by Eve Langlais
All those protests and fears over bioweapons and nukes ending the world. Ha. Humanity met its doom in the form of a sneeze-or was it a cough? Didn’t matter, the result ended up the same.
The guy on the corner of Main and Queen was the only one who saw it coming with his sign raised high saying, "The end is nigh!" He’d been preaching that for fifteen years, so maybe that was why nobody listened. Of course, even had someone had believed, it wouldn’t have made a difference.
Sometimes she wondered why she’d been spared. Her life wasn’t a bad one, but it lacked…sparkle. It needed that something that made a person want to get up in the morning and say today would be a beautiful day.
Brody could keep me company and be that something I need. An insidious thought that had no merit. Brody hadn’t been able to stay when things were going good; why on earth would he stay now that things had gone to hell?
It pissed her off a part of her wanted to believe his words on the porch that he would never leave again. She hated that she longed to feel his strong arms around her, hugging her tight, telling her things would be okay. Touching her… Oh how she missed the secure feeling that came with knowing someone loved her.
But it had taken so long for her to get over his leaving the first time. If he did it again, she didn’t think she’d have the strength this time to survive. Her heart had been battered enough.
Finally the house quieted, and she lay on her bed listening and, truthfully, waiting to hear the sound of his bike as he left her-again.
She fell asleep to uninterrupted silence.
The sunlight woke her, slanting across her face with its brilliance, signaling the start of a new day and the chores that came with it. Remembering the events of the previous day, she sat up and listened. The chirping of birds were the only apparent sound.
The window of her bedroom faced the front yard. Holding her breath, Hannah peered out of her lace curtains into the front yard, the empty yard. It wasn’t disappointment she felt when she noticed his bike gone; after all, he’d done exactly what she expected. And what you told him to do.
Telling herself she had dust in her eyes-no way am I shedding another tear over him-she dressed in ragged jeans and an even worse shirt, clothes that matched her wretched mood. A quick brush and she caught up her jagged curls into a sloppy ponytail. Exiting her room, she jogged downstairs to the surprising smell of breakfast.
Beth is up already and cooking?
A surge of warmth filled Hannah. Her sister must have finally realized how upset Brody’s visit had made her.
She stumbled when she walked into the kitchen and found herself presented with a black t-shirt stretched over a broad back. And the jolt of pleasure that shot through her had nothing to do with the fact he’d stayed.
“What are still doing here?” she asked crossly. “You’re supposed to be gone.”
* * * * *
“Morning to you too, kitten.” Brody didn’t turn to face Hannah, even though he wanted to. He’d been disappointed when she’d fled to her room the day before and not come back down, but her absence had given him a chance to pump Beth and Fred for information, most of it hard to listen to and increasing the guilt he already felt. Not even six months after he’d left, Hannah’s parents had died in a car crash, leaving her alone to fend for her younger sister and invalid uncle. His gut had tightened when he’d heard of how Hannah had stopped attending college to work full time in support of her family. She’d been so close to finishing her degree in business when he left.
The news that made him glad, even as he knew he should feel guilty, was hearing she hadn’t dated anyone since he’d left. When he’d been away, just thinking of another man touching her had always been enough to put him in a foul mood. He wondered if, like him, the thought of being with someone else had left her cold. He hadn’t been able to feign interest in any other women. None of them were Hannah.
The previous night, after Beth went to bed, Fred had told him of how Hannah had taken care of them all. He’d also told him of the attack she’d survived in the spring when fetching supplies. Brody had clenched his fist at hearing of how his kitten had been forced to stab a man to prevent a rape. He should have been here protecting her. He thanked god she’d escaped unscathed but for some mental scars. From now on, she’d have nothing to fear. He would protect her and her family. Nobody would touch a hair on her head. I’ll kill them first.
He heard a chair being dragged behind him. The object of his thoughts sat down heavily, the glaring heat from her stare boring into his back. Brody grinned but still didn’t turn around, staying instead at the Coleman stove, cooking the omelets he’d whipped up using eggs he’d fetched from the coop. He’d been only moderately surprised at how well set up Hannah and her family were. Trust her to find a way to ensure she survived and stayed well fed.
Knowing her penchant for good food, he’d gotten up early to surprise her with breakfast. In the past, her good moods had often been linked to eating. What a shame that his previous method of kissing her ‘til she smiled wasn’t yet feasible. He’d spent a restless night thinking of her-how they’d touched and kissed. Brody wanted to curse when his cock got hard; somehow he didn’t think Hannah would be impressed at his lack of control.
Pity I can’t just slap my prick on a plate and offer it to her to eat. It would solve two problems at once.
* * * * *
Hannah watched his broad back shake as if in silent jest and resented the easy way Brody had slipped into her life in less than a day. He moved around the kitchen like he owned it, cooking on the Coleman stove with the window above it and the side door open for venting-and the food smelled heavenly too, the jerk. Leave it up to him to prepare something she hadn’t truly eaten since the power had finally given out a year or so ago.
She had yet to master the art of camp stove cooking without burning their meal. Thank god for the propane center in town they could use for refills. She just hoped she never saw it run out or they’d have to resort to a true firepit. The only thing she knew how to cook on those was marshmallows.
At least running water had never been as issue as they’d always had a well, but she did worry about the septic system one day overflowing out in the yard, a problem she hoped lay many years in the future. That and running out of toilet paper.
Watching him cook-a skill he’d acquired since his departure-she wondered what other things he’d learned while he’d been away. If Brody had actually been serious about staying, which she highly doubted, there were many things she could use help with, as much as it galled her to ask. Even if she had no interest in hooking up, it wouldn’t hurt to milk him for all the practical knowledge and muscle he had to offer in the meantime. And he definitely has a lot of muscle to offer, she thought, licking her lips in hunger, and not of the consumable kind.
“Oh my god, Hannah. Did you finally learn to cook?” Beth came in looking fresh and cute in short shorts with a blouse tied at her midriff that made Hannah gnash her teeth. Since when did Bethie come to breakfast dressed like a tart?
“Hope you’re hungry,” said Brody, turning to face them with two steaming plates. With a wink for Hannah and a smile for Beth, he laid the plates on the table and turned to fix a third.
Hannah hopped up to grab the plate from Brody to take Fred who found mornings hard, but Beth beat her to it. With a simpering smile, she took it from Brody and sashayed away, her pert butt swinging in shorts that Hannah could have sworn were longer last week.
To his credit, Brody didn’t watch Beth’s little show; instead he dumped the rest of the food he’d made into a pile on his plate and sat down at the table-a table which suddenly seemed too small.
Hannah tried to ignore him, shoveling the delicious eggs into her mouth with enthusiasm, but she couldn’t help the awareness that crept through her body, causing her to flush. She refused to look at him though, even when she felt his curious gaze upon her.
Beth flounced back into the kitchen and flopped into her chair.
In between forkfuls, she chattered inanely, and Brody, seeming preoccupied, answered her. Hannah did her best not to react to his rumbling tone, but tingles ran up and down her flesh, sensitizing her.
Annoyed, she rudely interrupted their pointless conversation. “If you’re going to be sticking around then you’re going to need to pitch in.” She finally looked him in the face when she said this and saw his blue eyes twinkle with mirth. What does he find so funny? she thought crossly.
“I fully intend to do my part. I told you, I’m here for the long haul. Anything in particular that you’d like me to start with?”
“Chain saw.” Hannah blurted the word out and then blushed at his puzzled look. “We need wood, and I can’t start the damned thing. We’ll need several cords for the winter.”
“What have you been doing up ‘til now?” he asked.
“We had enough to make due the last winter since we’d stocked up before everything happened. When we exhausted it in the spring, I started raiding other homes for firewood and furniture,” she admitted. “But I had to stop ‘cause the Jeep died and our gas supply was getting low.”
“Then cords of wood you shall have. I promise to keep you warm while I’m here.” He grinned wolfishly. Hannah felt her blush deepen at his words, the sexual innuendo clear and, to her annoyance, titillating. She’d be burning through some batteries tonight.
Not feeling in control, Hannah excused herself and went to check on her uncle, but she couldn’t stop thinking very naughty thoughts of Brody. She couldn’t hide for long though. Brody came looking for her.
“Why don’t you show me the chain saw that’s been giving you problems?”
Hannah led him to the bane of her existence, a brand-new, gas-powered Ryobi she’d taken from the local hardware store. It was actually the third one; the first two hadn’t survived her frustration.
Brody turned the stupid thing over in his hands, opened the gas compartment for a sniff, then looked at her with a smile. “It’s a two cycle.”
Hannah pursed her lips, annoyed at his vague statement. “And?”
“You forgot to mix it with oil.”
With deft fingers, he dumped the gas reservoir into an empty oil container and then mixed up what he called a ratio fuel mixture. He spoke words like “priming the carb” and “setting the choke,” jargon Hannah couldn’t quite follow, but the result when he’d done his prepping and gave it a few pulls was a growl as the machine started, it’s chain whirring.
Hannah made a face at the ease with which he’d started it and walked away to take care of other chores. But like the planets that circled the sun, she kept revolving back into his vicinity, unable to stop herself.
By late morning she finally admitted something to herself-she still wanted him. Who in their right mind wouldn’t?
The day had turned really warm, and Brody had been hard at work. He’d lost his shirt at one point, and his tanned and corded muscles rippled as he handled the chain saw. His hard abs also glistened enticingly, slick with sweat, making Hannah almost go cross-eyed with desire. His jeans hung low on his lean hips, drawing attention to the vee of hair that arrowed down his chest and disappeared beneath the waistband. Hannah licked her lips more than once and drank way too many glasses of water trying to ease the slow fire burning inside of her every time she saw him.
As if he could read her mind, he kept glancing over at her and giving her lazy smiles, the kind that made her panties wringing wet. Hungry but settling for food, she made him a plate of edibles and carried it out to him. Partially burned biscuits, canned tuna tossed with celery, onion, and green pepper, and homemade ice tea sans ice. Not exactly a feast, especially since the tuna salad could have really used mayonnaise, but a lack of creamy flavor always won over food poisoning. They had a small fridge that ran on propane, but their biggest problem with things like mayo was they’d all gone past their “best by” dates.
Brody stopped the rumbling saw and, grabbing his discarded shirt, mopped at his brow and chest. Hannah stumbled with the tray of food and would have fallen had he not grabbed her arms to steady her. The instant heat made her knees sag. With a knowing grin that encouraged her tummy to perform gymnastics, he helped her sit on a stump.
She hated how he still seemed to read her like an open book. How am Isupposed to hide the effect he has on me? And a better question, did she want to?
They didn’t talk while they ate and when Beth came bouncing over in her still too short denims, Hannah both resented and welcomed her sister’s cheerful intrusion.
“It is so nice to have a man around here,” gushed Beth, batting her lashes at him. “We appreciate your hard work ever so much.”
Hannah wanted to roll her eyes at Beth’s poorly disguised attempt at flattery.
“Just doing my part,” said Brody. “Listen, do you mind if I go to town this afternoon. I’m going to need more oil to keep this baby running, and I thought I’d see what other supplies I could grab.”
“Want me to go with you?” The words came out of Hannah’s mouth and surprised her.
“No, it’s okay. I thought I’d swing by my parents’ place while I was there too.”
Hannah froze. “You haven’t been there yet?”
“No. I came here first.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Hannah blurted.
Brody frowned at her as did Beth. “Why not?”
But Hannah couldn’t tell him in front of Beth. “Listen, I’ll go with you. I need to pick up some stuff. Okay?”
Jumping up and grabbing the tray, she quick walked back to the house in an attempt to forestall questions. She should have known it wouldn’t work.
* * * * *
Brody had put it off long enough, and Hannah’s odd reaction puzzled him while lighting a curious fire. What secrets lay hidden at his parents’ house? What did she fear he’d see?
The time had come to pay a visit to place he’d called home for over twenty years. And he intended to do it alone.
It had been obvious that Hannah wanted to come with him, but he couldn’t be sure what his reaction would be. He had no intention of letting her see him as less than strong, especially knowing there was a chance he’d break down. The guilt he felt over abandoning his parents-not just the first time he'd left, but when his dad had called and told him his mother had caught the sickness-still presided. Brody had fought an inner battle, wanting to fly to his mother’s side but at the same time too scared to watch her die. He’d had a long time to regret that choice. It didn’t matter she’d died faster than he could have made it back. The fact remained; he never should have left and hurt the two women he loved most: his mother and Hannah. A hurt he compounded by never bothering to come back even for a visit.
Downshifting the gears on his bike, he coasted up the weed-choked driveway to the battered green vinyl house. Brody’s gut clenched as he braced himself for the memories already assailing him, like the one of his dad playing catch with him on the front lawn and the crooked mailbox he’d crashed into while learning to ride his bike, a feat accomplished with both his father and mother cheering him on. His steps echoed loudly on the wooden risers that led up to the wide porch where his mother had served lemonade to him and a more carefree Hannah. God, it seems like a lifetime ago.
The screen door sagged and creaked when he pulled it open. He expected the thick, green door to be locked, but the knob turned in his hand. Sucking in a deep breath, he took a step into the musty interior and fell into the past.
And when he found out why Hannah had tried to stop him, guilt crashed over him like a tidal wave, sinking him to his knees.
I’m so sorry, Mom and Dad.
Chapter Five
Hannah heard the sound of his bike leaving and dropped the dishes she was rinsing to run outside in time to watch his bike as it got smaller and smaller in the distance. She knew where he’d gone, and she cursed a blue streak as she bolted for her pink mountain bike. Even as she pedaled she knew she’d be too late b
ut, knowing what he faced, she pumped faster.
Out of breath, she rode right up onto the lawn of his old house and hopped off the bike, letting it fall to the ground as she raced up the steps and through the open front door.
“Brody!” She called his name in the dead silence. He didn’t answer. She knew where she’d find him and though her heart stuttered, she whipped up the stairs to his parents’ bedroom and stopped in the doorway. She’d found him and the secret she’d tried to hide from him.
Brody knelt on the floor, head bowed and shoulders heaving. Hannah approached quietly and, dropping to her knees behind him, hugged him tight.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered hoarsely.
Guilt twinged her. “I didn’t know how.”
His laughter sounded bitter. “I guess it’s not the easiest thing to say, ’Hey Brody, your dad killed himself.’” Hannah winced at his blunt words. “It’s stupid, it never occurred to me he might be immune too. How long after my mom died did he off himself?”
Hannah swallowed at the misery and intense guilt she heard in his voice. “I don’t know. I ran into him the first time I came to town for supplies after everyone was gone. He didn’t make much sense.” Brody shook in her embrace. “I wanted him to come stay with us but when I went to go get him the next day, this is what I found.” With a hole in his head and blood staining the sheets. She didn’t tell him how she’d screamed and cried when she’d seen Brody’s father lying beside his wife, a peaceful look finally crowning his face even amid all the horror.
“I never knew. I would have come back sooner if I’d known.”