by Ariel Tachna
“It’s just around the corner,” Derek said, pointing to the street that led into his neighborhood.
His subdivision seemed slightly less beaten up than the areas closer to the freeway, but that could have been wishful thinking. The soldier stopped in front of Derek’s house, easily identifiable by the fact that it wasn’t falling down. “Do you need a hand with your gear?”
“No, but thank you,” Derek said, climbing out of the truck and helping Fido down. He shook the soldier’s hand. “I appreciate the lift.”
“I’m going to let the National Guard unit in the area know you’re here,” the soldier said. “They can come by and check on you periodically, make sure you have everything you need and that no one’s bothering you and all.”
“Thanks,” Derek said one more time before whistling for Fido, who was sniffing his way around the yard. “Yes, I know, boy. It stinks.”
The humidity had to be at ninety-eight percent again and the temperature well over ninety given the way he was already sweating, even with the wind from the open windows in the Humvee. The stench from the floodwaters and the rotting vegetation was nearly overwhelming. He only hoped his generator was still running because if his house smelled this bad, he was going to have to figure out how to hold Fido and ride his motorcycle at the same time.
“Let’s go inside, okay? It’ll be better there.”
Fido followed him up the sidewalk, the concrete slabs that had been underwater out of place because of the dirt shifting underneath them. “The fucking HOA is going to make me replace the entire sidewalk, aren’t they?” he asked the dog. “I guess that’s better than having to replace the entire house.”
The interior of the house was blissfully cool and odor-free when Derek opened the back door and let himself and Fido inside. He stroked the dog’s ears a few times, then pulled out his phone again.
I made it home safe. It’s even worse than I thought. Can I come live in College Station?
He hit Send and went into the kitchen to find a bowl for Fido. Sambit would reply or not eventually, but in the meantime, Derek had other things he had to take care of.
Half an hour later, as Derek was climbing out of the shower, his phone beeped to indicate he’d received a text.
I have a spare bedroom, but it’s full of boxes. It’s yours if you clear it out.
Who are you and what have you done with my Sam?
Sambit’s reply thrilled Derek, but it was out of character, making him fear the answer was in jest rather than serious. Then there was the matter of living in the spare bedroom instead of sharing Sambit’s room, but he figured that would last all of about ten minutes.
It’s Sambit, not Sam, and I’m not yours.
That’s my Sam, stubborn to the end. What does your dosimeter say?
It took a few minutes before Sambit replied.
.25. The same as yesterday.
Derek frowned at the phone for a moment. Send me a picture of it.
What?
You heard me. Send me a picture of the dosimeter reading.
A few minutes later, a picture showed up on his phone with a .25 Gy reading on the dosimeter. All he could see was the readout, though. He flipped through his contacts and texted Lyrica. What is Sam’s dosimeter reading?
.25. Do you not trust your own boyfriend?
Not where that’s concerned. Does he have a headache?
Why are you asking Lyrica questions about me? Ask me if you want the answers.
Then tell me the truth, Derek texted back.
I told you AND I sent the picture. What else do you want?
Derek wanted Sambit there with him safely away from the power plant, or if he couldn’t have that, then he at least wanted Sambit in College Station. Since he could have neither of those for the moment, he settled for texting back. Does your head hurt tonight?
No, you left. There’s no one around to give me a headache.
That’s cold, Sam. That’s really cold.
Sambit didn’t reply for several minutes.
I’m sorry. That was inappropriate. Yes, my head hurts. I wish you were here. I’d take a backrub tonight.
Take a hot shower instead and think of me. I built it for you.
Sambit didn’t reply to that, but Derek didn’t really expect him to. Sambit had pretty much always backed away from any kind of declaration. Derek could let it go for now. He couldn’t do anything other than text or e-mail, or maybe call occasionally, until Sambit made it out of there anyway.
He let Fido out so he could explore the backyard and dug through the cabinets for something for dinner.
Chapter 13
DEREK made it almost to lunch the next day before the need to touch base with Sambit became overwhelming. He grabbed his phone, intending to send off a witty, flirtatious text, but he stopped before he did more than program Sambit’s number as the text recipient. He wasn’t feeling witty and flirtatious. He was feeling edgy, gritty, angry almost. He could pretend easily enough. He knew how to put on a mask and hide his emotions behind a wall of casual insouciance that nothing could ruffle, but Sambit already knew that side of him. If he wanted more than he’d had with past boyfriends, he had to offer more, and Sambit wouldn’t take that first step, not when he still thought Derek’s interest wouldn’t last. Derek would have to take the first step and be the one to show Sambit his cards.
He booted up his laptop while he made a sandwich for lunch, then sat down to compose an e-mail. He could call, but it was still working hours for Sambit. More importantly, on the phone, Derek would be doubly exposed. Once for bringing down the wall around his emotions and twice for doing it without the filter of the written word. He wasn’t sure he was quite ready for that yet. He’d have to get there eventually if he really wanted Sambit in his life, but it could wait another day or two.
Hi, Sam,
I hope you don’t mind the e-mail instead of texts, but I had too much to say to break it into short little bursts. I’ll text later to check on your head.
It’s been rough being home. My generator is still working, fortunately, so I have power, but that’s about all. The water from the tap smells so bad I almost don’t want to take a shower (so I held my nose and thought of you last night). Floodwater must have gotten in the system at some point. The whole area reeks of it. I took Fido for a walk this morning and couldn’t go more than about two steps without him stopping to smell something else.
It’s bad here. Not just the contaminated water (and yes, I have bottled water to drink. I’m not going to get sick), but the downed trees and branches, telephone poles cracked in half, roads buckled… it’s miserable. We found a couple of drowned animals as we were walking. They might have been dogs that got trapped by the rising flood and couldn’t get to higher ground, but between the scavengers and just decomposition, it’s impossible to tell now. I’m kind of ashamed to say it, but I lost my breakfast when we found the first one. We finished our walk and I spent more than a few minutes patting Fido when we got home. That could have been him out there. And yes, I know, I didn’t know him before the storm so I wouldn’t know to care if it had been him, but I care now, and that changes everything.
I haven’t seen anyone else in the neighborhood since I got back. I know I’m a bit of a loner, but I do wave when I see my neighbors out working in their yards and stuff. I wonder where they all ended up. I wouldn’t call any of them friends in the sense of hanging out with them on the weekends and stuff, but I wouldn’t wish any of them ill. Well, other than the ones who abandoned Fido, but maybe there were extenuating circumstances, something that kept them from getting back home to take him with them. If they come back, I’ll let them know that Fido’s safe, but they can’t have him back. I rescued him so he’s mine now.
I need to start cleaning up in the yard, cutting up the fallen branches and raking the leaves, but I’m not going to do it now. It’s hot and humid on top of everything else. I’d give myself heatstroke in about ten minutes trying to work outside now
. I’ll do a couple of hours after dinner and then do some more in the morning.
The good news, if you can call anything good at this point, is that I can’t find any damage to the house other than a few missing shingles. I kept the extras from the original roof so I can patch the holes even if I end up having the roof redone. That’ll probably depend on insurance, but I almost hate to apply for compensation when all I need is a new roof compared to some of the houses around me that’ll have to be torn down and rebuilt from the ground up. I haven’t seen any sign of FEMA or other officials yet other than the National Guard truck that rumbled by this morning. The soldier who dropped me off yesterday said he’d let them know I was here so they could check on me.
I don’t know what their role is besides providing some security, but maybe I should ask if there are ways I can help. I talked with Kenneth, my boss, and he said it would be at least another week before they expect people back at work so that gives me some time. I’m not involved in any active missions at the moment, and I was actually ahead of schedule on the next Mars explorer, so I’m not too worried about missing a few days of work. If I can get enough gas for my chainsaw, I can help clear downed trees. I can’t restring power lines, but I can help make it possible for the trucks to get through. I wonder who I’d need to contact about helping. Any ideas?
Fido is whining at the door again, although I think that’s because he sees a squirrel in the backyard rather than because he needs to go out. I guess it’s a good sign that some of the wildlife survived. The ones that could get above the floodwaters anyway and that weren’t knocked out of the trees by the wind.
Is it unmasculine of me to feel sad at the thought of the local fauna suffering through the storm without even the barrier of a building between them and the elements? I guess if it is, I’ll just have to live with it since I can’t seem to stop shuddering every time I think of it.
Do me a favor the next time a hurricane comes this way. If I give you that bullshit about it not coming our way or not being as bad as they say or whatever stupid crap I said before this storm, knock me over the head and drag me somewhere safe, okay? I look around me and realize it’s a miracle I survived. If I’d been in a different house, I could be dead right now.
Derek paused in his writing, his finger hovering over the delete key as he reread the two last paragraphs. Of everything he had written, they seemed the most revealing, and he felt the vulnerability of the admission keenly. He didn’t think Sambit would mock him for it, but his instincts to self-protection ran deep. He had to take a couple of deep breaths to override the need to retreat behind those walls again. Finally the need to connect with Sambit in a truly meaningful way rather than through flirtatious quips won out, and he left the paragraphs in place.
How are the robots doing?
It was a copout, a retreat away from his vulnerability, but leaving the paragraphs there was the best he could do at the moment. Adding to them was beyond him.
I meant it when I said you should call me if you have problems with either of them. I can walk you through repairs or modifications to their programming, and if that still doesn’t work, I can create a patch and e-mail the file to you so you can download it and install it that way. Things are bad enough where you are without malfunctioning technology making it worse.
Say hi to Lyrica for me, but please don’t let her read this. Some of the things I said are for your eyes only. Of course, my luck, she was reading over your shoulder the whole time. Maybe I should put personal in the subject line so you know it’s just for you rather than something about the robots that anyone could read.
He paused, trying to decide how to close the e-mail. “Sincerely” seemed too formal. “Yours” seemed too intimate. “Love” was out of the question at the moment. He settled finally for simply typing his name. Sambit could attribute whatever sentiment he wanted to the closing, and if he chose to attribute none at all, that was still better than an empty phrase.
He skimmed the e-mail once more, checking for typos or anything else embarrassing, but other than his e-mail program insisting unmasculine wasn’t a word (he knew that, but it was the perfect word so he used it anyway), he didn’t find anything to correct. Taking a deep breath and hoping he wasn’t making a mistake, he hit Send.
“Okay, Fido, that’s done,” he said, looking across the room to the corner by the fireplace that Fido had claimed as his own. “What shall we do now?”
A knock on the door startled him. Fido raced toward the door, barking loudly. Derek hoped that would run off anyone with ill intent, but he clipped his pistol to his belt just in case. A check out through the window revealed a woman in a military uniform. He grabbed Fido’s collar in case the dog decided to charge and cracked the door. “Yes?”
“Mr. Marshall?”
“Yes, I’m Derek Marshall.” He didn’t bother correcting the title she used. In this context his PhD was pretty much worthless.
“Pvt. Walters from Charlie Company told me you were here,” she explained. “I’m Corporal Denise Murphy with the National Guard. I told him I’d come by and check on you.”
“I’m doing okay,” Derek said. “I stocked up with food and water before the storm hit, and I have plenty of fuel for the generator.”
“Good,” Cpl. Murphy said, handing him a card. “Here’s my number if you need to reach me should there be a problem.”
“Actually,” Derek said, “I have a question for you. I’m sitting around here with nothing to do. Could y’all use another pair of hands? I’ve got a chainsaw. If nothing else, I can cut up some fallen trees, help get a few roads open.”
“You’d have to agree to follow orders just like everyone else,” Cpl. Murphy said. “We have pretty strict rules for putting civilians in jeopardy. No rushing into damaged buildings or anything like that, but every pair of hands helps where clearing roads are concerned.”
“Let me just get my tools,” Derek said, “and I can come with you now. Would it be all right if I brought my dog? He’s friendly despite the barking.”
“That’s up to you,” she said, “but you’ll be responsible for him.”
Derek looked down at Fido. “Maybe you better stay here, big guy. I don’t know what kind of conditions we’ll be working in, and I wouldn’t want you to get lost or hurt. You can stay here and sleep, and I’ll be home in a few hours to feed you dinner.”
Fido whined and fretted as Derek gathered his belongings.
“I’m not going to abandon you,” Derek promised, kneeling down to scratch Fido’s muzzle and ears. “I’m going to work for a few hours, and then I’ll be back. What are we going to do when I have to go back to NASA if you can’t let me out of your sight, huh?”
“Did the storm traumatize him?” Cpl. Murphy asked sympathetically.
“His owners left him in a house that fell down around his ears,” Derek explained, his voice hard. “I found him after it was over. He’s bound to have abandonment issues after that.”
“Bring him with you,” Murphy said. “We can put him on a leash in the back of one of the trucks. That way he can see you but still be safe. No need to traumatize the poor thing even more.”
“Thanks,” Derek said, “although he’ll have to get used to being alone eventually. My boss won’t let me bring him to work.”
“Nobody’s going to be working anywhere around here anytime soon,” Murphy said. “I haven’t seen anything like this outside of pictures of bombing sites.”
“I work at NASA,” Derek said. “From what my boss said, they’ll be ready to let people back in to work within a week.”
“But that assumes people can get there,” Murphy said. “I haven’t been down that way specifically, but I don’t know that you could get there from here at the moment.”
“Well, let’s see what we can do about fixing that.”
BY THE time Sambit finished his shift that day, he was ready to throw things. Tucker had been absolutely intolerable all day, making unreasonable demands of both
the people and the machines at the plant to the point that Sambit was tempted to tell him to shove it and leave. The only problem was transportation. He had no way of getting home.
Rubbing at his temples to fight the pounding headache, he collapsed on his cot and stared at the ceiling, wishing Derek were there. He hadn’t gotten any texts today, not that he’d really expected to. Hoped to, yes, but not expected. Not really. He lay there for a few minutes, fighting exhaustion and apathy, before forcing himself to sit up and open his e-mail. If nothing else, he should send his parents a note to let them know how he was doing. He’d sent them a short message after the hurricane passed letting them know he was safe, but that was over a week ago. They’d start worrying if he didn’t send something again soon.
At the top of his inbox was a message from Derek.
Sambit smiled, his headache receding slightly. He clicked on the message and began to read. The first few lines made him smile as he thought of the text messages he and Derek had exchanged the day before. He might deny he was flirting when Lyrica asked, but in the privacy of his own thoughts, he knew he’d been doing just that. Derek made it so easy.
He sobered somewhat as he read the next few paragraphs.
I’m kind of ashamed to say it, but I lost my breakfast when we found the first one.
The admission surprised Sambit. He wasn’t surprised Derek had gotten sick at the sight of the dead and decaying animal, but he was surprised Derek had admitted it. Not many men would. They’d act strong and stoic, saying it was a shame the animals died, perhaps, but not owning up to the kind of reaction that would lead to throwing up all over the sidewalk. Derek went up a couple of notches in Sambit’s esteem for his honesty.
Derek’s protectiveness toward Fido didn’t surprise Sambit at all. He’d seen enough of it when Derek and Fido had been at the power plant with him. If the dog’s original owners thought they were getting anywhere near him, they had another think coming, even if they did have an explanation for what had happened. Derek might have rescued the animal out of a sense of duty or a kind heart, but Fido was his now, there was no doubt about that.