by John Lundin
‘Nothing, it’s nothing.’
‘Stewy, don’t hide anything from me. We can’t be keeping secrets from each other.’
‘It’s not important. I promise. Let’s just make sure that we clean everything up properly and then get out of these suits and try to get some rest.’
‘Stewy, tell me what it is!’ Anne demanded. Her eyes were filled with fury, and she had no intentions of stopping before she heard what it was that Stewart was hiding from her.
‘They’re all brothers. I killed their brother and so I’m sure that if I let them go, there’ll be no forgetting about it.’
‘Oh no. That’s horrible. Why does this have to happen? Why did any of this have to happen?’ The warmth of Anne’s tears irritated her cheeks.
‘I know, honey. I know. Let’s just try to move past this.'
‘I’ll bring them some water in the morning and then some food at night time and hope that we figure out a better solution.’
‘What about Tim?’
***
Stewart had forgotten all about Tim and the fact that he’d be showing up at eight o’clock sharp to get ready to barter. The idea of calling him to tell him what had happened; that he’d killed someone was unnerving. He was having a hard time coming to terms with the facts himself but to say it to someone who wasn’t Anne, that would be truly difficult. He thought that maybe he could come up with a little white lie and excuse Tim from working in the morning.
‘You’ve got to tell him,’ Anne said softly. ‘Just tell him what happened. If anyone will know what to do about a situation like this, it’s him.’
‘Anne.’ Stewart shook his head. ‘Tim may be tough and all, but he’s not a killer. He may know how to hide beer bottles, but how to get rid of three bodies, two of them live ones; he’ll be just as lost as I am. Plus, can you really deal with someone else knowing.’
‘You did what you had to do to protect us.’
‘I know that. I’m fully aware of that. It’s just that the circumstances are the same and I’m not sure if we need someone else involved. Plus, once it gets to Tim, it gets to Nadine and we don’t even know her all that well.’
‘Oh, but she’s not the kind to judge.’
‘Maybe not, but what would you think. Say the roles were reversed and they were the ones who found themselves in the pickle we’re in. Would you be able to prevent yourself from passing at least some form of judgment?’
‘I dunno, Stewy.’
Stewart looked his wife dead in the eyes, ‘The answer’s no Anne. You would judge them, to the moon and back. You’d probably even start to fear Tim, in fear that he’d at some point take his anger out on you.’
‘But you didn’t do this out of anger Stewy. If things were different and the cops were called, you’d be in the right.’
Stewart shrugged his shoulders. ‘I know you’re right. Like, I definitely get it. It’s just that admitting all this.’ His eyes started to fill with tears and he tried with all his power not to blink. ‘It’s just that admitting that I.’ His voice broke with each word he spoke.
‘You didn’t have a choice. Do you think that if they’d been able to take us out they wouldn’t have? Because they definitely would and they wouldn’t think twice about it.’
‘I know, Anne. I know. It’s just that this is something that I never expected to happen. Not in a million years. Yes, I got a gun to be safe and I knew that in the height of the pandemic, we’d have to use it a few times. But I thought that use it meant waving it around and showing everyone that danger was something that we were prepared for. I didn’t think that…’
‘At least you could muster up the courage to…’
‘I’m happy you didn’t use yours. You wouldn’t be able to deal.’
Stewart forced a smile and Anne followed. The conversation ended shortly after and both Anne and Stewart headed to the quarantine room where they changed into something a lot more comfortable than their hazmat gear. After all was done, Stewart decided that it was a good time to give Tim a call. He knew that in a sense, his wife was right, Tim would know how to handle such a situation; at least better than he did. The phone call proved to be beneficial. Not that Tim knew of a million and one ways to dispose of a body, but he surely didn’t seem to judge. Tim told Stewart that he would still come by in the morning, without Nadine, as he was uncertain of how she would react.
***
Anne observed Stewart on the phone with Tim and was ecstatic to see that he was a lot calmer and a lot less anxious than she had expected him to be. In the meantime, Anne sat on the bathroom counter, staring into the mirror as though trying to see if she had changed, or if she was indeed the same person. She really felt the need to take a hard, long look at herself especially what had happened that night. Eventually, Anne turned the cold water tap and waited for the stream to cool the back of her hand. Once the temperature was the lowest it could get, she bent over and splashed the water over her face. It wasn't that she wanted to feel awake because she was very sure that sleep would be hard enough to attain.
‘Ah, that felt great.’ She sighed. And then, just as she was about to turn and walk out of the bathroom, the most unexpected thing happened; something that caused Anne to head right back to the mirror in a state of panic.
Chapter 11
‘No. This can’t be right. No. No. No. Please no,’ she whispered, moving closer and closer to the mirror.
Anne squirmed around, distorting her body in ways that it didn’t want to be pushed. She lifted her arms in the air, whipped her neck round, trying hard to see and not see at the same time. Then, she proceeded to rid herself of her spaghetti strapped night gown. With her left hand, she reached under her armpit and to her back, feeling what she was hoping she had just imagined.
‘But it doesn’t matter, right?’ she said to herself.
‘Anne, you in there?’ Stewart called out, knocking on the door with his regular two knuckle knock.
‘Yup, I’ll be out in a minute,’ she yelled back.
‘Were you on the phone or were you saying something to me?’ he asked.
Anne wasn’t sure what to answer, but settled with, ‘Um… a song popped into my head.’
‘Hmm’ Stewart replied. Anne could hear his footsteps moving further and further away from the bathroom door.
Bending down, she picked up her night shirt and carefully put it back on before exiting the bathroom.
‘So,’ she turned to Stewart who was already in bed but not looking anywhere close to tired.
‘So’ Stewart answered.
‘Ready to get some rest?’
‘I’m not sure, to be honest. I’ve managed to patch up the front door as best as possible, but I’ve got this weird feeling that someone will make their way in or that those guys will manage to get out of the shed and…’
‘We can’t think that way, Stewy, but if you’re really worried, why don’t you just go check?’
‘'Cuz then I’d have to put my gear back on and all.’
‘What for?’ Anne replied, trying not to allow Stewart to get wind of the tremble in her tone.
‘To be safe. In case someone attacks or in case one of them is sick.’
Anne felt her heart rate pick up, ‘but you don’t really think they’re sick, do you?’
‘Hell, I have no idea. They were saying something about coming here to find medical supplies for their sister, so who knows?’
‘But Stewy, if they’re…’
‘If they’re sick, we’re not, because we were properly suited up.’
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Anne said quietly. ‘Definitely.’
‘Good night, Sweetie,’ Stewart said before placing a kiss on her forehead.
‘Good night,’ she replied.
***
Anne knew the exact moment that Stewart had drifted away into a deep sleep. His feet had stopped shaking in that nervous way they tended to when his mind was overly clouded by something unpleasant. His breathing had st
eadied and a light snore was let out, only to be shooed away with a sniffle. Anne, on the other hand, was having a lot more difficult of a time falling asleep. Her mind kept flashing back to the bathroom and what she’d seen in the mirror. Trying to rock her brain to figure out how she managed to get cut made her feel extremely overwhelmed. Stewart mentioning the possibility that they guys were sick surely did nothing to help her anxiety either. They surely didn’t seem sick. After all, a sick person wouldn’t have been able to drag her away from the couch with that amount of power. But then, she remembered all the times that she’d mustered up the strength to head to work even though she’d felt exceptionally under the weather. But Ebola was different. Ebola was crippling. Anne closed her eyes tightly, trying to shut out all the negative thoughts that were continuously seeping in. She considered waking Stewart and showing him the cut on her back but decided that it was best to refrain from adding stress to an already frazzled man.
Counting sheep and saying her ABCs for what felt like the millionth time didn’t pack the oomph she needed to clear her brain. Through a crack in the curtain, she watched the stars, hoping that they would disappear and indicate that morning had come. However, the more she looked, the more stars she saw and the brighter they became. She just wanted Stewart to be awake, she wanted something to take her mind off the cut on her back, but there were still hours left in the night; hours left before the sun would replace the moon. A part of her wanted to go downstairs as there was a higher chance that she’d find something there to keep her occupied. Due to the fact that fear was still alive and kicking in her, she couldn’t bear the thought of going downstairs and reliving the attack. Certainly she’d shiver at every sound she heard, only to be forced back upstairs. Even worse, her wandering through the house would definitely wake Stewart and she feared that she’d be forced to tell him what was bothering her.
When morning finally presented itself, Anne was the first one to hop out of bed. She’d managed to shut her eyes for what she estimated to be a good half an hour. However, actually falling asleep was something she didn’t accomplish.
‘Stewy, you awake?’ she asked as his foot brushed against her.
‘Yeah. Something like that, I guess,’ he mumbled.
‘Do you want me to cook something? Are you hungry? How do pancakes sound?’
‘What’s with all the questions, Anne? I haven’t had time to get hungry yet. What are you doing awake so early anyways? What time is it? It can’ be that early if you’re awake.’
‘Oh, umm…Almost five.’ Anne felt embarrassed.
‘Almost five!’ Stewart replied startled. ‘This must be a record for you. Did you even close your eyes for a minute?’
‘Of course I did,’ Anne lied. ‘A few hours at the least. Can’t say I slept very well though.’
Stewart shuffled his way closer to Anne. ‘Good morning you,’ he said. ‘Pancakes sound lovely. I’m gonna head out to the shed and hope that we haven’t already got people lining up in front of our home.’
‘What time will Tim be by?’
‘I’m guessing around nine or so, maybe a little earlier. Would be nice if you could toss in a couple pancakes for him as well.’
‘Will do,’ Anne replied.
***
As Stewart went through the shelves in his pantry, trying to figure out the easiest thing to prepare for his ‘hostages’, he replayed the night in his head. It was hard not to think about what had happened; to push it all away. The more he thought about it, the more he told himself that he had no other option. His hazmat suit, which he’d slipped his way into earlier, was more bothersome than it had ever been. Perhaps the mere fact that he’d had to wear it for a large portion of the previous day took away its charm.
He retrieved 2 plastic cups from a bag to his left, placing the on the shelf in front of him. The men would definitely need something to drink. The night hadn’t exactly been refreshing and soon enough, midday would roll around and they’d, be drenched in sweat. As a result, it was essential that he kept them as hydrated as possible.
Before exiting the pantry, he gave the shelf another glance and grabbed the first three items that held his attention. A can of nuts, a jar of peanut butter and two Rice Krispie treats seemed like a nice offering.
Stewart squeezed past Anne to get to the sink where he filled the two plastic cups with water. Carefully, he walked to the front door, trying hard not to make a mess. When he was close enough, he placed the cups, the can, the jar and the Rice Krispie treats on the floor.
‘I think I’ll need a bag. Anne, do you mind?’
Anne took a second away from stirring the pancake mix to toss a rolled up plastic bag to Stewart who was standing only a few feet away from her.
‘You don’t happen to know where my hammer is, do you?’ he asked.
‘Under the coffee table,’ Anne answered abruptly.
Stewart wasn’t sure of the reason for her less than pleasant tone but thought it best to pretend as though he didn’t pick up on it.
‘Thanks,’ he said, kneeling down to retrieve the hammer.
He headed back to the front door, placing the items in the bag and then tending to the door. The loosely tapped in nails were easily pulled out with the claw of the hammer. He knew that it was only luck that had prevented someone else from trying to gain access to his home the previous night and that he ought to do something about his front door situation.
The sun pierced its way into his home once the play had been removed from the door. ‘Today’s definitely gonna be a hot one,’ he said to himself.
He grabbed the bag from the floor, felt around in his pocket for the key to the shed before taking up the two cups of water and then making his way to the shed. The guys seemed to have been sleeping because when Stewart entered the shed, they both looked startled. Of course, they looked even more startled when with one pull, Stewart manage to free Derrick’s mouth of the duct tape and then another swish and Joseph’s mouth was free.
‘You alright?’ Stewart asked in a very plain voice, not trying to let on that he cared much.
Derrick nodded and then looked at Stewart with eyes that told him something wasn’t quite right. He moved his eyes over to Joseph, who looked less than energetic.
‘Is it your leg?’ he asked. ‘Let me take a…’
‘He’s sick,’ Derrick said in what sounded like a whisper.
‘I cleaned it up properly, it shouldn’t be that bad.’
Again, Derricks face said more than he said with words.
‘You mean he’s sick, sick?’
Stewart looked at Derrick whose eyes flirted with the ceiling in the shed.
‘Derrick?’
‘I dunno man. I just know that something’s not right with him.’
‘You said your sister was sick, didn’t you?’
Again, Derrick’s eyes were more focused on the ceiling than Stewart cared for them to be.
‘Joseph?’ Stewart said, trying hard not to raise his voice.
Joseph let out a groan.
‘How long have you been feeling like this?’
‘He…’ Derrick started and then stopped abruptly. ‘What are you gonna do with him?’
‘What do you mean what am I gonna do with him? What the fuck is going on here? Will one of you just tell me what the fuck is going on?’
‘Our sister’s got it. The Ebola thing and yesterday Joseph had a fever, nothing bad, just you know, a little bit higher than usual. We’d been checking our temperatures religiously because, well, we’ve been the ones taking care of her and…’
‘You bled all over my fucking house.’ Stewart could feel the rage building. He could feel the anger pumping through his veins.
‘To be fair, he wasn’t bleeding until you shot him.’
‘Yeah? Really now. You wanna play that game?’ Stewart bent his knees, lowering himself so that he could look Derrick in the eyes. ‘You… Broke… Into… My… Home.’ Derrick shuddered at the sound of Stewart’s voice.
‘Why would you come here if you knew you were sick?’ Stewart turned to Joseph who squinted with each word he said.
‘We had to try to get supplies,’ Derrick answered.
Stewart put his hands on his head. At this very moment, he felt hopeless. He felt as though he’d head to the garage, reach for a couple cans of gasoline and torch his entire house. An entire section of his living room floor looked like it had been painted by a serial killer. Though he and Anne had been exceptionally careful when cleaning that section as well as the rest of the house that they believed might have been contaminated, he couldn’t stand the thought that maybe, just maybe, they’d missed a spot.
Derrick started to say something and was instantaneously shut down by Stewart. ‘Just don’t talk. Don’t talk. Don’t talk,’ he said over and over, handing the food to Derrick.
‘My hands,’ he mumbled.
Stewart moved closer to Derrick, releasing his hands from the handcuff.
‘You’ll take care of him, won’t you? Make sure he drinks some water and such?’
Derrick nodded.
A part of Stewart wanted to turn, walk away and allow Derrick and Joseph to decide their own fate. However, a bigger part of him felt overwhelmed with sadness. If only they had asked for what they wanted rather than turn to violence. If only he’d abided by rule number one- Don’t broadcast your supplies. His feet felt heavy as he contemplated leaving Derrick’s hands free but locking the shed door to prevent them from leaving, just in case Derrick decided to put on a show. With his eyes fixed on Joseph, he couldn’t fathom how things had gone from zero to a hundred in a matter of hours. He couldn’t understand how a gunshot wound was now the least of Joseph’s problems as his body knotted in pain. Then it occurred to him. He’d have to decide whether or not this was information he’d relay to Anne. Would doing so only instill a higher and unnecessary degree of fear in her or would it be for the best? Surely he could cover the blood spot in the house properly and start scouring each corner of the house without making her suspicious.
‘I’ll be back.’ He nodded in agreement with the thoughts in his head. There was no way he could keep this information away from Anne. In order for him to ensure that she knew just how carefully she needed to be, he’d have to tell her.