Savage

by Jade C. Jamison

  So I gritted my teeth as I took off my coat and draped it on the bedpost at the foot of the bed, then sat on the edge to pull my shoes off. My shirt, shoes, and socks would stay on for bed, because it was the only way to bear the cold. I stood up and pulled the covers back, already shivering, my teeth chattering, but I quickly slid under the covers and pulled them up to my chin.

  As with nights past, I lay as still as possible, because my body heat was slowly warming the bed as the covers trapped the warmth instead of letting it escape. Yes, it was very cold—especially my feet—but I knew it would heat up eventually. If I moved, even an inch, I would be exposed to colder parts of the bed and have to begin the entire process again, but if I lay still, my shaking body would quiet more quickly and I would begin to feel sleepy as it warmed the small space.

  Finally, I was thawed enough that I did grow drowsy, but my mind was no longer on the discomfort of feeling cold. And, for a change, I wasn’t wrapped up in thoughts of my children. I was instead thinking about Kevin Savage, that guy from my past, the boy I’d loved forever…who’d become an elusive guy I still thought about from time to time…to show up in my life again, at first as a man I didn’t care for at all but now...now he was a companion, a trusted friend out here where I had no one else to trust. I hadn’t wanted to do it, but I found myself wondering what the future held. I had no business doing so, because I knew—I knew—that we were, right now, victims of circumstance, lovers of convenience. I had no promises, nor did I have any reason to believe we would have anything resembling a relationship when we returned to the real world.

  It was all fantasy, just like my girlhood dreams about him had been.

  Still, I couldn’t stop myself from holding his eyes and face in my mind, my overwhelming emotions for him in my heart as I grew more relaxed with the blanket of sleep slowly covering me.

  Dreams were close, on the edge of my awareness, but part of me that was still awake heard something. My ears pricked at the sound, and then I realized the door to the bedroom was opening. I had a fleeting thought then, wondering why I had been closing it all this time. It had only been the first night that I’d slept with it open, and since then, I’d kept it shut, but that was probably silly. After all, some leftover warmth might make it into the bedroom overnight, but as the fire dwindled to nothing during our sleeping hours, it probably wouldn’t have made any difference. Whatever the reason behind my decision, I’d been doing it most of the time I’d been sleeping in there…and now the door was opening.

  My senses weren’t panicking, though. Something inside me was quiet, calm, and knew it was okay and so I continued to lay there on the edge of sleep, not giving in while I waited for whatever would come next.

  I thought I heard my name whispered, but my brain, drugged with the promise of dreams, wouldn’t let me lift my head to check.

  I felt him sit on the bed and, after a few minutes, he got under the covers.

  And then he held me close, just like he had that afternoon, and I fell asleep before I could be consumed with emotions I wasn’t equipped to handle.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Past

  “Breed” – Nirvana

  YOUNG CHILDREN HAVE a way of distracting you from all the miserable parts of life. They make you forget about all the stupid bills you have to pay, even when half the bills are due to them in the first place. They help you ignore the extra weight you’re carrying around, the fact that you haven’t gone to the beauty salon in years, the reality that your wardrobe is dreadfully outdated, or that you stopped wearing jewelry years ago because it took so damned long to put on and take off. Oh, and if one of those lovely little babies grabbed a dangling earring and tugged on it…

  But, after a while, after they start becoming a little independent…when they go to school and begin thinking for themselves…

  You start to wonder why the hell you let yourself go to pot.

  Maybe it was all the sleepless nights with colicky babies and then with puking toddlers or little children sick with strep throat. Maybe it was the attentiveness to their early education, spending time playing with them on the carpeted floor of their bedroom or reading If You Give a Mouse a Cookie or The Cat in the Hat for the fiftieth time or watching one of their favorite movies over and over again. It could have been losing oneself in motherhood, losing all identity except for that one role, the motherhood role.

  And I think that was nature’s plan all along.

  I was thirty, I think, still young but much wiser and a little more experienced. It was after Darren’s health problems were in full swing. Yep, three decades old when I realized I’d let myself go. I had been working for a while by that point, but I knew Darren and the kids loved me for who I was. I was working a full-time job, running my oldest to school, and then coming home at night to play mom and housewife, because sometimes Darren could do things around the house but other times he couldn’t, and I felt lucky enough that he could take care of our daughter. Daycare would have been way more than my paycheck could have handled. I’d often go to bed close to midnight just because I wanted a clean house, but I still had to spend time with my loved ones.

  One morning, though, I was looking at myself in the mirror before work. Tanner came in the bathroom to brush his teeth before school, and he smiled at me while running the toothbrush back and forth in his mouth. I was spreading moisturizer on my face, planning to afterwards get another cup of coffee and then go outside to smoke a cigarette, but Tanner first gave me some food for thought. “Mommy, why don’t you wear lipstick like other mommies?”

  Well…I didn’t have the heart to tell Tanner that there were lots of things I didn’t wear like other mommies—not only no lipstick, but no necklaces, no pantyhose, no eye shadow, no acrylic nails. I used the excuse that I couldn’t afford those things, but it was more than that. I’d just stopped caring.

  But as I stood outside in the cool spring breeze listening to the birds sing to me, I realized that I had no zest for life anymore, and it was reflected in my appearance. What kind of message did that send my husband and kids?

  Shortly before interviewing for my second part-time job (that I got so we could keep up with the medical bills), I started wearing makeup again…but the hose were gone for good and the nails? Well, I’d never had use for the damn things anyway. I wanted to look at myself with pride in the mirror once more, and somehow donning the makeup again helped.

  Just that act alone helped me find Nina the independent woman once more.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Present

  “Strife” – Trivium

  WHEN I WOKE up the next morning, it was still dim in the bedroom because the sun hadn’t fully come up over the mountains to light up the valley. But it was light enough in the bedroom for me to confirm that I wasn’t dreaming. Kevin lay on his back, his arm around my shoulders, with my head resting in the crook of his arm, my hair splayed over his covered chest.

  I could smell my hair, and it still had the sweet scent of the conditioner I’d used at that cottage the day before. It still felt like a dream, whereas our everyday existence bordered on nightmarish.

  As I awakened more, I realized I was freezing—not just my nose and cheeks, like on most mornings. My arm and shoulders, even though covered by a shirt, were as cold as ice, and I figured Kevin’s exposed limbs had to feel the same way. I pulled the blankets up and over us, and my movement caused him to stir. He opened his eyes in the dim light and looked at me.

  Even in the near dark, his were beautiful, intoxicating, and mesmerizing, and I felt like I could see inside his soul. He smiled first and I couldn’t help but return it. My voice was soft as I asked, “Is this real?”

  He blinked, his smile growing wider, and he moved his head slightly to the side. “Nina.”

  I was already vulnerable, so I decided I had nothing to lose. The part of me inside that was scared wanted to lower her head back to his blanket-covered chest, but the strong part of me—the adult Nina�
�chose to continue taking in his visage as I talked. “This is a shitty place to be. It’s horrible and hopeless and maddening. And it’s fucked up, and I have no idea how the hell we’re gonna get home.” I swallowed. “But I’m glad you’re here.” My voice had dropped again and, after the words came out, only to be gobbled up by the engulfing silence and unrelenting cold, I wondered if he’d heard me. If he hadn’t, I thought that might be the universe’s way of telling me to let it go, to not grab hold of something so fragile, so destined to fucking fail.

  But I’d always been a creature of hope. It was how I’d survived for so long.

  He pulled his hand out from under the covers and ran two fingers along the side of my face, pushing the hair back. I blinked, willing back tears that I’d had no idea were hovering close by like a teenage girl brimming with gossip she had to tell, and I swallowed the saliva that had pooled in my mouth. Two simple words made all the anxiety fly away like it had wings. “Me, too.”

  Somehow, facing what we had to do for the day no longer seemed as daunting as it had in the past…because I now had a partner.

  * * *

  The next few days were much like so many days we’d already served on that mountain—Kevin and I would get water while the Dingels gathered kindling. We did a little halfhearted exploring, but I knew we all had the same thoughts in our hearts: it was useless to keep trying, not while winter was bearing down on us like a mother trying to push an overdue child out of her womb.

  I had lost track of time. All I knew was that the days had been getting shorter and shorter, and so I knew it had to be December. I didn’t want to ask any of my companions for fear of what they would say. I only knew that, until the days started getting longer again (although I doubted I’d be able to tell subtle second differences here and there), winter had yet to officially begin.

  Which meant we had a hell of a long way to go.

  One good thing was I seemed to have adjusted to the cold. Yes, I still wanted warmth and I continued to prefer shelter when it was particularly frigid outside, but I was able to handle going outside better than I had in the past, and being perpetually cold in my extremities was becoming more bearable. As long as I had a coat, a pair of gloves, and two pairs of socks on in addition to the other layers, I could take whatever the hell Mother Nature dished out.

  Of course, I remembered my aunt saying winters were hell until March…but I wondered if she’d mentioned if January and February were worse than November and December. Something was tickling my mind about that, but I honestly couldn’t recall what she’d said.

  Somehow, I thought it was close to Christmastime…but I had no reason to think that. It was just a feeling.

  I was chopping up veggies for a beef stew. Larry had said he was craving “meat—any kind of meat” and had gone through my aunt’s chest freezer in the garage. Just as we’d figured, all the food inside was still plenty cold, and Larry had found a package of cubed beef. That meat had inspired me to make a dish I used to make during winter months that my whole family loved. I knew I wouldn’t be able to remember all the spices and amounts, but I hoped I’d get close.

  First, I gathered the vegetables—onions, carrots, and potatoes—to chop, and then I’d take all the food to the fireplace and see what I could do. I’d already gathered a little flour for thickening and all the spices I thought I’d need, and that little act set me to reflecting once more—about how, in our modern world—we were so fortunate. If we four were stuck here the rest of our lives, how would we ever acquire spices again? I knew I could find wild garlic in these hills, but salt? Black pepper? Any other subtle (or pungent) spices I’d grown accustomed to? I somehow doubted that, if I wound up being stuck here for the remainder of my time on this planet, I would ever have access to the flavors of oregano, thyme, coriander, cumin, rosemary, paprika, cinnamon, and the like. I wouldn’t even know where to find them or how to grow them.

  I’d have to get used to the taste of food without them…and, having been spoiled by my life up to this point, I wondered how that would go.

  Maybe I’d adjust. I’d already forgotten how amazing homegrown food tasted until dining on it over the past several weeks. There was nothing like the taste of peas or carrots or corn from my aunt’s garden. Produce from the supermarket just couldn’t compare. These vegetables, even having been in cool storage for months or canned or frozen, had still captured the intense flavor that homegrowing had given them.

  I was lost in these thoughts when I felt hands on my shoulders. All my companions had been doing their own thing—Vera was upstairs bathing (after Larry had nagged her repeatedly for days, begging her to do it) in front of the small fire her husband had built just for her, and the men were outside, but I didn’t know what they were doing. It was a sunny day, and I’d seen them heading out and talking, but I didn’t know what they’d been up to.

  So, when I felt the hands on my shoulders, I was certain it was Kevin. He must have just come in from being outdoors, and it was nice feeling his hands on me. He was squeezing my muscles, helping them relax.

  Ah. I hadn’t felt that kind of a touch in years. There was nothing like it—firm but loving, its intent to work out the stress and pent-up emotion of the day. I closed my eyes and let my head drop forward, my neck bent. He took advantage of that angle and brushed my ponytail aside so he could massage my neck. I let out a breath, feeling much like cat curled up under a sunbeam, my human petting me and making me purr.

  “Mmm.” I half expected him to touch his lips to the skin there and I hoped he wouldn’t, because I was afraid of being caught by the Dingels. I don’t know why I worried about it, but I did. For some reason, I imagined it could cause some friction, jealousy, and mistrust.

  “When do you think the stew will be ready? We’re working up quite an appetite.” I froze. That was not Kevin’s voice—it was Larry’s. So many questions swam through my head, but the bottom line was this: his touch was inappropriate…and kind of creepy. Like his wife, though, Larry was beginning to feel a little unstable, and I didn’t know that outright rejection would work well.

  I sat up slowly and said, “Never if I don’t get these vegetables peeled and chopped.” I turned my head slightly to the side and he dropped his hands. I felt immediate relief. “What are you guys doing that’s making you so hungry anyway?” I finally forced myself to look up at him—and, while I didn’t like the look in his eyes, it was fading and he’d at least taken a more neutral position.

  “I lifted the tarp on the next couple cords of wood and saw that, even though they’re stacked, they’re not split. Those logs are too damn big to try to shove in that fireplace. We found an axe and a stump for cutting under another tarp, and we’re taking turns. One of us chops and the other stacks and unstacks.”

  I wanted to ask him what the fuck he was doing in the kitchen then, but I found a nicer way to word it. “So what’s your job right now?”

  He grinned. “I just got done chopping. Kevin’s at it now. I’ll be joining him shortly.”

  I drew in a deep breath through my nose. “You can let him know dinner’s coming along just fine.”

  I heard, rather than saw, him chuckle and then heard his boots cross the tile to the carpeted living room area before he walked back out the door. I hadn’t looked at him again, didn’t want to give away the fact that I was feeling vulnerable and creeped out. His response before leaving indicated to me that he might have known exactly how he was making me feel, and confirming it would only make me that much more a target. I didn’t want to take that chance.

  Later that afternoon, though, he acted like nothing had happened. He and Kevin said it was getting lots colder outside, but they’d managed to get through quite a bit and were trying to decide if they should do more…which meant they needed to discuss their thoughts with Vera and me. So, after the rest of us took our baths and then rejoined around the fire to enjoy dinner (which turned out to be one of the better meals I’d managed to make during our stay here), Larry
introduced the subject.

  I was blowing on the first spoonful of my stew when Vera asked, “So what’s this big news you guys wanted to tell us?”

  Larry shook his head. “Not news, Vera, but a realization.”

  “And?”

  Larry looked over at Kevin and nodded. I was next to him on the couch. He hadn’t yet picked up his spoon and I could tell this announcement—or whatever it was—had been gnawing at him all afternoon. He relaxed his jaw and sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils before speaking. “Larry and I had a long talk while working on the wood this afternoon, and we’re starting to think we just need to face facts.” I imagined his face dropping even more, as if his disappointment had grown simply by having to talk about it again, but he couldn’t find the words.

  Larry had no issues with it. “Ladies, it’s getting too cold and we’re having too much bad weather to keep trying to convince ourselves that we’re getting out of here before spring. We’re just not, and we need to face facts—conserve energy, make the most of what we’ve got.”

  Out of everyone, I hadn’t expected Vera to pipe up. “Bullshit.”

  Even in the low light of the living room, I could see Larry glowering. “Not bullshit, woman. What kind of progress do you feel like we’ve been making?”

  I could see her roll her eyes. “If you didn’t feel the need to kill every damned one of them, we might have found more people who weren’t infected.”

  That was news to me. I hadn’t realized Larry had been on a killing spree. Maybe it came as a shock to me because Kevin and I had—up until we’d found the solar-powered cottage and made love—told the Dingels all the details of our journeys. I hadn’t heard Larry once mention that they’d had to kill any infected, much less lots of them.

  “Well, what do you expect me to do? Just let them keep wandering around so they can find us here and attack us? That sound like a good idea to you?” When she didn’t answer him, even though he paused for several seconds waiting, he resumed. “Savage and I talked about it. You guys aren’t having any more luck than we’ve had as far as finding people or vehicles or gas or anything else, and—as bad as this weather’s been—January’s right around the corner and I guarantee the next two months are gonna be worse than what we’ve had. We need to focus on staying alive—water and heat—and, if a day’s really nice and we feel up for it, then great. We can explore. Otherwise, we just keep survivin’ till spring. Once spring gets here, we’ll have weather that we can survive in and more daylight. We could probably hike to Chipeta Springs once spring gets here.”