Savage

by Jade C. Jamison

  The air escaped my lungs. Yeah, I understood Larry’s fears—especially bearing in mind how closely he’d followed all the infection news—but he sometimes came across as insensitive. I didn’t think that was his intent, though. He had a legitimate concern.

  But I didn’t know how to address it. I had to start with the obvious. “I really don’t think she could have been infected, Larry. To the best of my knowledge, she hadn’t been around people in a few days,” although I knew she often had conversations with her neighbors, but I wasn’t going to give Larry any fuel for his fire. I shrugged. “Well, I don’t know. Anything’s possible, I guess.”

  Kevin said, “What are you thinking?” I looked over at him…but he wasn’t talking to me.

  Larry answered, “I’m thinking we secure the body. Put it somewhere where it can’t harm us if it reanimates.”

  I’d been all right up to that point, but Larry’s last words pissed me off. “She’s not a thing, Larry. She’s my great aunt and I loved her very much. Don’t talk about her like she’s a fucking thing.”

  If we’d been in a cartoon, all three of my companions would have looked comical with their jaws unhinging and hitting the floor. None of them had ever heard me use the F word before (although it wasn’t unusual). Larry knew me the best in this present life, and that had been as an acquaintance, and Vera only knew me through him. Kevin likely remembered me as the goody-two-shoes virgin who watched her mouth and tried to do what her parents told her.

  But it got their attention. Larry found his voice and said, “You’re right. Sorry, Nina. I just want to make sure we’re safe.”

  I nodded and sighed. “Yeah, sorry for the outburst. I’m a little emotional. I know you have our best interests at heart.”

  Kevin said, “So how do we keep ourselves safe but be respectful of your aunt’s body?”

  I almost asked a question that would have made me seem ignorant. I was going to ask how intelligent the infected were, but I remembered the ones I’d seen earlier in the day, how they’d pawed at the windows on the truck. They didn’t seem to remember how to open doors, so I began speaking as the thoughts formed in my mind. “Would it be enough to just close the door upstairs? We’d hear her if she started moving, right?” I explained what I’d been thinking as far as the infected not being able to manipulate a door.

  I could see the doubt in Larry’s face but he said, “Could work.”

  It was apparent to me that Vera was staying out of the conversation. Whether it was that she felt she had nothing to contribute or that she was trying to be respectful, I didn’t know. Kevin said, “There’s no evidence that they’re brain dead. Just because no one’s seen them open a door doesn’t mean they can’t. No offense intended, Nina, but do we really want to take that chance?”

  “So what do you suggest?”

  He drew in a long breath before he answered. “Is there any way we can lock that door…make sure she stays inside until we can leave?”

  “There might be a lock on it.”

  Larry sat up straighter and said, “I have a better solution.” We all looked at him. “I’m with Savage here—I mean no offense, but it’s my job to keep us safe.” For some reason, his words hit me all wrong, but I bit my tongue. I wanted to ask him who’d appointed him to be my guardian angel, but my emotions were in overdrive. I tried to focus past them so I could hear his words. “Why couldn’t we just tie her to that chair? Nothing rough or anything but enough that, if she were to come back to life, she couldn’t get up?”

  Part of me wanted to start laughing. The way he’d worded it made it sound so crazy, so fictional that I wondered how the hell any of this could be real. As I grappled with maintaining my composure, Kevin looked at me. “Would you be okay with that?”

  The way he said it—it hit me right in the heart. This was the Kevin I’d remembered—bad ass to the bone on the outside but something sweet and sensitive and sincere underneath it all. He cared about how all of this would make me feel. Like Larry, he wanted us all to be safe, but he also wanted to make sure I was handling it okay…and it was that—the way he asked me—that made decide I would be okay with it…as long as they and not I tied her to the chair and as long as they continued to be respectful of her and her body. And I said as much, without telling them why.

  Larry and Kevin looked at one another, as though mentally adding the task to a to-do list. I was amazed at how quickly the two men had gelled—bonded wouldn’t be the word, because that hadn’t happened, but they had in no time settled into a spirit of teamwork, even though they seemed to have different approaches.

  That agreed upon, Larry apparently had more on his mind. “So we dig in for the night.” He looked at me. “How many bedrooms does this place have?” Before I could answer, he looked at Vera and then Kevin. “Or do we even want to bother? I don’t know about all of you, but I plan to turn the TV on and watch the news all night long. This shit has definitely escalated, and I think it would be stupid to not know what we’re going to be getting into when we head back to Winchester tomorrow.”

  “Three or four. There’s the master bedroom down here and then three bedrooms upstairs.”

  Vera finally spoke up. “Sorry, but I don’t want to sleep up there…not with your aunt there.”

  I could understand that. Even I was beginning to feel a little paranoid. “I guess we could all just crash on the couch and chairs out here…” The lack of response, coupled with everyone’s expression, told me we were all okay with the idea.

  “So…dinner. Ladies, not trying to be all dominant man on ya, but since Savage and I are going to…take care of our problem upstairs, I wondered if the two of you would want to scrounge up some eats.” He looked at me once more. “Not trying to be disrespectful or nothin’, but I hope your aunt would understand.”

  Again, I had no idea why Larry’s words were irritating me, but I dismissed my emotional response as an aftereffect of an overwhelming day and simply nodded my head. Larry motioned to Kevin with his head, and the two of them moved to the stairs and began taking the steps.

  Vera asked, “Do you want me to do the food by myself?”

  I didn’t feel much like eating, but I realized it was dinnertime, and I imagined the rest of them were hungry. And, as much as curling up in a ball and feeling sorry for myself, mourning the fact that yet someone else had been ripped from my life all too soon, I thought it would be far more respectful to my aunt if I worked in her kitchen, not someone who was a complete stranger. “No, actually…I can do it myself, Vera. I know my way around her kitchen.”

  She nodded. “Want some company then?”

  “I’d love some.”

  She might have been company, but we wound up not talking much. I hadn’t realized it before, but my aunt didn’t have much in the way of fresh food. There was half a head of lettuce in the fridge but no fresh meat and just a little cheese. So I asked Vera if I could ask for her help after all—I had her make a bowl of salad out of the lettuce and cheese and other fresh vegetables she could find in the fridge (which amounted to a tomato and carrot) while I figured out what to make for dinner. I found dry spaghetti noodles and pasta sauce in the pantry, so I set to work making spaghetti. She also had half a loaf of bread in the fridge, so I made some makeshift garlic bread. Italian restaurants would have nothing to fear from my lack of prowess in the kitchen, but I knew it would be passable.

  When we called the men into the kitchen from the living room, I noticed that one of them had stoked the fire and added a couple new logs. It was warmer in there than it had been earlier. I didn’t want to ask them the details about securing my aunt, and I was grateful that they didn’t volunteer any.

  Dinner was quiet as, I’m sure, we all pondered what would happen next. I, for one, felt anxious, and I would have been surprised if any of us had felt completely calm. I wound up eating half a plate full in spite of the fact that I felt like I didn’t need to eat anything.

  When we finished up, Larry said he had
to turn the news on. He looked at me with half an apology in his eyes, which I appreciated, and then Vera and I decided to wash the dishes. If we were going to leave tomorrow, we didn’t want to leave a mess. I knew this house and land would revert to my cousins once my aunt’s will was read, and I wanted it to look as nice and clean as my aunt had always kept it.

  I stood at the sink washing while Vera rinsed and dried. We were halfway done when I looked at the wall next to the fridge and saw a pegboard, one that looked like piano keys, and it said Keyboard. On it were keys of every size, shape, and color, including a ring with several keys, including one that I’d seen before.

  My Aunt Lou’s car and house keys…which meant we could head back to Winchester the next day—providing there was anything left of it.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “Waking Up” – 10 Years

  I WAS SO exhausted, I would have thought I would have gone right to sleep. Unfortunately, the news channel kept me up later than I would have expected.

  Larry had a hard time finding a channel to begin with. The cable was spotty, and I wondered if it had anything to do with the earlier communication problems we’d been having as far as phones went (we checked them again and still could not get through) or if it was because of the storm. The snowfall had not abated, and the wind still howled. The house, fortunately, felt solid and relatively free of drafts, but I didn’t think I would have fared very well outside. I wouldn’t have been surprised if power lines wouldn’t be holding up either.

  It was uncomfortable, but we decided to all stick together. I hadn’t spent the night at my aunt’s house since I was a little girl…and I was feeling paranoid about sleeping upstairs as well. I hadn’t given it two thoughts before, but now Larry had me feeling edgy about that stupid virus. So we all decided for certain to sleep in the living room. We used the throw pillows and afghans already on chairs and the couch and just spread out as best we could. Larry had already claimed the big brown recliner as his, and I figured it would turn out to be fairly comfortable, since he’d be able to lie back. Vera chose the overstuffed chair next to it, curling her feet up underneath her body and wrapping herself in a flannel throw my aunt had sewn just a few years earlier. Kevin and I wound up using the couch—he was on one end and I on the other, and we sat on it, sprawling our legs out. He pushed the coffee table away some so he could stretch out his legs completely.

  It wasn’t comfortable at all, but—between listening to the news, thinking about my loved ones out of touch and so far away, and silently grieving my aunt—I wondered if I would have been able to relax and drift off anyway.

  The news broadcast made it impossible.

  Actually, it wasn’t news. It was live reporting. It was a national crisis and it was being painstakingly reported as best as the news reporters could keep up. I tried closing my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest, and tuning out, but when I did, I worried about my kids. It was far easier to let the reporters’ words pull me in and take me away as a vicarious participant where the stakes were low because I was on the other side of the television screen. I first began listening when someone reported that the infection was no longer contained to North American shores—it had been passed overseas to Europe when someone infected who didn’t show any obvious signs took the virus with him on vacation. They then had several doctors on in teleconference fashion, all tuning in from their respective home states. One of them confirmed that multiple parties were working on a vaccination as they spoke, because there was no cure for this virus, just as there was no cure for other viruses. Then a representative from the CDC came on and urged people to put themselves on lockdown. Stay home, only leaving when necessary and, if one believed he was infected, go to the hospital right away and warn the medical staff of the possibility. When questioned, the rep confirmed that the virus was not airborne, even though the general public was panicking, believing the worst. He said the chance of the virus mutating in that way was highly unlikely. That said, it was transmitted through body fluids—saliva, blood, sweat, semen, and all the other regular suspects—and that, since people didn’t always display symptoms immediately, it was possible to contract the virus from someone even before that person appeared to be sick. He urged people to be smart—to use condoms and to cover wounds, among other things—but when he was asked if people should begin wearing masks everywhere, he said he wasn’t sure.

  At some point, I did fall asleep. I didn’t remember doing it, and I didn’t dream throughout the night. Whatever was in my head was fueled by what my subconscious heard coming off the TV. When I awoke in the wee hours of the morning, my neck was on fire. My head had rolled to the right and I must not have moved much during the night, because the kink was unbearable. I slid my body down on the couch, careful not to get near Kevin’s side, and rested my head on the arm. I also noticed that the television hadn’t been shut off during the evening, and the screen was now blue. There was no signal. I considered getting up but didn’t want to disturb anyone. The fact that the TV was still on told me no one else was awake.

  At some point, I fell asleep again, this time only because I was exhausted. When I awoke later, I sensed that it was light outside, but—as I opened my eyes—I saw that it was still overcast. The falling snow appeared to have slowed, but it was still coming down, and the skies were gray.

  The fire was down to embers, and I noticed it felt chilly.

  The television was off.

  Things felt, once again, wrong.

  As I sat up, I saw Kevin stirring, but Vera appeared to still be out cold, her head tucked against her chest as she curled up in a ball on the chair. She looked almost like a cat, the way she’d arranged herself. Larry was gone.

  Kevin sat up and stretched his neck. “It got pretty cold in here overnight.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think she had the heat set on a timer or anything, though.”

  Kevin looked around. “I think the power’s off.”

  I glanced around. Maybe that was what I had sensed was wrong. We grew so used to the background noise electricity created through the things plugged in—computers, refrigerators, clocks, and the like—that the absence of that noise wasn’t necessarily noticeable, but our subconscious mind could tell right away that something was different.

  I knew he was right. “Well, her house is buried kinda deep in the forest. I suppose a power outage shouldn’t surprise me.” Armed with that knowledge, though, I knew what to do, and I got up and walked over to the fireplace. I pulled the door open and stirred the hot pile of glowing embers before adding a few small logs. Short orange flames licked at the bottom of the logs, and I knew it would be just a matter of time before they caught on fire, and then the room would start warming up.

  I heard Kevin stand up and stretch, making a noise in the back of his throat. “Guess this means coffee’s out of the question.”

  “Yeah, probably.” I was hoping the power would come back on soon and we could just have coffee late.

  When I stood up and turned around, Kevin was sliding his leather jacket over his arms. He was still wearing the do-rag from the day before, but I noticed his facial hair growth was just a little thicker. Yes, he was just as good looking as he’d been back when we were kids. “Heading outside for a minute.” He walked over to the front door next to the big window on the wall. I watched through the glass as he walked off the deck onto the ground covered with fluffy snow, leaving deep prints in the white stuff.

  I realized then that I had to urinate…and I was thirsty too. Vera seemed to be stirring a little, but she pulled the afghan tighter around her body as though hunkering down for an even longer rest. I got up and made my way to the bathroom. I did my business and flushed the toilet without even thinking that I shouldn’t. I knew the water ran to my aunt’s house by way of a pump from the well. I could tell by the way the flush sounded, a strange gurgle, that there was no more water coming. I’d just screwed us. We wouldn’t get any more water until the power came back on.

 
; That made me wonder if there was anything to drink in the kitchen, but I was worried about opening the fridge to peek. Then I remembered Aunt Lou bought cases of bottled water when they went on sale and kept them in the garage for that very reason. So I went out there to check.

  When I got there, I saw Larry standing beside the car. “What’s up?”

  He frowned. “I was out here considering if we should even take a chance leaving today.”

  “Did you know the power was out?”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “I accidentally flushed the toilet without thinking about it.”

  He looked confused at first, and then I saw as the reality hit him. “Well water?”

  “Yeah.” I glanced around the garage and spotted a case of bottled water sealed in plastic wrap. “Aha.” His eyes followed the path of mine as I said, “Drinking water.” As I got closer, I noticed several gallon jugs of water as well. I could see that the jugs had been used before. Larry came over and picked up the case, so I took two jugs, one in each hand.

  That water alone said so much about my aunt and her background. My grandparents had their children before, during, and after the depression, and their habits had rubbed off on their children. My aunt seemed to embody those attitudes more than any of my grandparents’ other kids, including my mother. My mom—Aunt Lou’s younger sister—had been a little more frugal when I was young, but now that she had no wants, she wasn’t so bad. My aunt, though…those water bottles told me she was prepared for the next depression. She was also ready for a power outage or anything else that would come her way. She even had a huge pantry in the basement, right under the garage. It was big—the “cool, dry place” recommended for storage purposes on packages. She consistently bought nonperishable food items when they were on sale and stockpiled them. If there were an apocalypse, my aunt had more than enough to survive it.