by Ray Gorham
Jennifer stroked Kyle’s cheek in the photo, then closed the book and hugged it to her chest. “I believe in you, Kyle,” she whispered. “However long it takes, I’ll be here.”
The front door swung open and a book bag dropped loudly to the floor. Jennifer heard Emma’s voice calling out to her. “Mom, I’m home. What’s for lunch?”
Thursday, September 29th
Central Colorado
Day 27
Stopped early for the day. Stomach is not feeling good. Will try and get some extra rest and hopefully be off again in the morning. I’m on I-70, so lots of vehicles. Found a nice truck to stay in. The evenings are getting colder, so the shelter’s appreciated. Jennifer, I wish you were here to take care of me (I really wish I was there to take care of you). I hope this stomach bug isn’t too serious. I’ve been lucky with my health so far. I can see the mountains out the window, and they worry me.
I love you all.
Friday, September 30th
Deer Creek, Montana
Jennifer sat in the living room, the sun having set an hour before and the night now too dark for reading. The kids were in bed and asleep, their schedules having adjusted to follow the sun’s -- in bed at sundown and up at sunrise.
Tired from a long day of hauling water, canning with Grace next door, and teaching her assigned hours of school, Jennifer got up and headed for her bedroom. As she passed into the kitchen, there was a sharp knocking on the door, which made her jump. She stopped and stared at the door, her heart beating rapidly, not sure what to do. This was their first nighttime visitor since the event, and with no lights, the thought of opening the door scared her. After a second knock, she moved closer to the door and called out nervously. “Who is it?”
“It’s Chuck,” answered a voice.
Jennifer twisted the deadbolt and pulled the door open. “Chuck, is everything okay wi…,” she began, then realized it was Doug, not Chuck, standing in the darkness grinning at her. “Doug? What are you…you lied to me!” she fumed and tried to slam the door shut, but Doug blocked it with his foot. “What do you want?” she demanded as she pushed the door against his foot. “You know how I feel. Why don’t you just leave me alone?”
“Why don’t you like me?” Doug asked, ignoring her questions. “You’ve been alone for four weeks now.. I’m really sorry, Jenn, but your husband would be back by now, if he was coming.”
“Quit saying that!” she spat at him. “I don’t care what you think, Doug. And whether he’s coming back or not, I don’t want to be with you. Why can’t I get that through to you?” Jennifer could make out a smirk on Doug’s face, and could hear him breathing loudly. She tried to force the door closed again, but his foot was still blocking it. “Doug, my kids are asleep. Please go away.”
“Jennifer, I’ve been totally alone for four weeks. It’s almost been a month. Can you believe that? Our world’s been screwed up now for four full weeks, and we don’t even know how long it’s going to take to fix it. I was wondering, Jennifer, would you do me a favor?” His speech was slurred, and she could smell alcohol on his breath as he leaned in close to her in an attempt to whisper.
“What do you want, Doug?” she replied, no longer trying to force the door shut.
“Would you just give me a hug?”
“What?”
“I want a hug, some human contact. Do you have any idea at all how hard it is to be alone so much? I want to feel like someone cares about me.”
“What are you talking about? You’re drunk. Go home and sleep it off, before you do something stupid.”
“I’m not drunk…I was telling you, I’m alone. The girl I was dating, she lives on the other side of Missoula…I can’t call anyone…I don’t have kids to give me a goodnight kiss or a dog to sit beside me on the couch…I can’t even get online anymore. The only contact I have with people is at our stupid community meetings or when I walk around the town, and all that is is business. No one cares about me. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s just ‘Hi, Doug’, ‘Thanks, Doug’, ‘Goodbye, Doug’. There’s always a goodbye. I hate that word; they may as well be saying ‘get out of my life.’ Jennifer, it’s been more than four weeks since I’ve had physical contact with anyone, at least beyond a stupid handshake.”
“Why me, Doug? There has to be someone else.”
“There isn’t, and I like you. You’re nice, and you’re really pretty, and with your husband away…you know…I thought we could help each other out.”
Jennifer wanted to slam the door and be rid of him, but she knew she wasn’t strong enough to take him on, if it came to that, even if he was drunk. A part of her was touched by what he said. As much as she hated to admit it, she believed him. It had been a long time since she’d felt the feelings Doug was talking about, of having someone who cared about you, just because you were you. As much as she’d come to loathe Doug over the past couple of weeks, his words managed to stir her compassion. “If I give you a hug, will you go home and leave me alone?” She could feel her heart pounding and was sure Doug could hear it in the silence of the evening.
“That’s it. Just a hug. Then I’ll go home. I promise.”
Jennifer hesitated, then released her grip on the door. “Don’t come in my house,” she warned as she stepped forward.
Doug stepped away from the door to let her come outside.
For a brief moment, she thought about slamming the door, but worried about how he’d react to that in the coming days and weeks, let alone that night. Jennifer closed her eyes in resignation and stepped onto the front step.
“Thanks, Jennifer,” Doug said, sounding sincere.
Jennifer opened her arms, and Doug stepped towards her. “Remember, this is just a hug,” she reminded him. “Stop when I tell you to.”
Doug nodded and bent down, put his arms under hers, and squeezed her tight, lifting her up onto her toes and pulling her towards him. Jennifer’s arms draped limply over his shoulders, and she gave him a light squeeze in response.
In the cool night air, his warm breath down the back of her neck made her shudder, and the smell of alcohol on his breath, mixed with the days-old stench of body odor and sweaty clothes, nearly made her gag.
“Okay, Doug, that’s it,” she said after what seemed like minutes but was likely only a few seconds. Between his smells and her nerves, she struggled to maintain her composure. “I’m tired. I want to go in.”
He continued to hold her, choosing not to hear.
“Doug!” Jennifer said, her voice rising. “Doug, I’m done! I need to go in.”
He didn’t respond, just continued to embrace her. Jennifer put her hands on his shoulders and tried to push him away.
“Doug! That’s it! Let me go!”
There was still no reply. She felt his hips pressing against her stomach and could tell he was aroused. Doug turned and nuzzled her neck with his whiskery cheeks, then pressed his cold, fleshy lips against her skin. Jennifer pushed as hard as she could against his shoulders, trying to break free.
“Doug!” she shouted in desperation. “Stop it. Now!”
“Please, Jennifer,” Doug whispered. “Don’t make me stop. You don’t know how good this feels.” He pushed her backwards against the house, pinning her there with his body. His hands slid down from her back and began to massage the back of her thighs. Jennifer struggled against him but could barely breathe, she was pressed so tightly against the house. She struck Doug on his back with her fist, but it had no affect. Struggling, she fought to hold back the tears while he continued to trap her between the house and his body, massaging her with one hand and pinning her arm with the other.
“You feel so good,” he whispered, continuing to kiss her neck, then moving his lips roughly to her ear.
Jennifer stopped struggling and forced herself to calm down and breathe while she pushed against his shoulder with her free hand. She regained her composure while Doug continued to stroke her and kiss her neck passionately. When he didn’t feel any more resistance, Doug loos
ened his hold on her, and Jennifer, catching her breath, leaned her head in towards him. Aware of the change, Doug pulled his head back and looked at her quizzically, his eyes barely visible, but full of desire. Jennifer met his gaze and didn’t turn her head away, so Doug leaned in cautiously and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Jennifer hesitated for a long while, then gently kissed him back. With some excitement, Doug kissed harder, pressing his mouth firmly against hers, his breaths coming more rapidly. Releasing his grip on her arm, he moved his hands back to her body, found the bottom of her sweatshirt and slid his hands underneath. His fingers were cold and rough, and the feel of them against her skin made Jennifer flinch.
As he worked his hands steadily upward, Doug pushed his tongue against her lips, hoping for entry. Jennifer slowly parted them, and Doug excitedly pushed his tongue into her open mouth. He pressed hard against her, consumed with his lust. As his fingers fumbled to unclasp her bra, Jennifer bit down on his tongue as hard as she could.
Doug screamed and grabbed for his mouth, the new feeling an obvious contrast to the sensations that had been coursing through his body. He pulled away from her, and Jennifer brought her knee up, catching him squarely in the groin with a strength and accuracy that surprised even her. Doug collapsed to the ground, the wind rushing loudly from his lungs. Jennifer lunged for her door, spitting his blood from her mouth and wiping his vile saliva from her face.
Doug reached out and grabbed her ankle but was unable to hold on. She jerked her foot away from him and fell inside the house, kicking the door shut behind her, then scrambled to her knees and latched the deadbolt. She slumped with her back against the door, expecting to cry, but instead, it was an intense anger that found her, anger aimed at Doug for what he had done and at herself for being so easily manipulated. “Go away, Doug!” she shouted through the door. “Go away and don’t ever come back here again!”
Jennifer sat with her back against the door until she felt like she was in control of her emotions. She couldn’t tell if Doug had left, but it didn’t matter. With the aid of an old flashlight, its dim beam providing barely enough light to see by, she went down to the basement and straight to Kyle’s gun safe. She dialed the safe’s combination, her hands shaking so much it took her three times to get it open, then felt around inside until she found Kyle’s handgun and the ammunition for it. Returning back upstairs, she spent the remainder of the night on the floor in front of the door, the loaded gun at her side.
CHAPTER 20
Saturday, October 1st
Central Colorado
Kyle knelt in the grass on the edge of the highway, hands braced on his knees. A thin strand of saliva trailed from his mouth to a green pool of vomit in the dirt in front of him.
Exhausted, he waited for the heaving to resume, but was instead granted a reprieve. He sat back on his heels and took in his surroundings as a cool breeze dried the sweat on his forehead. To the east, the prairies rose up to meet the mountains. To the west, the city of Denver was visible with the snowcapped Rockies towering far above it, as if nature was mocking man’s pathetic attempt to create something grand. He’d looked at this same scene through the same windshield for two days, but this was the first time since stopping that he’d felt well enough to appreciate it.
There was no way to determine the exact cause of his illness, but Kyle felt certain it was food poisoning since contact with other people had been too limited to catch anything that way. He’d narrowed down the likely culprits to either a raccoon, eaten three days prior, or water drunk from a slow moving stream. And while none of that particularly mattered at this point, Kyle had had plenty of time to think and found reflecting on the source of his illness to be much less discouraging than worrying about the time he was losing and the task that still lay ahead.
Using his rifle for support, Kyle pulled himself up and walked back to the truck that had become his recovery room. Ever since reaching the freeway he’d kept his rifle close at hand instead of buried in the cart. His first day on the interstate, which was 26 days after the attack, he’d crossed paths with 6 other walkers, most looking more desperate than he felt, and that made him wary. For the week prior to reaching the freeway, all through southern Colorado on the back roads, he’d encountered only 9 others traveling like he was, and this sudden surge in the number or walkers had him on edge.
Before climbing back in the truck, Kyle inspected his handcart to make sure his belongings were secure. He inventoried his food rations and determined that if he was careful, he would have enough food for at least six more days. From a supplies standpoint, the interstate had been good to Kyle, with a considerable number of trucks waiting to be plundered and his conscience long since over any aversion to stealing. Survival and arrival, as he now termed his objectives, were his only concern, and whatever helped him meet those goals was now acceptable. In pre-EMP life, it had been easy to worry about those kinds of things, but now that everything had changed, Kyle was operating under much broader constraints.
Satisfied that he was adequately situated for another day of convalescing, Kyle pocketed some food and climbed back into the cab of the truck. By his estimation, distance-wise he was almost halfway home from Houston. Time-wise, he wasn’t sure. The terrain had been easy to this point, but it was going to get much more difficult with the mountains ahead.
Kyle’s mind drifted to his home in Montana. Twenty-nine days had passed since he should have been there, and two weeks prior to that was the last he’d seen his family. The day he’d left had been typical, the kind that would be easily forgotten under normal circumstances. He had read the news on the internet as he ate breakfast, then packed his bags while the rest of the family got ready to go into town for back-to-school shopping. Few words were exchanged; just the routine conversations families have during the course of a morning. He hoped he’d told Jennifer that he loved her, but couldn’t even say for sure that he had.
He did remember giving the kids hugs, although he had gotten after Emma for talking on the phone and not helping Spencer. David had worn his earphones most of the morning, avoiding any interaction with the family, and Spencer had tried to help Kyle pack his suitcase but was ushered out of the bedroom under protest after knocking a stack of shirts onto the floor. Hurrying, Kyle had overreacted and brought Spencer to tears. Now those shirts he had been so concerned about were a long forgotten pile of ashes, and Spencer was hundreds of miles away without his father.
Jennifer had been frustrated with the kids, and after everyone had given dad the requisite hugs and kisses goodbye, his family had piled into the car and hurried off to shop, more concerned about new clothes and backpacks than seeing dad off. That night after the kids had gone to bed, Jennifer had called and left a message on his phone, apologizing for her mood and the rush, but Kyle was working long hours repairing hurricane damage and hadn’t returned her call for several days. By the time he did, all was forgotten, and the events of their days apart had filled the conversation. They had talked every couple of days after that, with a brief visit the day before he was to return home, but hadn’t spoken for very long, expecting to see each other soon.
Reflecting on his family and their life together, Kyle could think of countless things he’d do differently. He teared up thinking about Jennifer, the way she was with the kids, her strange affinity for yellow flowers, the way she got giggly after reaching her one beer limit, and her devotion to him through their years of marriage. Kyle knew he took his wife for granted and that their happy marriage was more a reflection of her patience and efforts than his. In many ways, his need to make it home was driven by a desire to put his whole heart into doing something for her. His first inclination, that first day at the airport when he thought the problems might be related to an EMP, had been to wait and let things get back to normal, or at least close to it, then return home the easy way. It was a fact he admitted to himself with a great deal of shame because he knew Jennifer’s first impulse would have been to get home right away, whatever the
price.
Kyle ate most of the food he’d gathered from his cart, then reclined his seat and closed his eyes, with thoughts of his family playing on the stage of his mind. The warm sunshine drew out what little energy he had, and after two days of vomiting, Kyle quickly drifted off to sleep.
As he slept Kyle dreamed about his family more intensely and more vividly than he had at any point in his journey. He dreamt that his wife and children were trapped outside their home during a violent thunderstorm. That Jennifer, climbing into the house through a broken-out-window, cut herself and lay bleeding on the kitchen floor while the children cowered outside, surrounded by a lightning induced firestorm.
Kyle awoke from the dream panicked, with his heart racing and sweat running in streams down his face. Relieved to discover it was only a dream, he laid his head back and began to relax again, then closed his eyes and drifted off, this time sleeping more restfully.
After a couple more hours of sleep, Kyle felt better and more rested than he had since getting sick and was anxious to get on the road again in the morning. He finished off his water and climbed down from the truck, hungry for something to eat. The setting sun bathed the surrounding area in a golden glow, and Kyle realized he’d slept longer than he’d expected to. He ducked under the trailer where he had left his cart and stopped dead in his tracks
The cart was gone.
Kyle spun around frantically and looked in every direction, but saw nothing to indicate where his cart might be. He ran to the side of the road hoping, perhaps, that the cart had rolled into the ditch, but it hadn’t. He scanned the freeway in both directions, but between the volume of dead vehicles and the rolling of the road, he could see little. He cursed the interstate as he pulled at his hair in frustration.
He remembered that the last time he had vomited had been mid-afternoon, but wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep. At most, whoever took his cart had a four-hour head start, but in what direction had they gone? He peered up and down the freeway again, praying for a clue, but could see no sign of the cart. His head swam and his legs felt weak. Everything he needed for his journey was in that cart--his clothes, food, blankets, and tent, and he was sure it would be next to impossible to make it home without it.