldn’t not look, but I also tried hard not to look. I think I made it too obvious. I’m sure I made it creepy and awkward, like I tend to make every social situation. I was scanning the sky with Ren standing right in front of me.

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s okay, fool. You can look. We’ve come this far together; I think I can trust you with getting an eyeful of the ladies.” I knew I was blushing furiously, but I looked anyhow. Ren continued, “I mean, we’re probably going to have to get used to each other, y’know. We’re not Amish. This is the South. It’s going to be hot.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Besides, it’s not like it’s a big deal, right? Especially since…” She trailed off and shrugged a shoulder at me in a manner that suggested I was supposed to know what she meant.”

  “Since what?”

  “Since you’re…you know.” One side of her mouth smiled. She made a shrugging motion.

  “Since I’m what?”

  Her eyebrows knitted together. “You know.”

  “I know what?”

  She looked exasperated. “Since you’re…gay.”

  “Say what now?”

  Ren’s eyes went wide. There was the most painful and awkward silence between us. Then Ren clamped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, jeez. I’m sorry. Were you not Out yet? I don’t know what you’re waiting for, in that case. It’s okay. Most, if not all, of the anti-LBGT people are dead. Be who you want to be, be who you are. It’s okay. I don’t care.”

  “But, I’m not gay.” I meant to say it in a normal tone, but I think it came out slightly panicked and whiny.

  Ren’s mouth fell open. “What?”

  “I’m not gay. At all. Why would you think I was? I mean, I’ve told you stories about my girlfriend, Emily.”

  “I know, but I…” She cringed. “I thought she was like a beard or somet
hing. I thought that she was one of those fabled ‘high school girlfriends’ a guy used to keep the bullies at bay until he graduated and could come out in college.”

  “I’m not gay!” I sounded too defensive, but I did not care at that point. “Never have been. I mean, it’s not as if I’d be ashamed to admit it if I was, but I’m not. One hundred percent not gay. Totally into the ladies over here.”

  “Oh…geez.” Ren half-covered her breasts for a moment, and then dropped her hands. “I just…thought--”

  “What did you think?”

  “Well, you’re really well read for a Midwestern guy.”

  What kind of regional racism was that? What did that even mean? It made me angry. “We do read in Wisconsin, you know.”

  “I don’t mean it like that. Just—you’re kind and thoughtful. You haven’t tried to make a pass at me the whole time we’ve been together. I mean, I slept in your bed and you didn’t even try to cop a feel or something. You didn’t even put a hand on my hip. I’m used to guys who…” She bit her lip. “I just…assumed…” She cringed again. “Twist, I am really sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have assumed. I…didn’t mean anything by it.”

  I was hurt, really. But, I buried my feelings and waved off her apology. “It’s okay. I’m not, though. Totally, one hundred-percent not gay.”

  “Oh.” Ren’s mouth twisted into a half-smile. “I guess I feel slightly more self-conscious now about being topless.”

  “What’s done is done. I’m not going to complain.” I tried to smile, but as I’ve said before, I don’t smile well and I’m sure it came across like some sort of creeper pervert.

  There was a long pause. Ren sank deeper into the water so it rose to her neck. The clarity of the water did not do a good job of hiding her. She licked her lips and looked at me. “Twist?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t want to have sex with you.”

  My eyebrows arched. “What? Where did that come from? Who even brought that up?”

  Ren crossed her arms over her chest. She gave me an awkward smile through gritted teeth. “Let’s not talk about it now. Let’s just have fun.”

  I was confused and a little perturbed. I’m sure it showed on my face. “Oh-kay.” I fell backward into an approaching wave, but it wasn’t fun anymore. I felt like she just dropped a bomb on me, like there was suddenly a massive wall between us. I stayed underwater for probably too long. I didn’t know what to say to her. My own emotions were in flux. When I finally surfaced, she was next to me.

  “Oh, I was worried. You were underwater for a long time.”

  I didn’t know what to say in the silence between us, so I just sort of half-nodded and half-shrugged. I coughed up some seawater.

  “I’m sorry,” Ren apologized again. “I just…I’m confused now. I was thinking you were gay almost from that first night we met. I guess I got used to that idea. At the time, it was easy. It made everything simple. We could just be friends. And now, if you’re not—and, I mean, we’ve got this whole Adam and Eve thing going…”

  “It’s okay,” I insisted. I was going to say something else, but what else was there to say? After the Flu, I suppose I never expected sex or romance to be an issue. I hadn’t really had any desire to have sex since the Flu first started. I had too much else to worry about without sex complicating life. I certainly didn’t expect her to just fall in love with me if she didn’t want to, but now I was just confused. So, I just repeated, “It’s okay. Really. No problems.” I tried to smile, but I’m sure I didn’t sell it well. Awkward. Creepy. Maybe a little heartbroken. No, a lot heartbroken.

  “No. I owe you an explanation. That sounded horrible when I said it, and I need you to know where I’m coming from.” Ren started wading back to shore. I followed because I didn’t know what else to do.

  Ren started to dress, pulling her clothes onto her wet body. “It has nothing to do with you, or who you are, or anything like that.”

  “It’s fine.” I kept saying. “You don’t owe me any explanation. We’re both free and independent people. You can hold your views. I can hold mine. We can still be friends and rely on each other. We don’t have to do anything else--”

  “Twist—” She grabbed my arm. She locked eyes with me. There was a dark intensity to them. She gestured at the bay, at the empty buildings, at the deserted streets. “Look around us. I got you, and you got me. That’s it. There’s no one else. If I got pregnant or something, I’d have to deliver that baby in a crumbling world with little to no medicine. You know what the mortality rate was for women giving birth in the olden days? It was like thirty-three percent. That means I’d have a one-outta-three chance to die during or after delivery. Plus, there’s the whole emotional thing that sex brings. What if it changes who we are and what we have between us? We cannot afford to alienate each other. It’s better to stay the way we are than risk everything.” Ren cut off her rant and sighed. She lunged forward and latched her arms around my waist. She pressed her head into my chest, clutching me to her as hard as she could. I felt the world melt around me. I looped my arms around her. We stood in the sand, dripping wet, and just held each other. Few things in my life have ever felt so good. Ren’s voice muffled against my chest. “I just can’t take any chances on losing you, Twist. You’re all I have.”

  The rest of the afternoon was very awkward. On the one hand, I felt like we had broken through an important door between us; we had opened up and shared. Cards were on the table, now. We had addressed the elephant in the room. On the other hand, I realized that our relationship had been previously based on the stance that she thought I had been gay. Gay Me was apparently a very different person to her than Not Gay Me. The revelation of my heterosexuality forced a very distinct wedge into our tiny, confined world, and that only served to magnify the unspoken fallout from abandoning King Francis back in Atlanta. Everything between us felt weird and wrong now. It was uncomfortable. It needled at me.

  In silence, I drove the RV out of Panama City Beach and headed west. Ren sat in the passenger seat cuddling Fester in her arms like he was an infant. She idly stroked his chest and belly. His big, stupid head lolled over the crook her arm and he squeezed his eyes in pleasure. Neither of us said anything. It felt like the first day we started riding together, both of us trying to feel each other out, trying to gauge how we would behave, how we would react. The only difference was that Ren was not looking at me, was not trying to find things along the road to point out to force us into conversation.

  The empty wasteland was painful when I was alone. I thought it would be better with someone else, but now I wasn’t sure anymore. It was going to make for an awkward fifty or sixty years if we both lived a long time and never got over this. I pictured us in rocking chairs on the porch of an old farmhouse, still walking on proverbial eggshells and talking around the fact that I only saw her almost naked once because she thought I was gay.

  We camped in the parking lot of a gas station in Pensacola. I let Ren set up camp while I worked on filling the tank. I noticed the gas didn’t look right. I couldn’t tell what was wrong with it, though. It just wasn’t right. I hoped my filters would continue to work. We were so close to finding a home. We were so close to being done. I just needed the van to hold out another couple of days. Then, it could lock up and become a lawn sculpture. I’d convert it to my writing shed or a man cave on rusting rims. We would figure out a new life after that.

  Ren was reading a travel guide about Louisiana that she’d plucked from the convenience store. “Madisonville is right next to Lake Pontchartrain, right?”

  “Yeah. I figured it would be a good place to be. Big supply of fresh water.”

  Ren held up a finger. “Wrong, dude. Lake Pontchartrain is brackish. It has an inlet to the ocean.”

  “I thought brackish meant unpleasant. I was going to make a purification system.”

  “It also means a mixture of fresh and salt water.”

  My face flamed in embarrassment. “Ooh. Th
at means—”

  “That means we ain’t drinking that water.” Ren consulted a map. “How about Houston?”

  “What about it?”

  “Lake Houston is just northeast of Houston. It will have land for hunting and farming around it. There is plenty of fresh water, plus we’d still be able to scavenge the city of Houston if we needed stuff. It’s not too far beyond Louisiana. Maybe an extra day or two of travel.”

  It was a good plan, as far as I could tell. “I guess that’s what we’ll do, then.” I had never considered living in Texas, but I guess there could be worse places.

  “Tomorrow, we’ll head to Texas.” Ren closed her map and went back into the RV to throw it onto the passenger chair.

  “Deal.”

  Ren put her bare feet on the dash. “You think we’ll be able to find a nice house there?”

  “Sure. Plenty of them, probably.” That was true enough. I refrained from telling her that most of them might take a little elbow grease to get them up to par, but that was nothing we couldn’t handle.

  “What about a house with a fireplace? It’s Texas. Might not be too many of them.”

  I thought for a second. “We can build an outdoor wood-fire oven. I’ve seen kits for them at Home Depot. They’re made of concrete. They’ll last a long time. We’ll adapt. We’ll improvise. We’ll overcome. We can figure it out as we go.” I settled into my chair next to Ren. She handed me a plate with steaming canned corned beef hash and a plastic fork. I ate without tasting the food.

  We didn’t speak. An hour passed. The awkwardness between us was sickeningly uncomfortable, like a hair shirt or thumbscrews. It was like we were on a bad blind date that we couldn’t leave. Fester stalked his way out of the RV to nestle himself in Ren’s lap. He might have been my cat to start with, but it was clear that while he enjoyed my company, he preferred Ren. At that moment, that bothered me more than anything else. I got antsy. I wanted to say something, but I had nothing to say. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to repair the gap between us. The jittery feeling in my gut worked its way to my legs. My feet started to itch. I had to move. I stood. It was an abrupt motion. It startled Ren and Fester. I scratched at what felt like bugs crawling on my scalp. I had to get away from there for a while. “I’m going for a walk. See what I can see. You be okay here alone?”