Among the Living (14 page)

Another man steps close and looks at the camera and then back at the body, which is struggling to its feet. “No way! That guy was dead!”

The ‘dead’ man is on his feet in a flash, and I can’t believe anyone can move that fast. He springs forward and clasps one of the women to him. She is dressed in a halter top, and he tears out a chunk of her shoulder near the strap. Silence for a half-second as if the parties involved can’t believe what they are seeing. She screams and thrashes against him. Hands flail, finding his face and neck. This isn’t real! The guy digs in like a dog tearing at a flesh-covered bone.

One of the men tries to pull the guy off, but he doesn’t have a firm grip. His face is screwed up in dread, and it is obvious he is trying to avoid touching any blood. What the hell is wrong with that guy? Is he really worried about a little blood on his clothes while a woman is being killed? “Goddamn moron,” I mutter, and Erin squeezes my shoulder.

Then a smaller man steps up to the plate and grabs the attacker by the shoulder and neck. He pulls back hard, but he hardly budges the man. Screams make the microphone crackle as the pressure pushes the tiny diaphragm past its limit.

The crazy spins around and backhands the woman’s would-be savior hard enough to break bones. He seems unable to stay on his feet, let alone strike that hard. There is a gurgle as the thin guy falls, his jaw probably broken. Then it is chaos as the entire group attacks. Someone gets the bright idea to grab a piece of wood from the ground. He lifts the branch high and uses a big overhand blow in an attempt to dislodge the biter. He screams, and for a second I wonder who is more insane—the guy they thought was dead or the enraged man.

The attacker is down, and it’s all jumbled camera angles as the participants jostle and run into each other. There are screams and then the camera turns to the woman who was attacked, and I can see that huge pieces of flesh are missing from her chest. Blood streams out of her wounds, and I want to yell at the screen that someone needs to stop the flow.

She kneels on the ground, hands pressed to the wound, then she falls over, and her body spasms a couple of times before going still. There are gasps and more than a few ‘oh my Gods.’ It is silent, and I wonder if they managed to stop the crazy guy. Then, to my horror, the woman opens her eyes, and they are just as blood-filled as the crazy man’s had been. There are more screams, and the screen dissolves into a scattered bunch of pixels as the cameraman takes off running. Then the image snaps to a close, and the screen goes black.

Erin reaches over and hits replay. I’m too shocked to stop her, so I watch the video again. Because the quality is so low, I feel somehow detached from it, as if the video is from a movie trailer and the action is staged. I think of the bad movies I have seen where mindless creatures roam in search of brains, but what I have seen is nothing like that. She leans over me, hand still on my shoulder. Her breath on my neck makes the hair there stand up on end. The madness spreads, and goose bumps erupt all over my body. It’s probably the video that freaks me out. I want to concentrate on the screen, on the horror I am witnessing, but all I can think about is Erin.

“Why don’t they do anything?” she breathes against me again. I can feel her breast on my shoulder, and the sensation is insanely erotic. Erin keeps chipping away at my resolve. Does she mean to? She is smart and beautiful, fun to be around, and she can tell a dirty joke like a sailor. If she were mine, I would never let a bad thing happen to her.

I click off the video in frustration and wait for her to move back. After a second, she does and I stand up. She doesn’t move away, and I’m forced to stand face to face with her. She doesn’t say a word, just stares at me expectantly. I want to say something. In fact, as I study her face, I have an overriding desire to take her in my arms and crush her to my chest. I want to taste her lips. I want to smother them in mine. But I worry that others are looking, and I move around her with awkward steps.

“Why do you hide, Mike?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know.”

“No I don’t. I don’t hide.”

“The way you look at me sometimes … I wish you would say what you’re thinking.”

“I can’t, I ...” and I don’t know what to say. Why is she doing this to me? Am I supposed to tell her how attracted I am? Tell her how broken I am inside? She can’t understand, she can’t know how deeply she affects me.

There it is: the gorilla in the room that is my hidden feelings. I wish I could just tell her, but the words don’t come. “Let’s talk after work,” I manage and then walk away with my dignity somehow intact.

I can feel Erin’s eyes boring into me as I try to keep my cool. She is tempting me at every turn; everything I do seems to draw her attention today. What if I am being a fool and she has feelings for me?

I’m still unnerved by what I saw on the web. That video was a nightmare. I mentally draw a map to the parks I know in Seattle, realizing that it could be one of dozens. I go to Jim’s office to tell him what I just saw, but he isn’t there. He must have gone home early. I have done enough research for the day and decide to call it quits as well.

I swing by Leonard’s, and when I walk into his office, he looks up at me and nods his head. “Told ya so.”

“Okay, that was some weird shit. Is it real?”

“Did it look real? ‘Cause I don’t know how you fake stuff like that unless you have a movie studio. Even then, it’s unlikely anyone would go through that much trouble for a hoax.”

I sigh. “Then you have a short memory, my man. Remember the Bigfoot guys a few months ago? Got a gorilla suit and then killed some small animals and put the guts in the freezer with the suit?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“How about the UFO video in Peru last year. That kid put it together on his home computer and had a million YouTube hits in a day. If you’re asking if that video could be a fake, then I have to say yes.”

“Okay, but you have to admit there is some craziness going on in the city right now. Like the big gas leak that no one is talking about. I find it a little hard to believe they don’t have that thing under control yet, and I heard military trucks are moving into the city. Not a couple, either. A lot.”

That gives me pause, but I’m not ready to concede the point just yet.

“You can say that crazy stuff is happening any day of the week. We have constant terrorist threats, pirates near Indonesia, swine flu, but you know what I think now, man? I think there is a big conspiracy to create a panic for no other reason than to …” And I trail off because Leonard is no longer looking at me. His attention is pulled away from me and shifted past the office window to the street outside.

I turn, expecting to see a couple of college girls wandering by in shorts; few things distract him like girls in skimpy outfits. But all I see is a camouflaged truck passing by filled with men in Army garb. Then another truck rolls by followed by a Humvee. We both go out to the front door to look, and the trucks swing right as if they are heading for Denny Avenue.

“Told ya so.” He grins. “You were saying … something about a panic?”

“Well hell.”

“Yep, my weird-shit-o-meter just hit pay dirt. I’m going home to watch the news.” Leonard grins again.

* * *

I thought I was brushing her off when I said we should talk later, but Erin has other ideas. She starts closing up shop for the day as soon as I do. Computers off, papers straightened, bags packed. I keep looking over my shoulder as I get ready to leave, and she keeps smiling at me with that lovely grin she has that reaches her eyes and crinkles the edges.

“Ready?” she asks, and I nod. We leave together, and I feel like everyone’s eyes are on us.

Cars tear up and down Denny like they are on fire. Everyone wants to beat that long light at the bottom of the hill. The sun is still up, and it is cooking the city to the mid-eighties. We stroll past a dog park, and when I look back at a German Shepherd lying on her back, I catch a glimpse of Myrtle Edwards park and think of the video we watched earlier. With a shudder, I turn my attention back to the road.

We walk past Bandits, a tiny place I have dropped into for a quick drink and some amazing queso on late nights. If her condo isn’t much farther, we can walk to Fourth Avenue and find a restaurant. I think, Flying Fish is nearby and start to crave fish tacos.

I try some small talk as we stroll toward my bus stop, but she has different plans. “So Mike, why don’t you swing by my condo with me. I’ll change, and we can go grab a drink.”

Unsure what to say, feeling like I have been called out, I nod and try not to look too much like a lost puppy dog following her. So much for escaping to my comfortable and nonexistent life. She has told me that she lives close to work and—truth be told—I would like to see her condo, see the other side of Erin, not her work-self. I suspect I get the real deal from her every day. She is very up front, and I have always appreciated that about her. I don’t have to play games, and I normally know where I stand … At least I did before I had the bright idea to ask her out tonight in my half-ass way. I haven’t been out in a while, and maybe if I have a drink or three, I can explain to Erin why I shouldn’t date. Maybe I can tell her that I find her attractive but can’t risk getting involved while Rita is sick.

Another side of my mind, the side that has a little devil perched next to my noggin, asks why I can’t see her. Is it my fault Rita can’t cope with reality and turns to booze to make it through the day? To hell with it, I’m going to play it cool and see what happens. I feel sad for Rita, and I miss Andy terribly, but I have a responsibility to see myself sane.

“Did you see the trucks earlier?” I offer as small talk. She takes full strides up the hill, and I struggle not to show her how out of shape I am.

“Yep, National Guard,” she says.

I look at her with raised eyebrows.

“Had a boyfriend who was in. I remember the uniform.”

“I never pictured you as a gun-wielding leftist.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I have lots of secrets.” Then her stride increases so that I have to shut up and pant to keep up. She takes her sunglasses out of her blue purse and puts them on. She wears a shade of lipstick I didn’t notice earlier, dark red, almost burgundy, and with the sunglasses, she looks like a movie star.

Away from the madness of Denny Avenue, the streets are quiet this evening. We stroll past an espresso place that has closed up for the night. A few cars race along Second, and we wait at light after light as we walk across Broad Street. There is a Mexican restaurant I love just around the corner. I point it out, and she says she eats there all the time. Well, strike one.

She smiles as we walk on a now-flat surface, so I catch my breath and chat about nothing in particular. She offers jokes and sarcastic remarks in return, keeping me on my toes as usual. At last I realize that there is nothing going on here, we are just two work buddies on the way out for the evening. Just like a couple of guys, except for the fact that my ‘buddy’ has an amazing sense of humor, is sweet, thoughtful and has a knockout body.

We arrive at her door, and she slides some sort of keycard into a slot, then the door clicks and she pushes it open. The entryway is tiny, just a hallway with mail slots and elevators. She hits ‘up,’ and we wait.

“Nice building.” My voice is inane in my head as if I were observing a cloud passing by. She nods and explains that this particular company has a waiting list for most of their complexes and especially this location, but she lucked out by knowing someone who was moving out.

“It is very close to work. I bet you get your beauty rest.”

“Do I need it that much?” She smiles at me in that charming way she has, that disarming grin that makes me speechless.

“Er, tell me what to say and I’ll say it.” I chuckle.

“Hmm, then tell me I’m already beautiful.” And once again we are on ground that is outside my comfort zone.

My mouth doesn’t seem to understand this, and I look at her as the elevator door dings and say, “You are always beautiful.”

What the hell did I just say?

The door starts to shut, but neither of us moves to stop it.

“Well thank you, Mike. That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me.”

I break her gaze by hitting the button again, and I’m rewarded with the door opening right away. I reach out and hold the sides to keep it open, aware of how stupid it looks since we don’t have anything with us that would take a while to load.

The elevator takes us to the sixth floor, and then we are at her door. I struggle with the need to say something, anything, but she just stares at me. Her eyebrows are arched up, and under her attention, words fail me.

Her condo is small, just a one-bedroom, but it is very tidy, and she has done things to make it seem larger. The entryway has a mirror on the wall just as you enter, and the walls are white. The floors are hardwood, but they give a little with each step, and I wonder if they are Pergo, the soft material that looks like wood but doesn’t need to be finished or sanded. Rita always wanted that in the house, but we never seemed to have time for it.

“Welcome to mi casa. Make yourself at home.” She motions to the living room, which can be crossed in about three steps. There is a tan leather couch with a Persian rug in front of it, and on this is a delicate glass table on wicker legs. She has a bowl of fruit that looks about as real as plastic can.