Pandemic

by Tinnean

  A quick stop at his bank, and he cashed his last paycheck. The company must have been feeling generous. They’d paid him an additional two weeks, although it was probably to make up for the vacation he wouldn’t be able to take because he needed to look for another job. Once he put the money in his wallet, he got back into his car and headed for Joe’s.

  As Laurie suspected, the parking lot behind the bar only had a handful of cars in it. He brought his piece of shit to a stop, turned off the ignition, and got out. He didn’t bother locking it. Only an idiot would want to steal this rattletrap. And if they wanted his tool belt that badly then they were welcome to it.

  * * * *

  “You’re not planning on driving home, are you, buddy?” the night bartender asked.

  “Huh?” Laurie raised his head and blinked at the two men standing behind the bar. He shook his head and blinked again, relieved when the two morphed into just one man who stood watching him patiently.

  “I said you’re not planning on driving home.”

  “Oh. Uh…No. I don’t live too far from here. I’ll walk.”

  “Okay. You might want to go. I’m closing.” He held up a hand as if to keep Laurie from giving him grief, although Laurie hadn’t planned to say a word. “You’ve been the only one in here for the past hour and a half. I mean I know it’s Wednesday, but that’s never stopped my regulars before. I’m losing money.”

  “Yeah. Right.” Laurie looked around. The bartender was right. The place had been like a morgue earlier, and now it was empty. “I’ll just…” He put a few bills on the bar.

  “Thanks.”

  “Welcome.” He got up from the stool, located the front door, and wobbled toward it.

  “Hey, can you make it home?”

  “Sure. G’night.”

  “Well…‘Night.”

  Just as Laurie reached the door, he heard an explosive series of sneezes from the bartender. “Bless you.”

  “Th-thanks.” The bartender sneezed again.

  “Welcome.” Laurie opened the door and stepped out into the balmy night air. He peered down at his watch, then held it up toward the streetlight, trying to make out where the hour hand was on the face.

  Geez. It was almost one in the morning. Where had the time gone? He hadn’t even been having fun. He should have called to let Mom know he’d be missing dinner. She and Pop would probably have a fit.

  He couldn’t go home, not now. Maybe not ever. He was a failure, in every sense of the word. But where could he go? In spite of what he’d told the bartender, his apartment wasn’t close—it was on the other side of town—and he was in no shape to drive. He supposed he could call for a taxi, but Laurel Hill was too small a town for that kind of service. Folks were more likely to rely on friends or neighbors for a ride. He took out his phone to call Jo. She was the one sister he could count on, the only one who looked like him, with the same strawberry blonde hair and violet eyes, while all the others were brunettes. They’d both heard the “teasing” remarks that the milkman was their father, which was stupid. Who even had their milk delivered anymore?

  He pressed the screen, but his phone didn’t light up. Dammit. The battery must have died. He glared at it, then put it away. He’d have to come up with something else.

  He looked up and down the street. It was empty of cars. Well, at this hour on a weeknight, most people were home in bed. Except for Lync. He’d be at work for the night. That was another reason why they hadn’t been able to make it work. Lync worked nights at the Laurel Hill Mall, while Laurie worked—used to work—days. But Lync’s apartment was nearby, it would be empty, and Laurie knew where Lync kept a spare key. And he was pretty sure his former boyfriend wouldn’t mind too much if Laurie crashed at his place.

  He turned and started walking down the street, then had to stop and turn around. Lync’s apartment was the other way.

  * * * *

  It shouldn’t have taken Laurie as long as it did to get to Lync’s place, but that alcohol on top of an empty stomach played havoc with his balance as well as his sense of direction. Finally he arrived at the building where Lync lived. Laurie rounded the corner and stood at the bottom of the steps that led up to the small apartment on the second floor. He managed to climb the stairs without putting his foot through a riser and lifted the welcome mat when he reached the top. It was such an obvious hiding place, no one would expect anyone with half a brain to use it. Sure enough, though, the key was there.

  Laurie unlocked the door, put the key back under the mat, let himself into the tiny apartment, and closed and locked the door, then made a trip to the bathroom before he fell headfirst onto Lync’s bed. The pillow smelled of Drakkar Noir, the aftershave Lync always used, and for a second, Laurie felt a stab of loneliness. They’d had good times. If only Lync could understand his fear of coming out of the closet.

  Well, there was no point in crying over closed closet doors now. Laurie wrapped his arms around the pillow, cuddled it as if it were a lover, and fell asleep.

  Chapter 3

  Laurie groaned as he slowly came awake. The sun streamed through the space where the curtains didn’t quite meet, and the beams stabbed relentlessly into his eyes. He rolled over in an attempt to escape the bright light and groaned again as pain pierced his brain and dug into his hip as well. Ugh. He’d gone to bed without undressing, and between his phone and his wallet, he was going to be a mass of bruises.

  His bedroom was hot and humid, and sweat-soaked clothes were tangled around his lower body. Why did it feel like a sauna? His mom was going through the change, although Laurie wasn’t supposed to know anything about it, but how could he not, when every time he came over she tended to have the A/C cranked up so high it felt like they were living in the Arctic.

  What time was it anyway, and what was he doing still in bed?

  He peeled open an eyelid and peered at the clock on his nightstand. The numbers blinked an eye-gouging red, indicating the power had gone off during the night.

  Abruptly, his stomach roiled, and he managed to get off the bed and into the bathroom before he threw up.

  By the time he was finished, he had a sour taste in his mouth, tears streamed down his cheeks, and his nose was running like a faucet. He tore off a strip of toilet paper, dried his eyes, and mopped up his nose.

  Did he have a summer version of the flu? Had he gotten food poisoning from something he’d eaten? Why was he still dressed? God, grungy wasn’t the word for how he felt.

  He flushed the toilet and opened the medicine chest. His hand froze as he reached for the bottle of mouthwash. It wasn’t the brand he usually used, but it was the brand Lync bought. Everything came back to him—losing another job, getting drunk as a skunk, walking to Lync’s apartment to sleep it off.

  Lync must have been so pissed to find Laurie in his bed. He was probably asleep on the couch in the living room. Laurie owed him such an apology.

  Well, no point in dilly dallying. He rinsed his mouth and stared bleakly into the mirror at his bloodshot eyes, then shook his head. He winced at the stabbing pain that resulted from that dumb move.

  Useless, dude. You are so fucking useless.

  He straightened his shoulders and took a couple of ibuprofen, then made his way to the living room to face the music.

  “Lync? Please don’t yell at me. My head feels like it’s gonna fall off and roll—”

  Lync wasn’t on the couch. Laurie stared at the cushions that still sagged in the middle. No blanket was folded up and placed neatly on a pillow at the foot of the couch.

  “Great. Just fucking great.” Lync was so pissed with him he hadn’t even stayed in his own apartment. Did Lync have a boyfriend now? Had he gone to stay with him?

  Okay, that wasn’t something he needed to think about now or ever—it wasn’t his business anymore. He went back to the bedroom to retrieve his phone and was tempted to hit himself in the head when he realized it hadn’t worked the night before because he’d turned it off. He pressed the pow
er button, relieved to see he had a seventy percent charge, which wasn’t too bad. He usually charged it before he went to bed, but he’d been too trashed the night before. He had a message, but it was probably Mom, chewing him out for missing dinner yesterday. That could wait. Meanwhile, he’d charge his phone; he’d be happier when it had a full charge. He knew where Lync kept his charger, and it was just lucky it fit Laurie’s phone. He plugged it in and placed it on the kitchen counter.

  And he might as well program the coffee maker while he was at it. He could use a cup of coffee. He knew Lync kept a can in the fridge, and it wouldn’t matter if the fridge had been without power for a time. Coffee might get stale, but it didn’t spoil. And while milk would, he could drink his coffee black if he had to.

  He pulled open the refrigerator, pleased when the light went on, not so pleased when he saw the contents, or rather lack of them. All that was in there was the coffee and a couple of bottles of water. Damn. Hadn’t Lync gone grocery shopping? Back when they’d dated, he always stocked up on Monday, which was his day off. He should have had some food in the fridge.

  Suddenly Laurie became hopeful. Maybe Lync had gone out to pick up something for breakfast—an Egg McMuffin or a Croissan’wich. Sure, that was probably where he’d gone.

  Laurie had better get cleaned up before Lync came home. He hurried into the bathroom and turned on the shower. One stroke of luck: the water pressure was good. He removed his watch, stripped off his clothes, adjusted the temperature, and stepped under the spray. He’d keep it short. By the time he was done, Lync would be home with breakfast.

  * * * *

  Only he wasn’t. Laurie came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist—not in an attempt to seduce his old boyfriend—while rubbing another towel over his hair to dry it. And the apartment was still empty.

  He sighed and walked into the kitchen. The coffee was ready at least. He went to the cupboard, took down a mug, and poured. He’d leave a note for Lync, apologizing for crashing in his apartment. He found a pencil and a note pad, and while he tried to think of what to write, he turned on the radio and fiddled with the dial. He liked music with his breakfast, and this was breakfast, such as it was. If Lync wasn’t happy with Laurie’s choice of radio station, he could change it whenever he got home.

  Instead of getting “Rescue Me”—Pop preferred the music of the sixties, and Laurie had grown to like it himself—an announcer, not sounding at all like your typical radio personality, spoke with an almost weird calm.

  “…and reports from the CDC state this situation is entirely under control. Patient Zero has been identified as a Mexican national who illegally entered this country, and he’s already been deported. There’s no need for panic. I repeat, there is absolutely no need for panic. However, you are advised to stay indoors for your own safety. Under no circumstances are you to leave your place of residence. It’s imperative you avoid contact with others at all costs.”

  “What? Why?”

  Of course the announcer didn’t respond to his question; he just continued speaking. “In addition, face masks are a necessity, but—” The smooth, even tenor of his voice broke. “—for God’s sake, stay indoors!”

  Oh shit. Laurie’s mug fell from suddenly boneless fingers, and he barely noticed the spill. He went to the only window in the apartment that faced the street. It opened onto what he’d heard the women in his family refer to as a Juliet balcony. He raised the window and poked his head out just enough so he could observe the street below. Directly across, he could see a pair of legs sprawled down the steps of the porch of the two-story duplex; the upper body was lost in the shadows.

  He didn’t trust the balcony to bear his weight, so he angled his body farther out the window so he could see down the block, and he bit back a moan. Another body was face down in the road, the head looking strangely flattened. Beyond that, a car had crashed into a fire hydrant, and a stream of water gushed from it. The driver’s side door hung open, but Laurie couldn’t see a driver anywhere. But there was blood. So much blood.

  He shivered and stayed where he was for a moment, watching, but there was no movement below. He swallowed heavily. Goosebumps raised up on his hair-dusted thighs and forearms and cold shivers racked his body. He knew what this meant. It was the zombie apocalypse.

  He backed away from the window and closed and latched it with shaking fingers, then rubbed those fingers over his face. Okay, he would stay here—he wasn’t a fool and had no desire to see what else might be happening out on the streets.

  He made double sure the door was locked, then tore through the kitchen, opening the pantry and the cupboards.

  Empty. They were as empty as the fridge.

  He began shaking harder. As much as he wanted to stay here—

  Here…Where was Lync? Laurie hurried to the counter, grabbed up his phone, and keyed in the number he should have deleted after he and Lync broke up. “Pick up,” he begged helplessly. “Pick up, pick up.”

  “Hi.”

  Laurie almost cried with relief.

  “This is Lync. I can’t take your call right now. Leave a message after the beep, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  Laurie did cry, but this time it wasn’t from relief. Lync always picked up his phone, no matter what, even taking a call from his boss when Lync and Laurie had been in bed. Was he dead?

  Laurie didn’t bother leaving a message. He had to call Mom. He scrolled to home and pressed the dial icon, but all he got was a really weird sound. Okay, he’d try her cell phone.

  Nothing. Nothing for his sisters or his father either. Maybe the towers were temporarily down.

  He worried his lower lip, then checked his voicemail. Maybe it was from his mother? He went through the usual hoops it took to access voice messages, and sure enough, it was from Mom. He listened, feeling sicker and sicker.

  “Laurie, where are you? Why aren’t you picking up your phone? Never mind, just get home as soon as you get this. The National Guard is making everyone leave, but we’ll wait as long as we can.”

  But the radio announcer had said to stay put. Laurie thought he was going to throw up again. Could that have been a recorded message? And how long had it been playing?

  “Are you with some slut? If you were seeing a perfectly nice girl like Louise, this wouldn’t have happened. Pop had to go to your apartment, but when you didn’t answer, your landlady let him in.”

  She what? Interfering old biddy.

  “At least your place wasn’t a pigpen,” Mom muttered. “I’d have been mortified if that woman had seen it.”

  How did Mom think Laurie felt, knowing his apartment had been invaded like that? He was twenty-five, for fuck’s sake.

  She dropped the violation of his privacy with casual disregard and went back to chewing him out. “If this isn’t just like you. Why can’t you be where you’re supposed to be?” she demanded, then blew out an irritated breath. “We’ll be going to Aunt Ethel’s and Uncle Wilbur’s.” Mom’s sister lived in Indiana with her husband and six kids, more than five hundred miles away. Was it safe there? He worried his lower lip again, this time wincing when he bit it too hard. Maybe it was just the east coast that had the problem, if the National Guard was making everyone in Laurel Hill evacuate. “Get here as soon as you can.” She was yelling, “Goddammit, where’s Jo?” as the phone cut off whatever else she might have said.

  This didn’t sound good. Mom never swore. And where was the sister he’d come to suspect was as deep in the closet as he was?

  He wouldn’t think about the fact Mom hadn’t urged him to stay safe, hadn’t said she loved him.

  Never mind, there were other things he’d have to do, number one being to head on over to the house where he’d grown up. It was closer to Lync’s place than his apartment was anyway, and he’d be able to talk to the family face-to-face and make sure they were all right.

  And maybe there was some cereal or something else he could eat there.

 
; He unplugged his cell phone from the charger. What the fuck? Why did it only show seventy-five percent charged?

  He went to the light switch and flipped it, but nothing happened. Shit. Power must have gone out again. But the radio was still on, replaying the earlier message. Laurie went to it and turned it over.

  Right. It’s got a backup battery.

  He wanted to throw things, but there wasn’t time. He looked down at himself.

  He had to get dressed. He didn’t relish the idea of putting on the clothes he’d worn the day before, but he had a plan. He and Lync were pretty much the same size, although Lync was a little bulkier than him.

  Laurie went to the small dresser in Lync’s equally small bedroom and began opening drawers. He found a pair of black and green plaid boxer briefs and paused for a second with his hand on them. His one-time boyfriend had always had a weakness for plaid underwear. He had them in black and blue, black and red, black and yellow…Poor Lync. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t accommodate Laurie’s taste for a little paddling in the bedroom, a little being tied to the headboard…

  Laurie shook himself out of his melancholy thoughts and pulled on the briefs. He was reaching for an undershirt when he paused again. At the bottom of the pile of plain white undershirts was a flash of purple. He moved the white shirts aside and caught up a violet pocket T-shirt.

  This was his. He’d left it the last time he’d stayed overnight with Lync. Laurie couldn’t even say it was a mutual decision to call it quits. He’d gotten slightly carried away and ran his fingertips over Lync’s sides, tickling him. It had just been a little tickle, but Lync had blown up and said they were through. Laurie had been mortified, and he’d left in a hurry, only realizing when he got home that he wasn’t wearing that T. He waited for Lync to call him to come get it—he was too embarrassed by his reaction to Lync’s rejection and had no intention of calling his former boyfriend ever again—but Lync never had, and eventually Laurie had written it off as lost.

  He thrust his arms into the sleeves and pulled it over his head. The lingering scent of the body wash he used clung to it, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Why had Lync put the shirt in with his clean clothes? If Lync didn’t want to send it back to him, why hadn’t he washed it? Could it be Lync wanted the scent of Laurie close by, that he regretted breaking up with him?