“Hello!” I yelled into the sky. “Anyone out here?”
My voice echoed between the buildings, and when they returned to my ears, it was the only response to my queries.
No zombies. No end to the streets. No people. What had happened? Had the extermination procedures been carried out to the extreme? But why was it just Susan, Abe, and I left?
I heard a grunt behind me. I turned, but no one was there. Then another grunt, and another. Everywhere I wasn't looking, like the sounds were one step ahead. And every direction I looked, nothing was there. “Who's there?” I asked. The sky answered with a low rumble of thunder. It pressed over me like a rolling pin.
Faintly, I heard, “David! David! Wake up!”
My body shook, my right arm lifted. As I was being pulled, my legs began running on their own.
Female voice. “Wake up!”
A hard crack across my cheek. It stung like someone pinched me with sharp fingernails. My eyes cracked open.
I was outside, but everything was now dark. Stars hung in the sky, and the three-quarter moon blew white light over passing clouds. I wasn't in the same place I was just a minute ago. Someone continued to tug me.
“You're awake!” Abe yelled. “Come on!”
And I heard them. Zombies all around Abe and me. We ran down the street; somehow, I had walked down the block, four or five houses down from my own. Abe dodged zombies left and right, using his agility to maneuver by them. I followed directly behind him as zombies lunged and reached for me. How the hell I did I get out here?
Abe led me to back to my house, the door swinging open as if an explosion blew it inward. We barreled inside to safety.
“What happened?” I asked. My eyes frantically scanned the room. Nadine was not in her chair. Instead, she huddled into the furthest corner of the couch, shaking. “I thought Nadine had gone outside!”
“Calm down!” Abe yelled back. “I think you were sleepwalking.”
Susan shook her head. “I'm sure of it.”
“Impossible! I've never sleepwalked in my life.”
“You've barely gotten any sleep. You're exhausted.” Abe pointed to Nadine. “She's been here the whole time.”
“You two were asleep,” I said. “I didn't find Nadine anywhere...”
“Your body must hate you, right now,” Abe said. “You were definitely sleepwalking.”
I collapsed in Nadine's chair; she didn't protest. “I'm so sorry Nadine.”
“Susan watched you walk right outside.” Abe went to the window. “You riled them up, David. I don't think anyone's going to get any sleep tonight.”
I shut my eyes and focused. Indeed, the sounds the group of zombies made were deafening and annoying at the same time. I glanced at Nadine. She had her hands pressed tightly on her ears. Surely, this had to be maddening for her.
“Listen, David. Susan and I appreciate you letting us stay here, but as soon as those things out there disperse enough, we're going to split.”
I went into the kitchen, opened the pantry door, and took two water bottles from the stash of sixteen. When I returned to the living room, I tossed one each to Abe and Susan before they could protest. “As promised.”
Abe said, “We can't take these.”
“I already promised them. They're yours.”
Abe poked the bottle at me. “Appreciate it.” He jammed it into his backpack. “Listen, it will be an hour or two before they settle down. Why don't you and Nadine get some sleep? We'll wake you when we're ready to go.”
It wasn't a bad idea. Together in our own bed since...
Since...
That Monday before we woke to a new world. We could take the time to hold each other. Both of us could use the intimacy. I wasn't expecting sex or anything. But holding hands, spooning, cuddling: anything to bring back a little of that closeness we obviously had been missing.
“Nadine?” I said.
Without answering, Nadine disappeared upstairs.
“Thanks,” I said. “We appreciate it.”
“Sure, sure.” Abe took up a spot at the window, moving the shade enough to peek out. Susan laid down on the couch, using her backpack as a pillow.
The townhouse had grown somewhat dark, but you get to know your own place. Where all the crevices are, where light goes, where no light goes. The moon found weaknesses in our shades and blinds and popped in rays to give various spots on the carpet some whiteness. They lit my way to the bedroom, where Nadine laid on her side on the bed.
“Nadine?” She stirred but didn't roll over to look at me. “Mind if I lay down with you? Abe and Susan will wake us up when they leave.”
Nadine shrugged.
I took that as a yes and crawled into bed next to her. I scooted to her, pressing my stomach into her back. She didn't pull away, so I scrunched closer. With my right arm, I wrapped it around her belly, tucking her even closer to me. I wanted her closer than anything in the world right now. Closer than the clothes on my body. Closer than my own skin. If I could somehow absorb her into me, make us one, she could be safe forever. But that, in its deepest, most sincere form, was a strange thought. Such a process could never work. How would I distinguish between her or me? I shut my eyes and forced out the weird train of thought. I wasted time, when I should enjoy this moment. Abe or Susan could come up here any minute and interrupt something I might never have again.
Kissing the back of her neck, I released some of my breath. Hopefully, Nadine would relish that piece of affection - when she wanted me to start foreplay, she'd swing her hair out of the way for me to do that - and understand the meaning. Again, not for sex, but for intimacy. I paused, expecting some reaction, whether a body movement or something spoken, but neither came. I hugged her tighter.
“I love you,” I said.
And silence was the response. In fact, she curled tighter into a ball, as if to repel me. As if those words were swords flying through the air to impale her. I couldn't recall if we had said those words since that Tuesday; I was sure I had. Or maybe the vague fleeting memories of our diminished “together” time over the past two weeks insinuated I had told her. They were just three words, and I knew she loved me. I had always known she loved me. Even if I had told her prior to the first zombies and she didn't say it back, I knew she loved me. But this was different. In a world going to hell, when companionship and affection and love and intimacy and friendship and togetherness and solidarity and harmony and accord and empathy and fondness were always a heartbeat away from failing, hearing those three words could provide someone with motivation to live on. Now, each moment was spent figuring out rations, formulating a plan for the future, or simply surviving; it's easy to forget to say, “I love you.” It made me nervous, that's for sure. Nervous for Nadine. Nervous for me. Nervous for the next minute, the next hour, the next day. Would Nadine be here the next minute, the next hour, or the next day? Would I be here the next minute, the next hour, or the next day? Would our future be here the next minute, the next hour, or the next day? I refused to spend energy counting the seconds into minutes into hours. There was no humanity in that. Doing that would admit defeat. Doing that would just pass the time until I wouldn't be here the next minute or the next hour or the next day. Find me a casket now because counting the time meant the road to death was a straight and short journey.
My father once said, “Thinking about the things you fear the most takes seconds away from enjoying the rest of your life.” He hadn't lived in a world with zombies, so his fears were more like losing a job, getting bit by snakes, or worrying about your son when he borrowed the car. I wondered what he'd say now? He always seemed to have a piece of wisdom to share for any situation. So, father, I thought, what piece of wisdom do you have for me now?
No matter what, it's all about being human.
My father's voice rose from the depths of my subconscious. I heard him quite clearly. I repeated it in my mind. No matter what, it's all about being human. That was something he'd say. I imagined
him sitting on the end of the bed, his legs crossed and his head at a slight angle as he peered at the ceiling thoughtfully. For some reason, I pictured him in his seventies. Most people liked to think of their father as a young, spry man, but in my father's later years, he seemed more like a philosopher, dispensing nuggets of wisdom to me like precious stones. I drew to him like a magnet in those years, anticipating what he might tell me next.
No matter what, it's all about being human.
And he vanished in a cloud of smoke like a wizard. My father, the wizard.
“I love you,” I said again to Nadine. She didn't need to say it back, but at this point, it was more important to me that she knew my feelings. Important she heard me verbalize my affection. Being human meant telling her I loved her. “No matter what, I love you.” I pushed some hair out of her face, and my finger came back wet. I didn't know what compelled me to taste my finger, but I did. Salty. Tears. Nadine was crying and that was fine. That told me everything I wanted to know. She loved me. Crying made her human.
I kept silent about the tears. I switched to my back and stared at the ceiling. The dark ceiling, normally illuminated by the lights from around town, now just plain dark because the grid kept malfunctioning sporadically, and this was a moment the grid decided it was too much - like Nadine in a way - and stayed off. That was okay; I was glad to lay here in the dark, with only moonlight to cast a glow.
Outside, the sounds gradually diminished as I lied there. In minutes? An hour? There I went focused on time again. Time is the disease of man. You're always counting it, and everything basically lived by. So, I quietly kept staring up, anticipating when Abe or Susan would come up to inform me of their departure.
I didn't want to wake Nadine, if she slept at all. I had no desire to sleep right now. A short rest was good enough.
How long would Nadine and I hear those moans and grunts? For the rest of our lives? And what did “rest of our lives” mean except “time”? Damn, I wished someone out there knew what the hell was going on or knew how to take care of the situation.
I sat up in bed. Besides the scattering reports of Safety Zones and early news stories, nothing else had been said on the zombies, and I hadn't seen hide nor hair of the National Guard, Army, Marines, Red Cross, or any support group. No helicopters or police force. No one with a gun or weapon to eradicate those things. Not even Johnny Vigilante running rampant, killing zombies like knocking down bowling pins. Did others know more than I did? I really didn't believe that: Abe and Susan seemed to know as much as me.
Light footsteps downstairs; the floor whispered creaks. They were coming; it was time for them to leave.
I caressed Nadine's shoulder. “Stay here. I'm going to see them off.”
I slid my legs over the side of the bed, rubbed my eyes, and waited for one or both visitors. After a minute with no Abe or Susan, I stood and went into the hallway. I heard them downstairs - couldn't exactly tell where they were - so why hadn't they come to get me?
Now when my front door opened, it rattled the wall and the rubber seal threw out a suction sound. Sort of like the Star Trek Enterprise's doors opening and closing. It's just a split second, but I knew the door was opening. That's the sound I heard now. You get to know everything about where you live.
My front door was opening.
I bolted down the steps taking them two at a time. Just as I rounded the banister, the front door snapped shut. “Abe? Susan?” I called out. No answer. I dashed to the kitchen, and no one was there either. But the pantry door gapped open and stuff laid haphazardly on the floor. Mostly pans and appliances - blender, toaster. Whatever food I had stored there was gone. The empty shell stared back at me with sorrow.
“Abe! Susan!” I peeked out the window. They sprinted across the street. “Dammit!” I whisked the front door open, immediately catching a glimpse of passing zombies. Two of them turned their heads towards me and had a new mission. “ABE! SUSAN!” I didn't care if all the zombies in the world heard me. I had been duped. Tricked. I wanted so terribly to make a break and give chase, but even though I was embarrassed, I still retain my sanity.
The two zombies tried to catch me, but I shut the door in their faces as if they were two solicitors hawking their vacuums or encyclopedias. I heard their scratching as if they thought they could reach to the door to get me. I headed back into the kitchen. I went to the pantry door. I couldn't believe I let this happen. I couldn't believe I trusted them, especially after I helped them get away earlier. Was this their modus operandi? Get themselves trapped or into a situation they couldn't escape and then rely on help from someone else. Then maybe get invited into a house and eventually take food or water or other supplies. I had failed Nadine. I had failed myself.
Nothing I could do about it now. They were gone. I supposed I could appreciate they didn't kill Nadine or me.
Something on the stove caught my eye. A note sitting on a plate. The note read, Sorry we had to take your food. We left you a day's worth. I lifted the note and underneath sat two cans of tuna and some crackers. To the right of the plate, two bottles of water. I didn't know what they thought enough for a day meant, but this wasn't it.
How noble of them to leave what they did.
I was the only one who found my sarcasm acceptable. I prayed that whoever Abe and Susan met next would figure out their little plan. I doubted it; they hid it well.
I was forced into an obvious situation. We needed food and water, so I needed to scavenge what I could. No way to avoid it. And that meant trusting Nadine more than I ever had to up until now. Really didn't need to spend any more time than I did before; I suspected I could go through the same apartment building I rummaged through already. Just move through the other ten apartments as efficiently as possible. Seek out food and water only. Smash in, grab what I could, and exit fast.
Now would be a good time to do it. With Abe and Susan's sudden departure, the zombies were drawn in their direction. But I had to do something first.
Nadine looked out the bedroom window, her face contemplative. She turned to me when I entered the room. “What happened? I saw them running away. Right through the zombies.”
“Yeah, well, I'd run too if I stole a bunch of food and water from someone.”
“What?”
“They took almost everything. Left us enough for one day. But it won't do for even that.” I had to tell her quick and get this plan moving. “I'm going to see what I can find. Should be like before. I'm going to the same building, then back again. Might be twenty minutes, but I have to get some more food and water, or we won't last two or three days.”
“Be careful,” Nadine said. “Hope you find something.” But I didn't believe she really wanted me to be careful or to find something.
“Don't hold back the enthusiasm.” I caught myself before I finished with You don't really want me to be careful. “I will on both counts,” I said instead.
I decided not to ask her to stay. It was futile to keep having the same conversation about that over and over. I'd ask, she'd say sure, I'd make her promise, she'd protest, and I'd go outside worried the whole time. I tried a little humor: “If I'm not back in thirty minutes send out the search party.”
“Funny,” was all she said.
Well, it was, I thought.
I started to leave the bedroom, and I turned back around. “Nadine?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think it's true about Rend City?”
“Rend City?”
“The Safety Zone. Rend City. Abe and Susan said the Freeport zone fell and Rend City was established.”
Nadine shrugged. “I don't know. I suppose. Anything is possible. Why? We're never going to find out.”
“Just wondered what you thought.” I returned downstairs, donned my protection, and loaded the gun with the remaining four bullets. It'd be another embarrassment if I tried to fire off a gun with no bullets. I stuck a flashlight in my back pocket, grab my trusty knife, and stood with my hand on the do
orknob.
I sucked in a deep, deep breath and exhaled.
The night attacked me when I opened the door. So dark. I anticipated the moon would light the way, but that thinking was slightly skewed. One, two, three...
As I shut the door, I placed the familiar yarn on the door, but to be honest with myself, I doubted I would check it. Or be able to.
Nighttime agreed with avoiding zombies. Their reflexes were terrible during the day, but their reflexes combined with night dropped down lower levels, probably due to their poor eyesight. Plus, their movements were as if they trudged through quicksand. I found the trip to the apartment interesting. Not one came close enough to worry about, and for some reason, they didn't group together like they did in the daytime.
Inside the building, I skipped the apartment I had previously searched and went through the other two on this floor. I set a jug of water and a can of pork and beans by the main door. On the other two floors, all the doors were already open, so I expected nothing to make me celebrate.
And I was right. I completed the perusal of the apartment in less than five minutes. In one of the top apartments, I happened to look out of the rear of the place and saw Birch Street and a particularly interesting house directly across the street. This house, unlike the others on my street and this street, had a porch light on. No lights inside the house, just the porch light. Now what would a light be doing on? Accidentally left on before the homeowners abandoned the house? Or the owners hadn't abandoned the house and left the light on for someone?
Either way that light had my curiosity.
On the first floor, I made sure the yarn was still on the door - it was. Checking was simply out of habit at this point. I was pleased there was a back door to this apartment complex. From this door to the house was a straight shot. From what I could see, which included a twenty- or thirty-foot visibility sphere near me, and the area illuminated by the porch light, only a few zombies held vigil. As for the dark spots in between these two areas, I had no clue what I'd encounter. For the first time since seeing my first zombie, I was not afraid.
Not Enough To Live By Page 5