by Russ Melrose
Them? Her comment stopped me in my tracks. Who was she talking about? She'd never mentioned anyone other than herself and Becky.
Sarah opened the door and waited for me to go in first. I hesitated, then walked in. She followed me in and quietly closed the door. She turned the flashlight off and set it on top of a dresser next to the door. She grabbed a sunrise yellow bath towel off the dresser and fit it snugly into the open crack at the bottom of the door. I assumed the towel was meant to keep any light from escaping into the downstairs family room. Then she locked the door.
Turns out them referred to her daughter and a man. Both were sitting on mattresses on opposite sides of the room. The man's mattress was on the left side of the room. He was probably in his early thirties. He sat yoga style on a twin mattress with his back perfectly straight and his long legs crossed at improbable angles. Even though he was sitting, I could tell he was quite tall, well over six feet. He had a reed thin build and thick black hair which was wavy in the front, then slicked back all the way to the nape of his neck. I was surprised his hair wasn't disheveled from sleeping. He had warm, friendly dark eyes. And he had smooth skin, the soft brown color of cocoa beans. He beamed a brilliant smile at me and nodded his head in greeting. I thought he might be Indian or Pakistani.
Becky sat slouched with her back against the wall, head lazily canted, eyeing me curiously. An iPad lay on her lap. Becky's hair was whisker short like her mother, only bay colored. A patch of sparse freckles stretched across the bridge of her nose and settled in just below a pair of misty pale green eyes. Mostly, Becky looked tired or bored, maybe both.
Sarah turned around as she came abreast of them. She looked to her daughter and began the introductions. "This is Jake, sweetheart." Then she turned to me. "Jake, this is my daughter, Becky."
Becky and I exchanged half-hearted smiles. I realized I was far too tired to feel awkward or ill at ease. Too tired to care.
"Jake, this is our friend, Raj," she said. Then, "Raj, this is Jake."
Raj stood up briskly and walked over and shook my hand with great enthusiasm. He covered my hand with both of his as he shook it. He nodded his head several times in greeting. "Thank you so much for coming," he said, smiling brightly. "Thank you."
I nodded back. "It's okay," I told him.
Raj released my hand and nodded again before heading back to his mattress. He was far too cheerful, especially considering it was the middle of the night. I suspected Raj was the kind of person you couldn't help but like yet found annoying too.
I should have been upset about him being there, but I wasn't. I was too overwhelmed and numbed by pure exhaustion to care. Sarah likely knew I wouldn't have come if I'd known Raj would be here. And she was likely right.
Now the introductions were over, all I could think about was the couch in the family room and how nice it would be to curl up and go to sleep. I knew I'd have to ask first.
I followed Sarah to the far end of the room where there were two large shelving units. She'd grabbed a pillow on the way. The shelving unit to the left had clothes neatly draped over the shelves as if they were laid out to dry. The shelving unit to the right had folded clothes and towels stacked on the shelves along with kitchenware and a collection of odds and ends, including two rolled up yoga mats. There was also a collection of containers that held water. Everything was extremely well organized.
It was easy to see why they had chosen to hole up in this room. For one thing, the room was windowless—the infected wouldn't be able to see them. It also had a knob lock on the door. The door swung outward which would make it more difficult for the infected to break into the room. The biggest problem I could see was the lack of an escape exit. If the infected ever came, they'd be trapped in the room. I didn't see any weapons around either.
The room itself was austere. The walls were a lifeless beige. There were no pictures or any other kind of adornment. The floor was cement and there were no closets in the room either. There was a single light fixture in the middle of the ceiling. A two-bulb fixture. And that was it. A bland rectangular room, probably a storage room.
Sarah used the pillow as a buffer between her knees and the cement floor. She was on her knees, sitting on the back of her heels, her back straight. She turned on an electric hot plate sitting on the floor next to the shelving. She grabbed a pan from a shelf and put it on the burner. Then she turned toward me and reached her hand out for the food. It wasn't a demanding gesture, more like reaching for something at the dinner table that would prompt a family member to hand you whatever it was you needed.
I handed her the food from the backpack and she thanked me with a simple nod.
This was the first time I'd actually seen her clearly in the light. And I couldn't get over how remarkably white her skin was. A sharp contrast to her black hair and dark eyes. Sarah had hooded eyes that made her eyes look narrow and sleepy. Maybe she was just tired. Her irises were dark enough you could barely distinguish them from her black pupils. She had long arms, slender and supple.
She put the food onto the shelves except for two cans of chicken noodle soup she dumped into the pot. She took the carton of almond milk and filled three glasses. Then she motioned for Raj and Becky to come get theirs.
"Would you like some milk, Jake?" she asked me.
I declined. I was daydreaming about the couch in the other room.
Becky frowned at her glass of almond milk as if she'd found a bug crawling in it. Her mother grabbed the jar of peanut butter and a spoon and handed them to Becky. "Don't overdo it," she warned.
Becky's eyes grew wide. She headed back to her queen-sized mattress with her new-found treasure. Becky and her mother were sharing the larger mattress—one of the first things I noticed when I entered the room.
Raj slowly sipped his almond milk, savoring each sip as if it were a glass of fine wine.
I decided now was as good a time as any to ask about my sleeping accommodations. Sarah was stirring the soup with a wooden ladle. She stopped for a moment and took a sip from her glass of almond milk.
"If it's all right with you, I thought I'd settle out on the couch in the family room." Then I added, "I'm pretty tired. It's been a long night."
I waited for her to respond.
She studied me with serious eyes. A small curvy line, like a child's drawing of a single ocean wave, appeared in the center of her forehead. She seemed puzzled. She must not have thought about what they'd have to do with me after I'd brought them food. Maybe she thought I'd just leave. But that wasn't it. They would need me to bring them more food.
She opened her mouth to say something but held back. A few seconds later, she said, "Um. Sure. Okay. You better take the flashlight. You'll need it." She put her glass down and stood up and took a blanket off the top shelf and handed it to me. "The pillows on the couch are soft. They should be fine. I think you'll be comfortable."
"Thanks," I said, and I stood there waiting for something, though I wasn't sure what.
The worry line remained firmly etched into Sarah's forehead. Raj, still sipping his milk, nodded and smiled as I turned to leave. Becky was focused on her spoonful of peanut butter and didn't seem to notice my exit.
I removed the towel from the floor and set it back on top of the dresser and grabbed the flashlight. After I closed the door, I turned the flashlight on. To my left was a hallway. Straight ahead at the end of the hallway was a bathroom with its door open. I assumed a bedroom or two could be found on either side of the bathroom, but I wasn't going to explore them tonight. Sweeping the flashlight beam to my right, I could see the couch and coffee table. Across from them was a large entertainment center. All the windows were covered. A few other pieces of furniture were scattered around the room.
I went upstairs and repacked my things in case I needed to leave in a hurry. If the infected came, I'd rip off a window covering and exit out one of the windows that led to the backyard.
Back downstairs, I laid the flashlight on the coffee table, it
s beam focused on the couch. I set the backpack on the floor. I'd left the blanket on the coffee table earlier. Didn't think I'd need it.
The throw pillows were every bit as soft as Sarah said they would be. I turned the flashlight off. The only light in the room came from the crack at the bottom of the storage room door. A few minutes later, it went out too.
The room was pitch black, as dark as I could ever remember a room being. I blinked a couple times, but the darkness remained. It was incredibly deep, and there was an essence to the darkness that was hard to define, a kind of purity. There was nothing to see because there was nothing there. I sensed nothing, felt nothing. The world had disappeared. I was strangely drawn to the idea of nothingness, though I knew it wouldn't last and knew it wasn't real. My musing ended abruptly when I heard the soft click of the knob lock being pushed in.
Locking the door was simply their routine, and it made perfect sense. They'd be safer and sleep sounder with the door locked. Still, I felt shut out, echoes of my childhood, though it had nothing to do with locking the door. It was the look Sarah gave me after I'd asked her if I could settle down on the couch. Faces rarely tell lies and Sarah's face revealed the truth. She didn't trust me, and it was clear she didn't feel comfortable having me stay in their home. I thought I'd earned a little cachet by bringing them food, but that didn't appear to be the case.
For a moment, I thought about leaving by the back door and going back to the house where I'd found the food. I could spend the night there and leave in the morning and make it to the underpass before noon. But I couldn't leave them even if I didn't feel welcome in their home. I'd set something in motion by coming here and I was locked into the outcome. If I didn't finish what I'd started, I'd regret it, and I didn't have room for any more regrets. I had no choice but to tough it out, no matter how they felt about me. I would find them food to last a month, maybe longer, or an abandoned home with food storage. Once I did, I'd be done with them.
I was thoroughly spent. I rolled onto my side and let my body ease into the soft leather cushions. I buried my face in the pillow. I was beyond exhausted, but my mind wouldn't leave me alone. Too many unresolved issues. An image of the old woman with her blackened leathery face danced before my mind's eye, and I couldn't help but examine the twisted irony of my ever-conflicted inner self. I hadn't wanted to shoot the old woman. That was why I maimed her rather than kill her. But I felt no remorse. Not after I shot her and not now.
A collage of images flashed before me—the teen boy I'd shot in the head, the infected man in the striped business suit I'd slammed into with the car, even the Swimmer.
I hadn't wanted to shoot the old woman because, to some degree, I still saw her as being human. That had to be it. Her being female added to my hesitation. My reluctance was understandable, even logical. But I felt no remorse afterwards, and that didn't sit right with me. I should have felt remorse, but I didn't. I just felt numb.
The truth was I shot them because I didn't want to be infected or eaten. And then it hit me. I'd been undergoing a subtle shift in my mind. The realization that they weren't human had begun to take hold. I'd been slow to come around to the idea because of Alex. I'd been conflicted, but I never should have been. If I wanted to survive, and I did, I had to stop thinking of them as human and start seeing them for what they were. They were the infected and they were dangerous.
I shot them because I wanted to live—simple as that. I'd acted in self-defense. There was no need for remorse. I did what I had to do.
My mind drifted to Alex. I missed my brother's happy-go-lucky demeanor. Alex had a way of dissolving my overly-serious nature. I pictured my brother fly fishing at the stream by the cabin, saw his smiling face with the dimples cut into his cheeks. Alex never seemed to be bothered by much of anything while I worried incessantly about everything. Alex had a way of calming me down. And that's what I needed more than anything now. My mind grew heavier as the moments passed, but I kept his image alive in my mind's eye as long as I could. Then, slowly but inexorably, Alex and I merged into the soothing darkness.
Chapter 11
Conversations
When my eyes fluttered open, I felt disoriented. It was the light. The light and the blanket. I couldn't remember putting the blanket on during the night. And I'd expected the room to be as pitch black as when I'd gone to sleep, but it wasn't. I turned over onto my back to see what was up. The room's overhead light fixture was on along with a standing lamp next to the couch. Becky Josephson was sitting on the edge of the coffee table watching me.
"Are you awake?" she asked, whispering in a conspiratorial voice. She looked at me brightly, much more alert than she'd been last night. Food will do that for you. Food and sleep.
"I guess so," I told her.
"You slept a long time," she said. "Did you know it's after eleven o'clock?"
"No," I told her. "I didn't know." I was still trying to get my bearings. I squinted as my eyes began to adjust to the light. She took notice.
"We turn the lights on during the day. My mom says it's okay to have them on during the day. And it's okay to talk quietly as long as the air conditioning is on." Then she added, "And even if it goes off, we can whisper in the storage room as long as the door's closed."
Becky wore khaki shorts and a white blouse with long sleeves. I guessed her to be about the same age as my fifth graders. Her short-cropped hair would have made her look like a young cancer patient if it hadn't been for her rosy complexion and lively energy. She glanced toward the storage room door, apparently to make sure we were alone. Then she looked at me, eyes wide with intrigue.
"Are you a burglar?" she asked, spacing her words, her voice filled with restrained excitement. She looked at me expectantly.
"No," I said softly. "I'm afraid not. I teach fifth graders at Beacon Heights Elementary."
She looked surprised, even disappointed. "But you broke into our home," she told me, as if that proved her assertion beyond a reasonable doubt.
"Yes, I did. That's true. But that's not what I do for a living. I had to get into your house so I could get you and your mom some food."
"Oh," she said, looking a bit crestfallen.
After a few moments, as if she suddenly remembered, she said, "Oh, yeah. Thank you for the food."
"That's okay," I said.
"Is your real name Jake? Or is it Jacob? I know someone named Jacob."
"It's Jacob, but I like Jake."
"My real name's Rebecca," she said, a sour look on her face. "But I like Becky better."
"Well, how about you call me Jake, and I'll call you Becky."
"Okay," she said. Then she brightened up. "I'm going to be in the fifth grade this year. But I'm not going to Beacon Heights."
I didn't have the heart to tell her there would be no fifth grade this year. Not for either of us. "How old are you?" I asked.
"I'm ten. I had my birthday in June."
"That's cool," I told her. "Ten is a great age. I'll bet you're really smart."
Becky's face lit up. I'd seen the same effect many times when I'd tell my fifth graders how smart they were.
Then I changed the subject. "Becky, were you the one who put the blanket on me?"
"No. That was probably my mom," she said. "Today's my mom's shower day. She probably put the blanket on you when she came out for her shower. My mom's like that."
"Oh, okay." I felt surprised her mother would have done that. "So, you have shower days?"
"Uh huh. We take turns. Tomorrow's my shower day. I'll have to get up early though." Becky sighed and rolled her eyes. "We take showers at six o'clock when the sprinklers come on. But first we flush the toilets, upstairs and down. Tomorrow's my shower day, next day will be Raj's turn. Then it'll be laundry day after that. My mom does the laundry in the sink. Yesterday was laundry day."
Taking showers when the sprinklers came on was an inspired idea. The sounds would intertwine and be part of the normal ambient sounds. A shower sounded wonderful.
<
br /> I sat up and stretched and yawned. Becky seemed to get a kick out of that. She smiled and her cheeks blossomed. I was surprised how comfortable she was with a stranger, especially a potential burglar.
Becky pointed at my cheek. "What happened there?" she asked. "Did you cut your face?"
The cut on my face hadn't healed as well as I'd hoped. I'd been overly optimistic. "Yes," I told her. "I cut my face. A small piece of glass bit me on the cheek."
"No, it didn't," she laughed.
Becky and I were hitting it off quite well. My dark mood from the previous night had evaporated. The morning light often washed away my dark musings. Becky's friendliness had helped too.
I was surprised her mother would allow her to come out and talk to me, which must have been a cue, or maybe she'd heard Becky laugh, because Sarah suddenly appeared in the doorway staring at us. She gave Becky an exasperated look.
"Rebecca," she whispered sternly. "You told me you were going to go play in your room."
"Um, I was mom. But I saw that Jake was waking up."
"I told you not to bother our guest. Please go play in your room," she told her. "Quietly," she added.
Becky obeyed and trudged down the hallway. Right before she got to the bathroom, she turned right and extended her arms to push open a door I couldn't see.
Sarah looked at me with an awkward, forced smile. Her arms were crossed again. "Are you hungry?" she asked.
"No, not yet," I told her. "I guess I'm still waking up."
"We should probably talk," she said.
I nodded and she sat down on the other end of the couch. She sat on the cushion and crossed her legs, sitting comfortably erect, facing me, hands on her knees.
Sarah had changed clothes and looked remarkably refreshed. She wore stone white shorts and a faded tie-dye t-shirt with a mix of faded raspberry and blueberry clouds against a sky-blue background. She wore no makeup. In the light, her eyes were the dark brown shade of an acorn. They were big and bright with a shine to them. The narrowness from the previous night was gone and she looked like a different person.