Authors: Emily Goodwin
Padraic had fallen asleep in the old armchair, its white, velvet cushions yellowed from age. His blanket had fallen to the floor. I picked it up, gently draping it back over his body. I stumbled into the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light. The house was quiet, and, on my way back to my room, I paused at the top of the stairs. Muffled voices floated in my direction. Satisfied someone followed through with keeping watch, I went back to my room.
“
Orissa?” Padraic asked.
“
Yeah?”
“
Oh, just making sure. I didn’t know where you went.”
“
I had to pee. Sorry, doctor, I didn’t know I needed permission.”
“
No, that’s not what I meant. I thought maybe you—”
“
What, wondered away in a confused haze?”
“
Something like that.” I heard the chair creak as he sat back down. “Does your head hurt?”
“
Of course.”
“
How else do you feel?”
“
As good as I can. Stop worrying, Padraic. I’m fine. I know where I am, who I am and what happened.”
“
I’m a doctor. It’s my job to worry.”
“
Well, it’s annoying.” I stuck my feet under the covers. “Why don’t you find a bed and get some sleep?”
“
That sounds wonderful. But it hasn’t been twelve hours yet.”
“
I’m sure it’s close.”
He sighed, stood and left the room. I didn’t have time to process the hurt look that pulled down his face before I fell asleep again. It felt like only minutes passed before Raeya gently shook me awake. Through the closed, ivory curtains weak sunlight filtered in the room. Good. I was up before the sun rose.
“
What time is it?” I asked her, slowly sitting up.
“
Probably after five.”
“
I haven’t been up this early in a long time. We should get an early start today though.”
“
Oh, Rissy, it’s five in the evening.” She bit her lip, looking guilty.
“
I slept all day?”
“
Yeah. You needed it.” She sat next to me. “I made dinner. It’s not a good dinner, but it’s warm and filling.”
The talk of food reminded me of how hungry I was. I stood too fast and my vision blacked out. Raeya grabbed my arm, steadying me. “I’m ok,” I assured her. “This has happened before, you know. It’s not from the concussion.”
“
Ok,” she said with a pressed smile, not looking convinced. “I can bring dinner up to you, if you’d like.”
The offer was tempting, mostly because it meant I could stay up here and not have to deal with anyone. Knowing I would have to face them eventually, I followed Raeya down the stairs. The stairs emptied into the family room. I began to feel a little dizzy as I walked through the room, past the bathroom, and into the foyer which then led to the dining room. Everyone had crowded into the dining room. The breakfast table had been set in there too, so that all ten of us had a place at a table. The aroma of dinner was strong, making my stomach growl.
I sat at the head of the table; the spot had been reserved for me, and dug into the bowl of rice and beans in front of me. Raeya had done well, making the best of what we had. We ate in an awkward silence. Conversation seemed so trivial now. I noticed that Lisa’s cough lessened and Zoe’s worsened. Hilary asked Lauren to help her clean the kitchen after dinner. Lauren objected, wrinkling her nose at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.
Deciding to leave the room before I smacked Lauren, I opened the basement door. My bare feet had just graced the cold cement when Padraic plodded down the dusty, wooden stairs after me.
“
Anything good down here?” he asked.
I pulled the string to turn on the single lightbulb at the base of the stairs. “See for yourself.” To our right, shelves were lined with cans of beans, home-canned veggies, and bags of rice. “We’ll have to check the dates. I’m sure more than half expired years ago. My grandpa liked to be prepared, but the last few years weren’t good to him.”
I crossed the basement, my heart speeding up in excitement. I ran my hand along the wall, feeling for the switch. Bright, fluorescent lights hummed to life. To the untrained eye, only my grandfather’s model train collection sat before me, displayed on pine shelves. I picked up a red boxcar, unlatching a secret lock. It strained my weak body to pull the hidden door back.
“
Holy shit,” Padraic swore. I couldn’t help but smile at the awed shock on his face. When I turned back to what was in front of me, I felt like I was looking at an old friend. I reached out, running my hands over the cool metal. “You really aren’t a government agent?” he asked, unable to take his eyes off the weapons.
“
You’ve seen too many cheesy American action movies,” I said as I ran my eyes up and down my grandpa’s impressive collection. “The M240 is missing,” I muttered to myself.
“
Is that bad?”
“
It was one of my grandpa’s favorites. If he took it, then he must have killed a lot of zombies before he got out of here.”
“
Got out of here?”
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To a quarantine—a real one.”
“
You think he’s there?”
“
He better be. He’s a veteran. They at least owe him a safe place to live out his last years after all he did.” I eyed several other empty spots. Along with the machine gun, an assault rifle, two hand guns, a machete, and several knives were missing. At least my grandpa was well armed. I picked up a Berretta M9, the lights gleaming off the shiny black metal.
“
Is it legal to have some of these?” Padraic asked, eyes fixed on a machine gun.
“
Hell no. It doesn’t matter anymore though, does it?” I loaded the hand gun, clicking on the safety. It was a habit to stick it in the back of my pants. Forgetting that I had on ridiculous pajamas, I reached behind me. With a sigh, I set the gun down. I scanned over the selection of hand guns, looking for one for Padraic. “I’ll start you with a .22, ok?” I grabbed a box of bullets and extended them both.
“
Ok…uh…what is this?”
“
Aren’t doctors supposed to be smart? It’s a gun.”
“
I know that, Orissa. Why are you giving it to me?”
“
Shit, I must be concussed,” I said laughing. “I’m going to teach you how to shoot. Target practice.”
“
In the dark?”
“
There are flood lights out there. And zombies attack at night.”
“
You want to teach me?”
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Yes.” It would be so much easier on me if I wasn’t the only one who could shoot a zombie in the head from farther than a foot away. “I think it’s a skill we all need to learn now.”
“
Orissa,” Padraic said in a tone that immediately struck a nerve. “Really think about this, alright. We haven’t been outside yet and you want to make a lot of noise, teaching me how to shoot.”
I blinked. Now that he said it out loud, it was a stupid idea. “Yeah. We should explore first.”
He took the gun from me, setting it down on a table (which housed precariously placed pieces of model trains and paint brushes). He put his finger under my chin and lifted my face to meet his. He leaned in close. He had thick eyelashes protecting his intense blue eyes.
“
You’re still concussed.”
“
No I’m not,” I insisted.
“
Yes. One pupil is dilated and the other isn’t. Plus, your decision making isn’t up to par.”
“
I’m fine.”
“
You’re a liar,” he said, smiling. His face was still inches from mine. He blinked, causing his long lashes to come together and I shivered. “Come on, let’s get ya back into bed now.” I grabbed the M9, bullets, and a machete. Padraic helped me shut the heavy doors.
“
Don’t tell anyone about this, ok? Raeya knows, and now you do, so if there is an emergency take what you need but I don’t want…” I trailed off, not knowing how to phrase what I was thinking.
“
Anyone to go gun happy?” Padraic suggested.
“
Exactly. Like I said, guns are more than point and shoot. I don’t want anyone hurting themselves or someone else.”
“
Good idea.” Padraic nodded approvingly and put his hand on the small of my back. Through my thin pajamas, his skin felt so warm. He ushered me upstairs, telling me that the more I complied with resting, the faster my body would heal.
I spent the next three days on bed rest. No one dared to venture outside without me, and Padraic only let Argos out a few times a day, always keeping him on a make shift leash to ensure the dog wouldn’t run off. With help from a concoction of pain killers Padraic gave me, I was able to sleep almost twenty-four hours a day for the first two days. I was convinced that he overdosed me on purpose to keep me calm and in bed. By day three, I couldn’t reason taking any more medication and was bored out of my mind. Raeya spent the morning with me, talking and catching up on everything we’d missed since the last time we saw each other.
Zoe kept me company that afternoon. She seemed nervous, her eyes constantly shifting to the doorway like she was afraid someone was going to pop in and yell ‘boo’. Wanting to save gas, we had the heat set low. It was uncomfortably cold in the house. Zoe got under the covers, sticking her cold feet under Argos’ warm body. She had unearthed my grandma’s scrapbooks. There was a scrapbook for each year of my life until I was eighteen.
Starting from my baby book, we flipped through them. I hadn’t looked at the books in years. They brought on a happy pain, reminding me of how simple things used to be.
“
You look sad this year,” Zoe told me.
“
Yeah, I guess I kinda do.” I closed the book, noticing for the first time that all of my ‘sad photos’ coincided with my parent’s divorce. “It was a rough year for me.”
“
What happened?”
“
My dad left us.”
“
Oh. That would make me sad too.”
“
It hurt my mom more. But, hey, it was a long time ago. And look,” I opened the next scrap book. “I’m smiling here.”
“
And on a horse! Can you still ride?”
“
Yeah. It’s been a couple years but it’s something you don’t easily forget.” Zoe turned the page. There I was again, sitting on the back of a scrawny, buckskin horse, beaming up at the camera with an oversized cowboy hat sliding down over my eyes. I put my finger on the picture. “That’s Sundance. He was my first horse. I went with my grandpa to the auction that spring. He let me pick out a horse and I picked the skinniest, ugliest, most pathetic looking horse there.”
“
Why would you do that?”
“
I wanted to show everyone that you can turn something hopeless into something beautiful.”
“
Did you?”
“
Turn the page.” I waited while Zoe skimmed the pictures.
“
He is beautiful!” she gasped.
“
He really was. He was a huge brat though. I got thrown off of him more than any other horse.” I laughed at the memory. “But my grandpa always told me it made me stronger, getting up after each fall. He never let me give up and just put Sundance away. I was sore and scared and I thought he was being mean at the time.”
“
But he was, wasn’t he? If you fell from your horse, you were hurt.”
“
Yes, but never that badly. You see, Sundance was lazy. He didn’t like being worked. Every time he bucked me off, it was in hopes of getting to go back to the barn. If I put him away after I fell, he’d learn that bucking equals not being ridden.”
“
Oh.” Zoe turned to the next page. “Is that your mom?”
“
No, that’s my aunt.”
“
She looks like you.”
“
Yeah, I look more like my Aunt Jenny than I do my mom. She’s my mom’s younger sister.” I felt a knot form in my chest when I thought about Aunt Jenny. I closed my eyes for just a second and prayed she was alright.
“
She’s pretty, like you.”
“
She is. And thanks.” We continued looking through the books. Zoe loved the picture of Raeya and me as awkward teenagers; she couldn’t stop laughing. Then her laughs turned into coughs and soon she was tired. She objected when I suggested she take a nap. She got out of bed and told me she had something important to do but I needed my rest. She shut the door when she left the room. “Strange,” I said to Argos.
Not able to sit still for any longer, I showered, put the stupid pajamas back on and set out to find clothes. Along with my room, there were two other rooms upstairs. At one point, my mom and Aunt Jenny had lived in those rooms. They have long since been turned into guest rooms with empty closets. Well, mostly empty. I went across the hall and into the nearest spare room. Stashed behind closed doors was a box of odds and ends my grandma didn’t want to part with and old toys that were too good for attic or basement storage. There was an ironing board, a sewing machine, old purses, backpacks, books, and lots of scrap material. I went through the purses and backpacks, thinking it would be useful for everyone to have their own bag to fill with survival supplies.
The next closet housed my grandpa’s hunting clothes. The camo jacket I had worn years ago still fit, though the sleeves were a little short. Nevertheless, I pulled everything from the hangers and carried it back to my room. I’m sure the boys would be able to fit into this stuff. I imagined Padraic as being preppy in style. I don’t know why, since I’d only seen him in scrubs and clothes he found in the apartment complex. I didn’t think he would so much as roll his eyes at the camouflage and boots; no, he was too agreeable for that. Still, I didn’t think he’d like wearing something like this.