Foamers

by Justin Kassab

  “Surprise me,” she replied.

  He pulled the leather strap of his gun belt clear of the latch, set it on the table, and then added his hat to the pile.

  “You look better as a cowboy,” Ashton said, walking out of the room. The moment she was out of sight, X grabbed the hat and fitted it on his head.

  Twisting the plastic knobs, he turned on the stove burners. He opened the fridge and browsed the shelves. That’s when he saw the yellow Styrofoam and plastic–wrapped slab of hamburger meat. The date on the meat was the same day the vaccine went public. For the first time all day he felt like a thief, knowing that this was supposed to be a family dinner that never happened. He didn’t want to let it go to waste, though, and continued to find ingredients. In the dairy drawer, he found a block of Colby jack cheese. This was the beginning of a good meal.

  He searched through the cupboards until he found a deep pan, which he set on the stove while adding a splash of olive oil from in the pantry. His chest puffed full of air as he took a deep breath, dropping the hamburger into the pan. The sizzle had him hungry already.

  Back at the fridge, he slid out the vegetable drawer and pulled out two bell peppers. He set the peppers on the table along with the block of cheese. Pulling a paring knife from the holder, he felt a pang of sadness as he sliced the skin of the pepper. This was their last night in the house. Tomorrow they would set out for Houghton, and who knew what would happen to their bond when they arrived. He liked how things were going, but Kade was protective enough to make a hawk look like a bad parent. X didn’t even know if he would be able to stand living there. Mick, Lucas, and Victoria weren’t bad people, but he couldn’t handle how all three of them looked down their noses at him. Maybe Ashton would make it different, but Kade might toss X out on his ass for even thinking about having feelings for his little sister. X would make sure she arrived safely as planned, but after that, he had no commitment to the cohort.

  He sliced the plastic wrap off the cheese and pushed the blade down with both hands to cut it into thin slices. The sharp screech of the fire alarm smashed his thoughts. He jumped out of his chair with such force that he knocked it to the floor as he scrambled to the stove. With one hand, he lifted the pan from the burner, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he supported the weight, and he snatched a wooden spoon with the other hand. He scraped the meat with the spoon, while the fire alarm blared.

  Ashton sprinted into the kitchen, planted herself beneath the alarm, and did a two-footed jump. Her fingers clung to the cheap plastic before her weight tore it from the ceiling. She curled the alarm against her belly, tore the lid off with her free hand, and popped the battery out.

  “Can’t I leave you alone for a few minutes?” she said. Her dirty clothes were replaced with a knee-length black-and-white sundress. Her usual braid was undone and her hair hung around her shoulders.

  “Playing dress up?”

  “I thought it looked nice,” Ashton said, holding his gaze and swaying just slightly. He smiled the stupid smile, knowing she was fishing for confirmation.

  “You look great.”

  She let out a sigh and leaned against the corner of the table. X set the pan on the burner. He went to the table and reached past her to grab the cutting board. Their bodies were inches apart, so close he could feel her breath on his skin. She moved into him, intentionally brushing her bare arm across his. He spun away from her and scraped the peppers and cheese into the pan, mixing them with the spoon. He knew he couldn’t let any of his thoughts breathe. If they found life, he wouldn’t be able to maintain his resistance efforts.

  She clenched her jaw, forcing her frustration through her teeth as she retrieved a beer.

  “I see you put the hat back on.”

  X kept his eyes on the pan, forcing the want from his mind.

  She leaned against the counter beside the stove, facing in the opposite direction.

  “Just like to be badass, or is there some sort of story?”

  “I’m far from badass,” he replied, stirring the pan.

  She took a swig from her can. “Right, you don’t try to emanate ‘don’t mess with me.’”

  “I don’t try.”

  “Is there a story or not?”

  He reached blindly for the fridge, but retracted his hand when he touched Ashton’s arm.

  “Would you grab the hot sauce, please?”

  She rolled her eyes and swung the door open. After she handed him the hot sauce, she slammed the fridge rattling everything on the shelves.

  He twisted the cap off and splashed the sauce into the pan.

  “My mother bought me a white hat when I was a kid, told me to always be the good guy. When I started being the bad guy, it just seemed fitting.”

  “You’ve never told me what you actually did for a living.”

  He shifted the pan off of the hot burner. “Food’s ready.”

  He found them two plates and some hoagie rolls. The rolls were a little harder than he wanted, but they would do. He sliced open the bread and spooned in the meat.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, but she never looked at him. Part of him wanted to tell her anything she wanted to know, but he knew that when they reached Houghton, their time would end. It would be hard enough to see her go. The thought of their dynamic changing robbed him of all appetite, but he continued eating to stay in her presence.

  “When did Damian end things with Victoria?” he asked, trying to redirect Ashton’s frustration with him.

  “When he took the new research job.” Her head tipped so he couldn’t see her eyes.

  He chewed, trying to find any topic that might draw her out. He set his hoagie back on the plate and brushed off his hands.

  “I hear she picked a fight and you won.”

  She took her attention away from her sandwich and made eye contact with him. “A fight would mean she had a chance.”

  He sat back, crossing his arms. The stupid smile came back; he had hooked her. “What happened?”

  “She showed up at Kade’s doorstep, demanding to know why Damian left her. She got violent. Kade wouldn’t hit a girl, but I don’t let bitches hit my brother.” Ashton grinned as she gazed off. X knew the look. She was reliving the moment.

  “Which one of you is the protective one, again?”

  “Do you think he’s okay?” she asked.

  He didn’t know. No matter how much Kade had planned for this type of situation, and no matter how much he was the leading expert on apocalypses, bad luck was still a bitch. History was full of instances where external factors changed the course of the world.

  “We’ll find out tomorrow,” X said, placing both elbows on the table and lifting his sandwich.

  “X?” Ashton asked. He found himself staring into her emerald eyes. “Is it bad that I’m not upset that this happened? I mean, I feel bad for all the people who died, but I worked my entire life to be this elite soccer player, and then one bad juke and it all disappeared. Eighteen years of work, gone in one second. I felt like I wasted my life, but now I’m useful again.”

  He finished the last bite of the hoagie. “Life is
all about perspective.”

  “So, it’s not bad that I feel okay?”

  He leaned across the table. “How many of those people cared when you tore your Achilles? Or would have cared had you been hit by a car? Care about those who care about you. Don’t burden yourself with the rest, or you’ll go crazy.”

  Ashton smiled at him as she left the table. “Thanks for dinner.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “I’m going to take a shower,” she said, walking to the hallway. She placed her hand on the wall, and looked over her shoulder. “The door will be unlocked.”

  X sat at the table long after the shower started. He wished that she could be anyone but Kade’s little sister. This was a whole new world, though. Maybe Kade wouldn’t be upset; after all, he did send Ashton with X. Kade probably knew she had feelings for X. Perhaps he wanted X and Ashton to become more than friends. He laughed at that thought, but he couldn’t deny what he wanted.

  He pushed away from the table and hurried down the hallway. His hand wrapped around the bathroom doorknob and he placed his forehead against the door. The fan droned above the sound of running water. The warm mist escaped under the door, and he inhaled it deep into his lungs. Turning the knob gently enough to avoid the click of the door, he inched it open until he could see the mirror. The reflection showed the silhouette of Ashton in the shower. She arched her back into the water as she soaked her hair in the stream.

  His hand shook, rattling the knob. He silently shut the door and rushed back to the bedroom. The bed squeaked as he dropped down onto the mattress. He stared at his shaking hands like they were a stranger’s. The shakes, the fucking shakes—he didn’t get the shakes. The shakes were for nerds and losers. He had nerves of steel; it was necessary in his line of work, and that same confidence had always made him just as effective with women.

  All of a sudden, his hands stopped shaking. His neck muscles tensed, pulling his ears flat. Beat by beat, his heart slowed. Something was in the house. Closing his eyes, he turned an ear toward the doorway.

  His hand passed by his side, where it should have found the grip of his pistol. The jeans were missing his weapon’s belt. His weapons were still on the kitchen table, and he realized he didn’t check to make sure the windows of the house were locked. With his attention on how he felt for Ashton, his normal survival instincts were suffering.

  He grabbed Ashton’s butcher knife from the dresser, and hurried for the kitchen. Skidding to a stop at the landing, he saw three foamers ascending the stairs. Two of them were large, bearded men; the third was a small boy. All three were clad in hunter’s orange coats and baggy camo pants. The similar facial features made it clear that it was an uncle, father, and son. Their faces were masked with blood.

  X threw his body into the bathroom and flipped the lock.

  The knife clattered into the sink as he threw back the shower curtain. His train of thought completely derailed at the reveal of Ashton’s naked body. His eyes followed the running water down her wide shoulders, over her perky breasts, between her muscle-lined legs.

  “Wondered when you’d get here,” she said.

  He pointed three times at the door as gibberish poured out of his mouth.

  “People,” he finally spit out. “Three of them in the kitchen.”

  “People or foamers?” she asked, shutting off the water.

  Her foot clipped the lip of the tub and she stumbled into X’s arms as her wet body landed against him. Her moist skin soaked his shirt as her hair whipped all around him. He held her as she regained her footing. She bent down, all of the bumps of her spine standing out, as she snatched her dress and pulled it on.

  Water dripped from her body, splashing off the tile floor as she pulled her matted hair off her face. “Stop gawking and answer me.”

  The door hinges shook against the impact of a body.

  “They don’t seem like people I want to meet,” X said, checking the window. He peered down the two stories and knew they couldn’t jump. A twisted ankle or broken leg would make them as good as dead. He crossed his arms, staring at the buckling door as if he had X-ray vision.

  They were trapped by three foamers. His weapons were in the kitchen. The truck was in the garage. The keys were hanging on the hook by the kitchen door. They needed to move, and keep moving.

  “I want you to open the door, slide out into the hallway toward the bedroom, then stay behind me till we get to the kitchen. Once we get to the kitchen, get to the garage and in the truck. When we’re clear, I’ll join you,” he said. He had given his word he’d get her safely to Houghton, and he wasn’t about to break it.

  “What if—”

  “No. It’s not the first time I’ve been outnumbered in a fight. Ready?”

  Ashton gave him a nod and unlocked the door. He stood beside her, the butcher knife clutched in his hands. She swung the door open, and the uncle charged in with a harsh rasp resembling a growl. She slid out of the foamer’s path as X brought his clasped hands down between the creature’s shoulders. The foamer stumbled and crashed headfirst into the far wall as X flung the door shut to cover their escape.

  In the hallway, the father blocked the way to the kitchen, keeping the son behind him. X blew through the corridor as he charged the foamer. He came up low, knocking the beast into the kitchen. The point of the knife slammed against the creature’s hip bone, stopping the blade’s momentum. X’s hand continued down the sharp edge, leaving a gash along his knuckles. The foamer cried out as pain shot through X’s arm; he abandoned the knife and clenched his hand into a bloody fist.

  X landed on top of the father, who snapped and thrashed his teeth. Ashton bounded to where the boy was waiting at the top of the stairs with a blank look of confusion. She booted her bare heel into his chest, launching him down the steps. A fourth foamer, wearing a green reflective vest, aided the boy back to all fours.

  X rammed his forearm under the father’s jaw and slammed his other elbow across his temple. He clenched his teeth and smashed the creature’s head unnaturally to the side as it growled in protest until, with a loud pop, its body went limp and silent. From downstairs, the son squealed from an unseen pain, rooted in the core of his emotion. X scrambled off the beast and to his feet.

  “What are you waiting for?” he shouted at Ashton as he shoved her toward the garage. Blood dripped off his fingers, landing on the floor in single splatters as he made his way to the table to grab his belt. With one fluid toss, he launched the buckle around his body and fastened the belt. His bloody hand donned his knife as his other drew his pistol. He cocked the hammer, rotating the cylinder one round over, hoping the primers were still functional.

  The keys jingled as Ashton lifted them from the hook and swung the garage door open. She froze in the doorway when her path was blocked by two more foamers.

  “X!” she said, backing into the kitchen. Wood cracked as the bathroom door splintered off the hinges and the uncle emerged into the corridor.

  X took a deep breath and moved back to back with Ashton. He glanced around the kitchen, keeping her body against his. There were two foamers in the garage, two on the steps, one down the corridor, and six bullets in his gun. All they needed to do was get to the truck. All he needed was f
or her to get to the truck.

  He swung around, pistol arm extended, and dropped to one knee beside her, aiming at the doorway. He placed his left elbow on his upright knee and braced his wrist under his right hand to steady the gun. His eyes trained on the first foamer, followed by the back sight, and then he raised the barrel until the gap of the sight went dark. He tugged the trigger.

  His ears rang as the gunshot echoed through the room and the air filled with the smell of sulfur. The bullet slammed into the foamer’s skull, splattering tissue on the one behind it. X’s thumb pressed down on the cold hammer and cocked it back. Sliding his entire body a few degrees left, he pulled the trigger again. Two down, he thought as he shoved Ashton toward the garage. She leapt from the top step over the two bodies, and ran for the truck.

  X spun to his feet, facing the corridor and stairs. He pulled the trigger as the foamer in the reflective vest launched toward him. The bullet penetrated the creature’s shoulder as it tackled X to the ground, landing beside the kitchen table and pinning his right arm between them. The creature spread its jaws and plunged its foaming mouth toward X’s jugular. X’s left forearm crossed his face in self-defense, intercepting the creature’s teeth. The foamer punctured his skin with its incisors as it thrashed, jerking X’s arm like a dog with a toy.

  His thumb cocked his pinned pistol. He rotated his wrist enough to avoid shooting himself and pulled the trigger. The gunshot was drowned by the scream of the foamer as it released X’s arm. It retreated back to the other two, stumbling to the ground as its stomach bled maroon on the floor. The three creatures appraised X cautiously, like lions unsure of what they were hunting.