by C A Gleason
Push-ups were ideal for the upper body, since they not only targeted the chest but also strengthened the back, shoulders, triceps, and abs. For his abdominal workout, he executed a variety of sit-ups, crunches, and other stomach exercises that created a pleasurable suffering. That was an apt description for his exercise regimen.
He changed radio stations between sets or when he switched from push-ups to whichever torturous stomach exercise he’d chosen for the day. Though it was cold outside, especially during winter, which never seemed to end, he’d dressed warmly, and the vigorous exercise heated him quickly, enough for him to forget about the low temperatures, at least temporarily.
His routine served multiple purposes: it kept him in shape; it was something he did for himself giving him independence, it kept him informed; he didn’t wake the ladies, the radio was kept at a low volume, and it made him feel normal. All were very important. While in the military, he was always doing physical training in uncomfortable environments, be it the cold or heat. Exercising was something he was used to and would continue for the rest of his life.
Actually his routine served an additional purpose, if he included the rare possibility that he’d actually catch someone on a channel, which would prompt an additional mission. He was convinced that might happen someday. So far the only voice he heard was his own when he uttered an expletive for various but necessary reasons. Doing so helped him keep his mouth clean when he was inside the cabin. Doreen didn’t like cursing, so he saved it up for when he was by himself.
In all actuality, there were probably a thousand reasons his routine, especially the exercise, was good for him—or would be for anyone, he realized—because it served so many purposes, mentally and physically. They were all positive reasons, but another one was that it caused him to reflect. Allowed him the time to do so. It was natural for him to mentally go elsewhere, away from the vigorous activity of exercise, which unnaturally pushed the body to achieve whatever goal the evil part of his brain had decided on, whether it be for the day or the long-term.
Focusing on something other than the physical strain of muscles becoming inflamed only to be broken down—that was what it felt like until the healing process ended—allowed Jonah to not only think about what he wanted to think about but also to think about things he didn’t necessarily want to or even anticipate.
His mind often had a mind of its own, and he often had no choice but to trust there was a mystery pilot flying his brain plane to a destination it needed to arrive at. He’d accepted his reflections long ago, and they tended to increase while he was on guard duty. He was positive it was all beneficial, even when it was painful, which was often when it was the most helpful. He allowed his thoughts to go where they needed to go, especially when it was safe, like while doing some sort of exercise.
Running, which he would do in a bit, allowed him to further mentally filter through the events of his life, and that was easier now than when he’d been younger, even though some of the darkest times were so fresh and raw because they’d happened only in the last decade or so. But he was older now, and he felt more grown-up, too, especially because of how much had transpired, forcing him to mature in ways he never thought possible.
Major events had crafted him into the man he was, the good along with the bad—he realized and accepted that he was who he was today as a result of the very creatures that threatened humanity—and acknowledging the good and bad in his mind, remembering why it all happened, reminded him not to make the same mistakes again.
Even though he kept a careful watch on his surroundings and could dart back inside if he needed to, he still kept a weapon nearby—pistol or shotgun. Molters often attacked out of nowhere, and he didn’t want to be surprised while doing lunges. “Embarrassing” wouldn’t be a strong enough word to describe dying like that. He was a veteran. Maybe he could convince Doreen to guard him while he did his push-ups or some other exercise that made him feel vulnerable. He would ask her to get a laugh. When she woke up. Even though she was a prior servicemember, and one of the foundations of the military was to get up ridiculously early, she enjoyed sleeping in.
Thinking of Doreen reminded him of what he’d gone through in Germany, before and after the Molting, and how he considered her, and her daughter, Heike, to be his family now. They had replaced the friends he’d lost. He often wondered who he would be, where he would be, if everything was normal. If there were no Molters. Would he be the same because of his age? He doubted it. He’d probably still be a fuckup.
Many people went out into the world once they grew up, as he had. For most, friends replaced family and bonds formed. Some friendships could last a lifetime, but sadly most ended. When you were young, friendships and relationships were often based only on proximity, were superficial, and were as easy to break as they were to form. It seemed most friendships or romantic relationships began so they could end. Except when someone special came along.
While medicating himself with substances and friendships, Jonah had realized he had been searching for a family or, more specifically, someone special all along. Just because he had gone about his life normally didn’t mean he’d used people. He hadn’t; he‘d been available to them as much as they were to him, but he’d always been hoping for a meaningful companion. Jonah had found that person in Doreen and intended to spend the rest of his life trying to make her happy, inadvertently making himself happy too.
Though he was a bit robotic in his thinking, and though he likely would have trouble conveying his thoughts to someone else—other than Doreen—that was essentially how he viewed friendships and romantic relationships. He couldn’t imagine his life without them and even thought he would die if he were suddenly, solo as he feared he would be.
That wasn’t entirely true, though. He needed to remember. Unfortunately, he’d experienced what actually losing people felt like, in the war and by Molters, and it hadn’t killed him. He knew it’d made him harder, tougher, and frostier emotionally, and there had been moments in his past when he’d wanted to die, even kill himself, but the reality was that all of those terrible things had made him stronger.
Life had few neutral zones. The only one he could think of was in the midst of romance. Everywhere else forces were doing their best to topple people over. It was just a question of how much fight someone had in them or if they were willing to push back. He knew he did, and he also realized that such observations would likely have never occurred to him if the world as they knew it weren’t presently ending. Lives went along on a natural path unless cataclysmic events reformed them, sometimes by figurative mutilation.
Jonah’s friends had been killed by things that were never supposed to exist, not in this day and age, not while humans reigned, but also not when man had been in control of what killed him for thousands of years. There were always exceptions, and whatever had killed humans in the past almost never disappeared completely. Most of the time, it simply evolved, like the flu, but modern-day humans had been—relatively—in control over how long they lived for over a century. Before Molters, mankind’s biggest threat was age.
Present circumstances made Jonah wonder if something similar had happened before. Dinosaurs, and whatever was actually responsible for their extinction, came to mind. There were many theories, but he guessed it had been something drastic, a sudden change that altered everything. He wondered if it was similar to the Molting, something microscopic—mysteriously born from the atmosphere—and he didn’t doubt it had something to do with climate change.
It was logical that Earth was in a constant state of evolution. Though they took physical form, Molters and Behemoths could be considered climate change. It made sense to him. He wondered if he could explain that to someone other than Doreen without sounding like a lunatic. She said his theories were understandable when he told her about them. That was her exact word, understandable, and Jonah took that to mean she was listening because she loved him, but he didn’t know if she believed all of his explanations.
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Believed in what he said well enough not to leave the mountains as he’d feared she would. He hoped one day someone would assure him that all of the things that worried him were ridiculous and that everything wasn’t as dire as his gut told him it was, but he doubted that would happen. Knowing that the planet Earth had it out for humans was difficult for anyone to swallow.
Too many thoughts about the end of the world made him feel crazier than he actually was, so he decided to redirect his thoughts for now. He only allowed himself to think about them for so long. All of it took a toll on him, so he decided to think about something else entirely, something more human, like the fantasy of a normal life.
“Like that’s possible,” he grunted.
Laughter accompanied spittle as he finished another set of push-ups. He allowed his knees to touch the ground. Hearing his own voice actually made him feel better. After slowing his breathing, he straightened his legs and began another set, and while he pushed again and again and again, he thought of Doreen and how much he loved her, but along with that was a familiar tug of pain. Not just his own. He felt hers as well.
When will that go away? Probably never.
Being vigilant with everything he did meant he was highly aware of her emotional health and state of mind. With what she had gone through, he did his best to deal with it, which was, essentially, not dealing with it at all. He basically ignored what was going on because he didn’t want to make it worse. Being unsure what to do made it so he thought it was best to do nothing unless initiated by her.
Nothing but be there for her as any man should be there for his woman: by being there physically, to hug, cuddle, or hold hands, but most importantly by being as emotionally available as she wanted. If it were up to Jonah, he would steal her pain away, eat it and swallow it and deal with however it affected him. If only that were possible.
At least Doreen had Heike. If it were only him and Doreen together, if anything had happened to Heike, Jonah didn’t know if Doreen would still be alive. It wasn’t that Doreen was weak. She wasn’t; she was as strong as any woman he had ever known, and it was one of the reasons he loved her so much, but mothers needed to mother as much as men needed a mate. Otherwise, he thought, what was the point of being alive?
Everybody could be weak or strong and occasionally both at the same time. For Jonah, the hard stretches were when he teetered toward weakness for extended periods, especially when he was doing his best to fight toward strength but feeling paralyzed in ways he didn’t understand. The depressed times that lived in his mind and seemed determined to take up permanent residence. Remaining busy was the most reliable remedy.
The only other reason someone would want to live for something other than family was if they wanted to devote themselves to a purpose, a cause, and be selfless. The military came to mind. Serving was like swimming downstream. All that was required was that you do what you were told. The downside was it wasn’t so easy for romance. Jonah had met many fellow soldiers whose marriages didn’t outlast their careers.
Most people devoted themselves to something of importance, or perceived importance, at certain times in their lives, but it was usually only temporary. If it didn’t last, then those who claimed to want to live that way were either liars or fooling themselves. Unless it was a passion that needed to end because of age or some other natural and impossible-to-prevent occurrence. Almost everyone was passionate about something, but nothing really mattered if you were alone. That was what Jonah believed. It was one of the most important lessons of his life.
Best to be honest. Best to know oneself enough to understand the primitive animal that existed inside every human being, the part that would fight or flee when backed into a corner but also the part that needed to be social, needed others, especially that special someone. Some were fortunate and never experienced being alone.
Not Jonah. It had happened to him after Oberstein, and even though he’d occasionally fantasized about being by himself, that everything would be easier, he realized he was wrong to think that way. They were only fantasies and the foundation for them was his fear of loss, which he’d now accepted as very normal. And now the idea of living on his own would be hell.
Being lonely had been physically painful, the worst agony he’d ever felt, but he remembered being unsure where that pain was exactly. Somewhere between his heart and stomach? He was a soldier, and soldiers were trained to endure every kind of hardship. Except soldiers were also human, and unfortunately humans had their limitations. Jonah’s biggest weakness was his need for a woman. Other than the unpredictability of his emotions, it was the only weakness he could think of. Neither were actually weaknesses, just examples of being human, but they did make him vulnerable.
Thankfully, the pain of loneliness was gone, replaced by the love of a good woman. If Jonah didn’t have Doreen, if something happened to her, he didn’t know what he would do. He definitely wouldn’t kill himself. Not anymore. That would betray her memory. He would probably regress into something close to what he had been before he’d met her. Just a Molter killer. Occasionally horrible thoughts of the worst possible situations slithered inside his mind, no matter how many push-ups he did. It was one of the flaws of him being human.
“Take care of Heike is what you’d do, dummy.”
When he did his exercises, he didn’t count out loud or in his head. He simply went all out until he was close to muscle failure—he liked himself a lot more these days but still enjoyed punishing himself for some reason, probably because pain was familiar—and right up to the point when he barely had anything left.
Or when he barely had anything else to think about or when he didn’t want to think anymore because he was tired of it. He could only reflect so much. Too much of it made him feel how he used to feel, when he was in pain and regretful and wanted to die, when he was willing to allow himself to die in a battle.
When he wasn’t reflecting, he liked to be in the moment. With Doreen and Heike around, there was always something to talk about or some new activity to enjoy, and they brought out the best in him. They made him healthy. They were a part of him now, and through them he could compartmentalize his wretchedness, the despicable things he was capable of, the part of him full of mistakes that he hated but that would always be there. Stuff it down deep inside somewhere and use it only when needed, because he’d learned his woes could be used as a strength, a loaded weapon kept in a figurative closet for defense.
As he began another set of push-ups, hitting bottom, the desire for his life to end throbbed inside him like a distant memory. It was how he’d been when he was on the road and on the move and alone. Hard to imagine his life being like that now. It was only him and his people, but they were together. If he found himself on his own again, he didn’t know if he could remain that way for long. He would have to meet another woman.
“Enough of that.”
Doreen was his woman, and he would hate to lose her, but because of her, he was healthy enough to go on if he absolutely had to. He would want her to do the same. He hated that they lived in a time when subjects such as that needed to be considered and sometimes even addressed through discussion.
Who would she pick, though? Not many men to choose from around here.
He felt a pang of jealousy thinking about another man who would hold her and kiss her and ahem . . . in the future if he got himself killed. That in itself made staying alive worth it. He knew not to voice every crazy thought in his head, and expressing jealousy over an imaginary suitor belonged in the category of things not to say. If he did say everything on his mind, Doreen would probably, well, not leave him but definitely tune him out temporarily or longer. He was glad he’d learned when to shut up.
His thoughts could be dark. Jonah knew that, but thinking gave him something to do to distract him from an ever-present freezing winter and the threat of what they faced every day. What all humans who were still alive faced. One thing he was sure of: he wasn’t about to let any of them g
et near his people. He would die before he let that happen.
He popped straight up and wiped his sweaty brow. His abs were still sore from yesterday’s exercise, so he decided today’s workout was over. Unless he went on a run but he would decide when to go a little later. The best time was at the end of the day, and he wasn’t exactly dressed for it. He always did his morning exercises dressed for a mission because that was typically what he did afterward. He switched off the radio.
Intending on going out to clear, and to be gone for most of the day, and before the ladies woke up, he checked the lock on the cellar door, where most of the weapons, supplies, and emergency food like MREs were stored. That included the fully automatic grenade launcher they’d used during the battle of Henrytown, to prevent it from rusting. Jonah ensured every weapon system was operational for the future by keeping them clear of dirt and debris, but especially that weapon in particular. When he inspected the lock, he found it was functional and free of rust. It had been that way yesterday and the day before that. He wiped it clean anyway.
He also inspected the trucks—Henry’s and the backup—performing daily preventative maintenance but also performing actual maintenance when required. He shoveled snow away from the tires and started them up for a few minutes. Only for a short while, though, so as not to waste too much fuel. Then he moved them to a different parking spot so they wouldn’t get stuck in the snow. He always reparked them when there was daylight so he could keep the lights off. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know the immediate area like the back of his hand and couldn’t practically accomplish the routine with his eyes closed, but still, lights drew attention.