Savage

by Jade C. Jamison

  Kevin mumbled something, basically asking for confirmation.

  “Yes. I can’t stand sleeping on this couch. It’s not completely uncomfortable, but when I wake up, my knees ache and my muscles feel sore and stiff. My neck winds up hurting and half my limbs feel numb and tingly.” Then I realized that they might perceive my request as selfish. “There are plenty of beds in this house. My cousins grew up here. There are three bedrooms upstairs and the master down here.”

  “Well, you should probably sleep in your aunt’s bed, unless you don’t want to…and then, I guess, if we want a bed, we can use one of the ones upstairs. There’s a double upstairs for Larry and Vera, right?”

  “There are a couple of queens and then one bedroom has twin beds for my cousin Ivy’s children when they came to visit. There are plenty of beds. I just…if we’re going to be here for any longer, I just can’t sleep on the couch anymore. It’s tough working hard all day when I feel like I didn’t get a good night’s sleep.”

  Larry harrumphed. “It’s pretty fuckin’ cold up there.”

  His attitude continued to piss me off. “Yeah, it’s cold in my Aunt Lou’s room too. I don’t give a shit. I want to sleep in a bed.” I took a deep breath, trying to remain calm, but I could tell my emotions were high. “You’re welcome to my Aunt Lou’s bed. I can sleep upstairs and you can have the goddamned bed. I just want a pillow and blankets and I want to be able to spread out—on a mattress.”

  Kevin sat up, as though he was going to have to break up a physical fight between the two of us. “You can have your aunt’s room, Nina. Larry’s just being a dick.”

  Larry chuckled and rested his head back again. “Yeah, so I am.” He sighed. “I’m just fine here by the fire. So’s Vera.”

  I glanced at Vera, trying not to be obvious about it. I highly doubted she was just fine with anything. The woman seemed to be losing all grip on reality—but no way was I going to say that to Larry. I was tired of sparring with him.

  Kevin said, “Maybe I’m the only one who noticed, but the sewing room upstairs has a stove of some kind.”

  I’d forgotten about it. It was old-fashioned, something that had belonged to my grandparents before they moved off the farm. “I think that’s just for decoration.”

  “Is it? It can still be used, can’t it?”

  I was still angry, so it was hard for me to think straight. I didn’t even ponder the answer. “I don’t think so.”

  “Still…there’s no sense arguing about it. The matter’s settled.” He looked at me. His tone was dangerously close to condescending—which would have pissed me off all the more—but I realized that my underlying anger was likely making me read him wrong, so I kept myself in check. “Your aunt’s room is yours, Nina.”

  I nodded and rested my head against the back of the couch. I was glad that I wouldn’t have to do this again after tonight—whether we made it home or were stuck here another night, I was going to sleep in a real bed and try to get a good night’s sleep, something I hadn’t done in a very long time.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Past

  “Too Young to Fall in Love” – Mötley Crüe

  I’D DONE A lot of playing around in college. I found a group I was happy with and I’d partied all night, worked hard all day both at a job and in school, and—before I knew it—Darren was in my life and we were dating. I hadn’t had an instant attraction for him, but he’d grown on me, and we’d been compatible in many ways.

  We started dating and I found myself falling in love.

  And, with or without love, sex was a big deal to me…and, sometimes, sex leads to pregnancy.

  We were protected, but it happened. We’d been talking permanency anyway. All the pregnancy did was make us move forward with our plans. And, in my wedded and motherly bliss, I forgot my past for a while.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Present

  “Illusions” – As I Lay Dying

  WE’D HAD BIG plans for the next day. The snow, though…we’d forgotten that Mother Nature might attempt to stop us on occasion, and she did. A storm moved in that night and we awoke to cold wind and gray skies. It was midmorning when the snow started to fall, and we decided it might be prudent to stay indoors until we had sunshine again.

  We had enough water and kindling to last so that we didn’t have to go outside...so we chose not to.

  The cold weather, which seemed to somehow creep under the doors and through the windows, causing a drafty undercurrent (which, I knew, might have been all in my head), made me want soup or chili. We didn’t have much to work with, though. I knew my aunt had dried beans, so I decided to try it anyway. I boiled the beans in a pot on the fire and then took it off, setting it on the mantel, to soak for an hour. It took so long, I decided to make the chili the next day, but we found two cans of beef stew in the pantry and we made those, eating the rest of the crackers.

  I snooped around in my aunt’s room and her closet to find a few board games. Vera sat out but Kevin, Larry, and I played Monopoly. The game lasted all day with Kevin winning. Darkness fell, but not before I’d gotten dinner ready and also my aunt’s bedroom. I replaced the pillowcase, because I didn’t want to smell my now-deceased loved one…but I used the sheets because we had no easy way to launder fabric.

  I’d found some teabags when I’d inventoried all the cupboards earlier that day, so I now had a complete idea of everything we had on hand. I wanted something hot to drink, so I boiled water and the three of us had some tea and stared at the fire. Kevin asked, quiet enough that I didn’t know if Larry could hear, “You sure you want to sleep back there all by yourself?”

  I wasn’t sure what he was asking, and I couldn’t tell if it was innocent. Once again, I was the naïve girl confronted with a proposal from Kevin Savage, and I didn’t know how I should take it. I took a few breaths and raised my eyebrows, but I couldn’t make myself smile. My voice was steady and calm when I said, “I need a bed.”

  He nodded. “Guess I can take the whole couch then?”

  I felt a little relief because then I definitely understood his intentions. “It’s all yours.”

  He nodded and I stood, walking over to the fireplace. I sat on the hearth in front, looking over at the people who were, for all intents and purposes, my only friends on earth right now. I had no idea if anyone else I cared about or even knew was alive anymore. These three were the only people I could be sure about.

  It made me sad.

  As if he could read my mind, Kevin said, “What do you miss the most right now?”

  “I think we could probably all say we miss our kids.”

  He nodded. “Right. But besides people. What do you miss?” He sat back again. “Me? It’s coffee. I would love a cup of coffee.”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  Larry sat up. “What do I miss? Donuts. I want a goddamned donut. And not just one of those unimaginative glazed donuts everyone thinks of. No. I want a cake donut…with icing—make it white icing. And sprinkles. Or nuts. Man, even coconut shreds…or maple icing. I don’t give a damn. Hell, give me a dozen.”

  I started laughing. “Thanks, Larry. Now I’m craving donuts.”

  “Make that three of us.”

  After we stopped laughing, I said, “A hot shower. Man, what I wouldn’t give for that.” Both men muttered affirmations. “It makes me sad now to think of all those times I didn’t appreciate it. You know…just standing under the water, irritated that you have to shower so you can go to work, but really—that was a treat for the day, ‘cause sometimes it went downhill from there.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Nina. None of us knew we were gonna be in a situation like this.” Kevin smiled. “Or else Larry would’ve picked up a few boxes of donuts before leaving town.”

  Larry chuckled again. “Yeah, fuck gas for the truck. Just gimme three boxes of powdered.”

  When we stopped laughing, we were quiet again, the two men seemingly hypnotized by the flames behind me. I loo
ked down into the shadowy cup of tea, trying to think of things I missed. Kevin spoke before I could. “I miss my first cigarette of the morning too.”

  I nodded. “I used to miss it too, especially with coffee.”

  “You smoked?”

  “Yeah.” He started to say something else and then thought better of it. I wanted to ask what words were trapped in his throat, but with Larry there, I didn’t much feel like prying. “For a long time.” It was funny, but we collapsed into silence again. We seemed to do that a lot, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t like two awkward kids out on a date, nervously trying to fill in the gaps of silence with whatever came to mind. I knew somehow that even if Vera were awake and participating, it would be okay. I wondered if that was because we were all having to cohabitate. Maybe that level of comfort was natural. Or maybe it was having to depend upon each other in order to ensure we all stayed alive—perhaps that kind of reliance on other people created a safe feeling amongst the group. Whatever the case, there was an ease about the room that I hadn’t felt in a long time with people who were near strangers…in spite of the fact that I was beginning to dislike one of them quite a bit.

  I was struggling, trying to think of other things I missed. I’d been so numb for so long that I hadn’t relished a single thing about life, not in a long time—not the weekends I’d spent with my Aunt Lou outside working the land; not the sunrises or sunsets, those beauties of nature I admired in awe whenever I took the time to appreciate them; not the short conversations I had with my kids when they called; not the sounds of the neighborhood kids playing down the block, yelling, “Ready or not, here I come!” at the top of their lungs. Nothing. I hadn’t enjoyed or appreciated anything in a long time.

  I would most definitely appreciate a hot shower when I’d have the pleasure of enjoying one next time.

  I was still trying to think of something else when Kevin said, “Man, I don’t want to pry, but is your wife okay?”

  Larry glanced over at the tiny ball of Vera curled up in the chair next to him. She was almost like a different person from the one who’d travelled up here with us the week before. I was glad Kevin had asked, because it was something I’d been wondering myself. Larry frowned, almost looking disappointed, but then I could see, even in the dim light, some kind of sadness in his eyes. He might have been a chauvinist, a man I no longer enjoyed being in the company of, but I had no doubt at that moment that he loved his wife. I could see it in his eyes as clearly as I could tell that something was wrong with Vera, and I wondered if he was going to be honest or if he was going to make something up. Whatever the case, I knew Kevin and I would be able to tell if he was uttering the truth. If he chose to lie, I understood why. It would be hard, especially in the predicament we found ourselves in, to admit that she was a burden to him rather than an asset. I started to suspect that was why he wanted us working in teams now, too, so we couldn’t see just how bad Vera had become.

  “She’s bipolar.” He sighed and took another drink of his tea. “Not a problem when she’s taking her meds.” Oh. That explained a lot. I’d only ever met one other bipolar person—a previous coworker I hadn’t known that well—and I didn’t understand all the details. I mostly knew that they experienced a fluctuation in moods—high highs and then low lows—but I didn’t have details. It explained a lot with Vera, though…why she was quiet and sometimes unresponsive. “She’s in a depressive state right now. Her meds helped keep her kinda steady, but…” He let another long breath of air out of his lungs. “I’m not sure how to help her right now, except maybe just let her sleep it off.” I nodded. I had no answers. I didn’t know how to help someone suffering from depression. I knew that the kind of depression I’d felt since losing my husband wasn’t the same thing. The low I’d experienced, no matter how severe, was a response to tragedy. What Vera was experiencing was due to a chemical imbalance in her brain—and I had no idea what kind of treatment would work when there was nothing in the wild to help. Hell, I wouldn’t even know how to treat a headache without a pill, let alone a major mental illness.

  I couldn’t bring myself to raise my voice louder and maybe it was because some part of me didn’t want Vera to feel bad—if she could even hear us talking about her or if she even cared. “Is there something we can do to help?”

  He was quiet for a few minutes before responding. “Just help me carry her weight if it comes to that.”

  It was a sweet sentiment and it allowed me a little insight into Larry. Now, maybe, I could understand some of his more misogynistic statements. He’d had a wife who had probably gone through years of manic and depressive episodes before they’d discovered she had a problem that could be treated. He might have mistaken her depressions for laziness or complacency or revolution against marriage, and even though now he understood, he might have been harboring some kind of resentment or hostility, blaming womankind rather than an illness that his wife had been, up until a week ago, finally diagnosed with having and was being treated for.

  Kevin said, “You got it.”

  “Me too.”

  After sitting in silence for another cluster of minutes, how long, I wouldn’t know, I stood up and said, “I’m going to hit the hay.”

  Kevin sat up. “Need help getting there, Nina? It’s dark in the back of the house.”

  I nodded, feeling stupid. “Yeah, I forgot the flashlight, but it’s on the kitchen table. I’ll feel around for it. I have to take my cup in there anyway.” And that cup would set there until I heated snow water sometime the next day and washed dishes as best I could…if I bothered. We’d lost any sense of prissiness we might have had when we’d first arrived. We were using the same utensils all day long before washing them at night, and I imagined I wouldn’t care if I drank from the same teacup for two weeks straight without washing it.

  A bath, though…what I wouldn’t give for a bath. And I planned to figure out how to accomplish that task the next day. For tonight, though, I was going to sleep in a bed for the first time in days. Once I got to the kitchen, I managed to find the flashlight and then I used it to find the doorway to Aunt Lou’s bedroom.

  I decided to keep the door open. Although it was cold back here because the heat didn’t seem to reach (although I knew a little did to a degree), I knew this room would be even colder if I didn’t leave the door open.

  I took the boots off but left my socks on, and I also peeled off the sweater I’d had on and draped it on the bedpost. Then I pulled back the covers and switched off the flashlight, sliding my legs under the covers and pulling the blanket up to my chin.

  I chattered and shook but lay as still as possible, waiting for my body heat to warm up the space. One thing I hadn’t counted on was how cold that bed would be. It took a long time for me to begin to feel warm and even longer to go to sleep.

  That was something I needed to add to my list of things I missed—a nice warm bed.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  “First of the Last” – Fight or Flight

  I AWOKE THE next morning just as it was growing light outside. My aunt’s house faced south, so the living room and kitchen always got a heavy dose of sunlight first thing in the morning. The bedroom, however, had a window that faced north, so I knew in the summer it would be nice and cool and not completely flooded with sun even though it was light early in the day.

  That meant that the bedroom was just as cold in the morning as it had been the night before. Under the covers, I couldn’t quite tell. My aunt had two old crazy quilts that had been made by my grandmother decades earlier as well as a thermal blanket and a comforter on the bed, so I was plenty warm when I woke up.

  I didn’t want to get out of bed, though, because I knew how cold it was going to be.

  Except I had some goals for the day, and those made me fight the urge to stay under the covers all morning. The sun told me the first thing I needed to know, which was that the storm had passed. It had left behind a fresh blanket of snow, though, and if Kevin and I were
going to be fetching water today, we’d have to maneuver through it. I supposed we could assess the water situation and make some decisions, but I was pretty sure we would need more. All other drinks were gone—the leftover milk and couple cans of soda my aunt hadn’t drunk had already been consumed and we were down to water.

  The good news about the storm was that we’d have more snow, and that led me to my main goal of the day—I wanted to take a bath and clean some clothing. I hadn’t put on fresh clothes in probably a week, and I was overdue.

  That was sad—I’d already lost track of time. Without a need to watch a calendar, I’d found that I wasn’t. I thought a week had passed, but for all I knew, it could have been slightly more or less. I knew if I sat down with a piece of paper and mapped it all out with significant events (such as day one: ran out of gas), I could have figured it out, but it seemed more trouble than it was worth.

  It wouldn’t get me home any more quickly.

  It was settled then. I wouldn’t worry about what day it was until I was back home.

  I wondered what was happening with the outside world. Maybe everything was okay now and it was time for my kids to come home for Thanksgiving break. Oh, God, if that were true, they’d be worried sick about me. And I wondered—was Winchester cleaned up now? Were the streets safe again, the cars and bodies and blood washed away?

  I wanted to believe, wanted to hope that things had returned to normal, but several things made me believe they might not be. First off, we had no electricity, and I didn’t think it was isolated just to my aunt’s place. She’d never gone without power for more than half a day in the past ten years. There were too many fairly wealthy families that lived up this way, and they wouldn’t tolerate a lack of electricity.