by Joe McKinney
I kick him under the blankets. He yelps and moves his legs. My feet are freezing, even in the summer. Adrian always let me tuck my icy feet under his thighs. He would clench his teeth and smile while I sighed with contentment.
“I think the nightmares are gone. At least for the time being.” I can’t say why that’s the case, but I’m pretty sure it is. I’m starting to feel like me again.
I throw back the covers and grab clothes. When I open my top drawer, I see the glint of silver and pick up the ring. It’s warm in my palm. I place it on the bathroom sink, and when I’m dressed I slip it in my pocket. That’s where it belongs since it makes me happy. No matter what happens. I pat it gently and head out to make breakfast.
***
The cutthroat game of Monopoly has ended, and we all sit around, listening to the rain pelt down on the metal roof when there’s a crash in the kitchen.
Penny stands among the remnants of a bowl. “Shoot. Sorry, Cass.”
I keep telling her that this is her house, too, but I know she feels bad about breaking something of my parents’.
“Please, Pen, it’s fine. Hey, remember when I broke your mom’s vase?”
We were twelve and I’d been showing Penny some goofy dance move I’d made up. Penny grins, remembering how when Maria came home she wasn’t angry. She put on music, asked me to show her the move, then proceeded to do it around the house while we laughed our asses off.
If only she were here or we knew she were safe. My fear is reflected in Penny’s eyes before she turns her gaze back toward the smashed crockery. When she looks up, her smile is back.
“This is such a movie day,” she sighs. “Most of the time I don’t miss TV, but on a day like today…”
“A movie,” Bits says. She looks like someone’s just offered her a trip to the moon. “I wish we could watch a movie.”
John laughs. “Well, ladies, had I known how desperate the situation had gotten, I would’ve said something sooner. Why don’t we watch a movie at my place while we run the genny?”
We allow ourselves almost no excess electricity. The generator stays at John’s and runs the freezers for a few hours a day to keep things frozen. It powers the radio and washing machine, charges batteries and tools. Gasoline is a very finite resource, and we want enough to last us through the winter.
“Yes!” Bits shouts, and throws her arms around John’s neck.
She’s become so demonstrative in recent weeks. I’ve been the recipient of at least a thousand butterfly kisses. And while her nightmares haven’t disappeared, they don’t come as often. She trusts us so completely it terrifies me we’ll fail her somehow.
“Well, we definitely shouldn’t make any popcorn,” I tease.
She grins. “Caa-ssie! Yes, we should! And my Barbies and your dog have to come, too.” She races down the hall to retrieve the toys she’s started playing with again.
“Wow,” Nelly says. “That kid really needs a movie, huh?”
When The Princess Bride ends, we all sigh. Spending time in another world really was like taking a trip to the moon. I could watch movies for a week straight.
“Well, it’s about time for the seven o’clock broadcast,” John says.
We eat the remaining popcorn while we wait. I steel myself for Adrian’s voice, even though I know it’s unlikely, but it’s just Matt, running down the list of Safe Zones, and one’s missing.
“The Safe Zone outside of Allentown, Pennsylvania has been compromised,” he reports. “The survivors described a pod of Lexers several hundred strong. Their exact losses are unknown but very high. Some survivors are reported to be in the Safe Zone in Starlight, Pennsylvania.”
He reminds us that pods of this size could mean a change in the habits of the infected. The report ends a minute later. I guess even Matt, who seems to have taken a real shine to being a radio personality, doesn’t have the energy to be cheerful.
“Okay,” John says. His mouth turns down. “We need to start working on fortifications tomorrow.”
I try to imagine the group of Lexers we ran into at the Radio Shack times nine.
“We could never fight off that many, either,” I say.
“Nope,” John replies. “That’s why we have the van.”
Any magic the movie left behind has evaporated by the time we head back. Bits holds my hand and waxes on about Princess Buttercup. At least she’s still happy, and I want her to stay that way. The thought of her, alone, defenseless, makes me grip her hand tight.
“Ouch!” she says.
I loosen my hand. “Sorry, honey.” But it’s all I can do not to tighten it again, I’m so worried.
Chapter 100
John distributes ammo to each of our backpacks in the van. He has some MREs, and with the remaining ones from Sam’s Surplus, we have food for a few days.
“Yuck,” Penny says, when I stick some in each bag.
John smiles. “Ah, they’re not so bad. You should see what they used to feed us in Vietnam. It tasted a lot worse and weighed a ton, too.”
“But they had cigarettes in them back then, didn’t they?” James asks longingly, wheeling a bike over for the rack. He hasn’t had any since his last pack.
“They did, and that was the best thing about them.”
“Well, they should give extra combat pay based on the food alone,” Penny says. She adds another sleeping bag to the back. “I think that’s it.”
John laughs. “James, I need help with the shutters. We’ll cut ‘em at my place and drive over.”
Locking the bike down, James says, “Sure thing, boss.”
While they work on the shutters, I work on letters for the Message Tree. I write a new one to Henry Washington, telling him we’ll be in Vermont if we’re not here. I remember how I thought I was lucky that I had no children to keep safe. And now that I do, I see I was right. There’s the fear I’ll have to watch her die, and, possibly even worse, that I’ll die and she’ll suffer some horrible fate scared and alone. I think of small, serious Hank and work hard to imagine him full of life instead of shambling and rotting in the woods somewhere.
I write to Eric. I tell him about the ring and thank him for saving it for me. I tell him he was right—about the ring, about Adrian, and about the infection being so much worse than we thought. I tell him he saved me by making me promise I’d leave New York. I tell him I love him and am picturing him and Rachel hiking through the woods, having the time of their lives, because that’s how I always think of him. I tell him to meet us in Vermont when he can.
***
It’s only three o’clock, but the house is dark. The inside of every window and door in the living area is covered. John’s made frames that fit around them so the plywood shutters can be easily hung. They have small hinged doors for viewing and firing a gun.
“I have one for the hallway,” John says. “I didn’t have enough wood for the bedrooms, but those windows are higher. We can make this a panic room of sorts until we get more. We’ll put them up every night.”
“I feel like we’re on an episode of the A-Team,” I say. When everyone looks at me curiously, I explain: “I used to watch the reruns with Eric. Remember at the end they would always build a crazy vehicle or fortress or something?”
James’s face had been sober as we sat in the dark and imagined being surrounded, but now his usual smile is back. “That was my favorite part.”
“So, do I get to be Face?” Nelly asks.
“You and Peter can fight for it,” I say. “But I’m Murdock, he was my favorite.”
“You know,” Peter says. “That doesn’t surprise me one iota.”
He and Nelly high five each other. What is with the high fives?
“Well,” James says. “I know there’s no question that I’m B.A. Baracus. I’ve been told the resemblance between me and Mr. T is striking.”
“That’s what attracted me to you at first,” Penny says to James, who crosses his arms in a Mr. T pose.
“I pity t
he fool who messes with my plywood shutters,” James says in a deep voice, which makes us laugh.
Even Bits laughs, although she has no idea what we’re talking about. And when she mimics James and says it, with her scrawny arms crossed and her tiny voice as deep as she can make it, we lose it completely.
John pretends to be disturbed. “Okay. We’d better take them down. I think the dark might be getting to you all.”
Chapter 101
It’s seven in the morning, but the day is already hot, humid and still. Nelly washes the breakfast dishes while we sprawl out in the living room. There’s so much to do, but none of us feels like moving.
“It’s hot,” Bits whines from where she lies flat on the floor.
“It is,” Peter agrees. “I think you’re starting to melt. Look at you, you’re oozing into the wood.”
She giggles. I fan her with an old magazine, and she closes her eyes and pants as the air rushes past.
“It’s too hot to do anything,” Penny says. She looks at me with one eye squinted, just like she used to in high school. “Should we cut school?”
It’s the best idea I’ve heard all morning. “We totally should. We should go to the pond.”
Bits sits up. “Pond? Like swimming?”
I nod. “Yep. We have to walk about a mile, and it’s kind of muddy and gross, but we can catch frogs and salamanders. And swim, if it’s not too icky for you.”
“It’s not! Can we really go?” Bits leaps to her feet, the heat forgotten.
I look to John, who nods. “We’ll have to check it out first, Bits, make sure it’s safe, but I don’t see why not. I still have the kids’ frog-catching nets at the house.”
“Can we have a picnic?” Bits asks. “And, Cassie, can we paint? Outside, like you were telling me about?”
“Sure.” I love to see her so excited and wish for the hundredth time that she could have a normal childhood. I point to Nelly. “We’ll just load up our pack mule to carry it all.”
“Hee-haw,” he says.
“That’s a donkey, silly!” Bits laughs, before running off to find something to wear.
John and Peter radio us to come down. The pond is a tiny tributary of the creek that runs through my parents’ land and ends in a beaver dam. This time of year it’s buzzing with dragonflies and frogs and surrounded by cattails.
By the time we reach the pond we’re dripping with sweat. John and Peter stand in the clearing around the water and survey the surroundings. I strip to my bathing suit and spray Bits and myself with sunblock.
“Hey, blanquito,” Penny says to James. “Come and get some of this.”
She sprays James, and I eye her tan enviously. “I hate you,” I say. She responds with a grin.
Nelly drops his bags in the grass and pulls off his shirt. “I’m going in. You with me, Bits?”
“Yeah!” she yells. She runs into the muck at the water’s edge and turns back. “Ew, it’s gross, but not too gross. The water’s warm, though. Come on!”
I make my way to the water. I love it here, although being so far from the house with no early warning system makes me nervous.
Bits squeals as frogs plop into the water while we wade in, the mud squishing between our toes. “There’s one, Cassie! And another! There’s, like, a million!”
Nelly runs past and dives in. He comes up spouting water and goes under again. Bits doggy paddles around me and talks incessantly. The water is cool and feels wonderful. I’m about to dunk myself when my ankle is yanked out from under me.
Suddenly I’m in the water up to my neck. I gasp for air to scream. In an instant I can see how it will all play out: The bite on my ankle, the slow death, the way they’ll have to finish me off when I’m finally dead so that I stay that way. I kick until its grip releases and grab Bits just as Nelly pops up, rubbing a red mark on his chest.
“Sorry,” he says with a sheepish grin. “I guess I kind of forgot things like that aren’t funny anymore. This is definitely gonna bruise. Nice karate moves, by the way.”
“Oh my God, Nelly!” I hold my hand over my heart. “You scared the shit out of me!”
I splash him as hard as I can. Bits joins in and laughs as he takes his punishment with a smile. Peter, who’d raced over when he realized something was amiss, picks up Bits and cradles her in his arms. She nods, and he tosses her into the water with a splash.
She comes back up squealing. “Again, Peter!”
John keeps an eye on the woods. We haven’t seen a single Lexer up by us, since we’re on a steep, remote hill, but there’s no guarantee it’ll stay that way. When I’ve had my fill, I head to the blankets to set up the paints. I show Bits how to mix the colors, and we sit in the sun with our brushes, our bodies cool from the water.
A shadow looms behind me. “Hey, that’s really good,” Peter says.
I fight the urge to cover my painting. “Oh, no, it’s not. It’s terrible.”
He crouches next to me. “Well, in thirty minutes you’ve made something better than I could do in a year, so I think it’s good. I’ve never seen any of your stuff.”
“Yeah, you have. That painting in the living room?”
It’s a painting of the vegetable garden in bloom, with a woman, my mother, in the shadows, tending to it.
“You did that? Wow. Whenever I pass by I think how I’d like to step into that world. The colors are like in a dream: all bright and liquid, but creamy.”
I smile and nod. My mother always said it’s what she’d dreamed heaven must be like. “Thanks. I do like that one, but I’m rusty. We’ve got to practice if we want to get better. Right, Bits?”
She nods and points to her canvas, where she’s painted three thousand frogs sitting at the water line. “Look at mine, Peter.”
He moves to hers and stands with his hand under his chin, like a serious art buyer. “I love it. I really like your use of the frogs. We’ll hang it up when it’s done, for sure.”
“We’re going to have a gallery, Cassie said! And I’m going to put on an art show.” She cleans her brush and wipes the sweat off her brow. “Can I swim again? I’m hot.”
Nelly and Ana are in the pond, so I nod. “Sure, then we’ll have lunch.”
We watch her lope to the water and smile as Nelly tosses her in the air.
“I love that kid,” I say. “I was worried she’d be too scarred from all of this, but she takes it all in stride.” I shake my head. “I don’t think I could be so strong.”
“I know.” Peter watches her giggle as Ana pulls her through the water. “She amazes me.”
“Doesn’t it scare you?” I need to know if I’m the only one. “That we won’t be able to protect her?”
He nods, his face fierce. “I’ll do whatever I need to do to keep her safe. I love her so much. I didn’t know it was possible—” He breaks off and looks away, blinking fast.
I rest my paint-covered hand on his shoulder. “I know. She knows it, too. Maybe that’s why she’s so happy, because we all love her.”
Peter puts his hand over mine and smiles. He looks happy, at least as much as is possible while thinking of things like this.
“We’ll do the best we can,” I say, no longer feeling so alone in my fear. I yank on his hand and stand up. “Now, how about a game of chicken? I know Nelly and Ana are in.”
His teeth flash. “C’mon, we’ll whoop their asses.”
Chapter 102
I’ve slept late, for once. Nelly must have snuck out as a little birthday present. I’ve always liked having a birthday in August because it meant I could spend it here.
Bits stands at the end of the hall and slips away when she sees me, cackling madly. She’s been acting suspicious and innocent for days, in the way only little kids can. There are pancakes on the table, and the shutters lean against the wall at the far end of the living room, taken down for the day.
Penny’s in the kitchen cleaning up. “Happy birthday!” she says with a hug. “How does it feel to be old?”<
br />
“You’ll find out in four months. Until then you’re too young to understand.”
“Happy birthday! When I’m as old as you I’m going to wear makeup!” Bits yells, apropos of nothing. You’d think it was her birthday, the way she’s dancing around. “Twenty-nine, that’s old!”
I stoop and pretend to walk with a cane to the table. Bits sets something on my head. I reach up and feel soft fabric.
“It’s your birthday crown,” Bits says. “I always get a birthday crown.”
I take off the purple felt crown with a star sewn on the front.
“It’s absolutely beautiful,” I say. “Did you make it?” Her smile is wide. She nods and I squeeze her tight. “Thank you so much. I’ll wear it all day.”
I load up my plate and get more birthday wishes from the others. Nelly comes in with a pail of milk, and I thank him for letting me sleep.
“Thank you for letting me sleep, birthday girl,” he says, as he rubs my shoulders. It’s been weeks with no nightmares.
I find Ana in the garden. I know she’ll know what’s ripening, since she’s always in here.
“There’s so much,” she says. “We have to get canning again tomorrow.”
“I’ll do some tomatoes today,” I say.
“Let’s just say the stove will be in use today and you will be out of the kitchen. If I say any more Bits will kill me.”
I laugh. “Got it.” I smell the tomatoes we’re picking and sigh.
“I know,” Ana agrees. “And they actually taste like they smell.”
I compare the Ana of four months ago, flipping her hair and scowling, to the one that stands here. She must know what I’m thinking because she shakes her head.
“I know. Gardening. Who would’ve thought?”
“I could’ve sworn I saw you talking to the seedlings.”
“I totally did, when no one was looking. I wanted to sing to them with you and Penny, but I just couldn’t. Like if I did I would be admitting to all of this. I didn’t want it all to change.” She raises her shoulders and places tomatoes in the crate by her feet. “I still don’t.”