by Russ Melrose
I'm sure Sarah would have told Becky to straighten up if she'd actually been present, but she wasn't. She was off somewhere, lost in her thoughts, far removed from our little group. Sarah's face was reverently placid. She stared absently at her plate as if she were in a dissociative state. She ate slowly, habitually.
And for once, Raj didn't seem to notice Sarah. His focus was on his meal. He ate it with practiced deliberation, savoring each bite much the same way he had sipped the almond milk the night before.
I watched the three of them as I ate my food. They were nice people and I was responsible for them, responsible for their safety. And the implications inherent in being responsible for them hit me like a ton of bricks. They were putting their lives in my hands, and just the idea of it put me on edge. They were less prepared to be out there than I had been, and I had to fight off a feeling of impending doom. I wondered if talking might help.
"It's a wonderful meal, Raj," I told him. "Thank you." I said it to distract myself from my escalating paranoia but also because it was true.
Sarah looked up. She appeared disoriented, lost, and it took her a moment to catch up to the conversation. "Yes, Raj," she finally said, joining in. "It was a wonderful meal. Thank you very much."
"Uh huh," Becky chimed in. "Thank you, Raj."
Raj pressed his hands together in a prayerful pose and nodded respectfully at each of us. "You're very welcome," he said. "Very welcome." He smiled contentedly and went back to enjoying his meal.
Sarah dabbled wistfully at her food and returned to her introspective musings. I suspected she was thinking about her father. Nothing else was said after that.
After dinner and cleaning up, I told them the details of the plan. We sat in the family room. Raj and I on the couch, Sarah and Becky on the edge of the coffee table. Sarah and Raj listened to me studiously. Becky was wide-eyed.
For once, I felt relaxed talking to them. In part because this was an area of expertise for me. That, and I was getting used to them. Raj and Sarah were quirky in their own way, but then again, so was I. I was beginning to feel more comfortable around them, even Sarah. And for just a few fleeting moments, it was like I was a teacher again, albeit with an older audience.
There were a few things I kept reiterating to them. Once we were on foot, I told them not to panic if they saw a group of infected. I reminded them that most of the infected moved slowly, and as long as we weren’t surrounded or hemmed in, we could outrun them. I told them we would spend most of our time in backyards and we likely wouldn't see any infected. And whenever we crossed streets, we would make sure there wouldn't be any infected around. I told them as long as we followed the simple rules I was outlining for them, we would be perfectly safe. And I believed that.
I told them there could be absolutely no talking. They all nodded their understanding. I told them we would use gestures to communicate, and if we had to, we could write messages on paper. I suggested to them that we each carry a pencil or a pen and paper in our pockets.
I told them we would leave at ten-thirty in the morning. I wanted to synchronize our moving through backyards with the approximate time the air conditioning units would turn on, usually around eleven o'clock. I didn't know how quiet we might be as a group going over fences, and I was hoping the air conditioning would mask any sounds we'd make.
I never mentioned the Swimmer to them. I didn't want to frighten them too much, and there was a decent chance we wouldn't run into him anyway.
I was as thorough as I could be, and when I finished, I asked them if they had any questions. Raj was the only one who spoke up.
"Yes, Jake. If there are too many infected on the road to the underpass, then I turn around and come back and I park the car on the block behind Sarah's block. Is that right?"
Raj was leaning forward, a serious, attentive look on his face. "Yes," I told him. "You'll park in the driveway of the same house I got the salmon fillets from. It's the fifth house from the corner. No one lives there anymore. I'll show you exactly where it is. And remember, if we have to go there, you'll back the car into the driveway."
It was one of the contingency plans I'd come up with if anything went awry after we'd left. I didn't want Raj parking in Sarah's driveway in the off chance the Swimmer happened to spot us while we were in the car.
"Okay, Jake," Raj said.
"I don't think it'll come to that, Raj," I told him. "But it's good to have a plan in case we need to come back."
No one else had any questions. But as they headed back to the storage room, Becky grabbed her mother by the wrist and pulled her down and whispered something in her ear. Sarah gave me a brief, expressionless glance. "Okay," she whispered to Becky.
Becky hustled to her playroom and came back holding a small brown bear. She sat on the edge of the coffee table with the bear in her lap.
"This is Ralphy," she told me, keeping her voice low. "Ralphy's getting kind of old. He's been with me a really long time. I'm not sure how well he'd do if he had to stay here all alone. So, I was just wondering if Ralphy could come with us."
She picked up Ralphy and hugged him tightly to her chest and gave me one of those sad-eyed looks that children are so good at when they want to manipulate you. I'd seen the look a million times at Beacon Heights. The bear was about the size of a catcher's mitt and wouldn't weigh much at all.
"Does he eat much?" I asked her.
"Oh no," she said hurriedly. Then she realized I was kidding. "You know stuffed bears don't eat anything. They're not real."
"They don't? Well, as long as he doesn't eat too much, I suppose Ralphy can come along."
Becky smiled happily. "Thank you," she said.
Then she gave me a pensive look. "I know I'm kind of old for stuffed animals."
I could tell she was waiting for me to share my opinion on the subject. "Not really," I told her. "I know grown up women who still have stuffed animals." And that was true.
"Can I ask you a question, Becky?"
"Sure."
"How do you feel about having to leave your home? Are you okay with that?" I asked.
"Yeah. It's all right, I guess," she said. "I mean, we're doing the right thing." And she said it with conviction.
"Okay. I was just wondering."
Satisfied, Becky headed into the storage room, lugging Ralphy with her.
I knew there was something they weren't telling me, but I didn't press them about it. I had decided it didn't matter. As long as I could get them to where we were going, and get them there safely, that's all I cared about.
Chapter 12 – Upland Drive
I worked my way toward the street between the two homes. The two-story wall of the east house shaded me from the mid-morning sun. I felt electric. I was brimming with energy, my senses crisp and alert. It's how I had awakened. I felt all jacked up and I couldn't wait to get out and get going. I was energized to the nth degree.
I attributed my newfound alacrity to stress. The stress amped me up and had me on edge. It was the kind of stress that sharpens the mind and tunes the senses. I used to get this way before taking tests in college, especially tests where I was well prepared. I'd be all hyped up. The stress of test taking would fill me with a nervous energy. I was on edge in a good way, mentally brisk and ready to go. And I knew all I'd have to do was focus my energy on the test taking. And it was the same now. I knew all I needed to do was focus my energy on the task at hand.
There were no bushes between the homes, just a strip of soft, ankle-deep grass, yellowing but still green at the roots. No sprinklers in use here. A thin breeze teased the morning air and then vanished in a heartbeat. Before I approached the front edge of the house, I crouched down and listened carefully. None of the air conditioners had come on yet. It was quiet save for the far-off murmur of the infected. Their persistent grumbling moans were distant enough to sound like the soft hiss of white noise. And if you paid too much attention to it, it would drive you crazy.
The street was clear as I sus
pected it would be. If we had to come back for any reason, this was the street we would park on. I was here now because I hadn't been able to see the street clearly from the back windows at Sarah's house. And it was critical to make sure the street was clear.
I glanced at my watch. It was five after ten. The plan called for precise timing for the first leg of the journey. I had twenty-five minutes to get myself into position where 31st East t-boned into Craig Drive. When I got there, I'd make sure the streets were clear, then I'd text them the signal to go.
For once, I jogged through the backyards. It wasn't too hot yet, and I ran at an easy pace that would guarantee I'd get there on time. I had a couple blocks to travel but there wouldn't be any streets to cross, so I knew I could make good time. I moved quickly through the yards and kept my eyes on the ground to make sure I didn't trip over anything. It felt good to be climbing fences again, and my energy level remained high.
After a while, I spotted the athletic field north of Wasatch Junior High. The grass had grown wild there. They used the field for soccer games and the goals were still set up. I knew I was getting close. I figured three to four more houses and I'd be there. As it turned out, three was the magic number.
It was another two-story with a mix of brick and vinyl siding. From behind the side fence on the east side of the house, I could see straight down 31st East. I had a perfect view with cover. An old elm tree in the front yard helped to obscure my position. I had a view just underneath its lower branches.
I was a couple minutes early. The fence was too far back for me to have a clear view of Craig Drive. When the time came, I'd have to climb over the fence and make sure Craig Drive was clear too. I slipped my backpack off and set it down on the grass against the fence. Then I took out my binoculars. I tested the fence's lower support beam with my shoe before stepping onto it to lift myself above the top slats of the fence. Once up, I could see all the way down 31st East to 39th South. I kept my position steady and made sure not to move a muscle. As long as I remained perfectly still, I wouldn't be noticed.
31st East was clear to 39th South, but there was a group of infected trudging up 39th South toward the underpass there. The street was thick with them. I adjusted my binoculars to get a clearer view. Their faces were dark and bony and hollow, their clothes filthy and ragged. They seemed to drag their desiccated bodies along through pure will power. I watched them as they stumbled up 39th South. And it struck me that they hardly looked dangerous. They looked like the homeless I'd seen down at Pioneer Park—gaunt and dreary and malnourished. But they weren't the homeless.
I'd have to wait till they cleared 31st East before I texted Sarah. And I began to wonder if they were headed in that direction because of the gunshots from last night.
I checked my watch and it was ten-thirty. I told them I'd text them at ten-thirty as long as the streets were clear. I was hoping they wouldn't stress too much if I didn't text them exactly on time. But I knew the longer they had to wait, the more anxious they'd get. For a moment, I thought about texting them to explain the reason for the delay, then I decided it was a bad idea. So I waited.
It was nearly five minutes before the last stragglers cleared 31st East. About fifty or sixty infected had passed by during those five minutes. I waited another thirty seconds or so to make sure they were gone, then I grabbed my backpack and lifted myself over the fence. I moved to the front edge of the house and scouted Craig Drive both ways. The street was perfectly still. Nothing moved. Then I moved up behind the trunk of the elm and squatted down.
I took my iPhone out of the small pouch and texted Sarah a simple message: "Go."
I'd given them very explicit instructions on what to do. I used my binoculars to watch them. Because of the convex slope of the street, my view was limited. I could only see the top half of the Corolla. The front door of the home opened and out came Raj and Becky, then Sarah. She closed the door carefully behind her.
My instructions centered around minimizing the noise they'd make with the car when they left. They would open just one door and leave it open. Closing a car door would make too much noise. Closing three doors would be a disaster. Raj had told me a light would come on to signal there was a door open, but there would be no annoying tone or pulse alarm.
They went in through the back door on the driver's side. Raj and Becky climbed into the front. Raj got into the driver's seat and Becky into the passenger seat. Sarah settled in the back seat on the passenger side. They all buckled their seat belts. Sarah leaned across the back seat to make sure the car's driver side back door remained partially open till they picked me up, then I'd be the one holding the door open.
From what I could see, they followed my instructions precisely. I didn't hear any noise even when Raj started the car. I'd told him to make sure to drive slowly at all times and he backed out of the driveway at a snail's pace.
I slipped my backpack on and buckled it quietly. I didn't pack the binoculars. I kept them handy, knowing I'd need them when we got to the underpass. When Raj's Corolla was half a block away, I got up and walked out into the street. I kept checking the streets in each direction, keeping an eye out for the infected. But there weren't any around. I felt a little jumpy. I was still bristling with energy and intensely alert.
When Raj pulled up, I took hold of the back door and opened it just enough to climb in.
Raj turned onto 31st East and drove slowly toward the four-way stop. There were no infected in sight. So far, so good. It was very hot in the car. Stuffy too. Raj's car had been sitting out in the driveway in the sun, baking in the mid-morning heat. It might have been eighty degrees outside already, but it was much warmer in the car. The hot air had been trapped inside the car, and even with the back door partially open, the inside of the car felt like an oven. I'd told Raj last night not to turn on the air conditioning or to roll down the windows. The idea had been to minimize any possible noise. Fortunately, we only had a couple more minutes before we'd be at the underpass.
Raj approached the four-way stop cautiously. He eased the car just past the stop sign. We all looked both ways on Upland Drive, but there was nothing to see. I hadn't known the name of the street the other night when I'd been here, but I knew it now. I memorized all the names of the streets we might be traveling along.
Raj turned and headed down Upland. Becky and Raj's attention seemed focused on the underpass up ahead, three blocks away. Sarah's too. Becky was leaning forward and tilting her head up so she could see better.
I made sure to keep the car door cracked open a couple inches but not much more than that. A half a block ahead was the first side street. There would be three side streets before the freeway. And I would check them all. The first was the only through street where I'd have to look in both directions, the other two side streets t-boned into Upland.
As we came to the first side street, I glanced to my left but saw nothing, just rows of shuttered-up middle class homes. But when I turned right, there were maybe eight of them shuffling aimlessly in a front yard five houses down the street. A couple more were on the porch stepping through a shattered picture window. In the second or two I had to glean what I could, I noticed at least two other homes on the block had been broken into. One of the infected had already turned to look as we passed by. He was tall and slack jawed and his lean head tilted to the side. He looked like a drugged-up psych patient. In my mind, I imagined him beginning to lumber unsteadily toward Upland Drive. It wouldn't have been any kind of conscious decision. It would have been instinctual. It's simply what they did.
Sarah must have seen me looking because she suddenly turned her head to look before we passed the side street. And when she turned back around, for the first time, I saw fear in her eyes. Surprise, fear, even some anger. And it struck me that Sarah was much like I had been in the beginning—surprised to see them and never expecting that anything could go wrong. And maybe it was just my paranoia, but I imagined the hint of anger I saw in her eyes was meant for me.
; I had an inclination to reach over and touch her lightly on the arm to reassure her but thought better of it. Instead, I raised my hand discretely in a calming gesture, barely moving it above the level of the seat so only Sarah would see. "It's okay," I silently mouthed to her. I didn't want Raj or Becky to know about the group of infected and I wanted Sarah to understand that. There was no need for them to know. I didn't want to frighten them. I had no idea how they might react. While Sarah seemed frightened, I knew she wasn't wild with fear or anything. And maybe it was a good thing she'd seen them. I had never gotten the impression that Raj or Sarah truly understood the danger.
She narrowed her eyes at me before turning her head and looking straight ahead. I couldn't understand why she would be angry with me. It was as if she were blaming me for the existence of the infected. I ignored her hostility.
Raj babied the car along at about twenty miles per hour. I thought about whispering to him to go faster, but I didn't want to alert him that something might be wrong. Besides, I didn't see the group behind us as a legitimate threat. At least not now. They would only be a threat if we had to turn back and they were blocking the street.
The last two side streets were clear of the infected, and when we arrived at the underpass, Raj made a u-turn and parked the car on the left side of the underpass facing the way we'd just come. I thought it prudent in case we had to leave in a hurry.
I got out first. It felt good to get out of the compressed heat of the car and into the shade of the underpass. Sarah handed me their backpacks and I set them down next to the car. Becky climbed into the back with the help of her mother and then they both got out. I noticed Sarah sneaking a subtle glance down the street to check to see if they were coming. But they'd yet to show up on Upland. Raj displayed nice agility maneuvering his long body into the back seat.