The Two That Remained

by Mauldin, J Fitzpatrick

  “Tastes fine to me,” he said, then handed Emily one, which she ate greedily. He opened the can of Spam and split its contents between them. Emily didn’t care for it and so he ate her serving. The salty meat went down like congealed fat, tasting about as good.

  Ryan could hardly keep his eyes open. Opening the can had taken the last of his strength. He needed rest in a bad way. He took out the gun, removed the clip and cleared the chamber, then put it back in his pack. “I need to take a nap. It’s late.”

  Emily scowled, her face covered in fake chocolate. “Nappa?”

  “Yeah. Nappa.” Ryan laid his backpack against the door, using it as a lumpy pillow, and closed his eyes. He let out a long breath. “Curl up with Daddy?”

  “Nooo,” she replied.

  “Okay.”

  As exhaustion enveloped him, he hoped Emily could watch herself for a few hours.

  Chapter 24

  Emily found the bathroom was chilly, and thus decided it would be a good idea to cover up her Daddy. She knew he hadn’t been feeling well, and was mean as a result. So maybe, if he were more comfortable, he’d be nicer. Maybe he would get her ice cream or let her go outside. Maybe, just maybe, he would find her star. She didn’t understand why he kept saying it was lost. How could it be lost?

  She unspooled the toilet paper mounted on the wall and piled it over his feet, then began moving up to his hips. After one roll was empty, she pulled out the next. And a third. She fluffed the pile of toilet paper like a fancy hotel pillow, making sure it was as equal as could be. After she was finished positioning the lopsided pile, and Dada looked more like a mummy whose wrappings had gotten caught on a nail and fallen over rather than someone ready for naptime, she nodded.

  “Done!” she shouted, and he stirred slightly. “Done,” she whispered repeatedly. “Done done done done done.”

  She stared at the wall for a minute, glowing with its lambent green light cast by the sticks, then set out with her Barbie on a search mission for something to get into.

  Chapter 25

  With a passive grin on his face, Ryan strolled into Stetson’s Pharmacy at the corner of Midland and Delmar. It had been one of the best days at work, possibly one of the best days of his career. A grant had been approved to further his research on the public distributed parallel computing system he proposed in his dissertation. The idea was still fresh in his mind—it had been five years since he’d first written about the subject. With this financial boon, he might just be able to see it come to life. He had a bright crop of students this term and perhaps he could enlist their aid to earn them extra credit. That was his plan at least. He figured that Dr. Franks, the crusty, tenured man he was assistant professor to, would find this prudent.

  He zipped down the aisles and picked out an array of items Lillian had asked him to grab on the way home. Several patrons looked at him as if he was high. Yes, he knew he could have gone to Schmitt’s, the local grocer, and paid less, but this place was so convenient. He laughed as he strolled past the feminine products, knowing he wouldn’t have to uncomfortably purchase those anytime soon. Lillian was so pregnant she was about to burst open like a ripe melon. And the hormones, forget about it. She was riding the crazy waves of gestation. The previous night, he’d come home to her crying at a box of macaroni and cheese. He’d carefully asked why, and she’d replied that it was supposed to be sharp cheddar, not mild, and that he’d put it in the wrong place inside the pantry just to make her upset.

  “I’m not even sure they sell it like that,” he mumbled and picked up a bottle of prenatal vitamins. Other items went into his basket: unscented body lotion, Epsom salts (for her foot swelling), a tube of BBQ Pringles, and a pint of Cherry Garcia. No pickle requests this time, not that they had them at the drugstore anyhow.

  “Mr. Sharpe.”

  Ryan turned to see a gorgeous, petite girl from his class waving at him from the end of the snack aisle. He sauntered over to say hello. “Afternoon, Kelly. How are you today?”

  “Doing great, I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  She lowered her head and her raven hair, undercut on one side, hung down on the other. He suddenly noticed that she was wearing very short shorts, running sneakers, and a sports bra. She was slick with sweat and had a plastic bottle in her right hand. He turned his attention back to her eyes soon as he noticed the size of her breasts and the shape of her thighs. Her skin was smooth like cinnamon spice and cream. Her eyes bright and intelligent, just like his wife’s. “Something wrong?” He took in a silent breath and attempted to be professional. The Neanderthal inside of him was banging on cave walls.

  “Well, what we covered last week has been kicking my ass.”

  That was a matter Ryan tried not to think of despite how easy it was to see in her shorts when she twisted side to side.

  “Oh,” Ryan chewed a thought over. “It has?”

  “Yeah. I think I might need some extra help. Boolean operators are really tripping me up. Not sure why.”

  “Um, well, it’s just an argument.” He grinned. “And, or, not. Like searching on Google. We’ve not gotten into complex logic yet. Wait till we get to analysis of algorithms. That will make you really sweat.” He immediately regretted his word use. Her body glowed with a fresh yield.

  “Yeah.” She shrugged and took a drink of water, her bare neck stretching out as she swallowed. “But like, sometimes I’m a more hands on learner. Can you stay late and help me?” Her eyes grew wide, locking on Ryan’s. “Or, maybe we can meet up after and get a drink. I’ll bring my laptop, and you can bring that brain. I’ll buy.”

  Heat rose on the back of Ryan’s neck. This was dangerous, shark infested territory. A part of him knew she would be perfect for his project team. She was bright, and once she got past this minor obstacle, there would be nothing to stop her. A bigger part of him knew it was a terrible idea for just this reason. Then again, the male libido was his problem, not hers. He didn’t want to let someone like him to get in the way of her career development, a married man with overactive hormones denying her a place where she deserved to be because he couldn’t keep his dick under control; and that made him uncomfortable. That would not just be unethical, but immoral.

  “After class would be just fine. We’ll meet at the lab,” he said, taking the high road.

  “I’ll bring extra coffee,” she beamed. “What do you take?”

  “Thank you, Kelly, but that won’t be necessary. My wife makes a fine cafe au lait and I’m just around the corner. I’ll meet you after class on Tuesday, fully caffeinated and ready to help.”

  She swallowed and took a bag of hard candies off the shelf beside them. “Sounds great. Thank you, sir.”

  Ryan watched her go with a little too much interest. He shook his head and cursed. He wasn’t eighteen anymore, and he was married. Married married married.

  “It’s hard not to look,” a familiar voice said from behind him. “She certainly is pretty.”

  He spun around and patted the speaker on the shoulder. “Lawrence, what are you doing here?”

  “Just stopping off for a few beers on the way home.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at Ryan’s basket. “Lillian’s got the cravings?”

  “Shocker, right?”

  “Dana was just as bad if not worse with our second. I couldn’t keep snack cakes in the house for more than a few hours. Had to start buying them by the pallet just to keep up. You know Costco did that?”

  “You’re so full of it.”

  “Perhaps.” Lawrence rubbed his chin, then pointed quick in the direction Kelly had taken. “You want to know something that’ll really mess up your head?”

  Ryan sighed. When Lawrence started like this, it was always bad. “Do I have to listen? Or can I just act like I did?”

  “You have to listen. No way out of it.” Lawrence shook his finger and grinned. “That sweet, sweet, pretty little thing that was obviously trying to get a little Mr. Sharpe—”

  “Bull c
rap.”

  “Whatever. Just remember this,” he paused, “that’s some other guy’s daughter, some other guy’s little girl.”

  Ryan scowled at his best friend so hard the Cherry Garcia began to melt in his basket.

  “So, when you see those shapely legs with all their curves and that stone hard ass you could bounce all night long,” Lawrence had begun using his hands to describe them, “those pert breasts that shirts can’t hold in, and firm muscles—”

  “Lalalalala.”

  “—just know, my friend, that she’s some guy’s little princess just like your daughter will be.”

  “You know,” Ryan rebutted, “you’re just as bad as I was for looking, by talking about Kelly like that. I could have you brought up on ethics charges, good sir.”

  Lawrence roared in laughter. “Kelly? I was not talking about Kelly, son. I was thinking about Dana. My lovely, sweet wife. Who, by the way, has a father, too. And unless I’d done as much as I did to win him over, she’d still be his daughter, not my wife.”

  “Smooth move.”

  “Who were you thinking about when I made my grand description?”

  “I was thinking about going home. Later, Lawrence.”

  “Got a name for that pretty little girl of yours yet?” He called as Ryan made off for the register. “Guys that ogle at the ladies got to call her something. Don’t leave her a nameless woman! Trixie? Misty? Lady Evangeline of the Red House?”

  “I will kill you if I have to,” Ryan shouted back, throwing an arm up in the air. “Keep that up and you’re a dead man.”

  “I’d like to see you try, brother.” Lawrence chuckled. “See you tomorrow, Daddy.”

  “Yeah yeah yeah.”

  Chapter 26

  “Dada.”

  Tiny fingers took hold of his eyelids like c-clamps, twisted down, and pulled. Ryan forced them back closed. A fingernail caught his naked cornea and he shook his head to ward its owner away. His eyes began to water.

  “Dada. Wake up.”

  He cracked his lids open to see only a slash of golden light lashing out from beneath the bathroom do, filleting his side. He rolled over and sat up, Emily grabbing hold of his shirt to help. He looked down at his legs to see a pile of something white like thick ribbons covering most of his body.

  “Emme, you okay? You’re okay. Thank God. What time is it?”

  “Wake up time,” Emily responded.

  “Oh, that time?” He admired her in the dark room with a grin plastered on his face. She’d said another real sentence to him. This was getting serious. Before he knew it, she’d be the one writing a dissertation. “Is this toilet paper?”

  “Uhuh. Come on, go play.” She shoved against the locked bathroom door, then banged with her closed fists. “’Mon, ‘mon!”

  He chuckled and felt the knots in his muscles start to work apart. “I’m about to ‘mon you, little one.”

  She rolled her eyes and giggled. That was one hundred percent a Lillian gesture. It left his emotions mixed.

  Ryan shifted on the floor and put weight on his right ankle. There was still pain, but it was much less than it had been. He probed the wound, beneath his still-wet jeans and athletic sock, and could tell the swelling had gone down considerably.

  “Super. I might not die today after all. That’s always a good thing.”

  He opened the bathroom door, inspected Emily in the light, and found she was fine, despite leaving her unattended for the night. He knew it had been dangerous but what else was there to do? He checked her shoulder and it too was fine. He checked everything else. She had scratches and bruises from both yesterday, and just being a toddler, but apparently hadn’t hurt herself while he’d slept.

  He held her tight, heart thankful.

  She was alive and that was enough. He let her hair down, checking the skin of her neck for marks, then remade her ponytails, this time with a set of twisted rainbow ties.

  “Pretty?” she asked, and he agreed.

  “How long was I out?” From the light of dawn he knew it must have been all night, eight or ten hours at the least. They’d arrived at Stetson’s shortly before dusk, though it was hard to tell on a rainy day, and when he was out of his head. He wasn’t sure how long it had taken them to walk the two miles here, but knew it had to have been taken longer than it would have in his right mind.

  “’Mon.” Emily tugged on his damp shirtsleeve.

  “I’m coming! Geez. Little tyrant.” He hurried after her and considered that they better not linger long. They had a house to get back to, and it would take them a while to walk. It had rained the day before and they surely had plenty of water to boil. Then there was bath time, and scheduled meals. He needed to read Emily her books, and record in the good/bad log that today was a six, instead of a three like yesterday.

  He peered around Stetson’s drugstore, a typical on the edge of the Midwest non-chain establishment with higher markup merchandise, fun worthless things, and far less cosmetics. Its aisles were filled with hasty necessities, colorful novelties, and familiar items he didn’t go a day without; more medicine than he could use in a lifetime, books he hadn’t read, lemon lime flavored drink mix and gummy candy by the ton, clean artisanal waters, cheap toys, and of course, red, red wine.

  The next thought hit him like a truckload of pillows. Why did they have to get home right now? What was the rush? Who would be waiting on them? In Stetson’s they were safe from the dogs. They had supplies enough for the day, probably longer. He was feeling better, but taking a day to relax wouldn’t hurt anyone. Would it? Surely, there was an air mattress they could sleep on, and maybe a clean shirt or two.

  “What’s the hurry?” he asked himself, and felt a great weight lifted off his shoulders. “What’s the big, damn, hurry?” He took off his wet pants and laid them across a shelf bathed in sunlight. He added his shirt and Emily’s dress beside them. He went through an endcap with graphic tees and found the only shirt that would fit him—a copy of the same Star Wars shirt he’d just taken off. He found an extra small t-shirt for Emily, and she wore it like a dress. Ryan was left in only his new shirt and underwear.

  They were in a drug store with all sorts of things Emily loved. There was no one around to tell them not to play as they wished. Everything was theirs to take. For all Ryan knew, the entire world was theirs to take. A sobering, yet somehow, reassuring thought.

  “All right, Emily.” He crouched down on one knee in front of her. “What do you want to do first?”

  They roamed the store like a pair of mischievous best friends looking to get into trouble. Ryan checked over his shoulder several times out of habit, worried an employee might just bust them for doing something they shouldn’t. He had to remind himself he wasn’t six years old, trying to steal a plastic He-Man sword his parents wouldn’t buy because it encouraged violence. He also had to remind himself that the four associates and two patrons he’d found in their stroll were nothing more than inanimate calcium structures without a thought in their literally empty skulls. It was hard to think when they were always smiling. Maybe death was a happy place, nothing to be afraid of.

  Emily picked through the candy aisle for a long while, asking her Dada to open everything she touched. He didn’t let her have anything chocolate or milk based, but sour straws, Red Vines, and gummy worms were perfectly acceptable, if not hard as stone.

  They filled up on a breakfast of sugary confections and vibrated their way over to the dime store toys. As Ryan had promised, he found her a toy pistol with an orange tipped barrel. This was interesting for about point five seconds. She added a couple Barbies to her growing collection, one with pink and purple equestrian gear and plastic horses, and another—which struck Ryan almost as odd as Bullwhip Barbie—with preppy street clothes, nursing scrubs, and a ballerina outfit. He cut open their boxes and let her have all but the smallest pieces. No shoes, no brushes, no hair clips. Emily squealed, her excited hands a blur of shaking fists like a hummingbird’s wings. She clutc
hed them in her hands and ran up and down the aisle, then fell to her knees to play, t-shirt pooling around her like a dress with a massive train.

  “I’ll be right back. Stay here, Emme.”

  She nodded and kept to her business, dolls walking across the floor talking to one another. He kept an eye on her over his shoulder, or at the very least, the ends of aisles where her escape might come. He made his way to the drink cooler and took several bottles of water. He was still wary of drinking it outright, even though they had on day one, and so he looked for a trusted means to purify it. He shopped around for a heat source like butane, or if it came to it, a metal bucket to build a fire in. He could use the urn of a coffee maker to boil it; Stetsons had plenty of those in stock.

  Passing an endcap with kid’s jewelry, he stuffed several tiny, exciting somethings into his backpack pocket. He went through the home goods section, random outdoor items, and found nothing but quick start logs and charcoal, no butane. He could use these things but they’d make a huge mess and smoke up the place.

  Emily started shouting from her play place in the toy aisle.

  “Emily? Emily!” he screeched, knocking over a candy display, stepping on its contents as he rushed back to find her being a kid, Bullwhip Barbie’s accessory being used to keep the newcomers in line. He caught his breath, leaning over on his knees. Should he stop this game of group therapy or let it go? Mary in the microwave had been bad enough.

  As he entered the first aid aisle another thought occurred to him. There was a simpler way to handle this water issue, and like he was often guilty of, he was not following the first rule of computer programming. K.I.S.S.: Keep it simple, stupid. It’s not always about finding a clever way to deal with a problem, which he was good at—instead, the easiest solution was often the best. Sure, boiling water would be the healthiest in the long term, but there was an immediate use he could make of the drugstore supplies. Lawrence had taught it to him. The shortest distance between dirty and clean water was a chemical reaction Lillian could have explained in better detail. Ryan recalled it had something to do with destroying the cell walls and proteins of microbes, but that didn’t really matter. It worked.