Prepper's Sacrifice

by John Lundin

  ‘Are you flirting with me, my love?’ Stewart removed one hand from her grasp and glided his fingers through her silky blonde hair.

  ‘Would you be opposed to such a thing?’ She blushed.

  Stewart drew his wife closer in for a kiss, keeping his feet planted on the mat below. She wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing tightly as his tongue toyed with hers. Stewart's mind wandered back to the moment when they first kissed; the nervousness he felt as he placed his lips on hers. Now, even after so many years of being married, he still had butterflies fluttering his in stomach.

  Before things got any further, Stewart pulled away. ‘I can think of just the thing to replace that massage you owe me.’ He smiled.

  ‘I can think of something I can’t refuse,’ Anne shot back.

  ‘Let me get washed up first and I’ll meet you in the bedroom. Deal?’

  ‘Deal,’ Anne agreed.

  Stewart carefully untied his laces, trying hard to prevent even the smallest trace of dirt making its way onto the hardwood floors. One by one, he slipped out of his boots, with his hand pressed against the door for support.

  He admired Anne as she made her way upstairs, amazed at how she managed to maintain such a neat body. He’d heard all the horror stories before he has said ‘I do’. You’re going to have to love her even when she’s big and round, his cousin Erick had teased. His mom, prior to her passing, had made him promise that he’d love Anne even when the wrinkles set in. This had a lot to do with his parents getting divorced because his dad just couldn’t come to terms with the way her beauty seemed to slip away as the years piled on. However, Stewart saw things differently. To him, the years didn’t show on Anne. In fact, every time he laid eyes on her, she looked just as mesmerizing as she did that first day.

  He dusted the dirt off his pants and removed them too, before making his way up the stairs and into the bathroom. Reaching behind the door, his fingers felt around for the light switch and with one click, the room was illuminated. He squinted his eyes before turning on the tap and allowing the cool water to soothe his blisters. ‘Ah, that feels good,’ he sighed.

  Not usually a guy for cold showers, he surprised himself by turning the shower dial to blue instead of red. Upon entering the shower, he immediately regretted his decision. He hated the cold. That’s one of the reasons that he’d stayed in Florida and so it was silly of him to think that even on the hottest of days, a cold shower would be the slightest bit enjoyable.

  The water quickly went from cold to lukewarm and Stewart closed his eyes and reveled in the way it felt beating down on his head and over his shoulders. More time than he had imagined must have slipped away because his head shot up when he heard Anne’s voice.

  ‘You’re not going to make me wait forever, are you?’

  ‘I’ll be out in just a minute,’ he yelled back. As quickly as he could manage, he washed himself and exited the shower.

  In the bedroom, Anne was wrapped under a thin blanket with a book in her hand. ‘Took you long enough,’ she mumbled as Stewart entered the room with nothing but a towel clinging to his waist.

  Stewart’s eyes widened as he watched his wife remove the blanket and reveal the sexy lingerie she had tucked herself into. Like a nerdy high school boy, he covered his eyes with his hands and peeked through his fingers.

  Anne patted the side of the bed, gesturing for him to get in beside her. He was thrilled at how eager she was to wrap her arms around him. It didn’t take much for him to give in and lose himself in his wife. Though they hadn’t been as bunny-like as were when they first met, they hadn't lacked any kind of intimacy until recent virus-related events. Stewart was definitely over the moon that they’d managed to rediscover the fire in their relationship.

  After cuddling for a good half an hour, Anne informed Stewart that she was going to make them something to eat. ‘Any preferences?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he replied and went back into relaxation mode.

  It wasn’t before long that he’d drifted away into a slumber, only to be woken by his wife who stood before him with a platter of food: a salad made from freshly picked tomatoes, accompanied by a side of garlic bread.

  ‘Looks great,' he said, taking the tray from his wife.

  ‘Let’s hope it tastes as great as it looks,’ she replied.

  ‘I’m sure it does.’ Stewart pushed himself up to plant a kiss on his wife’s forehead.

  Together, they sat in bed and enjoyed their meal. Stewart thought about flicking on the television to catch up on the news but decided that he didn’t want to ruin the day with negativity. He was sure that there wasn’t much being reported, outside of the fact that everyone should be, ‘afraid… very afraid.’

  ***

  A few hours later, Stewart was rubbing away at his eyes, trying to fight the sleepiness that overcame him. He walked over to the window at the opposite end of the bedroom, did a quick look out the building, to see that Ed was playing peeping Tom as usually.

  ‘What you looking at?’ Anne asked, pulling her eyes away from her book for a quick second.

  ‘Ah, nothing,’ Stewart replied before pulling the elegantly striped curtains closed.

  Back in bed, he said goodnight to his wife, who asked if it was okay if she kept the lights on to read for a bit longer. Stewart didn’t have a problem with this. It had been a while since his wife had had her nose buried in a good book. For a moment, he imagined what it would be like to have no worries in the world and to be sipping Mojitos on a tropical island with his wife. He imagined what it would be like to see the other men on the island fill with envy as his wife flaunted her perfect self on the beach. He knew that everyone would wonder, like Tim did, how he managed to make her his, and this would definitely make him smile. Perhaps he would suck it up, one the pandemic subsided, and treat them both to a much needed vacation.

  He turned to Anne. ‘We should go to Jamaica.'

  ‘Jamaica?’

  ‘Yeah, you seemed so interested when Tim was talking about vacation. Jamaica’s just like an hour away. Plus, I’d love to see you dance to some good old Bob and the Wailers.’

  Anne reached over and patted Stewart on the head. ‘I love you,’ she said.

  ‘I love you more,' he replied.

  Not too long after, Stewart was fast asleep. The shoveling had really done a number on him and though he didn’t usually snore, tonight, he let out a few loud ones. He dreamt of a place that was as close to paradise as he could imagine. Lost in waters as blue as the skies, he felt free, without worry and completely and utterly whole. Vacationers sped by on their jet skis and in the distance, he saw his wife tucked away under a big yellow umbrella. There was no Ebola, no rioting, no need to panic. At least not at first. He heard something. Was it Anne? No, it sounded more like a man, like Ed. What on earth was Ed doing in his dreams? Surely, there was some gossip that needed to be told. Ed’s gossips were the least of his worries. In his dreams, he scoured the beach to see if he did indeed see Ed. The screaming got louder and then there was a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Stewy,’ Anne tugged at his t-shirt.

  ‘Huh? Huh? Oh, gosh. I was dreaming, we were in Jamaica and then…’ Realizing that the screams he had heard might have actually been real, he flicked on the lamp beside his bed and examined his wife. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Something’s wrong, Stewy. Something’s really, really wrong.’

  Chapter 7

  This was the fastest that Stewart had ever made his way to his feet. Still a bit confused by his dream, he couldn’t quite tell what was going on. Because he’d seen nothing wrong with Anne when he had flicked on the lamp, Stewart felt as though he needed the bigger light to get a good look.

  ‘Not with me, Stewy. I’m okay, but I think there’s something wrong with Ed.’

  Stewart calmed down a bit to hear that the screaming hadn’t stopped. It was indeed coming from Ed, but not the Ed in his dreams. His next door neighbor wasn’t a loud guy. In fact, with all his peep
ing and spying skills, it was always hard to see him coming. Stewart remembered when Ed had first moved next door to him. He’d managed to sneak right up behind Stewart without making as much as a peep. A frightened Stewart had asked him how he managed to be so quiet, pushing the gate open and all. Ed had told him that it was a skill he’d learned in the military.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Stewart caught his breath. He looked down at his hands to see that they were shaking uncontrollably.

  ‘How the hell should I know, Stewy? Do you think I climbed out the window to check before I woke you?’

  ‘No, of course not. But... I’m just still half asleep. What was he saying?’

  ‘I heard ‘help’, I think. I can’t quite tell. There was just so much screaming. I’m scared, Stewy. What if something bad has happened? Do you think he’s hurt? Or maybe it’s his wife. Isn’t this around the time that she usually gets home from the hospital?’

  ‘His wife’s probably just had enough of him and is threatening to leave. I’m sure it’s nothing serious—let’s just go back to bed. In all likelihood, he’ll be telling us all about it in the morning.’

  The way Anne furrowed her eyebrows was enough to tell him that she wasn’t about to just hop in bed for a cuddle.

  ‘Oh gosh, I really hope it’s something like that. But I dunno. Would he be making such a ruckus if it were? Maybe we should go look. See if he’s alright and all.’

  ‘Anne, it’s none of our business,’ Stewart said firmly. ‘If we went to go spy, we’d be doing the same thing that we complain about.’

  Soon enough, it would become their business. The screams seemed to be getting louder and not too long after, their doorbell sounded. Both Stewart and Anne jumped at the unexpected ringing of their doorbell. Anne tried to whiz her way past Stewart who stopped her in her tracks. With his hands placed tightly around her arms, he said to her, ‘Anne, you are not going to open that door.’

  ‘Stewart,’ she protested. ‘Let go of me.’

  Again, the doorbell rang and then again and again until it seemed as though Ed had just pressed his finger against it with no intention of letting go.

  Anne tried again to push Stewart out of the way, but was unsuccessful. He stood his ground. At this point, he realized that something had to be wrong. And then it dawned on him. Ed’s wife did indeed work at the hospital; the same hospital that opened its doors to the majority of the Ebola patients in the area.

  ‘It’s not like he’s going to stop!’ Anne exclaimed.

  ‘Let’s go down and check. We can talk to him through the closed door at least until we’re sure that it has nothing to do with that darn virus.’

  Anne reached for a pink bathrobe to cover her naked body and hurried down the stairs, almost tripping over the last step. Stewart was right behind her, tying his robe while leaving the room.

  ‘Ed, can you hear us?’ Anne’s voice was filled with concern.

  ‘It’s Evelyn. She’s sick. Oh my god. My poor wife is sick. Help me, Anne, you’ve got to do something.’

  Anne’s hands shot to her mouth and tear after tear streamed down her face. ‘Stewy!’

  ‘Why do you think she’s sick, Ed?’ Stewart asked.

  Stewart could hear Ed breathing heavily and sobbing profusely. ‘She didn’t feel so well this morning. Said she felt like she was getting a fever or something. But then a few aspirins later, she was fine.’

  ‘You said you gave her some Aspirin?’ Stewart asked, not being able to hear much due to his wife whimpering behind him.

  ‘No. I said she took some Aspirin this morning and felt fine.’ Ed sniffled. ‘But now she’s puking and all that. Diarrhea, everything. Aren’t those the symptoms, Stewy? She’s got it, doesn’t she?’

  Stewart drew back from the door and within the blink of an eye, Anne’s hand shot forward. He snatched her wrist and said in a firm, angry tone, ‘Anne, go upstairs NOW.’

  Stewart couldn’t imagine why, after hearing that Ed’s wife may be sick, Anne would even think about opening the door. There was nothing that they could do to help. Opening the door would just put them at risk. They had no idea if or how, Ed had been handling his wife’s body fluids.

  Anne did as she was told, running upstairs like a toddler who had just been scolded. Stewart knew that she wasn’t happy about the way he had acted and was certain that he’d feel her wrath soon enough. Anne wasn’t the kind of person to yell back. However, she knew the art of silence and that was something Stewart found more deadly than a woman screaming her lungs out at him.

  ‘Stewart, you’ve got to let me in. You’ve got to help us.’

  ‘There’s nothing we can do Ed. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Open the fucking door Stewart. Just open the fucking door.’

  Stewart was frightened by the aggression coming from his neighbor and was uncertain about how to handle the situation. However, there was one thing that he knew, and it was that there was no way he’d be letting Ed in.

  ‘Stewart, I know you can hear me. Open the fucking door, this minute.’

  ‘I’m calling the ambulance, Ed,’ Stewart yelled back.

  ‘They’re already on the way. You think I’d see my wife sick and not call them myself, you fucking moron? But I know you’ve got medicine, Stewart. You’ve got to have something that can help her. You think I don’t always see you bringing in box after box of prepper shit in your house? Just fucking help me, or I swear on my life, I’ll bash this fucking window in.’

  ‘Ed, I’ve got my gun right here,’ Stewart lied, and if you try to enter my home, I will be forced to use it. Don’t allow things to get that far Ed. Don’t make me have to use my gun.’

  Stewart’s threats were followed by a line of curse words from Ed and a loud bang on the door from what Stewart assumed to be Ed’s fist. Feeling bad about his actions, Stewart sank to the floor and reflected on how he'd handled the situation. He knew that he shouldn’t have yelled at Anne so harshly, but he only did so with the best of intentions; he only did so because of the fear he felt at that moment. It was hard for him not question whether or not leaving the door closed and threatening Ed was the right thing to do. However, how could he compromise the safety of his home? There was no way that he could help Evelyn, so staying inside and not letting Ed in was the right thing to do. Unfortunately, Stewart didn’t think Anne felt the same way.

  Her warm heart was one of the things that he loved the most about her, but in moments like these, it was her deficit. He worried that in the future, if the outbreak became even greater, Anne would feel the need to help everyone who knocked on their door. This wasn’t something he wanted to think about. A part of Stewart wanted call the couch his bed that night and hide from the painful conversation that he knew was waiting for him. Even without infecting them, Ebola was bound to put a strain on his marriage that he was in no way prepared to handle. That was the thing about prepping. He was prepared for so much, but even the biggest and most furnished stockpile wasn’t enough to deal with emotional turmoil.

  With one hand pressed firmly on the hardwood floor, Stewart lifted himself up. Anne’s sniffling was easy to hear in the dead of the night. Slowly and carefully, he made his way up the stairs, trying hard not to make too much noise—though he knew his loudness wouldn’t make a difference.

  ‘Anne,’ he whispered.

  His wife’s shoulders mimicked a see-saw; up and down, up and down before finally settling in a position that made her tension more than evident.

  ‘Anne,’ Stewart whispered again.

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she lowered her head between her knees, and pressed them against her ears.

  ‘I know you can hear me, Anne,’ Stewart said, a little louder this time.

  ‘Just leave me alone,’ she whimpered. ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’

  Stewart made his way across the room and pushed away the table before seating himself beside his wife in the corner she had buried herself into.

  ‘I know that you don’t wan
t to talk to me, Anne, but just at least hear me out. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have grabbed you. I shouldn’t have yelled, but I was—’

  ‘No buts, Stewart. You shouldn’t have, period.’

  ‘It wasn’t safe, Anne. How could I allow you to open the door? I’m supposed to protect you. That’s what husbands do.’

  Stewart tried to move Anne’s leg to reveal her face, but she quickly pulled away. Again, the sobbing started and he watched with a heavy heart as his wife’s shoulders shuddered with a combination of fear and anger.

  ‘I’m going to do whatever it takes to protect you, Anne. I can’t lose you. You have to know that.’

  ‘But it’s okay if someone else loses his wife? It’s okay if we turn a blind eye… if we just turn a cold shoulder and start acting like there’s no heart beating in our chests.’

  ‘We couldn’t help.’

  ‘You don’t know that!’ Anne snapped.

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Stewart was trying hard to remain calm. Though he knew Anne had a reason to be upset about his less than tender embrace, he had thought that by now, she’d realize that letting Ed in was just about the stupidest of stupid decisions they could have made. ‘Tell me then, Anne.’ He took a deep breath to calm himself down again, ‘how could we have helped?’

  ‘I dunno. We could have talked to him or something. We could have taken her to the hospital. You know that he’d not allowed to drive.’

  ‘He’d already called the ambulance.’ Stewart’s voice was a bit louder than he intended it to be. He paused, regained his composure and tried again. ‘He had already called the ambulance Anne.’

  Just then, sirens blared. Red flashes shone through their black and white striped curtain. Stewart shut his eyes tightly and opened them again. Then he reached in front of him and pulled together the two ends of the curtains, trying to prevent even the slightest bit of light from entering the room. Or maybe he was just trying to occupy himself with something as a means of avoiding the rest of the conversation. He knew Anne was waiting for him to say something, even though he was the last one to speak, but he didn’t know what to say. There was no other word to describe her but distraught. Stewart wished she could just wake up for a minute and realize that she wasn’t mad at him at all, but she was mad at Ebola.