Still Myself, Still Surviving: Part II: The Realization

by Marlin Grail

  As long as I simplify the trouble, then it won’t overly complicate the process of moving from problem to resolution.

  “Will, just have it in your mind we’ll be running out of gas in less than an hour. Keep pressing onward until either sign of population, regardless if they still exist there, or until—”

  I spoke too late, but it’s for a wonderfully timed reason. Will can’t help but give an elongated laugh of relief when the sight of a gas station takes up the full front of the dashboard. The loudness causes Lissie’s nestled body to begin moving. I witness these two majestic sights with utmost care.

  I reach down to the food bag below me, bumping my head against Will’s back seat as he roughly turns us off the road. Her eyes, large and watchful, sink into the scenario without confusion.

  “Shit, yeah!” comes from her mouth. It’s Lissie’s usual vulgarity that immediately eases my anxiety about how she’s feeling. “Gary, how are you doing?”

  “I feel as though I’m the one who should be asking you that question,” I tease gently. “You had the hardest encounter.”

  She pulls her long and sight-for-sore-eyes hair back behind her and mumbles, “He wasn’t the first ass who tried it neither.”

  Every other person, beside last night’s attempter, were lucky I wasn’t around.

  Her expression becomes the gooey lovey-dove kind when I hand her food. “You enjoy that while I help us obtain fuel.”

  I unlatch my door. Before I can fully climb out, I hear her call out to me. “Stay with me, please?”

  I can’t deny any chance of affection with her. There will be plenty of times we have to reluctantly be split apart from one other.

  Will, hanging out the truck beside me, sees my decision before I even say it. “Relax. Ashton and I will handle this.”

  I feel grateful to have a person like him in our group. “Be on the lookout,” I remind him before shutting the door.

  With just Lissie, Janice, and me in the back seat, the silence proves how light and vibrant Will and Ashton make the environment.

  The term “hero” doesn’t have to always mean saving the day through action. It can also mean just being there. They’re doing both right now, and that makes them extraordinary just as much as an immune or undead controlling maniac.

  Lissie and I find ourselves wanting privacy, though we wish to be respectful to Janice’s presence as well. Janice soon calls it like she sees it though.

  “It’s fine. Relationships need space away from party-crashers like myself. I’ll go and stretch my legs for a bit.” Her usual chirpiness plants a smile on both mine and Lissie’s faces, but we caution her for the same reasons we don’t want those smiles ripped away from us. “I’m a big girl. I won’t lose touch with the outside. Remember, I always say you shouldn’t be afraid of the wilderness itself.”

  An extra space is finally free for Lissie, but even after several moments of recognizing we have the truck to ourselves, she still clings to me. I can’t help but feel like the luckiest man on earth because of it. The soreness of sitting for an immense amount of time has me feeling stiff, but I accept it anyway.

  I accept it because right now the undead mean nothing, hazes can’t send a chill up my spine, and the outside world isn’t sorely against me. I accept this for love.

  With a kiss here and there, and Lissie’s giggles never sounding as peaceful as they are now, I experience sound that has never been so perfect to my ears. Musicians were about falling in love with sound, but maybe not so much the source of the sound, such as loving what an amplifier could give off, but not the amplifier itself.

  I’ve learned today—considering yesterday—if any part of me missed music, it’s over now, because I’m in love with the source.

  I’m in love with Lissie.

  The little pout she suddenly makes troubles me greatly. “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t have a Christmas gift for you. You gave me mine yesterday. Too bad I’m not creative as well.”

  I lean my away from her so that I can see every feature of her beloved face.

  “You’ve given me a gift. It’s you.”

  Chapter XXXVI

  (Ashton)

  Leave it to the apocalypse to make a tiny faux-vintage gas station make the largest difference in our lives.

  “Will, I’m not sure we’ll be in any luck with these outside pumps.”

  He seems to find my lack of confidence unimportant, and continues to walk clockwise around the entire building.

  Sure, we could use our sharp blades to cut through the rubber tubing of the pumps, but it would likely be more energy wasted than a hard effort’s gain.

  I stand straight, waiting for him to return back to this old ice machine that I’ve made our idle point. I watch Janice look away in the distance, obligated to only her inner thoughts.

  Just like me.

  We’re going someplace good, everyone. I can feel it. Nevermore will we be under a boss. We’re not in a job, with peer workers, or required duties. I knew something was being hidden from us, something that would critically alter what we were dealing with, and it’s made the sacrifices we’ve made be almost for nothing.

  Well, at least we got a truck and bags worth of supplies, but that was mostly by our findings.

  Will finished his perimeter search, appearing before me with new insight. “We’ve got a car farther behind the building. I don’t know if it’s got fuel in it, but we might as well check.”

  It narrows down our only option I’m okay doing, but it won’t be an immediate siphon. “You know we’ll need something to suck out the gas, and something to put it in.” I slur my words together, not really being enthusiastic.

  “Inside, there’s bound to be those tools.” Surprisingly, he steers this response with positivity. It’s probably mostly from finding my tone nasty.

  If he finds my attitude prickly today, he doesn’t know that me seeming sluggish and unattached is better than the alternative. Because the other way, like Gary once said, would involve a huge emotional outburst.

  I’m having to cope from another betrayal. It’s going to end up being just another thing I’m reminded of every now and then.

  He smacks my shoulder to get my attention. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t.”

  “You’ll search the smallest of compartments, and I’ll go for the bigger spots. Got it? Tube and—”

  “Yeah, I know what’s needed to siphon gas. It’s not my first time.”

  I can chuckle about it now, but there was that one time Gary found me taking some out of his car, back when I was really off the deep end. It wasn’t so funny then.

  We figure if there was any danger lurking inside, the weathered glass windows and cracked door would have made them improbable to go unheard by us. It’s truly the least of our concerns, as we plummet straight to the snooping. Will is slow paced, but looks like he’s scanning every speck of the larger and wider areas.

  I’m expected to have the most focused space. I skim through it easily by gliding my hands over cabinets, and under-the-counter drawers. I go through it quickly because I’m not overwhelmed by the messiness.

  To me, this is nothing compared to how my bedroom became. I’ve developed a strong eye to tell objects apart in a flash.

  “Ashton.” I can hear Will is slightly agitated. “Could you try and at least show you’re concentrating?”

  “It’ll come to me, just not now.” I respond, complacent and as if he won’t find that unusual.

  Instead, Will calls it like he sees it. “Come on, when we did the town scavenge you were on fire! Then, the mountain resort place? What, can only Gary start that fire in you?”

  “Of course I’m being serious,” I argue back, complaining and mixing one trouble with another. “We’re not on a schedule anymore. Let’s take our time.”

  Will doesn’t seem to understand what I mean by it, and shakes his head. “Man, I never would’ve been fit to lead us. Had tha
t old bastard chose me, I’d let you all down.”

  He’s not arrogant or ridiculing about it like he used to, but I wonder if a part of him is still trying to feel what taking charge is really like?

  Loosely on the topic, I throw my hands in the air, suddenly irritated by the search process. “How did the RV never need refueling?”

  Will, seeming glum, stands stagnant long enough to answer, “Just through a siphoning kit, and pre-gathered canisters in the RV exterior compartments.”

  When a flinch of jealously comes from hearing about what we don’t have anymore, appeasement comes in the form of a long clear conduit for gas siphoning, one which my air will give purpose to once again.

  “You haven’t let us down, Will!” I assure with a rejuvenated tone of resolve. He brightens up when I wrap up the coil, long enough that I feel it could tourniquet my whole arm. “All we need is something to transfer the gas to.”

  The luck keeps spinning our fate’s fortune when he accidentally stubs his foot on a porcelain container. The outer rim chipped where it got kicked, but the large deep vase itself has no shattered pieces, thus ensuring all liquid is certain to safely move from car to car.

  “Now let’s see what it can give us,” Will says.

  I take an extra glance over at the truck, ensuring they haven’t disappeared on us.

  I know they would never abandon us…but I can never be too sure of anything anymore. In the past, I thought certain things wouldn’t happen, and they did. I’m already planning how I’d react if they just left me and Will here.

  My trust issues have never gone away, but it’s not their burden. It’s something I was working out shortly before the world crumbled.

  Will has already made it to the blue car behind the building, by the time I get out. His position halts me in my tracks. Remaining crouched, he waddles towards me. “Undead’s in the car haze-incubating!” he whispers harshly.

  As I follow his lead, fighting to keep my balance in this squatted position, I see why it’s such a humongous concern.

  “Windows rolled down! Shit!” I curse softly.

  It must not have heard me because it doesn’t do any differently from how it was already acting. The plus to this situation is it’s laid out within the backseat of the car, and those windows are rolled up. The negative? It won’t stop it from straining its body to the absolute breaking point to crawl out the front windows.

  “Should we get the others?” I question.

  Will turns to me, pushing the container against my abdomen. “No, too risky. We’re a two-man team. Let’s make record time on this one!”

  He doesn’t utter a single word about his idea. I can tell what it is though. His gaze burns a hole into me when starts up buffoon-like noises.

  Will’s going to distract the undead and make it zero in on him.

  He’s shown his angriest through a backhanded punch. Now I see his silliest. He’s a grown man making the most awkward sounds that one wouldn’t possibly think could come from a stony-faced person like him.

  Now it’s my turn to focus on the mission.

  I firmly pull the gas tank’s protective pieces open and off, threading down the end of the tube as far as it can go. Part of me wishes to swipe it left and right to feel joy of dense liquid resistance to it—like a kid wanting to shake their Christmas gift before opening it. I don’t have to do that because I can tell the tank is almost full.

  Now that I know the urge isn’t as strong as me inhaling through the other end now while listening in to Will and the undead’s loudness competition.

  I take a look over at the driver side window, fortunate to see Will’s distraction is in our favor.

  Not for long I imagine.

  When turning my view back, never have I been quite so excited to see the richly yellow gasoline. However, I quickly stop my suctioning. Letting loose the tube, I cough some out that I swallowed before skillfully spitting into the porcelain container.

  Every drop counts. At least I can say gasoline was in my mouth today. It’s a foul taste people would fight and die for, without ever wanting a sip of it.

  I retrace what slipped back into the tank, mindful this time to pinch, drop in the vase what’s in-between my pinches, repeat.

  It’s the same motion and pace for well up to a minute. Meanwhile, the undead is unfortunately moving along in its objective quicker than we are. I lean over to see it sliding through the front car seats, extending its arms at Will with frantic dedication.

  The vase has close to 1/4th of its volume filled up. While I recognize this undead is excelling in both its state of position as well as its physical condition, I’m still able to suck up more yellow, so I’m not done.

  Will isn’t able to hold out as long, but for a direr reason.

  Chapter XXXVII

  First, he collapses down to the ground, a thump of heavy weight resonating, but then it comes.

  POW!

  A thunderous explosion and squish echoing sound stings my left ear. Its effect is so intense, out of instinct I raise my left hand to cover and combat the temporary deafness.

  This temporary forgetfulness of my purpose has its toll.

  “Shit!” I yell, shuddering while I pick up the container from where it fell. Only some of the gasoline escaped, dampening the dirt ground.

  It’s still worth every drop.

  With Will jumping on his feet and pressing me to get up as well, I’m tempted to accept my mistake, but it’s only a lesser temptation.

  My drug recovery was the dominant temptation. Apparently, I was still learning to make a decision to or to not do something.

  Now, I choose to dig my nails around the moistness, shedding away the clumps of dirt through jiggling it within my hands, as to not dump our tank with a substance that would overpower the real fuel.

  “Ashton, move!”

  He’s no longer waiting for me to make my choice. Instead, Will picks me up from under my arm. The black insidious aura of death steadily floats its way out of the driver side window, with little traces of itself widening as it gets out.

  I want to escape, but I also want our lengthy tube with us—just in case.

  Will’s forceful yank also helps me snatch the tube out of the tank. All that’s left is the vase on the ground, but Will and I know it’d be game over if one of us leans in on it.

  The smoky tail-end of the haze is perhaps less than a foot away, filling out the gap between it and the ground. The white porcelain loses definition, but its presence mocks us, knowing our arms could reach.

  Sadly, all we can do now is launch ourselves backwards.

  The old me would excuse that we have a tube to siphon all the gasoline we want, out of any car, but the current me finds that a cop out. Truth is I don’t want to face what I fear the most.

  It’s time I face that fear.

  “Will, distraction!” Now that my decision is made, a sense of daringness runs up and down my body.

  The choice is to force a wider curve from here to the haze’s front, hoping it will follow. My next action is for me to pretend I’m running far behind it, as a means to trick which one of us it’s likely to go for. None of us are making purposeful sound, seeing as how Gary’s told us sight seems to be its only sense of survival.

  Gary attached the word “survival” for a haze. He wouldn’t be incorrect about it, but I find the idea of hazes having to “survive” insulting. Nothing or no one is trying to make it extinct. What would it have to be afraid of?

  Presently, we’ve made our flip-of-the-coin tactic work because the haze is going towards Will. Seeing my chance, I make a 180° sprint, my strides rushing so fast I lose my firm footing. I stop running long enough to grab the makeshift container.

  My fingertips are dusty and leave spots on the porcelain. After picking it up, I run back with the gasoline swishing from side to side, little dabs splashing me in the face.

  Will reminds me how naturally responsive he can be to any situation, because he stays behind
the building, even as I dash past him, in order to keep the haze’s attention. As anticipated, the remainder of our group notices how frazzled I am to pour the fuel in the truck.

  Gary swings open his door, but my free hand pushes it back closed.

  My head shakes and my gaze repetitively darts over my shoulder. This lets him know no one should be outside, and that everyone should stay inside. I notice Janice is still outside and on the opposite side of the truck from me.

  “Get in! There’s a haze!”

  She stands there long enough to show me the worry in her eyes, which proves how caring she truly is. Her worry is not for herself, but for Will.

  “He’ll be over here soon enough! Go in!”

  I pour everything I have in the tank, even patting the back of the vase with my hand. My stomach knots when I remember it isn’t over.

  While I got enough to help, it isn’t nearly enough to get us much farther down the road.

  Which means I have to go back.

  Chapter XXXVIII

  Scurrying back to the car, I search for Will and see him still luring the haze. He takes his attention off it long enough to jerk his head in the car’s direction.

  I don’t have to say a word. He knows what I have to do.

  Heart pounding and mouth dry with fear, I force myself to focus on my task. I’ve done it a million times before. I can do it quickly. I just have to do it—not for a fix but for our lives.

  I put Will and the haze out of my mind long enough to thread the tube back down into the tank. My lips purse around the end. Inhale, pinch, and pour. Repeat.

  Sweat beads on my brow. My heartbeat thunders in my ears. I want to look behind me, and make sure Will is okay. The urge nearly overcomes me every time I think of the haze, terrified it’s crept up behind me.

  When the vase is nearly full I pull out the tube, pick up the container, and hustle back to the truck. I can only spare everyone a brief, grim look. I see the questions in their eyes. I want to assure them, but there’s no time.

  I go back to the car too many times to count. Each time I’m sure this is end, that the haze will get me or Will. So far—lucky.