by Bryan Way
“If they’re civvies, you don’t wanna wind ‘em up… they might’ve taken weapons from the checkpoints, and you don’t want them thinking you’re out for blood.”
“Fair enough… but what if they’re former military? Don’t you think they’d be more likely to cut a deal?”
“Solid point… maybe tape your ID to your thigh, so they can’t see it?”
“Sleeve. If I reach for my waistband, I’ll be dead before I hit the ground. In any case, it should be me, Rich, Mursak, and Jake… we’ll take one of the unused cars and arrange a pickup… we’re gonna want at least an hour to figure out if they’re trying to track us back to the school.”
“What drugs do we need?” Jake asks.
“Oseltamivir, or Tamiflu… the other one is Zanamivir, or Relenza.” I say, watching Mursak walk out before continuing. “We’ll write it down so you can be sure…”
“She needs 75mg twice daily for five days… that’s the minimum…” Rich starts. “So that’s about ten pills. We need to shoot for at least three times that, in case someone else gets sick… it’s most effective when administered two days after the appearance of symptoms, and tomorrow’s gonna be day three, so it’s damn important that we get a lead by this time tomorrow.”
“We can’t just give her aspirin and tell her it’s what she’s looking for?” Jake asks.
“She’s a nurse, so I think she can spot a placebo.” Rich mutters, shaking his head. “Even if we don’t find anything, we need to give her some good news by tomorrow.”
“Why not today?”
We turn to see Mursak speak as he reenters the room and tosses Rich a pill bottle, which he fumbles and drops. He picks it up and his face goes limp. “How the…” When I step closer he points the bottle toward me; it’s Oseltamivir, and not only is the bottle full, the prescription was filled a mere three and a half months ago. We stand around dumbfounded.
“How…?” Anderson manages.
“The health center at Ambler.” Sak replies brusquely. “We also have penicillin and amoxicillin… and terbinafine…”
“Never heard of the last one…” I mutter.
“Anti-fungal cream.”
“I could kill you if I wasn’t so happy…” Rich chuckles.
“Uh… thanks?”
“Just shut up before I hit you…”
Rich steps forward and Mursak recoils, but Rich opens his arms and wraps him up in massive hug. Unsure of what to do, Mursak stretches his arms out and gently pats Rich on the back as he begins sobbing. Similarly unsure of themselves, the rest of the group stands around awkwardly for a few moments before dispersing just as awkwardly. Rich eventually leaves with the pills, abandoning Anderson, Mursak, and myself to an otherwise empty room. Mursak breathes out a huge sigh, which turns into laughter after a moment.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing… you know… thank god we didn’t do Anderson’s plan.”
“What? Why?” Anderson asks.
“It’s… you know… that was never gonna work…”
“Sure it was.”
“Even if it did… that would’ve sucked.”
“Yeah, but it still would’ve worked…”
“Guys…” I interrupt. “I was ready to do it… and now I’m just relieved. We should celebrate.”
“How?” Mursak asks.
“Alcohol. And LAN.”
Anderson’s irritation disappears at this prospect and he immediately suggests we get a hold of Jake, who had admitted to playing Starcraft extensively. Once we do, Jake brings Rob, much to my chagrin. Nevertheless, we manage to successfully network a game in the computer lab perched in the English hallways on the Northeast corner of the school and embark on a ‘comp stomp’; four humans versus four computers on their hardest setting with Jake and Rob sharing the duties of one console.
Halfway through the game, Mel and Helen join us. Our attempts to explain the game seem to fall on terminally bored ears, so they eventually revert to having a conversation that starts with music, pivots to politics, and eventually ends up running a gamut of religious pluralism, all while the Terrans and Protoss conspire to eradicate the Zerg scourge from Earth. They have a few drinks with us and eventually excuse themselves a half hour before our campaign ends successfully.
After we’ve exchanged a host of plaudits directed at each other’s play, we turn to more competitive fare, pitting Anderson, Mursak and myself against Rob, Jake, and a swarm of AI soldiers in a game of Rainbow Six: Raven Shield. As it turns out, the computer help granted to our compatriots is powerless to resist the nubile Mursak, the destructive Anderson, and my exacting nature. In fact, I end up personally taking out Rob half a dozen times before his frustration becomes audible, and Jake gives up, having run out of ammo. Finally, we revert to a cooperative match against 50 terrorists.
Once we’ve had our fill, we talk over gaming strategies and return to our respective rooms. I find Mel in my bed, reading another magazine. Rather than change in front of her, I go into the office that links my room with Anderson’s and swap my clothes with pajamas. When I re-enter, I sense Mel’s eyes.
“…what?”
“What?” She repeats.
“I can feel you watching me.”
“I wanna know what you’re thinking.”
“Has it occurred to you I might want to know what you’re thinking?” I ask.
“Yeah… but you don’t ask.”
“…I am now.” I reply.
“You make me feel less lonely.”
I can’t tell if this is a challenge.
“Oh…?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what’s gonna happen next… and that scares me. But being around you… I don’t think about it as much. And there’s something to that.”
“So…” I amble over toward the bed and eventually have a seat. “…what does that mean?”
“I don’t know. But if I’m the only thing keeping you from losing it… and I feel the same way about you… I think…” Mel takes a deep breath before continuing. “…we’d better take our time…”
“Oh?”
“We’re like two sticks of dynamite trying to stay warm next to a fire… and I don’t want to take you down with me.”
I take a moment to process that. “That’s a great analogy.” When she smiles and laughs nervously at this, I nod and smile back. Having nothing more to add, I go silent, hit the lights, and join her in bed. I can’t squelch a feeling of accomplishment that can best be described as anonymous. Hot on its heels, I consider the scene in the cafeteria earlier; Mursak saved the day by bringing in the flu drugs Karen so desperately needed, but why bother keeping the cache from us? Is it possible that he found more than he’s letting on, either at Ambler or in the supplies we brought back from the community college? Did anyone else look closely enough at the gear to know?
After a moment, Mel puts her arm around me, and I instinctively wrap mine around her shoulder. I try to stay focused on Mursak, but my exhaustion from a physically active day pushes my thoughts further and further from rationality. With Mel’s breath heaving her shapely frame toward me before drawing away, her words begin to intoxicate my thoughts, making it impossible to feel lonely.
01-02-05, SUNDAY
I really don’t want to get up.
I still don’t want to get up.
Despite a slight pain in my eyes and the feeling that I could lie here incapacitated for days, I decide it’s time. As I quietly peel the sheets off, I look over at Mel’s awkwardly twisted body, her mouth hanging open and leaving a streak of drool on the pillow. I pick up my cell phone and check the faceplate to see that it’s 1:30pm. Though it’s not my place to make the judgment, I decide to wake her as well.
We both separately tend to our morning bathroom needs and meet up again in the cafeteria, where we find Jake on his way out. After we’ve secured some eggs Rich had previously broken, frozen, and to which he added salt, we also heat up some the defrosted bacon and enjoy our morning repas
t with tea, but we don’t finish before Rich joins us. After exchanging some pleasantries and gleaning that Karen is unsurprisingly no better, we get down to business.
“So, do you have a plan for Penn State?” He asks.
“I… uh… no… I forgot about it…” I reply.
“It’s been a week, Jeff… do you have a proposal? Do they?”
“No… I told you, I think we should meet ‘em halfway.”
“And I agreed… but has anyone looked at a map?”
“I know the way…” I spit.
“…we did… now we don’t know what’s out there to stop us. Call ‘em. I guessed they had a week… and that was almost seven days ago…”
“He called two days ago…” I interrupt. “Said they were good for at least another week.”
“I’m not trying to piss you off.” Rich replies after weighing my tone. “I’m saying they’re running out of water. Think we can pull this off in the next few days?”
I take a moment to cool the bellicose embers in my throat.
“Absolutely.” Mel responds.
“Good.” Rich continues. “Anderson says we need a name for the ‘op’.”
“…why?” I ask.
“So you and your friends can identify each other on the radio… he thinks a handle will help weed out… pirates.”
“…pirates.”
“I don’t know what else you call someone combing the airwaves for possible targets. Rob suggested Operation Prometheus.”
“My mythology is a little rusty… isn’t he the one who had his liver pecked out for eternity?”
“After stealing fire for mankind.” Rich replies.
“It’s a cool sounding name…” Mel offers. “And god knows I don’t want anyone plundering my booty.”
“Prometheus it is.” I respond after a hearty snicker.
“Alright… your friends have supplies to contribute?” Rich asks.
“Weapons and food, so I gather.”
“Great. Let me know when you’re ready… I’ll drive.”
Rich departs, and Mel exits to exercise, asking me to join her. I decline in favor of getting Alan on the phone. He informs me that they’ve secured reliable transport, spare tires, and enough gas to make the whole journey, but they’re still making a plan on how to exit the city safely, to say nothing of the alternate routes they may have to take if the highways are out of commission.
Once we hang up, I consider that we’ll need fresh water, food, medical supplies, ammunition, spare parts, and gas for the voyage after we’ve determined our roster. Rich’s suggestion of driving strikes me as an absolute, given that he’s the person most qualified to handle and repair the bus, which we’ll certainly need for all the weapons, supplies, and people. Since meeting the group has become my responsibility, I feel it’s a forgone conclusion that I must go to greet them, and thus Anderson will be left to maintain the castle.
After taking sufficient time to myself, I end up spending most of the rest of the day with Mursak, Elena, and Jimmy, which includes playing with stuffed animals, playing in the snow, and a bizarre form of tag in which Elena makes the rules. An hour of play yields my suspicion that Elena is drawn more towards the women of the group, with Mursak remaining an obvious exception, but Jimmy seems equally enthused about everybody. And he appears to be taking his mother’s passing like a champ. My reservations about Elena are confirmed when she keeps talking about Karen and gets excited when Mel joins us.
In spite of this, Mel seems to be caught flatfooted when Elena comes to her for approval. Naturally, Mursak is a regular target for her affections, and I consider the possibility that she simply doesn’t like me, but given her apparent relationship with Karen and Mel, I can’t avoid drawing the conclusion that Elena prefers women to men.
After I’ve had enough of the children, I meet with Anderson to discuss our forthcoming sojourn, finding him reluctantly accepting of his role as guardian while Rich and I get to do what he terms ‘the fun stuff’. For some reason, he assumes that we may be faced with an uncontrollable horde, insisting we take a few automatic weapons with some ammunition and magazines. Disagreement seems moot, so I assent with a weak grin and return to my bedroom.
After a half-hour of solitaire in the dark, Mel rejoins me and we briefly recap an uneventful day. In spite of having had a good night’s sleep, I find myself uncharacteristically tired, so I start by lying down and relaxing. Fifteen minutes passes, and though I may have slept, I can’t reach a decision on whether or not I should let go. Eventually I realize that I don’t have a choice and step confidently into the arms of sleep.
01-03-05, MONDAY
My eyes will themselves open despite a penetrating pain that insists I’m still too tired to wake up. I look off to my right to see that my bedroom door is still shut, then turn over to my left to find Mel staring at me. “Jesus…” I mutter. After stretching, I put my hand over my throat as I turn back to her.
“How long have you been up?”
“Not long…” She mutters.
“Aren’t you tired?” I ask, yawning.
“I dunno… not really…”
“…are you just… watching me sleep?”
“Not exactly… I was trying to will you to wake up.”
“It worked…” I sigh. “Why would you do that?”
“I was lonely.”
I smile and stretch some more until I verbalize the alleviated stiffness of my body with an exaggerated moan. I can feel her gaze as I sit up and turn my legs to dangle off the edge of the bed. “Something on your mind?” I ask, getting up and continuing to stretch as I make my way toward the computer. Something about the way she stares at the bed eggs me on. “You wanna talk about it?” After a moment, I turn back from the computer to see her sitting up, her rigid immobility giving me serious doubts as to her state of mind. I slowly rotate my chair to face her.
“What if… I don’t?” She says, finally.
“Okay… but you’re not fooling me.”
“…what do you mean?”
“Well… apparently you willed me to wake up, which is quite a feat… you say you were lonely, so I don’t see much point in sitting here until I stumble on the thing you want to talk about.”
She sighs, giving me the feeling that she’s ready to acquiesce.
“I wanted to ask you something… but I don’t want you think it’s about you and me…”
“…okay…” I mutter, waiting for more.
“When I was gonna leave Ellie and Jimmy yesterday… she said she loves me. It just… made me think…” Mel continues. “I dunno… it’s like… do you think there are different kinds of love?”
“Oh, sure. I think there’s a difference between loving someone and being in love… you love your parents, your family, your friends… you can only really be in love with one person… unless you’re polyamorous…”
“Poly what?”
“Polyamory is when you have an intimate relationship with more than one person at a time…”
“So you think intimacy makes all the difference?” She asks. “Wanting to sleep with them?”
“You know…” I start, freezing. “I don’t know if that’s all it is.”
“Well, I was just sayin’…”
“No no… I’m not… criticizing you… I’m saying I literally haven’t thought about it…”
“Maybe the difference is… passion? I dunno, sacrifice?”
“…how do you mean?” I ask after a moment.
“You make sacrifices for the people you care about. Or sometimes… you wish you had…”
“…meaning?”
“…hindsight is 20/20…” Mel continues. “What do you wish you’d done differently?”
It crosses my mind that I can speak, but I can’t dream up a reply that will succinctly express my feelings. “You would’ve taken that cut.” Mel says. I know at once she means the flashing slice that ended Julia. I shut my eyes as the images come rushing back, and eventuall
y nod.
“Do you think you’ll ever get past it?”
“I dunno…”
“Jeff… you can’t trade places with her.”
“I know.”
“You said you want to be happy… but it’s never gonna happen if you think that way. Just because you lost something… doesn’t mean there’s nothing left.”
I wonder whether this conversation has had a significant impact on either of us. It feels as though we’ve accomplished something, but will I forget most of this in the next half hour? Rather than dwell on it, I mumble some affirmative reply, take care of my morning necessaries, and then have breakfast. As I eat, I pray that I we can go at least a few hours without being assaulted by the undead.
These prayers seem to be answered, but I try to insure this small victory by attending to the security office, where Anderson and Rich are engaged in polite conversation. Inasmuch as I’m an outside force acting upon them, my arrival feels like a rock being put through a window.
“Grey…” Anderson starts. “What do you think about Rob?”
“…you know what I think.”
“Okay…” He continues. “We think he did it.”
“…okay…?”
“You don’t have anything to say about that?”
“You remember how we discussed not waiting for the third strike?” Rich interrupts. “He’s not gonna get it.”
“…so we kill him?”
“No no no…” Rich starts as I sigh. “The third strike’s not gonna happen because we don’t let it…”
“Look…” I start solemnly. “I’m tired of talking about it. Are we killing him, or not?”
“I’m saying we’re watching him…”
“Are we killing him…” I cut Rich off forcefully. “…or not?”
“He lives, for now.” Anderson responds. “But the second he starts acting crazy or threatens someone… zero tolerance.”