The No Where Apocalypse (Book 2): Surviving No Where Page 5

  She put her clothes back on, wrapped her robe tightly around her body, and even placed her stocking cap back on her head. Then she did what she considered to be the worst of all, she crawled on the couch next to a dying man.

  “You were naked,” she stated, long nasal breathes trailing her words. “And the only place to sleep was next to you.”

  “You could have put clothes on me,” I countered. “I mean, at least some kind of pants.”

  She stopped her pacing and narrowed her eyes at me. “I had to look once, I wasn’t looking again. You can put those sweatpants on now that you’re awake. But wait until I leave the room, please.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. And I really was. “This all sounds just awful for you.”

  Her head cocked right and a smirk rose. “Oh I haven’t gotten to the worst of it yet.”

  Oh goody, what else happened?

  I wasn’t sure how much worse things could have been for Violet. But her increased pacing and a slight lip tic warned me I wasn’t going to be proud of myself.

  “Two nights ago,” she began, refusing to make eye contact now, “I woke up to you groping me, mumbling some name.”

  Wait, groping? That didn’t seem possible. And the only dream I recalled was with…oops.

  “Did I happen to say the name Shelly?” I asked, making sure my tone sounded sincere and contrite.

  She nodded, glaring at me while she did.

  “My wife,” I confessed.

  “Do you grope Shelly in your sleep often?” she spewed, letting me know she was not thrilled at all with any of this.

  “I doubt I groped you. I probably just wrapped my arm around you.”

  Three quick steps and she was above me. “You wrapped your filthy perverted arm around my chest and didn’t let go.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, raising my good arm. “Forgive me; I was passed out.”

  Her narrowed eyes studied my expression, hopefully what she found would acquit me of any harm. I mean come on; there wasn’t much there to grope. Add to that she was wrapped in three layers of clothing.

  “I slept with my jacket on as well last night,” she said, her eyes finally loosening. “Get your kicks somewhere else. I’m not interested.”

  “Neither am I, Violet. It’s just unfortunate you keep getting stuck in these situations.”

  She laughed, but it was maniacal instead of happy. “Maybe you can quit trying to get yourself killed. And maybe you can bathe more than once a year.”

  Her tone told me the worst was over. She was a tough kid, raised by a tough —yet kind and caring — mother. She was all right; she just needed to get her rant out in the open and over with.

  “It’s been five days,” she informed me. “I’ll make dinner tonight; make sure you take your pills. In the morning I’ll go get Mom and my hell will be over.”

  I gave her my best smile. “You’ve done good, Violet — again.” Something in her eyes made me weary. “What?”

  “Maybe tomorrow morning you can sit up and I’ll cut your hair and beard again. You’re looking a little shaggy.”

  “Think I got lice again?” I joked, running my fingers through my hair.

  “God no,” she said, stirring something on the stove. “I may not have relished the idea, but I checked you from head to toe before I ever laid down next to you. Thoroughly.”

  Yeah, she’d been through enough, for a second time.

  Year 3 - early summer - WOP

  Several months were needed before I was back on my feet after my gun battle. Luckily, my friends took turns checking in on me, feeding me, and helping me get around. Lettie made the three-mile walk several times, even if it was just to scold me for being careless.

  Dizzy helped me chopped wood. Well, he did the chopping and I slowly carried two pieces at a time to the back of the cabin. It was the best I could do with a side still aching from the healing wound.

  “Thought you bought the farm that time, Bob,” Dizzy said, during one of his many breaks. Though he’d lost a good hundred pounds the past 20 months, his stamina was no better than before. “Glad you made it through, gives me someone to talk to.”

  Wiping sweat from my face, I caught my breath. “I would think having a woman now you’d never need anyone else.” I knew better, but still liked picking on him.

  “You know how that goes,” he admitted, taking a spot on a nearby stump. “Some days are good, even great. Others…”

  Yeah, I‘d been married for a while before all of this. He didn’t need to tell me how it worked.

  “I mean the boy’s fine,” he continued. “Me and Nate are thick as thieves. But sometimes Marge gets moody and I don’t know what to say. We can be going along just fine, then not a word for a day or two. When I ask her what’s wrong, she just always replies nothing.”

  I stared at him for several quiet moments. We’d known each other since The Darkness, as Joe called it, had taken over, but I didn’t know anything about his experience with women. Other than his propensity for girlie magazines.

  “How many women you dated in your life, Dizzy?”

  He shrugged, twitching his lips back and forth. “Three, maybe four,” he answered, sounding unsure about the number. Or perhaps the definition of dating.

  “Ever been serious before?”

  His head shook several times and I noticed his well-trimmed hair. Violet had been after his scalp as well as mine.

  “Just Marge,” he admitted. “I gotta tell you, the sex is pretty darned good sometimes.”

  My hands shot up to stop him. “Please, if you value our friendship at all, you won’t go any further.”

  “But that’s the problem,” he continued. “Every time we’re…well, you know… intimate, the girl is all pouty for the next few days. And that makes Marge all pissy.”

  I needed to talk to Lettie. In my mind, Violet’s room had to be too close to Marge and Dizzy’s. The poor girl would be scarred for life if she weren’t rescued soon.

  “Try being a little quieter,” I suggested. “It might help.”

  His grin spoke volumes. “Well, it ain’t always me, you know.”

  Again my hands shot up. “Just don’t be overly lovey-dovey around Violet. She might not be ready for her mother to move on yet. You understand.”

  He laughed at something I said. “The girl hated her father. And I think you know all about that.”

  I moved closer, hoping the subject would end soon. “Just be gentle and considerate around her. It’ll probably help Marge as well.”

  Dizzy stared at me. There was more it seemed. “The girl’s got her own issues with guys.”

  Shit. That meant Violet was still seeing her mystery man from miles away. “Which Wilson brother is she sweet on?” I asked.

  “That’s the problem, they’re twins. Almost impossible to tell them apart.” Dizzy chased away a fly. “I think she’s seeing both of them.”

  Great, not one budding young love, but a pair. “You tell her mom?”

  “Marge already told her about the birds and the bees,” he stated, grabbing a drink of water from the pail. “But Lettie says she’s too young for all this stuff. Nothing good goes on in the woods when two young people are alone. Maybe you could—”

  “Not a chance.” I cut off his thought faster than I’d lost my left pinkie. “We survive together, but that’s it. I want nothing more to do with her besides getting patched up.”

  Dizzy gave me a funny look; one that told me I was wrong about something. “I heard her tell Nate you were her best friend out here. Said you were the only man she trusts now.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “I’m not giving a teenage girl love advice, Dizzy. No how, no way.”

  And that was the end of that subject. So I thought.

  Year 3 - early summer - WOP

  She stared at me harshly, waiting on an answer I wasn’t giving…ever.

  “Well?” she picked up. “Is it true?”

  Why she was here at my place, no less tha
n two weeks after I made it clear to her mother’s boyfriend I wanted nothing to do with this, was beside me. But, there she sat; looking at me like I was Doctor Ruth.

  “I’ve forgotten the question?” I replied, trying to sound distracted.

  She sighed and then took a deep breath. “I wanted to know—”

  “Never mind,” I interrupted hastily, “I remember.” I wished I didn’t. Further, I wished I were stuck somewhere else in the middle of all of this. Somewhere miles away from uncomfortable visitors and questions.

  I tried several times to give my reply, but the words kept getting stuck somewhere between my brain and lips. After more than a few starts, I glanced away unsure of how this would be received.

  “Yes. Sometimes people kiss and use their tongues.” There, I said it; my answer was simple enough—straightforward and plain. No further questions needed.

  “And it’s gross, right?” she asked, trying to draw my attention back.

  “Hardly,” I vented. “It’s just…the way it happens sometimes.” Please quit asking questions, dear girl. I promised to give her a million dollars if she stopped. Mind you, money was worthless, as was I.

  “And you should wait until you’re 20 to do it, right?”

  Where in the hell were these questions coming from? I spun and poised myself for a great response.

  “Grow up, Violet,” I stated in a plain tone, “it’s how it works.” Okay, perhaps that wouldn’t ever be classified as a ‘great response.’ “You really need to talk to someone else about this,” I hinted. “Like your mom or Lettie.”

  She huffed showing her displeasure with that answer. “Mom gets all scientific about it and wants to talk about safe sex. Ew, gross. Lettie says nature takes it course and there’s no need to ask how or why. So that’s two in the no column. I’d rather talk to Nate than Mom’s bed partner about it. So you win.”

  Oh Yay, I won.

  “Are you seeing someone in particular?” I asked. I peeked at her, trying to gauge her reaction. “Or are you just asking for future reference?”

  She considered my question with a yawn. “Several someones.”

  Great. Just as Dizzy had thought. “Do you happen to like one more than the other?”

  “It’s hard to tell them apart,” she answered. “They’re identical twins. The only way I can tell them which is which is by the way they kiss.”

  I gawked at her slack jawed. “Really?”

  “Yeah, the one rams his nose into mine when he leans in and the other tips his head to the right a little.”

  My gawk continued. “Really? You don’t know their names?”

  She shrugged. “One is Jim and one is John.” Her tone was so matter of fact. “Once they lean in, I know who I’m dealing with.”

  I was amazed, simply amazed…and slightly stunned. While I hadn’t considered it before, one thing still rang true. Even in the apocalypse, in the middle of No Where, men and women, boys and girls were still interested in one another.

  Dizzy and Marge were proof of that. As were Violet and Jim, or John, depending on the approach.

  “Oh yeah,” she stuttered. I hoped this wasn’t more on the current subject. “One of them told me their dad does some trading with people up in Covington. And according to their dad, Covington didn’t come through the winter very well.”

  Though I had barely survived the past months myself, I already knew of Stuart Callies death, thanks to Joe. However, her nodding held more. And this subject I wanted to hear more about.

  Year 3 - early summer - WOP

  Several nights later, we sat as a group at Lettie’s enjoying the warm summer evening. The bugs had abated for a bit, and we were able relax in the evening breeze out back.

  “About a hundred people,” Lettie stated, her eyes twitching as she spoke. She looked older to me, perhaps a little slower than the previous fall. “That’s all that’s left in Covington. If Thaddeus Wilson is to be believed.”

  Whistling at the number, I checked the faces in our group. Lettie’s jaw was set; this was the way things were and that’s all there was to it. Dizzy and Marge simply stared at their hands, not bothering to offer much in return. Violet nodded; she was the one who had heard it first.

  Young Nate played in the dirt at the back end of the large garden, digging worms. He and Dizzy had a big fishing trip planned for the next few days. It even included a tent and the pair spending a night together in the woods.

  As much as I never thought I’d admit it, Dizzy was a pretty good father figure; actually a damn fine one. This was just another example of the apocalypse bringing out the best in people.

  “According to Jim,” Violet added quietly, “they’re low on food up there.”

  “The fish camps have hit a drought,” Dizzy stated, finally joining the conversation. I noticed his hands were entwined with Marge’s. “Water’s too warm or something they claim. At least that was what Wilson heard from people in town.”

  “They had the fever last fall and winter,” Marge said. Gazing at me, she smiled a half-smile that showed some life. I felt her eyes hid something she wasn’t telling…not just yet. “Killed most the people up there. That’s why their population fell so quickly.”

  That was expected if the Reverend Joseph Smith was to be believed. He reported to me that any urban area was susceptible to such a plague. The fever, as most called it, was either the flu or some type of airborne illness laying ruin to what mankind had worked so hard to build.

  “Why haven’t we had this fever yet?” I asked, glancing at Marge for her input.

  At first she shrugged, followed by a sigh. “Well, there’s very few of us for starters. Add to that, we’re reasonably well fed. The same can’t be said for any nearby cities.”

  “Food and medicine are all but gone out there,” Lettie added, waving her thin frail arms at the trees. “What doctors are left can’t help much without modern medicine. It’s taken a year, a little more actually, but now we see just how vulnerable mankind was to something like this. No one knows how to do anything anymore. All that people did was use, not create.”

  Lettie’s words were the honest truth. I was the prime example. At first, hunting was foreign to me. If Marge’s husband hadn’t gutted my first deer I might have still been there trying to figure the process out. And it seemed as if very few knew much about gardening. In addition, almost no one knew about heirloom seeds. At least not with the type of knowledge Lettie had.

  “Stuart Callies is dead,” I told my group. Yet no one looked shocked.

  “So we heard,” Dizzy answered. “That Prophet guy stopped by here for a meal on his way through and told us all about it.”

  We sat quietly as a pair of cardinals chased back and forth between the pines on one side of the yard and then the other. They still had food, they managed to survive. In all honesty, they were fine. But were we?

  “What happens if that Weston man and his wife come looking for food here?” Though I would have thought Lettie would have asked that particular question, if was actually Violet’s concern.

  “We need to know what kind of force they have left,” I answered, making sure I sounded confident. Whether I actually did was a different story.

  “You want to go see?” Marge asked, her tone as skeptical as I felt.

  Shaking my head, I chuckled. “No way. If I never see that Weston woman again, I’ll be just fine.”

  “Susan Weston wanted to kill us,” Violet added, though I didn’t need reminding. Her not so veiled threats to us last summer still burned in my memory.

  “Maybe she’s dead too,” I added, letting hope take over, even though I knew better.

  “According to old man Wilson,” Dizzy interjected, “Susan and her husband made it through the winter and spring just fine. Only her brother, that Callies fellow, died. Well, that and most of their army.”

  “We’re going to have to watch the road,” Lettie warned, pushing off the lawn chair and heading for the house. She sounded depressed, n
ot as hopeful as she always had in the past.

  “What’s up with her?” I asked Marge and Dizzy.

  Marge rose to chase after the woman while Dizzy took the chair next to mine, away from Violet.

  “Lettie ran out of smokes this spring,” he informed. “About the same time you got shot. Claims life isn’t the same without cigarettes.”

  I grinned at my friend. “You gave them up just fine.”

  Scratching at his hair, Dizzy leaned back in his chair. “Well, that’s because Marge made me. Said she wouldn’t kiss a man that smoked. So I gave them up.” He sounded confident and pleased with himself.

  I heard Violet huff and then get up from her spot. “That’s because he’s gross,” she said, jabbing a finger Dizzy’s direction. “And he’s a coward.” With her harsh words spent, she followed her mother into the house.

  I peeked at Dizzy sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “She still ain’t taken much of a liking to me.” He smiled and slapped his legs. “At least she talks to me now, sometimes. All last winter she hardly said a word to me. So I think I’m making progress.”

  Dizzy rose from his chair and meandered back in Nate’s direction. My eyes moved to the highway, some 40 feet away.

  Trouble was coming, I felt. And the road would bring it. We needed to watch the road, closely.

  Year 3 - early summer - WOP

  I toyed with an idea for a while. It wasn’t a plan, more of a plan for a plan. While it wasn’t good, or very clear, I still considered it daily.

  Violet had once asked me what I was going to do for female companionship here in No Where. I told her I didn’t need any. However, that as a lie, a huge lie.

  Maybe at first I didn’t see the need. That was because I was leaving, or planning to leave. Why would I put the time and effort into getting to know someone when I’d be back with Shelly soon? I had a wife, and a family. I just needed to get back to them.