by Russ Melrose
I wondered why Raj hadn't accompanied her upstairs. If it had been an unknown man threatening to shoot me last night instead of Sarah, I might have taken the threat more seriously. Then again, I couldn't imagine Raj threatening to shoot anyone.
I changed the subject again.
"Sarah wants to go?" I asked him.
"Oh, yes. Definitely."
"Then maybe she should be out here too."
I said it more sharply than I'd meant to. The caustic edge that had been in my voice earlier had returned. I felt embarrassed. I wasn't upset with Raj in the least.
Raj looked down into his lap, a troubled expression in his eyes. He was wrestling with something. He looked up at me and leaned in close, an intimate distance reserved for the whispering of secrets. Raj's face was a mix of sincerity and compassion. When he spoke, his voice barely broke above a whisper.
"Jake," he said. "Many years ago, Sarah was married. Back then, she had some bad experiences. Very bad. Sarah's problems with you … they are not about you, Jake. They are not about anything you have done. They are about her. It's very difficult for Sarah to give her trust to people." Raj looked me squarely in the eyes. "I cannot say anything more than that. It would not be proper for me to say anything more. Please try to be patient."
I didn't know what to say and I felt like a fool. I nodded okay. Raj's nodding seemed to be contagious.
Raj uncrossed his legs and got up from the couch to go get Sarah.
I had been so wrapped up in my own feelings, I never considered there might be a good reason for Sarah to be suspicious or distrustful.
I wondered if Sarah's "difficult" experiences had been gun related. If that were the case, it would explain a lot. But nothing could explain my erratic behavior. One moment I was fawning all over Sarah trying to please her, the next I was lashing out at her. I was acting like two different people, neither of whom I liked very much. Sarah was bringing out the worst in me.
When they came out, Raj motioned for Sarah to take a seat on the couch, but she declined. She stood obstinately on the other side of the coffee table, arms folded against her chest.
Raj decided to stand too. He smiled brightly at Sarah, but she paid no attention. She stared at the carpet, looking disinterested.
Raj was in love with Sarah. Anyone could see it. His face brightened every time he looked at her. And who could blame him? Sarah was certainly beautiful. She had delicate features and those rich brown eyes set against flawless impossibly-white skin. She was slender and lean and toned like an athlete, and her buzz-cut added a vulnerable quality to her appearance.
But I didn't see Sarah as vulnerable whether she looked it or not. Sarah could be combative and had no problem standing up for herself. She stood up for herself last night when she challenged me in the kitchen. She'd been frightened but still had the backbone to threaten me with a non-existent gun. I wasn't sure if it was grit or stubbornness that best defined her, maybe a blend of both.
"Raj tells me you'd like my help to get somewhere."
It was a simple statement. I waited for her to respond.
She looked to Raj, still irritated with him, then looked to me and said, "Yes."
"It's dangerous out there," I told her. "We'd have to travel through a lot of backyards and over a lot of fences. It won't be easy. The infected are everywhere. Are you sure about this?"
"Yes," she said. "We're sure."
"What about Becky?" I asked her.
"Becky will be fine. We'll make sure she's okay."
"We are not afraid," Raj added emphatically.
They weren't afraid, but they should have been. They'd been so isolated in the relative safety of Sarah's home, they had no reference point for assessing the danger.
I gave Raj as deadly serious a look as I could muster. "You should be afraid," I told him.
And then I told them what had happened to me the previous night at Sarah's grandparents' home. I told them everything in detail. I let them know the house was surrounded by sixty or more of the infected. I told them how I'd shot the old woman in the knee and how I'd killed the teenage boy. I let Sarah know just how difficult shooting the old woman was for me. I told her I didn't have a choice. It was the old woman or me, and I didn't want to die. I told them how shooting the teenage boy was an instinctive reaction more than anything. I didn't have the time to mull it over. I told them of my escape through the garage with the ATS. Told them I'd run over some of the infected in the driveway and in the street, and I told them how I had to drive through neighborhood front yards to get away. In essence, I let them know my escape was nothing short of a miracle.
And then I waited for a response, but neither of them said a word. A splotchy red rash had arisen on Sarah's lower neck and upper chest and she was staring hard at the floor. Raj looked thoughtful, perplexed too.
"Do you still want to go?" I asked them.
Sarah looked at Raj, then gave him a nod. She never so much as glanced at me. Then Raj spoke up, "Yes, Jake. We still want to go."
I'd done everything I could to dissuade them. I had trouble grasping their motivation for wanting to go out there amongst the infected. While I knew gathering a six-week supply of food might not be enough to last till things got back to normal, if they ever did, at least they'd have food for six weeks. I couldn't help but wonder how much food their friends had. Did they have the same kind of extensive food storage as Sarah's grandparents?
Then I realized I had another option. I could just say no. It would have been the smart thing to do. But I hadn't been making smart decisions ever since I'd first talked to Sarah on the phone, and my head was already spinning with plans of how to get them there.
"Is that your Corolla in the driveway, Raj?
"Yes, it is," he told me.
I mulled things over. If the coast were clear, we could use Raj's car to get us to the underpass near Skyline. The trick would be to get to the nearest neighborhood and into someone's backyard. From the underpass, it wouldn't be more than a couple blocks to get them safely into a backyard. The mess of cars at the freeway entrance and at the Wasatch Boulevard intersection would give us cover. I was picturing the underpass in my mind as I'd seen it last night. From what I could remember, I thought the plan would work fine. We just needed a little luck. Once we landed in a backyard, it would be nine blocks to get them where they wanted to go. The streets above Wasatch were windy roads that snaked their way up the mountainside. I didn't know if there were any through streets. I'd check Google Maps to find the most direct route. If everything went well, I could have them there in two days.
"Have you been in communication with the people you want to join up with?" I asked them.
Raj looked at Sarah as if he were looking for approval to speak. She gave it to him.
"Yes, Jake. We have contacted them."
"Do they know you're coming?" I asked him.
"We will text them to let them know we are coming. We told them we would come if we could. They will certainly be expecting us, Jake."
I knew taking them there was risky, but I felt oddly compelled to go along with that they wanted.
"There's just one thing," I said to them.
"What's that, Jake?" Raj asked.
"I'll take you there. But you have to do everything I ask. You have to follow my instructions precisely. One mistake and we could all die."
"Of course, Jake. We'll do whatever you ask." Raj was beaming.
"Sarah? How about you?"
The ruddy marks on Sarah's neck had begun to pale. She wasn't thrilled and made no effort to hide the fact. "Yes," she said, her face as smooth and hard as a polished stone. "I'll do what you ask."
I needed Sarah to go along. Raj might have done all the talking, but Sarah was the one in charge. Other than the whispered revelation about Sarah's past, everything Raj had said since he'd come into the family room was at Sarah's behest. He followed her wishes dutifully.
I spent the next half hour going over the essentials of what
they should bring with them and what not to bring. I told them not to overpack. I told them if circumstances dictated, we might have to move quickly, and a cumbersome backpack could get one of us or all of us killed. They agreed to pack lightly.
I told Sarah to make sure to pack the flashlight, and I asked her if she had any more flashlights. Turns out she had a penlight she rarely used and she gave it to me.
Sarah and Becky had their own backpacks. Becky's was a small school backpack and Sarah's pack was for hiking and backpacking, but Raj didn't have one. He also didn't have a change of clothes or a cap. And his sandals would never do if we ever had to make a run for it. He said he could run in his bare feet if he had to, but I told him it was a bad idea. The grass in most yards was too tall and he could step on something hidden in the grass and end up injuring his foot.
I'd find what was needed in the neighboring homes.
After we were clear on what to pack, I asked them to get their things packed right away. I told them we'd go over the details of the plan this evening after I'd returned.
Sarah went into Becky's playroom to tell her we'd be leaving. When Becky came out, I was surprised to find her smiling happily. She snuck a glance and gave me a furtive wave as she followed her mother into the storage room. I'd expected her to be frightened. I thought she'd be upset at having to leave her things behind, but she seemed perfectly fine.
Chapter 12
The Plan
I moved through the backyards on automatic pilot as if I were sleepwalking. My mind was elsewhere and I couldn't seem to focus on the task at hand. I was distracted. While I didn't believe there were any infected in the area, it was foolish to let my mind wander as if I were out in the wilderness on a walkabout.
I could hear the ubiquitous moans of the infected drifting through the air, though they didn't appear to be coming from anywhere nearby. Regardless, I needed to stay alert.
It was midafternoon and the July sun hung regal and brilliant in a spotless azure sky. The day was glaringly hot, windless and still. Nothing moved. It was the kind of day where you didn't touch the hood of your car or go barefoot on the sidewalk. Even the tops of fences were hot to the touch. Waves of heat penetrated everything. The sun's dense heat stamped the nape of my neck as I clambered over the neighborhood fences. My Diamondbacks' cap kept my face shaded from the sun and I'd put sun block on before I left, so I thought I'd be fine.
I spotted an abandoned home on the block just north of Sarah's block. A two-story. The curtains for the picture window were drawn back and there was a light on from a standing lamp on the right side of the picture window. The garage door was open too. I checked the street in both directions, then sprinted across the street.
I went around to the back and crouched down at the back door. I slipped my backpack off and grabbed the bat. I'd decided the bat would be better than the Glock. I didn't want to make too much noise this close to Sarah's. There wasn't a hint of shade by the back door and the oven-like heat baked right through the lean cotton of my t-shirt. It had to be a hundred degrees out. This would be the third home I'd scavenged today. I'd found a backpack for Raj but had yet to run across any clothes for him.
Picking locks was second nature to me now and I could do it blindfolded. Neighboring air conditioners hummed steadily. I worked the rake pick in the keyhole just above the tension wrench, but my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about the anger I felt toward Sarah. I'd been stung by her rejection of me and her judgments. And even though her feelings had arisen out of her past, I struggled to let go of my anger.
I turned the tension wrench and opened the door. I grabbed my backpack and the bat and moved into the kitchen. And while I tried to remain focused on the task at hand, thoughts of Sarah bullied their way into my mind. I couldn't keep her out. Sarah and I had next to nothing in common but for one clear exception. We were encumbered by our pasts. My childhood years lingered over me like a pall and there was something following Sarah around too. Our pasts were like clinging shadows, following us through our lives.
The house was utterly silent. I checked the main floor first. As long as the doors were closed, I'd keep them that way. If they were open, I'd close them. I didn't expect to find much on the main floor or the basement. The bedrooms would hold the booty.
The stairs were near the front door in the living room. The home, like so many I'd seen, simply appeared abandoned. It gave me the chills. It was as if everyone on the planet had disappeared, yet all their earthly belongings remained behind just as they'd left them, undisturbed and collecting dust. It was as if their belongings were waiting patiently for them to return. It gave me an eerie, uncomfortable feeling traipsing around their homes. As it turned out, there was some disarray here, even if it was just a whiff.
I took a moment to observe what had happened. Above me, a three-globe ceiling fan revolved slowly. A couch and coffee table were situated in front of the picture window. The couch was a long, three-cushion leather affair—distressed toffee brown. In front of it sat a sleek teakwood table with bowed legs. A National Geographic magazine lay on the table, its pages scrunched up on one side as if the magazine had been laid down hurriedly. The standing lamp stood next to the couch, still offering its light. They hadn't bothered to turn the light off when they left. On the other end of the coffee table, a large bottle of water, two-thirds empty, sat on a scrolled amber coaster. Next to it an opened bottle of Advil lay on its side with several pills scattered across the table. An Aztec throw blanket in dark earthy colors lay in a soft heap on the far cushion, a corner of it dipping over the cushion's edge. A bedroom pillow, indented from the weight of a head, leaned against the couch's armrest. Just a small hint of disorder, yet it spoke volumes. No doubt they'd left in a hurry.
I looked out the picture window and realized I was in plain sight if one of the infected stumbled by. I had to get moving, get this over with.
I took the stairs cautiously, one step at a time. I didn't worry about making the steps creak. I knew the air conditioner would mask any sounds I made. As I approached the top step, I held the bat in attack position, ready to strike if the need arose. I wouldn't take any chances. At the top of the steps, I stopped and listened. I heard nothing save for the hum of the air conditioner and the soft whir of the fan downstairs. No one was here. They were long gone.
Two doors were open in the hallway. One to a bathroom, the other to the master bedroom. After checking the bathroom, I headed into the bedroom. The room was quiet like the rest of the house. A king size bed with a dark hardwood headboard and large, ornate posts dominated the room. Neatly set out on the bed were a woman's light gray skirt, a white silk blouse, and a two-inch wide black belt that mushroomed at the buckle.
The bedroom set included two nightstands with matching lamps. A Nexus tablet was plugged in and charging on one of the tables. There were two matching dressers. An HDTV sat atop one of the dressers. Framed pictures and small jewelry boxes sat atop the other. Judging from the pictures, they appeared to be a childless couple in their mid-forties. He was rangy with an athletic build and an amiable, mischievous smile. He towered over her in the photos. She was petite with dark wavy hair down to her shoulders. In one photo, she stood at attention with her shoulders squared as if she were in the military. She smiled bleakly with thin lips. He looked relaxed and at ease; she looked awkward and severe. No question they were opposites. And I couldn't help but wonder if they'd been happy together. They were an odd but attractive couple.
The door to the walk-in closet was open. I flipped the light on and stood in the doorway, checking the room out before I went in. The closet was spacious. Her clothes were to the left and his to the right. She had a lot of dressy clothes well-suited for a professional—stylish and pricey looking. They were uniformly spaced and scrupulously organized. His clothes were mostly casual. A couple of sports coats, but mostly shirts and jeans and chinos. He also had lots of t-shirts. I picked out three tees for Raj. On the far wall there was a collection of hats, about
a dozen or so. I picked out a Utah Jazz cap for Raj.
They had their own shoe racks too. I checked his out and found a nice pair of hiking shoes. I couldn't see a size in them, so I measured them against mine. Raj said he wore size twelve. I wore size ten. From a cursory glance, I figured the shoes would fit. I didn't see any shorts in the closet, so I headed back out into the bedroom.
I figured his dresser would be the one with the TV on it. And as I rummaged through the drawers looking for shorts, I realized she was the one who had been infected. If she'd been taking care of him, she never would have put the magazine down so casually. Just from the arrangement of her clothes, it was easy to tell she was a precise person. Obsessively so. Even if she had been in a panicked state, she would've closed the magazine and placed it neatly on the coffee table. She would have done it out of habit. And then there was the garage door. She would have closed the garage door regardless of the circumstance. But he wouldn't have. If she had been in a bad way, and she likely was, he wouldn't have given the garage door a second thought.
I found the shorts in the third drawer down. I made an effort to match the shorts with the tees. While it seemed silly given the circumstances, I had the feeling Raj was a persnickety dresser. I picked shorts that had both belt loops and elastic bands on the sides. Raj wasn't as thick as the man in the house and the shorts would likely be roomy on him. I found a braided belt that he could use to tighten up the shorts. I also found some mini-crew socks and grabbed four pairs, two for Raj and two for myself.
I folded Raj's new clothes neatly and put them in the backpack. As I was about to leave, I glimpsed at the Nexus tablet. I checked to see if it was connected to the internet, and it was. I took it with me and headed back downstairs. I set it on the dining room table and headed into the kitchen.
I found a family-size bag of frozen broccoli in the freezer that would go well with the salmon. The fridge was well stocked. I grabbed some sliced cheese and root beer from the fridge and found a bag of soda crackers in the pantry and made myself a snack. I sat at the dining room table and ate my snack slowly. The ice-cold root beer tasted wonderful.