This Plague of Days Season One (The Zombie Apocalypse Serial) (15 page)

“At least he’s just a few streets away. Remember our phone bills from when ours was a long-distance relationship?”

“I remember. It was hell.”

“We thought it was at the time, sure. The plague wins first place in that competition.”

Theo looked at the pack of seeds in his hand, scanning for instructions and finding none. “How far apart should we plant these things anyway?”

“I have no idea,” she said.

He grinned. “Okay.” He bent and pushed a thumb into the earth and dropped a seed in. A couple inches over, he made an identical hole and dropped in two seeds, wondering if that would ensure growth or make the seeds compete with each other and die. “I’ll just have faith that it will work out,” he said.
 

“What if it doesn’t? What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then it doesn’t,” he said. “In the meantime, we have to watch what we say and,” he looked at her meaningfully, “what we listen to. The radio isn’t very helpful for much at all at the moment. Not for everybody.”

Jack said nothing. Instead, they planted sunflower seeds together, each mulling their own thoughts.
 

Jaimie watched them work from the dining room window. They had their backs to each other, he noticed, and their energies did not intermingle the way they usually did. He didn’t know what that meant, but he thought it was a good thing for his mother. Jaimie had watched the black specks in his father’s aura grow in vibrancy for the last several days. Their ominous strength would soon make them wasps in his father’s aura. That, he understood.

These are the lessons of Despair's Cafe

O
ver the next few days the temperature climbed. The air conditioner had been on all day, which made it easier to stay inside and laze, reading books. Theo and Jack convinced Anna to get off the phone in her humid bedroom and join them for a game of Monopoly.
 

Jaimie watched them count out each denomination of fake money, “checking my math,” his mother said. As soon as that was done, his eyes fixed once more on his dictionary and did not stray.

Theo peeked at the page and noticed his son seemed to be traipsing back and forth from the
Os
and the
Ms
. There was no pattern to the way Jaimie read the dictionary, or at least none that he could discern. Jaimie had been tested by experts, but his unwillingness or inability to communicate defeated most of the testing the doctors could muster. For instance, several doctors suspected selective mutism, while another few suggested he was merely “non-verbal” since selective mutism is an anxiety disorder.

It was getting dark when they finished their game and Jack announced that there was no way she was going to cook in the kitchen until the heat abated.
 

“I found treasure this morning,” she said. “I was checking out what was in the freezer and found a bunch of steaks. Let’s cook ’em up…or actually, you cook ’em up. We’d like some barbecue, please, Theo. Medium rare for me.”

“Steak? Really?”

“I know everybody’s skittish about cow but there’s no connection between North American meat and the Sutr Virus.”

“Maybe that’s just the cattle industry talking,” Anna said.

Jack rolled her eyes. “Let’s enjoy it instead of being paranoid. That meat has been in the bottom of the freezer for months, long before Sutr cranked up. Let’s eat it up before the cold burns it to a crisp.”

Theo groaned and went into the backyard to pull the cover off the barbecue. They rarely used it, so the propane tank was full. “Hottest April on record.”

“Look! Coming through the gate, walking across your patio! It’s Superman!” Mr. Oliver announced as he strode up. He put his hands on his hips and struck a heroic pose, puffing out his chest. “How’s your son, Theo? He pretty near knocked me on my ass the other day. I didn’t know he could talk.”

“He’s a man of few words,” Theo said.

“That’s the best kind, though I never developed that knack myself. What’s Jaimie’s story, anyway? I always see him with a book but — ”

“We really don’t know,” Theo broke in, speaking low. “When he’s ready, he’ll tell us.” He looked back and nodded at the open kitchen window. “The thing is, Douglas, you never know when he’ll be listening. I think he’s always listening, very carefully.”

The old man nodded and was quiet for some time before whispering, “Is he a genius in there?”

“He’s Peter Pan. Jaimie is the boy who lives in Neverland and refuses to grow up. He’s sixteen, but girls might as well be part of the landscape. To him, I think they’re like trees from the window of a speeding train.”

“That was true for me, too,” Oliver joked.
 

Theo returned a strained smile.

“Really. What’s wrong with him?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong with Jaimie. He’s different. For a long time I was very concerned with diagnoses and labels. Aspergers? Autistic? Who cares if it doesn’t help? Even the labels themselves change. They don’t call it Aspergers anymore. They say a person is ‘on the spectrum’. My son’s somewhere in his own little rainbow. If anyone insists on a label, I tell them he’s interesting. He is interesting, don’t you think? Whenever we go anywhere, he still holds my hand like he did when he was a little boy. The day he stops holding my hand is the day I die a little more.”

“Sorry,” Oliver said, embarrassed. “Um…to be honest I wasn’t coming over just to ask about my Superman fan. Did you hear the shots around dawn today?”

“Shots?” Theo shrugged.

“Gunshots, around five or so.”

“Are you sure? I would think we’d have heard that.”

“Well, it wasn’t like a big shotgun or rifle blasts. This was more like
pop, pop, pop!
A handgun. I heard a yelp or something, too, but when I went to the window and listened, I didn’t hear anything more.”

“Sure you didn’t dream it?”

“I’m sure. Besides, I wasn’t the only one who heard. Everything stopped, like the birds were listening along with me. It reminded me of the jungle. People don’t realize how loud the jungle can be. Get a couple howler monkeys screaming at each other and some birds chattering over tea and it’s bedlam. Then you fire off a few shots, everything stops to listen and wonder.”

“Where was that?”

“Bolivia, among other places, on business. I used to be a jewel broker.”

“S’cuse me for asking,” said Theo, “but how old are you anyway?”

“Seventy-three, next month.”

“You look closer to 60.”

“Good genes.”

Theo flipped a steak and the flame leapt up. “That looks good,” Oliver said. “Could I interest you in a little quid pro quo? The smell of barbecue lifted me out of my chair from across the street.” He nodded at the steaks sizzling on the grill. “That smells good and looks even better. I can feel the craving for meat in my eye teeth.”

Theo looked at the grill, taking his time to answer.
 

“I’m sick of canned beans and I’m running low. I’ve been out trading. All my silverware is gone, but I’ve got a few precious stones left or a diamond ring your wife might like, unless you’re into art. Honestly, that’s hard to trade this side of the south of France.”

Theo gaped at him. “A diamond? For a steak? Are you crazy?”

Oliver smiled, but not unkindly. “You are a lousy negotiator, friend.”

Theo moved his hands in a seesaw gesture. “Lousy negotiator maybe, trying to be a decent human being, maybe. How about I split my steak with you? They’re huge. This would be more protein than any Third World family would see in a month.”

Oliver nodded his agreement and patted his stomach. “All this sitting around is no good for my girlish figure, anyway.”

“You’ve been out trading? That hadn’t occurred to me. Tell me about that.”

“As a Sutr survivor who enjoys this lovely immunity, I feel some freedom I imagine others don’t. There’s little to do at home, so I go walking and see who I come across and what they’ve got of interest. All the stores are closed and the damn golf courses are too far away. Have you been watching TV? It’s as execrable as ever.”

“Not much. A bit of news and old reruns. I find
The Mary Tyler Moore Show
quite soothing in times like these.”

“Don’t blame you. There hasn’t been much new to talk about. I keep waiting for that old guy anchor on CNN to collapse. I’m not sure they give him time to take a pee. Catheter under the desk, you think?” The old man brayed. Theo joined his laughter.

“There was some news that’s actually new,” Oliver said. “A young actor in Hollywood — I didn’t actually recognize or remember the name — shot six paparazzi over a two day period.”

“Wait, the paparazzi were still
covering
him?”
 

“No, no. He hunted them down.”

“Interesting.”
 

“That may not be the worst part in the grand scheme of things. He hasn’t been arrested. It seems the police have bigger fish to fry than a celebrity serial killer.”

It took a moment for Theo to digest this fact. “When the world changes this much, you wonder how long it will take for it to change back.”

“Dunno,” Oliver replied. “How long did the Dark Ages last?”

“We’ve been pretty much on a media fast to avoid questions like that. I’m worried about my daughter especially. With the TV off, there’s less to worry about. What else have you heard?”

“Oh, you know, more talk about escalating tensions between Pakistan and India and Israel is on high alert. Britain is still blacked out.”

“Nothing new there.”

“Yes, except President Obama is pulling all troops home where they’re needed. They’re leaving Afghanistan, South Korea, Europe, Japan. Everybody’s called home.
Everybody
. Over nine-hundred bases around the world and they’re all rushing back.”

Theo picked up a set of tongs and piled the steaks on a big plate. “They’ve had those bases forever.”

Oliver leaned over and twisted the knob on the top of the propane tank closed. The barbecue let out a little pop as the last of the gas burned out. “I appreciate the steak, but I’d save the propane if I were you. You may want it later.”

* * *

While Theo and their neighbor spoke in the living room, Jack and Anna got out the fine china and wine glasses from the cabinet and put them on the dining room table.
 

As she set the table with the good silver, Anna asked why they were using the fancy plates.
 

“Because we never do. The last time we all sat together at the table like this was Christmas, I think,” Jack said.
 

“We didn’t use the china even then,” Anna said.
 

Most evenings, while Theo worked at the library, the big dining room table was covered with Jaimie’s dictionaries and Anna’s homework. They rarely sat to eat together as a family. The kids ate when they were hungry. Jaimie ate while he read. Anna pored over her homework or alone in her room, eating sporadically.
 

“We got this china when we were married,” Jack said. “We didn’t really need it. Nobody really does. Still…it’s fancy. If we’re going to be holed up here, we might as well make things as comfortable and nice as possible.”

Even as she laid out the gold-ringed plates, Anna said, “I’m not sure I like this. It feels like bad luck.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, exactly. It feels like a goodbye dinner,” Anna said. Her eyes were wet.

“Sweetie, at your age, everything seems significant. Don’t be superstitious.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Like you listening to the guy on the radio talking about how Sutr is punishment for our sins? You’re the queen of superstition. I feel like I should curtsy in your presence.”

Smiling, Jack said, “This is what I get for marrying an atheist. Eighteen and your father’s still got his hooks in your brain.”

“We’re not very evil, but I’d like to take this opportunity to point out that any time I disagree with you, you bring up my age. I’m supposed to be going to college next year!”

“I’ll try to cut back on the condescension if you’ll give me fifty percent less eye-rolling whenever I speak.”

“Deal. I can do that. Your condescension and my eye-rolling are directly related.”

“Sometimes I look at you and I think, yep, that’s Theo’s daughter. But am I really your mother?”

Mother and daughter laughed together. “Shall I get the young prince whom we all serve faithfully and who never has to set the table? Jaimie is perfect. He never rolls his eyes at anything his sainted mother says.”

“Yes,” Jack said. “Call the prince to dinner. Thank you.”

* * *

“Mrs. Bendham is doing quite fine, though sometimes I think she misinterprets my intentions,” Oliver said.

“Oh?” Jack said. “How so?”

“I’m not trying to move in now that poor Al’s gone. I’m entirely chaste, in fact,” he said.

“Doesn’t she know you’re gay?” Anna said.

Jack shot her daughter a look as Mr. Oliver chortled. “Actually, I think she believes her charms are powerful and, in these desperate times, how could I resist her lure? I wouldn’t be the first guy to succumb to loneliness. Any port in a storm.”

Anna shuddered. “Mrs. Bendham, no offense, is like a thousand years old.”

Jack rapped her fork against her wine glass, ringing it hard. “Weren’t you just lecturing me about not using your age against you just a few minutes ago?”

“It’s alright, Jacqueline,” Oliver said. “Mrs. Bendham
is
a thousand years old. But she’s not dead yet and whatever happens, we’re all young on the inside.” He smiled at Anna. “Hard to believe at this stage, I know.”

“Tell us about the outside world,” Anna said. “I’ve been staring at these walls so much I’m thinking weird thoughts, like how I’ll never live in a house with beige walls again. I’ll never live inside a house ever again when this is over. I want to go live in an open field so I can watch the clouds all day and not worry about what might be on the wind.”

Oliver said he’d been as far as the mall to the west and it had been looted and rifled. “There’s not an unbroken piece of glass in the place.”

“What were they looking for?” Anna said.