“What makes you so damaged?” He still
hasn’t told me what happened to his mom.
“My story ain’t nothin’ new.” His hand
clenches the gun in his lap a little tighter and he purses his lips, making him
suddenly look more like Angus. “Dad left when I was a baby. I grew up in a
trailer park, and my mom was a drunk. She spent her time either neglectin’ me
or smackin’ me around. Nothin’ that really gets a whole lotta sympathy these
days.”
“You want sympathy? Doesn’t really seem
like your style.”
His eyes grow hard. Darker than before.
Like the clouds that fill the sky right before a tornado hits. “Hell yeah, I
want sympathy. My mom didn’t pass me off to strangers and I wasn’t locked in a
closet to starve, but I been through plenty. I deserve it. I can’t tell you how
many times I had to make my own dinner, how many times I had to walk home from
school in pourin’ rain ‘cause my mom was too wasted to remember she had a son.
I’ve been bruised and neglected, and I deserve to have that acknowledged. Never
got it, though. Social workers came, took me away for a few days, only to send
me home soon as mom sobered up enough to show up at the office. My situation
wasn’t bad enough to warrant help.” He glances over toward the tent. “Angus
looked out for me, when he could. He was in juvie a lot, but when he was home
he taught me how to be tough.”
My stomach twists into knots, and a sour
taste fills my mouth. It’s a sad life if that’s the only role model you have.
“I think your situation is worth
sympathy,” I whisper.
His eyes soften. A small smile tugs at
his lips. “That says a lot, comin’ from you.”
I sit up straighter. “What’s that
supposed to mean?”
He tilts his head to the side and purses
his lips again as his eyes pierce mine. I squirm. It’s like he’s reading my
mind. Like he knows all my secrets.
“You got a little experience when it
comes to baggage. If you’re willin’ to give me sympathy, that’s somethin’ at
least.”
He’s smarter than he gives himself
credit for.
My throat tightens. I swallow and jump
to my feet. Talking about myself isn’t something I usually do. “I’m going to
get some sleep.”
The idea of climbing into that tent with
Angus is less than thrilling, but right now it seems better than sitting here
with Axl.
WHEN
I OPEN MY EYES it’s still dark, but I’m alone in the tent. I’m still wearing
Axl’s flannel shirt. It smells like the outdoors. The brothers’ muted voices
drift through the canvas walls. That must have been what woke me. I pull out my
cell phone and push a button so the screen lights up. It’s only a little after
four in the morning. Did Axl get any sleep?
I crawl out from under the blankets and
pull my shoes on. Axl was right. I didn’t dress for travel. All I have are
silly shoes like these: three inch wedge heels with open toes. Cute, but
totally impractical.
“Mornin’ sunshine,” Angus says when I
crawl out of the tent.
They’re sitting around the campfire
chatting. That’s it.
“Why are you up already?” I yawn as I
drop into the camp chair next to Axl. “Did you get any sleep?”
“Some.” He shrugs like sleep doesn’t
matter. “I don’t sleep much.”
I wonder why.
“You get enough?” His tone is still
blunt, but there’s a softness to it that wasn’t there yesterday. Like having me
around doesn’t piss him off anymore. Good. Maybe we can be civil toward each
other from here on out.
Angus looks back and forth between us,
and his eyes narrow. “You two get a little too friendly last night after I
turned in?”
Seriously? Axl’s nice to me and Angus
immediately assumes it’s because we had sex. Right. Like I’d ever be into Axl.
He’s everything I’ve been trying to run away from. Well, not everything. It’s
not like he’s Angus or anything, and he’s good-looking, I guess. But still, I’m
not going to sleep with the guy!
The longer I think about it the hotter
my face gets. Angus is an ass.
I open my mouth so I can tell him to go
to hell, but Axl beats me to it. “Shut up, Angus,” he says.
“Don’t tell me to shut up, you little
prick. I got the right to know if you’re screwin’ her. I ain’t gonna have you
ditchin’ me for some two-bit floozy just ‘cause she was willin’ to open her
legs for you.”
My whole body is hot now. I jump to my
feet. “Back off, Angus. I didn’t screw your brother and I have no intention to.
Just like I have no intention of screwing you!”
Axl flinches. Why? Did I hurt his
feelings? I didn’t mean to, but I’m not going to let Angus cause problems where
there aren’t any.
That little vein on Angus’s forehead
pulsates. He and I stare at each other. The longer I hold his gaze, the bigger
his vein gets.
Just when I think Angus is going to
explode, Axl bolts from his chair. “Shhh! Did you hear that?”
My heart leaps to my throat. I clamp my
mouth shut. What am I supposed to be listening to? Axl clutches his gun tighter
and my heart—still lodged in my throat—pounds harder. Then I hear it.
Footsteps. Definitely human.
“Who’s there?” Angus pulls his gun from
the waistband of his pants.
None of us move. My hands clench and I
bury my nails in my palms. If only I had my gun.
“Don’t shoot!” a quiet male voice calls.
His voice shakes.
All three of us turn toward the sound.
It only takes a few seconds before I make out the figure of a man walking
toward us.
“Put your hands in the air and approach
real slow!” Angus raises his gun.
Axl raises his too. He’s tense, but
calm. Whereas every visible muscle in his brother’s body stretches tight. Angus
looks like he’s ready to explode.
“Okay. Just don’t shoot.”
The man steps forward with his arms
raised high. He’s tall and thin, lanky. It’s hard to tell if he’s a kid or a
man. He has brown hair and a plain face. Forgettable. He’s the kind of guy
you’d see huddled over a desk at the library on the weekends with dozens of
books piled around him.
The firelight glistens off the beads of
sweat on his forehead. Why’s he sweating? It isn’t hot, so he’s either very
nervous or he’s sick. The urge to run is so strong my legs twitch. I take tiny
step back. As if a few more inches of space between us will somehow save me
from the virus if he is infected. Right. A slightly hysterical laugh bubbles up
in my throat, but I swallow it down. It almost chokes me. He can’t be sick. He
can’t. Other than the sweat he looks fine. He isn’t coughing or hunched over
like he’s weak.
The guy’s eyes dart back and forth
between the brothers. His hands shake. It makes me nervous. “I’m clean. I
swear. Don’t shoot me!” he says.
Not sure if I trust him. People aren’t
trustworthy. My life is proof of that.
“You got travel papers?” Axl demands.
The guy nods so fast he reminds me of a
bobble head. “I do. I’ll get them. Just don’t shoot.”
“Shut up!” Angus growls.
The man slams his mouth shut and slowly
reaches into his back pocket. I tense, half expecting a weapon. But it’s a
piece of paper, just like he said.
“Here.” He holds it toward the brothers
with a shaky hand.
Axl steps forward and jerks it out of
his hand. He unfolds it.
“They’re real ‘nough.” He glances back
toward the guy. “Where’s your car, Joshua?”
Joshua shakes his head, and a bead of
sweat runs down the side of his face. He swipes his hand over his forehead,
wiping his brow. His eyes are huge. He’s still shaking, but now that I’ve had a
second to look him over, I don’t think he’s sick. He’s so scared of the guns
he’s about to pee his pants. “I ran out of gas. There was no one to help. I’ve
been walking since this morning and no one stopped.”
“Where’s he goin’?” Angus asks. He
hasn’t lowered his gun.
“Says Arizona.” Axl gives the papers
back to Joshua and looks at his brother. “Put the gun down. You think this
kid’s gonna overpower us?”
Angus grunts, but lowers his gun.
“Now what?” Axl asks his brother.
He’s not infected. Turning him away
seems like a shitty thing to do. “We could give him a ride,” I say.
The brothers both look at me like I’m
insane.
“You gonna volunteer our car like it
belongs to you?” Axl says. All the softness from a few minutes ago has
disappeared, like a puff of smoke on a windy day. Poof. “Angus an’ me’ll decide
what we’re gonna do with this guy.”
Guess I’m back on the outs.
Axl shakes his head like I’m the dumbest
person he’s ever dealt with. It stings, but I shrug so he doesn’t know. “Just
an idea. Doesn’t hurt my feelings.”
He spits, which hurts even more. What
did I do to piss him off so fast? Angus grins at me, of course. He’s just
loving how quickly Axl’s soft side—what little there is of it—disappeared.
Our little spat doesn’t affect Joshua,
who suddenly looks like we just offered to give him the answers to the
universe. “If you give me a ride, I can pay you.”
“Is that right?” Angus says.
Angus must be dumber than he looks.
What’s he going to do with money if this really is the end of society as we
know it?
“Exactly what you gonna pay me with?
You’re money’s gonna be worthless when all this goes to shit.” He waves his
arms in the air.
Okay, maybe he isn’t a total moron.
Joshua bites his lip. “I can buy you
supplies. Food, whatever you need. Whenever we get to the next gas station.”
“Ain’t a bad plan,” Axl says to his
brother. “We’re set on survival gear, but we can never have too much food and
water.”
Angus nods. “‘Kay. You got yourself a
deal. But I’m going to tell you the same thing I told sugar tits over there.”
He jerks his head toward me and takes a step closer to Joshua. “My car, my
rules. Got it?”
Joshua bobs his head so hard I’m afraid
it will give him whiplash. He looks ridiculous because his hands are still in
the air.
“Have some self-respect,” Axl says. “Put
your hands down. Nobody’s got a gun on you.”
Joshua lowers his hands and shoves them
in his pockets.
“You want coffee?” Axl asks me, barely
glancing my way.
I nod, and he gets to work making coffee
with a fancy-looking coffee maker. It’s similar to something you’d see in a
person’s kitchen, only it says Coleman at the top and has a small propane tank
at the bottom. It looks expensive.
“Takes about fifteen minutes,” he says
when he lowers himself into the chair next to Angus.
I take the third. Joshua stands
awkwardly off to the side. He hasn’t moved from that spot since he put his
hands down.
“You’re makin’ me nervous,” Axl says.
“Take a seat.”
There aren’t any other chairs, so Joshua
takes his backpack off and sets it down. He sits right on the ground and
awkwardly crosses his long legs.
Angus watches Joshua wordlessly,
spitting into his soda can every so often. I have to turn away. Watching him do
that makes my stomach turn.
“So what’s your story?” Angus finally
asks.
Joshua shrugs but looks down, like it
hurts to think about it. “Trying to get home. Just like everyone else on this
road.”
“Not everyone.” Angus spits again.
Joshua cringes a little and looks away
from Angus, toward the fire. “I lived in Baltimore, moved there four months
ago. When this got bad I tried to leave, but we were already on lock-down.”
I sit up straighter and so do the brothers.
“You’re from Maryland?” It’s so close to New York. So close to where all this
started.
“It was bad where I was. I can’t imagine
what it was like in New York.”
“When did you get locked down?” Axl
asks.
The shadows created by the fire cut down
Joshua’s face, drawing his mouth into an exaggerated frown. He reminds me of
the Joker. “Eight weeks ago maybe. It was earlier than they’re saying on the
news.”
I stare at him, speechless. The news
reports said only New York was locked down that early. Everything else was open
until martial law was declared. They lied.
“Shit.” Angus shakes his head. “I told
you them bastards was lyin’ to us.”
Axl’s mouth scrunches up like he wants
to spit. “Good thing I listened and we got the hell outta there when we could.”
I ignore them and lean closer to Joshua.
“What was it like?”
He swallows. “Bad. I know I already said
that, but…I just don’t know how else to put it. There aren’t words. All
nonessential businesses were shut down, hospitals were overrun, and they had to
set-up temporary clinics in the schools. People were literally dying in the
streets.”
My stomach twists. “You said ‘were.’ So
it’s contained now?”
Angus and Axl stop talking.
Joshua sniffs. “No. It’s not contained.
It’s more like everyone who was going to die from it already did. This thing is
weird. Only about seventy percent of the population is affected by it. The rest
of us are immune.”
“So you’re immune?” He must be. He has
papers.
“Yeah. I passed my physical exam. And
trust me, if I was going to get it, I would have.” He looks up, and his eyes
bore into mine. “I was at the hospital there in Baltimore, working in the ER.”
“You’re a doctor?” A big smile spreads
across Angus’s face. Once again he reminds me of a chimpanzee.
“First year resident. I saw it all first-hand,
and let me tell you, it wasn’t pretty.”
My head pounds. I run my hands through
my hair, then massage my scalp. This can’t be real. “Has it spread then?”
“Yeah, it’s spread. I mean, they’re
doing what they can. They’ve been cremating the bodies and putting cities on
lock down, but it’s an impossible task. No matter what they do, someone is
going to sneak through.” He sucks in a slow breath, like breathing is
difficult. “This whole thing, the travel papers and check points. It’s all for
show. They know it’s going to sweep across the country and there’s nothing they
can do about it. Seventy percent of our population is going to die from this
virus. Whatever it is.”
“How do you know all this? You’re just
some ER doctor, you don’t work for the government or nothin’.” Axl narrows his
eyes at Joshua like he doesn’t trust him.
Axl actually has a point.
“I understand your suspicion, and you’re
right. I’m nobody. But we had doctors from the CDC with us at the hospital. I
became friends with a woman who worked for them. She got sick and told me all
this before she died, so I could go see my family before it was too late. Just
in case they’re not immune.” His eyes are damp and he looks away, clearing his
throat. Probably doesn’t want to cry in front of the brothers. Not that I blame
him.
“I’m sorry,” I say. I guess that’s the
good thing about not having any family to lose.
Joshua wipes his eyes with his sleeve
while he looks us all over. “So you all passed your physicals, right? Where are
you from, what cities?”