The Swiss Family RobinZOM (Book 4)

by Perrin Briar

  Some people got off, others got on. Bill gripped his small leather case close to his chest and peered at the tram door. The bell dinged and the doors began to close. Bill’s shoulders sank with disappointment. At the last second a woman in a red dress hopped onto the compartment, the doors sliding shut behind her.

  The other men turned to look at her, some openly, others feigning disinterest. Bill was one of the former, watching her as she took a seat a gentleman vacated for her. When she sat down Bill could only make out the back of her head, her blonde hair done up in a bob, and one smooth cheek of her profile as she read her magazine.

  Bill spun the wedding ring around his finger, in deep thought.

  II

  The Mickey Mouse clock on the wall ticked down the seconds, his beaming grin at odds with the antiseptic surroundings. The patient chair on the other side of Bill’s desk was empty. He sat playing solitude on his computer. There was a knock on the door.

  “Come,” Bill said.

  The door opened, and a penis peered around the doorframe.

  “I’ve got the worst headache,” the penis said in a high-pitched voice. “Somebody kept slamming my head into a deep dark hole and I couldn’t get out. My body became stiff and my skin turned red with friction burns. Eventually I was sick, throwing up all over myself. I was so weak and limp.”

  “And I thought you could sink no lower,” Bill said, shutting his computer down.

  A large fat man in a white coat leaned on the doorframe, plastic penis in hand.

  “Oh, come on,” Dennis said. “It’s hilarious.”

  “It was,” Bill said, nodding. “The first time.”

  “The old ones are the best,” Dennis said.

  “You’re old and you’re not,” Bill said.

  Dennis came into Bill’s office, closing the door behind him.

  “What’s up with you today?” he said.

  “Nothing,” Bill said, placing his stethoscope on his desk.

  “Something’s obviously wrong, but you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want,” Dennis said.

  He put his fingertips to his temples.

  “I shall use my powers of diagnosis to figure it out,” he said.

  He made a screeching noise and then quietened down.

  “You suffered a particularly bad sexual episode last night,” he said.

  Bill gave him a flat stare.

  “No?” Dennis said. “That’s usually the diagnosis.”

  “That’s because you have sex on the brain,” Bill said.

  “I’m a urologist,” Dennis said. “Comes with the territory.”

  Dennis made another loud screech.

  “Do you have to do that?” Bill said.

  “You’re worried Liz is having an affair,” Dennis said.

  “Nope,” Bill said, hanging up his white coat.

  “You should,” Dennis said. “She’s a beautiful woman.”

  “Can I say again how glad I am you never went into psychiatry?” Bill said.

  “So am I,” Dennis said. “The pay sucks.”

  “Are you ready for lunch?” Bill said.

  “One more try,” Dennis said, and he screeched again. “You’re worried you’ve not reached your full potential, that your life is slipping through your fingers and you can’t do anything about it, except there is something you can do, but you don’t like what it entails.”

  Bill blinked. He opened his mouth to reply but no words came out.

  “How did you know?” he said.

  Dennis made a fart noise with his lips.

  “We all feel like that,” Dennis said. “You just have to figure out a way to deal with it.”

  He opened the door.

  “Shall we?” he said.

  III

  Dennis’s tray, laden with food, clattered on the canteen table. He bent down and sniffed the mountain of macaroni and cheese.

  “Ah,” he said. “Lunchtime. The best time of the day.”

  He picked up his fork and attacked his food. Bill took a squashed sandwich out of his lunch bag and unfolded it.

  “Do you want more out of life too?” he said.

  “Look at me, Bill,” Dennis said, slapping his wide stomach. “There aren’t many people who do want more than me. I need more. I crave it. Sex in a marriage is like that sandwich of yours. Our other halves try their best, God bless them, but all their effort comes out flimsy and flat, tasteless. Which is why I get my meals from outside the home. It’s delicious, it’s tasty, and it comes in a variety of flavours.”

  Bill thought for a moment before speaking.

  “There’s a woman I see every day on the tram,” he said. “I don’t know who she is, where she comes from… But I get the sense she’s been on adventures, travelled the world, done things I can only dream of. I’ve always wanted to ask her about her life.”

  Dennis smiled broadly, crooked teeth beaming. He slapped Bill hard on the back.

  “For a while there I’d rather given up hope on you, Bill,” he said. “You always seemed so straight-laced, so in control.”

  He said it like it was a bad thing.

  “I knew you had a weakness somewhere,” he said. “Now it’s finally coming out.”

  “What are you talking about?” Bill said.

  Dennis smiled. He leaned in close.

  “I know exactly what you mean,” he said. “This girl you see every day on the tram. She’s young I take it? Attractive?”

  “Yes,” Bill said.

  He paused.

  “You think I… And she…” he said, waving his hands and snorting through his nose. “No, no, no. It’s nothing like that. She just looks interesting, that’s all.”

  “We all think like that at the beginning,” Dennis said. “You need an outlet, Bill. You need to find a way to release all this built up tension you have, otherwise you’re going to explode. You need to find some excitement in your life.”

  “My wife and kids-”

  “ ‘-are all the excitement I need’,” Dennis said. “I know, I’ve used that one myself too. That’s fine for the wife, but what about in the real world?”

  “How do you release it?” Bill said.

  “Oh, there are many ways to release it,” Dennis said. “As many ways as there are sins. You just have to find the right way for you, that’s all.”

  He leaned in close. Bill could smell the cheese on his breath. Dennis checked over his hefty shoulders and lowered his voice.

  “There’s a lady or two I like to go see now and then,” he said. “You know, get a little check-up and keep the old ticker going. A life without a little adventure isn’t a life at all, Bill. I thought you’d have figured that out by now.”

  He dug back into his macaroni and cheese.

  “If you want, we can talk about it more tonight,” he said. “A swift drink after work maybe?”

  “No, sorry,” Bill said, and he was surprised to find he actually did feel sorry. “I can’t tonight. I have to leave early to see Ernest in a trivia competition.”

  “Living life to its fullest, I see,” Dennis said, shovelling another spoonful of cheese into his face.

  “Wait,” Bill said. “Isn’t your daughter Jenny on the team too?”

  “She doesn’t want me there anymore than I want to be there myself,” Dennis said. “While you’re forcing yourself to stay awake I’ll be forcing myself not to be too relaxed. But I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

  Bill bit into his sandwich. It tasted as good as it looked.

  IV

  The tram was half empty, the majority of the usual passengers still at work. Bill sat his briefcase on the seat beside him, thankful to have some real space for a change.

  The tram slowed down and came to a stop. No passengers got off. Only one got on. Bill glanced up. He froze. The woman in the red dress took a seat two rows ahead of him.

  Bill spun the wedding band around his finger. He pulled it up slightly, revealing the white weathered skin underneath
, but couldn’t bring himself to remove it completely. Instead he wrapped his jacket over his hand. Bill took off his fedora, dry-swallowed, and then pulled up the collar of his shirt.

  He got to his feet and stepped toward the woman. He stopped, half turned around, and then headed forward again. He stood beside her, his heart beating like a drum.

  “Excuse me,” Bill said.

  She looked up at him, her smile finding her eyes, dazzling.

  “May I take this seat?” Bill said, gesturing to the seat beside her.

  “Certainly,” the young woman said.

  Bill realised he hadn’t ever heard her voice before. It was deep and dulcet, confident without being abrasive. She put her handbag on her lap. Bill sat down. The silence was crushing.

  “Lovely weather today,” Bill said.

  “It is,” the woman said.

  Bill’s top lip became sweaty. He wiped it dry with a handkerchief.

  “Do you know,” he said, clearing his throat, “I see you every morning but I don’t even know your name?”

  She looked at him, her eyes glazing over with thought.

  “Oh!” she said. “It’s you! You sit on the back row, right?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Bill said, elated she recognised him.

  “My name’s Ines,” she said, offering her dainty hand. “Ines Kaufman.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ines. I’m Bill Robinson. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

  On The Island #3

  I

  Jack started awake. He peered around at his surroundings, for a moment losing track of where he was. His memory fell into place. He looked out the porthole at the bright sunshine filtering through the windows. Francis lay in the bed next to him.

  “Francis?” Jack said. “It’s time to wake up. Francis?”

  He poked his younger brother in the ribs. He didn’t respond. He poked him again, this time on the cheek. Jack frowned and peered at the tips of his fingers. They were wet. He turned Francis’s head toward him. His skin was bumpy with beads of sweat, and a vibrant red rash wound up either side of his neck and behind his ears. He was shaking.

  “Francis?” Jack said, panic entering his voice. “Francis?”

  He poked his brother again, but he still didn’t wake.

  Jack pressed his fingers to Francis’s throat. There was a pulse – faint, but it was there. Jack got up and ran outside, leaning against the railing. Fritz and Ernest were pacing up and down in the clearing below.

  “Guys!” Jack said. “Francis is like Mother! He’s fallen asleep!”

  II

  Francis’s breaths were weak and shallow, his chest hardly moving.

  “We’re dropping like flies,” Fritz said. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Ernest said. “Only Father had any clue. And now he’s unconscious too.”

  “Didn’t he say anything to you before he fell asleep?” Jack said.

  “He fell unconscious,” Fritz said. “He didn’t fall asleep.”

  “Whatever,” Jack said. “Did he say anything?”

  “Yes,” Ernest said. “But it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “What did he say?” Jack said.

  “Something about green? Or a stripe?” Ernest said. “I don’t know. I think he was in the midst of his fever when he said it.”

  “We’ve been through too much to be wiped out by something we can’t even see!” Fritz said.

  “You mean, something like the virus?” Ernest said. “It’s wiped out the rest of the world. No reason why something similar shouldn’t wipe us out too.”

  “Listen to Descartes over here,” Fritz said. “Can you try not to be morbid for one second?”

  “Let’s think about this logically,” Ernest said. “Father didn’t go anywhere near the hat. How can he have caught something from it?”

  Fritz shook his head.

  “No, he did go near it,” he said. “He studied it to see if there was anything Mother might have an allergy to.”

  Ernest looked toward the gift table and found the hat was no longer there.

  “But Francis didn’t go near it,” Ernest said. “How do you explain that?”

  “The hat was on his bed when I went upstairs earlier to bring your gift down,” Fritz said. “Then he took a nap. Maybe that was what caused it.”

  “Perfect,” Ernest said, throwing his hands up. “Where’s the hat now?”

  “I threw it out the window when we left Mother and Father alone,” Fritz said.

  “Then how come I haven’t succumbed to it yet?” Ernest said. “I was the one who spent hours making it. How come I’m still here?”

  “Maybe you’re immune,” Fritz said.

  “I doubt it,” Ernest said. “I’ve never been immune to anything my whole life.”

  “Except seasickness,” Fritz said.

  “That’s not really immunity,” Ernest said. “But maybe it’s not the hat at all, but the virus. Maybe it got into something we missed when we rebuilt the treehouse? Maybe it got into our water supply somehow? Or we ingested it some other way?”

  Ernest wiped the back of his hand across his forehead.

  “Jack, go get a cup of water for Francis, please,” he said.

  Jack ran out of Robin’s Nest. Ernest took a seat on a bed.

  “You don’t look so hot,” Fritz said.

  “I never get tired of you telling me that,” Ernest said.

  Ernest’s face was pallid and sallow.

  “Ernest, why did you send Jack after a glass of water?” Fritz said.

  “So as not to frighten him,” Ernest said. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”

  “There’s a switch,” Fritz said.

  “I’m feeling a bit… lightheaded,” Ernest said.

  When Ernest looked up, Fritz saw he had a thick layer of sweat on his forehead.

  “You’d better lie down,” Fritz said.

  “Fritz,” Ernest said, looking at him through his bloodshot eyes and pointing a shaking finger at Fritz’s skin.

  Fritz felt at his forehead.

  “This is just sweat,” Fritz said, getting to his feet. “It doesn’t mean anything. Whoa.”

  He swayed unsteadily and braced himself on a chest of drawers.

  “Well, this is certainly good news,” Fritz said. “We’d best get into our beds while we can.”

  Fritz lay down.

  “Is this it?” Ernest said. “Is this the end of the Robinson family?”

  “You’re forgetting one thing,” Fritz said.

  “What’s that?” Ernest said.

  “We’ve still got Jack to take care of us,” Fritz said.

  The two eldest brothers shared a look, smiled and hacked wheezing laughs, and then returned to looking up at the ceiling with concerned expressions.

  Jack came running into the room carrying a cup of water.

  “Ernest? Fritz?” Jack said. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re going to fall unconscious any second,” Ernest said, slightly slurring his words.

  “No,” Jack said. “You can’t.”

  “We can,” Fritz said.

  “And we most certainly will,” Ernest said.

  “No,” Jack said. “Please. Don’t.”

  “Unfortunately we don’t have much choice,” Fritz said.

  “I’m scared,” Jack said, voice quavering.

  “We’re all scared,” Fritz said. “You just try to keep us all alive for as long as you can.”

  “I’m sorry for putting you in this position, Jack,” Ernest said.

  “You’re my older brother,” Jack said. “You’re supposed to put me in repulsive positions.”

  “I see my vocabulary has rubbed off on you,” Ernest said. “If not my good looks.”

  Ernest and Fritz’s heads lolled back onto their mattresses, eyes rolling into their heads.

  “Ernest?” Jack said. “Fritz?”

  The wind howled and made the treehou
se groan. Jack curled up into a ball and hugged his knees.

  He was alone.

  Fritz

  I

  Each of the school girls had her skirt hitched up with safety pins to expose as much thigh as possible without getting cautioned by the school authorities. The boys had their shirts untucked, ties hanging loose.

  Despite Jack’s shorter stature he powered ahead of Fritz and Ernest, almost at a run.

  “He’s keen today,” Fritz said. “Is there a book burning ceremony I don’t know about?”

  “I don’t know…” Ernest said, bending back over his book. “Any breakthroughs on the Beauty front?”

  “No, not yet,” Fritz said. “It’s only a matter of time though. Ready for your quiz thing tonight?”

  “I’m quietly confident,” Ernest said.

  “Quietly?” Fritz said. “Doesn’t sound like a Robinson.”

  “All right, I’m going to wipe the floor with the other team,” Ernest said.

  “That’s more like it,” Fritz said.

  “Fritz!” a voice called out. “Hey! Fritz!”

  A tall boy came jogging over. Fritz turned to his brother.

  “Catch you later,” he said. “Good luck with your quiz thing.”

  “Thanks,” Ernest said, heading toward the main school building.

  Frederick sidled up to Fritz. They were similar in height and of shoulder, one of the few who could look Fritz in the eye and give him anywhere near a challenge in strength sports.

  “Have you seen Beauty today?” Frederick said. “She’s looking especially stunning.”

  “Where is she?” Fritz said.

  Frederick pointed toward a pack of girls leaning against a wall. Some smoked with the self-conscious air of those believing they were constantly being watched, as if the world revolved around them. The most attractive girl had long blonde hair and blue eyes that caught the light like sapphires. Beauty lived up to her name.

  Fritz leaned against the railing and tried to appear nonchalant as he looked over at her. She wasn’t looking at him. Fritz frowned.