by Tracey Ward
“Alissa, wake up. You’re on,” I tell her, shaking her awake. Or at least trying to.
She groans incoherently.
“Hey,” I say, poking at her.
She slaps my hand hard, eyes still closed. She has great reflexes, I’ll give her that. I’m convinced she could kill in her sleep.
“Time to get up, princess.”
“Piss off,” she mumbles.
I laugh, surprising myself a little. I haven’t done that in days.
“Ali, come on,” I say more firmly.
“Ugh, alright.”
She moans and groans some more as she sits up with bleary eyes. She’s not a morning person. Neither is her dad which makes things so much fun for me every day. I end each shift getting cursed at, sometimes dodging projectiles being thrown at me, all in the name of keeping the system. If I had Alissa’s Taser, that’s how she’d be waking up. Watch her throw a bowl at my head again and see if I wouldn’t do it.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You’re harder to wake up now than you were on the road. Should I be worried?”
She scowls at me, her dark hair a crazy mess on her head. “Would you be if I told you yes?”
I meet her scowl with a frown. “Of course I would be. Is that a yes? I should be worried?”
“No. It’s fine. I’m fine,” she mumbles, her tone softening as she scrubs her hands over her face.
I hand her a cup of fresh coffee, a trick I’ve learned for taming the beast. Nothing helps with Syd, he’s always a bear, which is why I’m glad Alissa is his alarm clock and not me.
“Thank you,” she gushes earnestly, hugging the warm mug with her hands.
My scowl fades. “You’re welcome.”
“And don’t worry. It’s nothing bad.”
I lean back on the counter to study her. “Then what is it?”
“It’s the meds,” she answers with a grimace. “Doubling down sometimes makes me sleepy. But I have to do it.”
“Otherwise you’ll see things?”
She nods reluctantly. “Hear ‘em too. It’s awful, especially when I’m on guard.”
“We could take you off rotation, let you slow down on the drugs.”
“No, no, no. No way,” she says firmly, waving her hand at me. “You guys can’t pull 12 hour shifts on guard. It’s pushing it having us doing 8 hours a piece. It’s draining enough as it is and if you guys have to do it more, we’ll all start hearing and seeing things that aren’t there.”
I know she’s right. Syd and I talked about this too. Things are hard enough. But her pills are disappearing and we all know it’s a problem, one we need to solve sooner rather than later.
“He wants to move,” she whispers suddenly.
I snap my eyes to her face, surprised. “Syd does?”
“Yeah. Because of me. He thinks we need to find other people to team up with. Get shorter shifts, get more rest, maybe even a full day off now and then.”
“It’s a bad idea.”
“I don’t know,” she teases with a grin. “A day off sounds good to me.”
“You know why it’s a bad idea,” I remind her seriously.
“I know why you think it is.”
I chuckle darkly. “Siding with Syd. Shocking.”
“When did I ever side with you on this?” she asks, sounding annoyed.
“Corvallis.”
“Oh come on.” She stands, dropping her nearly full mug in the sink. “We all knew Corvallis was a death trap.”
“You agreed we had to leave the sporting goods store when the truckers showed up.”
“Because there was a threat.”
“And you think there won’t be with another group? Bigger groups mean bigger supplies and more resources. Smaller more savage packs of people will kill for those resources. You want to be part of that?”
“And you think that if we’re found out here in the woods with all these supplies that we wouldn’t be at risk in exactly the same way?”
“I know we would, which is why we lay low like we do. It’s why we’re careful to never let anyone know where we are. People wouldn’t hesitate to kill us for what we have.”
“Then we should be in a bigger group that can defend itself.”
“You mean a bigger target.”
She rolls her eyes before pushing past me. “Whatever, never mind.”
“You know what I’m loving about all of this, Ali?” I snap at her, watching her sift through her clothes and try to ignore me. “Being outvoted every single time, without fail. Doesn’t matter what the issue is. Last week it was toilet paper brands. You are terrified to back my play against him.”
She glares at me over her shoulder. “You want me to back you up? Side with you against my dad? Fine! I will.” She shakes her head in frustration and mutters, “Whatever keeps the peace around here.”
“And that’s just it. You’re doing whatever it takes to keep the peace but in case you hadn’t noticed, the world is ending. People are eating each other alive. What peace do you think you’re going to keep?”
“So we should add to the chaos? Lose all humanity and go crazy?”
“No, I don’t want you to go crazy and I don’t want you to side with me against your dad, not all the time. Maybe just when you know I’m right. How ‘bout that?”
“I do.”
“Like. Hell. You know what? You guys seem to have this all figured out and squared away. That’s great. I’ll back out and let you do your thing. You don’t need me anymore, you’ve got daddy to take care of you, right?”
“Daddy?” she asks angrily. “Are you serious right now? What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me,” I fire back. I know it’s a lie as I say it. I can taste the sheer bitterness of it on my tongue as it rolls out of my mouth. “I don’t know,” I groan, shaking my head. “I don’t friggin’ know.”
“Jordan,” Alissa says, her voice softening.
That tenderness, that thing I normally love about her, it pisses me off.
“No, just… shut up,” I say, low and stupid. And cruel. When did I get cruel?
She flinches. I feel awful but I can’t take it back. Honestly, I don’t even want to. I meant it. I want her to shut up. I want Syd to shut up. I want the zombies and the crickets and the birds to shut the hell up. I want to be able to shut up, to not talk to anyone about anything for five minutes. How much is it to ask for just a few minutes of deep, blissful, ignorant silence?
“I—fu— I need some air,” I stammer, looking anywhere but at her.
She doesn’t say anything as I burst out of the RV. When I look over my shoulder she hasn’t moved. She’s standing there beside the sink, staring into nothing with her back to me like I was never there.
As I come crashing out, Syd doesn’t look up from the fire, though I know he’s heard everything. He knows there’s trouble in paradise but it’s not his business, not now. Not anymore. He had opinions bursting out his butt just days ago but now that we’re on the decline, he could care less.
I take a walk around the campsite. I have to go in a wide circle where both of them can hear me walking because we all agreed to never leave the area without each other. Can you imagine how much that has contributed to the tension in this place? You can’t take a piss without having someone hear it. I farted yesterday and Alissa told me, ‘Bless you’, like I’d sneezed. We’re all so turned around and absorbed in each other’s everything that it’s getting disturbing. I feel like a caged animal but really, what’s the alternative? Go it alone? Agree to join with a larger group? I’ll die either way and as much as I wonder about how truly alive any of us actually are (this thing we’re doing is not living) I don’t especially care to die.
Not even when I dream of Beth. Not really. Mostly in those situations I just wish she was alive. I wish I didn’t have to see her rotting out and fading away, looking less and less like my sister ev
ery time I dream of her. Sometimes she’s not even wearing her clothes anymore. She’s wearing things I’ve seen on zombies around town when we’re looting. I changed her red hair to blond once. One time it was even long and flowing, the dark color nearly ebony. When I woke that morning and saw Alissa, her hair long, down and so, so dark, I grabbed her in a tight hug. I was just so happy to see her alive.
I avoid her after the fight. Not because I’m a coward but because I don’t want to fight anymore. I wait until I know she’s on guard before heading inside the RV, my head bent low so I don’t see her, then I go to sleep. When Syd shakes me roughly awake without a single word, I sigh with relief. I was expecting some kind of Sydly advice about how to handle the situation with Alissa, something that would of course end in my apologizing for being so incredibly wrong in every way. I’m not sure I’m not wrong, but I’m definitely not sure I am either.
I grab a Pop Tart packet and head for the roof quickly, ready to get this confrontation over with. But when I get there she’s gone. It’s weird and dangerous but I choose not to care. Instead, I settle in and wait for the long night to start. I can hear muffled talking from inside the RV, see the light from candles glowing warmly through the windows, casting yellow squares on the dirt below me. I hear some chuckling, a little bit of laughter that I recognize as Alissa’s, something that makes my heart grow tight, then the lights are extinguished. Syd must be going to sleep which means Alissa is awake for another 8. I wonder what she’ll do with her time. Sometimes she uses a candle to read. Other times she cooks or tries to learn to bake bread, an ashy, horrible decision every time.
“Jordan.”
“Jesus!” I whisper-shout. I know it’s Ali, I recognize her voice, but hearing anybody speak in the dark when you’re supposed to be alone, especially when you’re on zombie watch, will get anyone’s heart right up into their throat.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What would you do if you meant to scare me? Roll up dressed up as a mime?”
“You’re scared of mimes?”
She comes to sit beside me, her side pressed against mine.
“They’re French and they’re clowns. Yes, I’m scared of mimes.” I glance over my shoulder. “Among other things.”
“Other people you mean?”
“How do you know I’m not talking about zombies?”
“Because I know,” she says confidently. “I know you’re looking out for someone with a heartbeat right now.”
“Yeah,” I grumble, looking at her pointedly. “A heartbeat and a hair-trigger shotgun.”
“I’m surprised you know what a hair-trigger is.”
I frown at her, mildly offended. “Why?”
She shrugs. “You don’t hunt, you don’t like using guns.”
“I’m still a guy, Ali. I watch a lot of movies. I play a lot of video games.”
“I’m not saying that being scared of guns and mimes makes you any less of a man.”
I raise my eyebrows at her. “It’s beginning to sound like that’s exactly what you’re saying.”
She grins slyly as she turns toward me. I can feel her breasts press against my arm through both of our coats. I’m like the Princess and the Pea; I’m infinitely aware of them through countless barriers. I could feel them as I lay up here on the roof of the RV when she was inside, taunting me and denying me sleep. She brings her face in close, resting her chin on my shoulder.
“You could prove me wrong.” Her breath hits the skin on my neck hot and wet. Suddenly I’m aware of more than just her breasts.
I take a deep, steadying breath. This is hard (pun intended and earned). I’ve been on the road with her for so long now and she’s so beautiful it’s ridiculous. Every time she laughs I want her, even when I’m mad at her, and every time she touches me I have to think about baseball and killing kittens to slow myself down. I’ve had a hard on for her since the day we woke up together in the boathouse and she was tangled around me like a stripper on a pole. I’m not even mad at myself for wanting her this way. I’d be mad at myself if I didn’t.
“What are you doing, Ali?” I whisper, worried about waking Syd.
Her grin widens. “Seducing you, genius.’
“I thought you were mad at me.”
“Are you mad at me?”
I shrug, noticing how my movement makes her body rub against mine smoothly. “What were we fighting about?”
“Exactly. It was stupid, whatever it was.”
“Were you stupid or was I?” I push, trying to shoot myself in my own foot for some reason. Her body heat is penetrating into mine, scrambling my brain.
“Both,” she tells me.
I figure that’s fair.
“For what’s it worth,” I say, turning toward her and catching her eye, noticing how warm they are. How open. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” she whispers. Then she leans in to kiss me long and deep, her tongue trailing across my lips.
I enjoy it a little longer than I should before I pull away.
“You’re being mean,” I grumble, my voice low and tortured.
“How am I being mean?”
Her hand slides up the sleeve of my jacket, across my chest to the collar of my fleece. Slowly she begins to unzip it.
“Your dad,” I remind her, reaching for her hand to stop her.
I turn to face her, trying to look stern, trying to end this thing before it starts. Before it goes till it hurts and ends before it’s awesome. I’ve ridden the Blue Ball express before. I have no desire to ride it again.
“My dad,” she says shaking off my hand and turning to face me. She’s straddling my lap before I can even blink. “Is sound asleep.”
“But for how long?”
“With how much I gave him, a long time.”
“Gave him of what? Did you drug him?” I ask, shocked.
She shrugs. “A little. About one Thanksgiving Dinner’s worth.”
“What? How is that a measurement?”
“I gave him Tryptophan. It’s the stuff in turkeys that makes you sleepy on Thanksgiving.”
“I can’t believe you drugged him.” I look her hard in the eye. “Don’t ever drug me.”
“Don’t get in the way of what I want and I won’t.”
“And what is it you want?”
Her hair falls around her face as she leans toward me, but I can still see her smile. Still see her eyes.
“I want you,” she whispers against my mouth. She presses a light kiss to my lips.
“You have me,” I whisper back, taking another kiss from her.
“Do I?”
I freeze, unsure how to answer that. We’ve been fighting a lot lately, the stress of this lifestyle definitely taking its toll. I’ve been thinking about so many other things, so many more important things than where Ali and I are or where we’re headed, that the question baffles me.
“Time’s up,” she says huskily, taking my non-answer as an answer.
She shocks me when instead of dismounting, she reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it up over her head. Suddenly I’m face to face with her bra and breasts and I wouldn’t be able to tell you what my name is let alone where this thing between us is going. And the good news is, she doesn’t ask me to.
“You’re going to get cold,” I say to her breasts.
She chuckles as she leans into me, pressing her body hard against mine. “You’ll take care of me.”
I wrap my arms around her tightly. “I will. I always will. You’re sure we have time?”
“If previous Thanksgivings are any indication, we have until Snoopy shows up in the parade.”
“Your units of measurement, while festive, mean nothing to me. How long is that?”
“It’s plenty, Jordan. I promise you. It’s more likely we’ll be caught by zombies than by my dad right now.”
“It’s messed up that that’s comforting.”
That’s all she lets me say. After
that she devours me, her mouth hungry on mine. There’s an abandon to this that we’ve never had before. A luxury we’ve never been awarded. It’s time. For once, we have time. And yeah, there are still zombies out there. And yeah, her dad is sleeping soundly in the RV beneath us. But here on the roof in the air under the sky, it’s just us and the long stretch of night spanning out around us.
It’s stupid. Reckless. Careless. It’s terrifying on so many levels.
It’s also the best sex of my life.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning he knows. Syd absolutely knows. Do you know how I know he knows? Because it’s written all over my face. It’s in the way I walk, talk, eat, smile. I’m smiling! That’s how he knows. A weight has been lifted from me and I’m jovial of all things. It’s not just the sex, though hallelujah for it because I was wound way too tight to function. It’s Alissa and I. It’s finding that connection again, even if just for a night. I missed her. I missed just being friends with her, laughing with her. It’s been over a week since I really smiled at her. Since I’d looked her in the eyes and wanted her, or anyone, in my space.
“We’re going looting,” Syd announces.
Alissa has barely laid her head down to sleep so I’m shocked he wants to go loot now. We’ve been careful to only upset the schedule when it interrupts sleep for him or I. Never Alissa.
“Can’t it wait?” I ask.
He looks at me hard. “No. We’re going now.”
Here’s where I want to argue with him, to reason that it’s a bad time and Alissa needs to sleep, because it’s started to feel like I’m on an extended camping trip with my grumpy dad who barks orders and expects them to be followed immediately. I want to shout at this guy that he’s not my father, he’s not the boss of me and we are a democracy not a dictatorship. But it will only sound petulant and right now I’m in such a good mood I can’t even be bothered to fight.
“What are we going for?” I ask, tossing a blanket over Alissa where she lays on the bench seat in the back. I take the passenger seat next to Stalin and buckle up.