by AJ Powers
Malcom didn’t want to think about that and shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Exactly. Because there’s no right answer to that question. I tried to choose the least wrong of the bunch, but it turned out to be the worst possible choice I could have made.” She reached for the nearly empty bottle again and dumped the remaining liquid into her cup. “And the things I said to her this morning, Malcom… I mean, I am truly an awful mother.”
“You’re not.”
“Yes. I am,” she refuted. “I mean, for crying out loud, I told my daughter that I thought about killing myself several times after shooting her father. And that came right after telling her that he cheated on me for years, and…” her voice trailed off and she shook her head in disbelief before tossing back the rest of her wine, swishing it around for a moment before swallowing hard. Setting the cup down between her and Malcom, she continued. “It’s just… the last couple of days have been nothing but one shitty reminder after another of just how terrible I am at this whole parenting thing. And, honestly, I’m not sure how much more of it I can handle.”
“You can handle it. And you will. Because you don’t have a choice.”
Tessa grunted. “Thanks for the pick-me-up, Malcom.”
“Look, obviously I haven’t known you all that long, Tessa, but I know a fighter when I see one. I look at you and see someone who has faced more than her fair share of demons in the past, and yet, here you stand, continuing to fight. You refuse to give up, no matter how bad things get. And that’s one of the main ingredients to a damn good mother.”
Tessa looked down, her cheeks turning red. “Thanks,” she said, this time without the sarcasm.
Before Malcom could follow up, Tessa leaned in to kiss him.
Malcom reflexively leaned back, the gesture just as shocking to him as it was to her. Tessa was attractive, even if she was a few years older than him, and she wasn’t inebriated enough that he felt he would have been taking advantage of her if he followed through. And, truth be told, the way the soft glow of the moon was hitting her face almost convinced him he was looking right at Cameron a few years into the future.
But she wasn’t Cameron.
He was still mourning the loss of his wife, not yet ready to move on with his life. Hell, just a few days ago, he was about to punch a ticket for the one-way trip to the hereafter. But now… now he was charged with getting someone else’s family safely to Texas through a nation of dead men walking. His head was still spinning from the sudden shift in his life, and he just wasn’t in a place to get close to another woman.
Tessa slowly pulled away, her lips still slightly puckered as her eyes opened, looking at Malcom with a hint of shame.
“I’m sorry, Tess, I just—”
“No. No, I’m the one who should be sorry, Malcom. I’m so embarrassed. I mean… Shit, uhm,” she stammered over her words as she abruptly stood to her unsteady feet. “I’m such an idiot. I uhm… I should really go check on the kids and probably get some sleep,” she said, stumbling toward the door. “G-g-goodnight, Malcom,” she added before sneaking back into the cabin.
Alone with his thoughts, Malcom puffed his cheeks and exhaled slowly as he analyzed the awkward moment in his head. Cameron was gone, and logically speaking, he knew he wouldn’t have been unfaithful to her if he allowed Tessa’s intoxicated advances. And if it was just merely a physical connection, he might’ve gone through with it. But it wasn’t just about having a primal outlet after a stressful two days. It wasn’t just that he was attracted to Tessa. It was the bond that already started to form between them. The kind of bond that takes years to develop, or, maybe countless near-death experiences over a span of forty-eight hours. And, judging by some of the looks she gave him, he suspected her feelings were similar to his own.
Though his mind was still muddled with plenty of thoughts that ordinarily would keep him up all night, the effects of the cup of wine were starting to show. Malcom’s muscles relaxed, and his eyes grew heavier. One by one, the problems and questions plaguing his thoughts fell away, and before long, he fell asleep to the gentle sounds of the water lapping off the sides of the boat.
Chapter Twenty-Three
23 – Near Westport, Kentucky – May 29th
Still humiliated from the moment of impulse the other night, Tessa spent most of yesterday trying to avoid Malcom on a boat that wasn’t much larger than her master suite back home. Her best option—and the one she decided to run with—was to feign a nasty hangover, giving her an excuse to evade small talk with him throughout the day. Technically, she hadn’t been lying. She had been battling a bit of a headache from her overindulgence, but on a scale from one to ten, it had been maybe a three. She had opened chest cavities with numbers higher than that.
About halfway through the day, Malcom tied off at a boat ramp and went up to the road to collect more fuel. It took him a couple of hours to siphon enough gas to fill the engine tank as well as the generator tank, but it was worth it. They no longer needed to rely on battery-powered lanterns to see what they were doing in the cabin at night. And the addition of the desk fan greatly improved their comfort. Without air conditioning, the cabin was stuffy, and sleep was difficult. Though Malcom didn’t want to burn through the gas just to keep the cabin at a comfortable seventy-two degrees, they did run the AC just before bed last night to take the edge off the stifling humidity. The chilled air, in conjunction with the drone of the fan and the soothing sounds of a coyote repeatedly being crushed to death by a roadrunner, made sleep come easily for everyone. The good night’s rest, the first in many, many nights, helped Tessa feel a bit more energetic this morning.
“TJ, make sure you eat your lunch,” Tessa said.
With all his energy focused on absorbing the flickering pixels and shrill sounds coming from the flat-panel TV on the wall, the toddler was only able to grunt out a response.
Tessa turned and looked at Naomi, who was over halfway through the novel she started reading the other night. “You okay, kiddo? Want some more food?” Tessa asked with a soft-spoken voice. Naomi responded with in irritated sigh, her eyes never leaving the book. “Okay, well, let me know if you need anything. I’m going to go get some air outside.” Shirking off the parental frustration, Tessa grabbed a pack of bison jerky then filled an empty water bottle from the bucket of filtered river water in the corner of the cabin before stepping outside into the blinding light of day.
She clamped down on the pack of jerky with her teeth while she climbed up to the steering deck.
Malcom looked over his shoulder as she pulled herself up to the platform. “Feeling better today?”
“Much,” she replied as she stood to her feet. She held out the smoked meat and water to Malcom. “Thought you might be hungry,” she added.
“Starving,” Malcom replied, eagerly snatching the items from Tessa’s hands. “Thanks,” he said while ripping the bag open.
Malcom took a pinch of the beef and dropped it into his mouth, flooding his taste buds with an ungodly amount of salt. It was amazing. The leathery strips were the first morsels of food to touch his tongue in nearly twenty-four hours. He woke up with a sour stomach yesterday morning, which he tried to attribute to the wine, but he knew better. It likely had more to do with the near miss with Tessa. And, as if reading his thoughts, she began to speak on the matter.
“Listen, Malcom,” she started reluctantly. “I just wanted to apologize for the other night. I really don’t know what the hell came over me, but that… that wasn’t me. I mean, it was me, and I did want you—I mean, shit. Uhm, I, mean I wanted to kiss you, but uh...” she trailed off before exhaling with frustration, a fresh dose of embarrassment hueing her cheeks.
“It’s all good, Tess. No need to apologize,” Malcom reassured.
“But I do, Malcom,” she said, supporting her weight on the rail. “I mean, for God’s sake my husband hasn’t even been dead but two months. And your wife…” she trailed off, quickly steering away from that particul
ar topic. She was struggling to recall the words she repeatedly rehearsed over the last day and a half, now that she was face-to-face with him. “My husband and I had a bit of a tumultuous marriage. You and he were nothing alike, but I can’t tell you how often I wished he was more like… well, someone like you.” The rose of her cheeks deepened, but she was all in now; no turning back. “Honestly, had I met you first, I wouldn’t have even taken a second glance at Trent.”
Malcom shifted uncomfortably in his seat before sputtering, “Pffft,” and waving his hand toward her, “Whatever. You wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me. I was just a blue-collar steelworker living paycheck to paycheck,” he said, trying to remove some of the awkwardness from the conversation.
“Eh,” she shrugged. “I pulled in almost half a mil last year. I could have been your sugar-mama,” she said with a slight chuckle. But her smile slowly faded as she continued to put her cards on the table. “I think it goes without saying that life has been quite the rollercoaster for me lately, but two nights ago, with a little help from the wine, I allowed myself to be vulnerable with you. Because I felt safe. I felt safe for the first time in years, which is strange given the current state of the world,” she said, gesturing at an infected man hobbling along the banks on the Indiana side of the river. “And, honestly,” she paused as she thought about it, “I don’t think I ever truly felt like that with Trent, even during the good times. I always felt like I needed to keep my guard up around him. But, with you… I somehow reached that point after just two days. Which was why I leaned in for that kiss. To be honest, it was a bit like watching myself from outside my body. I didn’t realize I was doing it until after it already happened.”
Tessa’s words only added to Malcom’s internal confliction, giving him even more to chew on. But even if he could reconcile his devotion for his late wife and the possibility of going down that road with Tessa, now was not the time. If—and that was a big if—he managed to get to that point, the discussion would have to wait until they arrived at the safe zone in El Paso.
“Anyway…” Tessa continued. “I just wanted to clear the air and put all that behind us. I’m sorry if I made things uncomfortable for you in any way. I guess if I had been happily married for so many years like you had been, maybe none of this would have happened.”
She looked over at Malcom, hoping he would say something, but he remained silent as his attention remained focused on the water ahead of them. “Or, I guess maybe I would have anyway. I don’t know…” she faltered. “Good grief, you must think I’m batshit crazy.” She laughed, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand as she let out a groan, wondering just how much further she could drive her foot into her mouth.
“Not at all…” he quickly responded, but after a moment he pursed his lips and tilted his head. “Okay, maaaaybe just a little.”
Tessa burst out with laughter, allowing the embarrassment from the conversation to melt away. After the much-needed lighthearted moment passed, Tessa redirected the conversation. “So, where are we?”
Malcom unfolded the atlas he picked up at the store back in Carrollton and looked around at the terrain surrounding them. He traced his finger along the river on the map, whispering to himself as he tried to recall how many bends and turns they took since the last checkpoint he marked off. “If my calculations are correct, Louisville should be around this next bend.”
As they rounded the bend, Louisville’s skyline came into view. The tall buildings, suffocating in a layer of haze that hung heavy in the sky, was the first major city they passed since leaving Cincinnati. Malcom’s senses were already spiked as they approached the largest city in Kentucky. He felt confident they would be safe in the boat, especially from the infected, but over the past few days, he learned firsthand that the infected were not the only threats to their wellbeing.
Tessa wore a contented smile as she looked at the skyline from afar. “I love Louisville. Did a transplant there once and decided to make a long weekend of it. I stayed at this old Victorian manor that had been converted into a bed and breakfast,” she said gleefully as she thought back to the weekend. She laughed for a moment before adding, “And, I kid you not, I actually managed to get in contact with the owners and asked how much they’d take for the place.”
“Career change?” Malcom asked.
“More like a retirement investment,” she replied, her mind lost in a different time. “I would have moved there in a heartbeat if it hadn’t been for Trent’s job.”
“That sucks.”
Tessa shrugged. “Everything happens for a reason, I guess. You ever been?”
Malcom nodded. “Yeah, once. A long time ago with my dad. I think I was, like, eight or nine, maybe. Honestly, I don’t remember a single thing about the city, but I can practically recall every second we spent inside the Slugger museum.”
“Slugger?”
“Louisville Slugger.”
Tessa cocked her head as she gave Malcom a dumbfounded look. “What’s that?”
“Seriously? You’ve never heard of Louisville Slugger?”
“I’ve heard the term before. Is it like some sort of bug museum or something?” she asked.”
“You’re… you’re kidding, right?”
Tessa cracked a smile before letting out a snort. “You’re a gullible man, Malcom. Of course, I’m messing with you. What person could grow up in Cincinnati and not love baseball? Hell, I actually have a signed Ken Griffey Senior bat hanging in my office back at work,” she said, her smile quickly fading when the images of the bat were replaced by bombs flattening the city. She wondered if, somehow, the coveted sports memorabilia managed to survive the devastation.
Malcom chuckled as he pulled back on the throttle and adjusted his course to avoid a mass of floating debris up ahead. “Yeah… you had me going there for a minute.” He scoffed, “Bug museum…” as he shook his head.
The jokes and laughter quieted, and the boat fell into an ominous silence as they drifted past Louisville. Tessa gasped in shock as the quaint downtown setting she fell in love with years ago transformed into a scene out of a war movie. Though it wasn’t given the same treatment as Cincinnati, the destruction was disturbing all the same. Scorch marks licked out of the windows of more buildings than she cared to count. There were abandoned military vehicles all over the streets, including an M1 Abrams and an IAV Stryker that were blocking off the John F. Kennedy Memorial Bridge. Building façades crumbled from small-arms fire and 105mm tank shells, and bodies littered the waterfront parks and Riverwalk. It was a dreadful sight that would only add to Tessa’s already harrowing nightmares.
Infected on both sides of the river quickly ran to the water’s edge as the Tessa Marie drifted by. Angry wails and hungry moans filled the air as several of the infected dashed into the river, their lust for blood usurping any rational thought that might still be lingering in their heads. But they never stood a chance of reaching the boat before the air in their lungs was replaced by silty water, sinking their bodies to the bottom of the river.
Plunging from the Clark Memorial Bridge, more infected splashed into the water as the boat drew near. Malcom jammed the throttle forward and steered away from the mounting group of infected waiting for their chance to Stuka bomb the approaching vessel.
“Malcom watch out!” Tessa shrieked as a woman threw herself off the bridge at the Tessa Marie.
Malcom had no time to react before the woman’s head smacked into the metal railing on the bow of the boat, nearly decapitating herself in the process and leaving behind a spray of blood on the hull. The horrific metallic twang of the impact made Tessa cringe, forcing her to turn away. As a surgeon, she saw more than a few cringeworthy sights, but that was among the worst she ever witnessed.
Just more fodder for the nightmares.
Chapter Twenty-Four
24 – Near Wickliffe, Kentucky – June 3rd
The convergence of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers was relatively uneventful, which was
better than Malcom hoped. The surface was a bit choppier, and the current was noticeably stronger, but all in all, the transition was a smooth one. And he was extremely grateful. Malcom had been powering through a headache since Paducah, and his normal treatment plan—four ibuprofens followed by a thirty-two-ounce chug of water—was proving ineffective. Tessa offered him some more potent drugs, but he didn’t want to cloud his judgment while piloting the boat. Nor did he want to be in a mental haze while they were docked, just in case things went kinetic. But he was reaching the point where the pain was creating just as much of a fog in his head as narcotics would, so the offer was looking a bit more appealing with every throbbing second that passed.
With the exception of a few fighter jets roaring by—Malcom wasn’t even certain they were American—and the occasional infected barking at them from land, the past few days were almost boring. At times, Malcom felt as if they were the last four people on the planet. It wasn’t all that bad at first, since he and Tessa used the time to get to know each other. If for nothing else, learning about every high—and low—of her career helped pass the time. But once TJ started ralphing up everything that hit his stomach, Tessa spent most of her time down in the cabin, slowly nursing the toddler back to health.
The boy was doing much better this morning, but he wasn’t ready to give up the undivided attention his mother had been giving him the last couple of days, so Malcom expected he would, once again, spend the day navigating the boat in total silence.
Malcom perked up with excitement when he heard the door to the cabin open, but it wasn’t Tessa climbing up the ladder.
“Hi, there,” Malcom said, sounding surprised.
Naomi grunted out a hello as she pulled herself up to the platform.
“Surprised to see you out here.”