SURGE

by Donna Elliott

  The building adjacent to the cafeteria contains bedrooms and several gathering rooms. The compound sleeping quarters remind me of a university residence hall, complete with bunk beds, built-in dressers, small study areas, and bare floors. A short bar above the desk serves as a clothes hanger, and a community bathroom is located at the end of each hallway. One more look around confirms my opinion that this place would be the cheap dormitory that most college freshmen would put last on their list of preferences.

  “How many people live here?” asks Mom.

  “Right now, there are less than fifty, but I think that number will grow as time passes. When the challenges of survival mount up, our community will pull together for support.”

  The tour continues past a large library, a craft center, and into the supply hall. “Much of our stock is kept under lock and key because of the threat from outsiders,” says Reverend Hastings. “We aren’t stingy with sharing, but we do need to be careful. Those thugs from the hospital aren’t the only people we need to be wary of. Who knows when things will return to normal.”

  Mom’s interest in the compound seems genuine, and she continues to question the reverend about living conditions and daily regimens. The entire conversation lacks the stimulation I need to stay focused, and my mind wanders.

  Glancing out a hall window, I notice Patrick crossing the central section, toward the cooking area.

  “I’d like to go outside to the courtyard,” I say. “Would that be ok?”

  “But Mya,” says Kat. “We’re going to the music room next. Don’t you want to see it? Reverend Hastings says they have all sorts of instruments; they even have a harp!”

  I reach out and lightly squeeze her arm. “Then you should definitely go with my mom,” I say. “I’ll meet you outside in a bit.”

  She shakes her head negatively. “We’re not supposed to go anywhere alone.”

  “I won’t be alone,” I say, waving my hand toward the window. “There are ten people out there. I promise to stay in the courtyard, and if anyone tries to make me leave, I’ll scream.”

  I look expectantly at Mom and ask, “Is it ok?”

  “Once we reach the next exit, you can go,” says Mom. “I don’t want you wandering around this complex all by yourself.”

  A little further down the hallway, Reverend Hastings stops and pushes open a steel door. “This opens directly to the courtyard,” he says. “I see Patrick out there. Let me call him over to walk with you.”

  It’s nice when things work out the way I want without any fuss. I’ve been hoping for a private word with Patrick, and now he’ll be my escort.

  In response to his father’s beckoning, Patrick crosses his arms, alters his course, and casually approaches our group. Under the ruse of seeing the cooking area, I request his company, and we begin slowly walking away from the building. Once we’ve separated from the others, he speaks. “I don’t know why you’d want to consider living here. This place is hell on earth.”

  I glance left and right. “It looks pretty nice to me. You have food, water, shelter, and companionship. What more could you ask for?”

  He looks at me and smirks. “Sure, Mya. That’s all we need.” Then kicking a small rock across the ground, he adds, “Your life must suck.”

  I continue walking without looking at him. “No. My life does not suck, Patrick Hastings. What more are you so anxiously craving?”

  Another stone suffers the force of his shoe and flies across the yard.

  “Excitement,” he says. “This place is as dull as a ten-year-old pocket knife.”

  I stop walking and turn toward him. “Is that why you race your car all over the place and joined up with a gang of murdering goons?”

  Patrick’s face scrunches up for a second, and he stands motionlessly. After a beat, he crosses both arms and looks directly in my eyes. “There was nothing I could do to help you that day, Mya. I was barely able to help myself.”

  With fake sincerity, I mimic his stance, open my eyes really wide, and sarcastically reply, “Why, whatever do you mean, Patrick? Are you talking about that day in the hospital, when I was paraded down a hallway and forced to witness a bloody massacre?”

  I continue, as if consoling a child, “Why you poor thing. Did someone shoot your friend and then try to attack you, too?”

  This gets his attention, and he opens his mouth for a slow, deep breath. After a long exhale, he pinches his twitching nose and shuts his eyes.

  “I was at the hospital looking for my father,” he says. “I ran into Miguel just as all hell broke loose, and he told me to stay with him. He said something big was going down, but he didn’t tell me that people were going to be killed. I didn’t even know that he and Marcus had guns until just before you arrived.”

  “You didn’t look like you felt out of place,” I snipe. “You looked pretty comfortable up against that wall.”

  “I was trying not to get myself killed, you brat. If you will recall, I did try to accompany you downstairs. I was just as eager as you to get out of there.”

  I frown at him as I mentally replay that moment in time. It’s possible that he’s telling the truth. “Then, I suppose it’s a good thing you didn’t get to accompany me,” I say, “because both of those guys wound up dead. There were some real psychos in the cafeteria, and they’d let loose on every living thing down there.”

  The smell of blood returns to me, and I nearly gag. “Of course,” I force out through clenched teeth, “you probably envy my little excursion and think I’m lucky to have been involved in all the excitement.”

  Again, his nose twitches, like a nervous tick. “Why are you always such a witch?”

  I grind my teeth slightly before raising my eyebrows skyward and responding, “Why are you always such a jerk?”

  To my surprise, he leans in and offers a dead-eyed smile, “Because my father is Jonah Hastings.” Straightening his spine, his eyebrows raise and he adds, “I think that’s reason enough.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  A small cluster of trees stands to the left of the gazebo, and Patrick leads me to a shaded bench.

  “You can wait here for the others,” he says and begins to turn away. “I have things I need to do.”

  “Don’t go running away,” I say, as I sit down. “I promised Kat and my mother that I wouldn’t be alone. They think the serial killer might get me if I’m by myself.” I motion to the area beside me. “I think you owe me a little more of your time.”

  With a huff, he settles himself on the bench. Looking away from me, he stretches his right arm along the backrest, while his left hand unconsciously taps a staccato rhythm on his thigh.

  There isn’t much of a breeze, but the temperature under the trees is pleasant. A light waft of air hits my face and tickles the hairs on my arms, just as a couple of blue jays cross my vision. I decide to break the silence. “Why is it so bad being the son of Reverend Hastings?”

  He ignores my question and continues his bothersome tapping, so I try a different tack. “Why were you racing down the highway the other day?”

  Again, he remains silent, except for the movement of his fingers, so I ask the next question on my mental list. “You didn’t attack Raul, did you?”

  His hand stills, and he turns to me.

  Just as he opens his mouth to speak, two young boys run up from behind the bench and demand his attention.

  “Patrick!” says the older of the two, “There you are! You said you’d help build the kite today. We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you hiding from us?”

  “Yeah, Patrick,” says the other, “you hidin’?”

  Placing his elbows on top of his knees, Patrick leans down toward the younger child. Lightly clasping a small hand, he tugs the boy into a quick embrace and says, “No Johnny, I’m not hiding. I have chores that have to be completed before I can play. Have you done your chores?”

  Johnny appears to be around five years old. His eyes dart toward the ground with the ment
ion of “chores,” and he squirms out of Patrick’s arms. The older boy takes a step forward.

  “I’ve done my chores,” he says. “I even made my bed.”

  Patrick reaches out and ruffles the boy’s sandy brown hair. “That’s good. Why don’t you and Johnny give the cat a little attention. I’ll be finished up here in a few minutes, then I need to go check on the goats. Miss Meredith will be working on the cheese this afternoon, so we’ll need to be sure to stay out of her way.”

  “But,” says the older boy, “you will come find us later, won’t you? You will help me make the kite?”

  Johnny bounces up and down and joins the pleading. “You will, won’t you?”

  With one hand on his heart and the other in the air, Patrick smiles and says, “On my honor. I’ll come find you.”

  Satisfied with the reply, both boys let out an excited “Whoop!” and run toward the living quarters. A relaxed smile still lingers on Patrick’s face as he watches them run off.

  I let a moment of quiet pass before I break into Patrick’s thoughts. I’ve never seen this side of him. Actually, I’ve never witnessed any “side” of him, other than immense jerk. The idea that he would be nice to kids and play outside is a foreign concept.

  I decide to let my interrogation lighten up for a bit and change my line of questioning. “Goats?” I ask. “Are there any other animals here?”

  I guess this must be a safe topic, for Patrick redirects his attention to me and answers. “We have all sorts of animals here. Dad’s wanted this place to be self-sufficient for years. We have chickens, pigs, cows… we’re a regular ‘Old MacDonald’s Farm’ here.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Yep, an oink, oink here and a moo, moo there….”

  Patrick stands and looks around the courtyard. “So,” he says, “I really do have a lot of work to do, and I promised my brothers that I’d build that kite. I know you don’t want to sit here alone, but if your mom doesn’t get here soon, you may have to. Besides, it’s not as if you’re the only one out here. There are people all over.”

  Although Patrick has positioned himself so that the sun isn’t shining in my eyes, I squint up at him. He’s looking down at me as if I’m just another child. I disregard his attempt to leave and stand to continue our conversation. Glancing around, I ask, “Don’t you need a barn or something for all the animals? I don’t see one.”

  A muted guffaw sounds beside me, and I swing around to face Patrick. His eyes are laughing at me, so I put my left hand on my hip and cock my head to the side.

  “What’s so funny?”

  With a sideways tilt of his head, he copies me, “Don’t you need a barn or something?” Then reaching up to push his bangs out of his eyes, he continues, “Yeah, we have a barn, Mya. That’s actually where I’m supposed to be. I keep the place tidy.”

  “So, you, like…clean up the poo and stuff?”

  Still smiling, he nods. “Yes, I’m the Master Pooper Scooper.”

  In the blink of an eye, his demeanor changes from relaxed and friendly, to watchful and withdrawn. His eyes flicker to the left, then back to me. “Too bad, Mya. Your friends are here. I was considering allowing you to join me, but I know Raul wouldn’t go for that.”

  He starts to walk away, and I stop him. “Wait, I need to know. Did you attack Raul the other day?”

  A sharp jerk of his head swings his bangs away from his eyes, and before Raul is within hearing range, Patrick whispers, “You already know the answer to that question. You may not like me very much, but I think you know that I’d never take on Raul. Few people would.”

  ◌◌◌

  A soft pressure from Raul’s hand caresses my upper back as I watch Patrick walk away. I blink and then smile into the face I’ve come to think of as “my boyfriend.”

  “Enjoy your tour?” I ask.

  “Hmm. It’s ok. But there doesn’t seem to be much privacy. I don’t know if I’d want everybody up in my business all the time.”

  Nodding, I agree. “Yeah, you’re right. I think your place is much nicer.”

  A sound behind me draws my attention. Turning, I notice two men slip around the corner of the barn, just as Kat and Mom exit a nearby door.

  “Mya! This place is awesome!” squeals Kat. She runs up, grabs me around the neck, and spins us around. “They’ve got everything here! It’s so cool! Your mom and I loooooove it!”

  She stops twirling and grabs my shoulders. “What do you think? Do you love it too? Wouldn’t it be great to live here?”

  I can’t stop the frown that forms on my face. “Live here? I don’t want to live here. There are too many people everywhere.” I stretch my arm out and point at various groups of people standing around the courtyard and coming out of nearby buildings. Then I lean in and whisper, “Don’t forget about my, you know…thing.”

  “But it’s so much better here. They have so much stuff, and it’ll be safer. We won’t have to worry about getting killed by some freak.”

  Mom and Reverend Hastings are still conversing as they approach, and I can hear joy in Mom’s tone. “…so nice of you. I’ll talk it over with Tom and the kids. I’d also like Eric and Matthew to see the place before we make any decisions, but I do appreciate the offer. We really just stopped by to see if your son had any information about the other day.”

  Still holding my arm, Kat pulls me and walks toward the reverend. “Sir? Could we still go see the new babies? I think Mya might like it.”

  I look questioningly at Kat and give my head a little shake. “Babies?” I turn to Mom and then Raul. I’m about to speak, when a voice behind me pipes up. “Oh, I think that’s a great idea,” says Mr. Willows. “They’re at the perfect age for visitors.”

  The sudden interruption startles me, for only moments ago, Mr. Willows and Mr. Miller were by the cafeteria in deep conversation. Mr. Willows cautions us to stay away from the building next to the barn. “They don’t like to be disturbed in the processing house,” he says.

  Reverend Hastings begins walking backward in the same direction that Patrick took. “We have two new calves,” he says, “and quite a few chicks. Please come have a look before you go.”

  Kat makes the decision for the rest of us and joins Reverend Hastings at the front of our group. I can hear her peppering him with questions about the babies and their care, and I turn to Raul. “She’s happy. This is good for her; she’ll be talking about this place for days.”

  I take another quick glance at my best friend and can’t help smiling. “She’ll want to come back every day. She’s already told me that she wants to live here. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

  Raul reaches down and grabs my hand. “I’d rather not live here. I know it’s selfish, but I don’t like the idea of sharing you with all these people.”

  I squeeze his hand and give him a huge grin

  .

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Be it human, dog, cow, or even rat— all babies are cute. Almost. One time, I had the misfortune of watching a fly land on my kitchen counter and deposit a tiny pile of elongated eggs. That was anything but cute. Future maggots were placed in the precise spot where I make my lunch. It turned my stomach, and I sanitized that location multiple times over the following week.

  Still, these baby animals at the compound are adorable. Kat bounces from one enclosure to the next, while Raul and I settle ourselves against a log – far away from the stench of the goats.

  “Did you see this calf?” she yells over to me. “It has the sweetest face!”

  “I found puppies,” I call back. “There are six of them, and their faces are super sweet!”

  “Better be careful,” she says over her shoulder. “Charlie’ll be hurt if you go home smelling like a bunch of other dogs.”

  I pick up a brown and black spotted puppy and snuggle her close to my face. “I’m pretty sure the goat odor will overpower everything else.” The rest of the litter begins a frontal assault on me, and before I know it, I’m lying
in the grass, giggling.

  A flash of white pounces on my chest and creeps toward my head, while two brown blurs attack my hair. Raul reaches over to save me, but his movement attracts the attention of the other puppies, and soon he’s laughing too.

  “Too bad Eric’s not here,” he says. “I think puppies have healing power.”

  “Then we should bring him.”

  “We’ll ask your mom and see what she says.”

  Across the yard, Mom and the other adults are having their own conversation. I’m not sure what’s being discussed, but the exchange seems pleasant. Mom glances over her shoulder toward me, and I wave.

  She smiles and raises her chin in response, before returning her attention to the others. Just beyond their group, I spy Patrick and a few other teenagers inside one of the buildings. A wheelbarrow sits nearby, and they’re filling it with manure. It seems like a miserable job, but none of them look bothered.

  I feel a little weird sitting out here and having fun while others work, so I stand and walk over to Mom. “Maybe we should head back and check on Eric and Matthew now. We’ve been gone for quite a while.”

  Turning to Reverend Hastings, I extend my hand. “Thank you for letting us see the animals and for the tour of this place. It’s really nice.”

  Kat comes up beside me and offers her hand also. “It’s super nice!” she says. “This has been the best day! Thank you so much.”

  “It’s been our pleasure,” says the reverend. “We’d love for you to return. Please consider our offer to join. We’re always anxious to find new members.” Then looking directly into my eyes, he adds, “We love exploring hidden talents.”

  The comment catches me off guard, and the smile on my face freezes. I blink and offer an agreeing grunt. Giving them all my back, I silently signal for Raul to join me. He stands, walks over, and casually grabs my arm.