One Blink From Oblivion (28 page)

              Max walks to the nightstand and removes the photo. As he suspected it’s a portrait of the family on a better day. Mother, father and son are all dressed in white and sitting on the grass in front of a pristine lake that reflects its surroundings in a prism of light. Their faithful German Shepherd -donning a vest of some sort with what looks like a partial star on the side- lies at the feet of the father looking like a true companion and protector.

Did Max’s grandmother feel alone and doomed as theses people did? Was she calling his name as the infected broke into the house and ripped through her like rabid animals? Max searches his heart for anger or sadness in hopes of shedding some emotion that might make him feel more connected or human, but what he finds there is hope. For the first time since his conversation with his frightened neighbor, he realizes that somewhere down deep he can still feel her. When he tries to picture Big Mama without life –or even worse, infected- he can’t. She –like he- is a fighter. He knows now what must be done. With renewed purpose, he makes a vow to return to her no matter what it takes. He cannot –
will not
- allow history to repeat itself. He is no longer the frightened boy that could not save his mother from his dad and her own apathetic response to a dire situation. This time
he
was in control, and he would control the outcome of his own destiny and that of those around him. From this point forward, he will no longer react to a set of circumstances. From this point on the world will have to react to him.

              The glass of the picture frame cracks beneath his grip and he drops it to the floor. His jaw is clinched so hard that his cheeks are beginning to ache. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. Time to file all of that away until he needs it. Right now, he has a job to do. Max crosses the room to the open closet and goes shopping for more appropriate attire.

***

              Brooke is neck deep in the dark refrigerator looking for something tasty to ease her conscious. Not letting Max know about the small cut on her finger is weighing heavy on her mind. ‘Ahhh, produce!’ the sight of the baby carrots and fresh broccoli do the trick for the moment. Brooke forgoes the washing and gets right to the crunching. Over the sound of the carrots, she can hear the dog whimpering and scratching at the door. She wonders when he was last fed. She returns to the cabinets and commences a search for canned dog food. The first cabinet contains only a mismatch of different plates, bowls and saucers. With the second cabinet, she has a bit more luck. Peanut butter, cereal, granola bars, cans of tuna, pasta, dry rice and other essentials line the shelves from top to bottom.

              “Bingo!” she exclaims a little too loudly before clapping her hand over mouth.

              In hopes of still finding something a little better suited to a dog’s diet, she opens the final cabinet. In it, she sees two unopened cans of Pedigree beef and gravy. Great, now all she needs is a can opener. One by one she opens drawers until she comes across one filled with flatware. From it she removes two forks, two steak knives and two spoons. She puts those to the side and continues her search. The next drawer produces a stainless steel can opener as well as several large kitchen knives. She removes all of the contents from this drawer and places them on the counter. In the last and lowest drawer to the floor, she finds three flashlights and D cell batteries. The weight of the flashlights indicates to her that they are currently empty so she unwraps the D cells and loads two of the lights. The third one she leaves in the drawer. On the off chance that another traveler enters this place, after she and Max are gone, she figures it would be neighborly if they leave something here to aid their survival as well. 

              Brooke takes a bowl from the cabinet and places it next to a can of dog food. She opens the can and empties the contents into the bowl. The next trick will be getting it to the dog. Hopefully his desire to eat his usual food will be greater than his desire to eat her. Brooke fills another bowl with water from the sink. With food in one hand and water in the other, she tiptoes to the first door in the hall. She isn’t sure why she is tiptoeing but it feels like the right thing to do. Once there, she presses her right ear against the door and listens. The dog had grown quiet while she was rummaging for his and her food. Perhaps he instinctively knew for what she searched and was sitting patiently on the other side of the door in anticipation of a tasty treat. Given the food’s proximity to the door, he could surely smell it by now.

              Brooke sets the bowl of water down and places her right hand on the doorknob. She hesitates, what if the animal is actually waiting patiently on the other side to take her head off. The door opens inward so she decides to crack it slightly and gauge the dog’s temperament from there. She does exactly that and with the door partially ajar she can see that the animal sits on its hind quarters in the center of the room with its head cocked to one side, ears up and tongue hanging comically out the side of its mouth. Convinced that he poses no threat she opens the door the rest of the way and places the food on the floor in front of the Shepherd. She retrieves the water bowl and lines it up next to the food that the dog has already partially devoured.

              “Looks like you’re gonna’ need more food!” the dog –now standing on all fours- wags his tail in agreement.

              Brooke exits the room with the intention of returning with another can of food. Just outside of the door, Max -who is standing quietly in the hall just past the bedroom door- startles her. He is wearing a pair of loose fitting cargo pants, and a form fitting tank top undershirt beneath a red flannel shirt. His sleeves are rolled up to reveal muscular forearms and the shirt is unbuttoned just low enough to put his manly physique on display. The lumberjack look is one that Brooke had never seen or even imagined on him and she is surprised by the effect it has on her. Her sexual attraction for Max has just leapt into her throat and she finds herself speechless.

              Max adjusts the pistol that he has snuggled firmly behind the belted waistband of his borrowed pants. He wears a look of concern on his face.

              “What’s going on? Why is the door open?” Max indicates the door to the room where the dog now licks his bowl clean.

              “I was just feeding him. He is totally harmless. I found some dog food cans in the kitchen. I was just going to get him some more. Come see all the stuff I found.”

              Max approaches the intersection of the bedroom door and the hallway with much trepidation. Just because the dog had taken to Brooke did not mean that it would have a similar reaction to him. He peeks his head around the doorway and finds that the animal is already aware of his presence and staring in his direction. Max steps into full view of the door while unconsciously tickling the handle of the gun in his belt. The Shepherd stands and nonchalantly trots over to Max where he nudges Max’s dangling left hand.

              “Ahhh, look, he wants you to pet him.”

              A thin grin infects Max’s mouth and he complies with the dog’s wish. The dog morphs into one big wagging tail. It wags so enthusiastically that its tail and rear begin moving in tandem in a semicircular motion. Max kneels down and gives the animal a good scratch behind his ears. Looking into its eyes, he is suddenly reminded of the photo of the family next to the lake with the dog-sitting sentinel in the foreground. Now the animal has no one. Max’s grin fades. He gives the dog one final stroke on its head and stands once again.

              “Let’s see what you got.”

              Brooke is smiling widely at Max and the dog. It was rare for Max to show any affection toward an animal -especially a dog. She doesn’t know what has come over him but between that and his new look she is having a hard time keeping her mind on tasks.

              “Oh yeah, come on and take a look while I get him another can of food.”

              Max follows her to the kitchen and can’t help but notice a small amount of pep in her step. Something has apparently lifted her spirits slightly but he knows not what. He arrives at the kitchen counter where two flashlights sit face down and ready to shine. In front of him lies an open cabinet stocked with various sundries. He inventories the contents for a moment before refocusing on Brooke who is busy cracking open another can of dog food.

              “We’ll take the flash lights, peanut butter, cereal, granola bars and can opener. Leave the rest. Maybe you can find a backpack or something in the kids room while you change,” he reaches for the can, “I’ll feed the dog. We need to be out of here in five.”

              And just like that, it was back to business. Brooke gives Max a disappointed smile like a child who has been told that their drawing is adorable but it doesn’t belong on the refrigerator. She hands him the can and heads down the hall to the boy’s room. Max watches as she disappears down the dark hall. He can tell she was expecting something more from him but it would have to wait. Big Mama is in need so he must be in a hurry. He finishes where Brooke left off and opens one additional can for good measure –who knows when and where the dog would find food again. Max walks the food over to the bowl where the dog sits once again, patiently waiting. He can’t help but smile at the innocence of the animal. All they know is what they’ve been taught and this animal has obviously been taught impeccable manners. Max empties both cans into the bowl and watches for a moment as the dog goes to work on it.

              “I found this in the kid’s room,” an empty black backpack with red trim lands at Max’s heels, “will that work?”

              “Yes, perfect.” Max can tell that Brooke remains a little perturbed but he chooses not to address it.

              Once he turns, she stands in the doorway before him wearing vans, grey form-fitting skinny jeans and an oversized white t-shirt with the words
Phantom Menace
written across the front. She has tied the shirt into a knot over her left hip causing it to pull snug across her chest and revealing a trim waistline. Her hair has been loosely tied up on top of her head and secured with a number 2 pencil. After Max realizes his mouth is hanging agape, he closes it and takes a moment to wonder how a teenage boy could wear jeans of the sort before him. He has never been one for fashion. As a child, his style was street-rat, which he eventually traded for athlete. As long as it didn’t get in his way and it stood up to his regime he could wear it. Brooke on the other hand, had a laid-back fashion sense. Although one might expect her to wear all the latest trendiest gear given her family name, she actually did most of her shopping at discount and thrift stores. She had a way of throwing together the simplest of ensembles and making it not only work, but also turn heads. It is one of the many things that Max loves about her. The fact that she could look so sexy without ever looking like she was trying was an incredible and irresistible turn-on. 

              “Are you okay?” Brooke asks and Max discovers that although his mouth is now closed he is still staring.

              He manages to return his gaze to her face from her hips and is embarrassed to find a knowing –though slight- grin on her face.

              “Yeah, you’re good, I mean I’m good.” The rare misstep by Max makes Brooke laugh openly.

              Max reaches down for the backpack and searches the pockets to confirm its emptiness.

              “Time to pack.”

              Max and Brooke head to the kitchen and load the bag with the flashlights, a couple of the more menacing knives, a roll of duct tape he scavenges from under the sink and as much food as it would carry. For now, the tap is still running so they will chance drinking as needed along the way in lieu of packing heavy water. Max slings the pack over his left shoulder and puts one hand on the small of Brooke’s back.

              “I’ll leave the back door open for the dog. We may need someplace safe for retreat. Running back here will probably be faster than breaking in somewhere new. Plus, the dog can come and go as he pleases.”

“Ready?” he asks her.

              “Let’s do it!” is her reply and Max ushers her toward the back door.

***

              Max and Brooke walk quickly and quietly down the alley between houses. Occasionally they pause to listen for footsteps behind them or any sign that someone -or something- might be stalking them. With the exception of one shriek from a distant infected, so far it seems as though they are alone. They keep conversation to a minimum, which suits Max as he tries to wrap his head around the absence of Vinny and the possibility of an infected Big Mama.

Up ahead the familiar rumble of the chain dragging Jeep can be heard. Tires screech, as the vehicle comes to an abrupt halt. Yelling arises from the direction of the street so Max and Brooke duck between two houses for better access to what is being said.

              A gruff commanding voice can be heard clearly, once the jeep’s engine is silenced, “Looks like we found ourselves another one of those filthy fuckers. Whose turn is it?”

              Another voice, smaller and less sure than the first, “Mine, but I don’t know guys. He doesn’t really look that infected. Maybe he hasn’t been bit.”

              “Bullshit!” the gruff voice commands again, this time his thick southern drawl is distinctive, “You got to get them before they fully change and get too strong and fast. This one here is
ripe
.”