Taking on the Dead Read online

  I tune into their conversation as Nadine bursts out laughing. “You’re so stupid, Kale.”

  Kale catches me watching them. His eyes burn with curiosity. Yes, I could turn on my charm and get information out of him. I haven’t used that part of me in a while, but it would be easy. I look down at Bridget – she notices us watching each other. My face flames and I turn over on my bed. If I decide on a flirtatious course of action to get information out of him, she’ll be a problem. She might as well piss on him to mark her territory.

  Tears sting my eyes, and I blink to keep any from falling. I hate myself at this moment for taking them in at the risk of exposure. They are going to destroy everything I’ve built, but I can’t bring myself to be hateful to them. Harley said earlier they would be leaving. I perk up, liking the thought and feeling lighter. I’ll just go about my business, not say much, and ignore them. They might catch on and know they’re not wanted, and leave, but not before I get what I want from them.

  I go about tending to my guests more to keep myself busy, rather than the need for everything to be clean. The sooner they rest, the sooner they can leave. Hopefully, before Nadine turns. I don’t want to shoot her. She is sweet. Jim, my neighbor, I had no problem shooting. He had been a thorn in my side. He helped as much as he could, I guess, turned soft from comfortable living. Not to mention, whiny. None of these people are whiny. They want to help, and they do it without being told. That’s the difference.

  After I’m done cleaning used dishes, I pump more water in the basin – it takes longer than usual. Probably from all the water we’ve used today. That happens sometimes when I use a lot, or if it hasn’t rained in a while. The water source comes from above ground somewhere, and my dad was lucky to tap into it. I put the tub by the bunker door.

  Inside the house, looking in my family’s linen closet, I find the sheets dusty, but I will shake them before putting them on the beds. My eyes water from the dust clouds, and soon I can’t keep from sneezing. Blowing my nose, it’s all dirt and funk as I wipe my hands on my jeans. This is the last straw, they can do it themselves.

  After showing them the sleeping arrangements, I head to the old living room. In an attempt to preserve our home long ago, I covered the furniture in this room with sheets. Seems kind of dumb now. Passing through, I freeze. Kale studies old framed pictures and knickknacks on the large entertainment center where the flatscreen TV still sits. My mother had decided on tan and hunter green printed drapery with a maroon paisley pattern.

  She loved mixing light and dark complimentary colors and textures. Under the sheets, a pair of Italian leather recliners and a sofa hid from view. Only the loveseat was a print in tan and hunter green, with throw pillows to match the drapes.

  The love seat was my mother’s spot. Looking at it now, I can picture my mom with a bottle of scotch sitting beside her. She wouldn’t even bother to use a glass. Sometimes she would pass out, sometimes not. I hate remembering my mother that way. It’s hard not to remember her verbal attacks on my dad. Kale stares at me, breaking my memories. It looks like he wants to ask me something, so I hurry out.

  ***

  After boiling two pots of water to mix with the cold, I sit in the tub. I don’t do it very often, but enjoy it immensely. I should be on the lookout while they sleep, but everything is off. I flick my lighter to light my bowl, the weed crackles and the bong water bubbles as I inhale its smoke.

  Not knowing how to grow it, I don’t smoke it very often. I could, I suppose. There is no one to arrest me, and I like it because it doesn’t impair me the way drinking does. It was a lucky day when I came across several big plants about a year ago. I suspect there were more plants at one point, and they just died over the years. I knew enough to dry them out. All I do is cut the buds off and let them continue growing. They almost all died last winter, but one survived. I named it after myself, Kansas. I call it Kansas City Bud. I must be allergic to it because it makes me thirsty. I’m laughing at my own weed induced joke when the bunker door opens. My body tenses, observing Kale’s silhouette in the candlelight.

  “Kan?” he asks, as I throw a towel across the tub so I don’t flash him. My legs stick out, and my head rests on a rolled up towel.

  Buzz kill. “Um, yeah. What do you need?” I can’t believe he’s interrupting my bath time. I take a gulp of water from a glass tumbler, and just look at him. I see an opportunity to talk with him alone. He stares at me without speaking.

  “You’re taking a bath? Is that hot water?” Kale asks, amazed.

  “It won’t be when I’m done.” I’m amazed he hasn’t mentioned the weed. Instead, he strolls over and takes my bong. I guess it’s his way of mentioning it. Flicking the lighter, he inhales and keeps inhaling as he lifts the bowl, sucking up smoke. He exhales and tries to sit down while choking his lungs up. “Instant-high.” I say, the buzz returning as I relax a little.

  “Yeah, it’s been awhile.” He finally settles down and leans against the tub. He passes the bong to me, along with the lighter.

  “You know, if Bridget comes down here and finds us like this, it won’t look good,” I comment, thinking I have a grasp of their relationship, and her overbearing attitude towards him.

  “What’s it to Bridget?” His voice hints curiosity.

  “You’re blind.”

  “Nah, we’re like brother and sister,” he says. I know she doesn’t look at him as a brother. Maybe he’s playing the same angle for information. This whole conversation is weird. It’s probably just the weed getting to my brain, making me over think things.

  “Hey Kan, Harley told us not to snoop into your business.” Oh, here we go. “But do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  I tried to will my heart to not pick up speed. Definite buzz-kill city. “You can ask, but I probably won’t tell you,” I say, suddenly serious. I do not want to have this conversation with anyone.

  “Where did you get this weed? Did you grow it?” he surprises me.

  I burst out laughing, relieved he didn’t ask anything personal. I take another hit and hold it in my lungs. After I exhale, I say, “I just came across some plants one day. Luckiest day ever.” We both laugh at my good fortune. “I think someone who lived in the neighborhood must have planted them. I just figure something happened before they could be harvested. One plant is still alive.”

  “Hmm, maybe so.”

  “Maybe I’ll show it to you before you leave.” I smile. His smile falters, and he turns his back to the tub. I think my foot catches his eye. His head turns as his eyes travel up my leg sticking out of the tub. I move it out of his line of sight. The Adam’s apple on his throat bobs as he swallows, catching himself.

  A finger dips in my water as if to test it. He swirls his finger before flicking droplets at me. “That’s getting cold. You better get out. I’ll leave you alone,” he says, and rises. Why did his mood change so suddenly?

  “Before you leave, will you hand me another towel? Please?” I ask, watching him move toward the door.

  “Sure.” He hands a towel to me, directing his attention elsewhere.

  After he leaves, I shiver, so I towel off, and get dressed quickly. Someone walks through the living room above me, causing the floor to groan. I take a big gulp of tequila for warmth. Some of it runs out, down my chin, and up my nose. I sputter as my eyes water from the burn, and I pinch my nose to keep the harsh smell from making me gag.

  My stomach coats with warmth as I climb under the covers and fall asleep.

  ***

  The next morning, I check my laptop connection. No change, but then, I didn’t really expect any. My family’s connection was via satellite. I knew when the satellite provider went down after my loss of connection. That happened just a few days after the first wave of outbreak. My dad was still alive and told me if no one was at the corporation to keep it going, it would stop. I’m hopeful in thinking that if I get a connection, then someone is out there tending to it.

  At the table, I eat plain oa
ts when Bridget makes her appearance. “Morning,” I mumble.

  “Mind if I have some?” she asks, pointing to the pot of oats.

  “Sure thing. There’s enough for everyone. If you like it sweet, there is some canned fruit under the trap door.” I watch as she scoops out oats, and then opens the trap door. She digs around a bit, and produces a can of mandarin oranges.

  Once she scoops out a couple to top her oats she says, “This is great, thanks.”

  I think she is okay, despite her earlier attitude toward me. I feel like I have to get something out of the way. “Bridget, you don’t have to be overprotective with Kale. I’m not interested.”

  She glares at me a while before returning to her oats. “That obvious, huh?” She makes light, but I can tell it bothers her. I also suspect she doesn’t think Kale knows her feelings, but he chooses to ignore it.

  “I’m not going to say anything. It’s not my place,” I lie, since I already said something.

  “Kale is a great guy. Anyone would want him.” She looks at me pointedly. “He’s saved my life more times than I can count. I’ve known him for two years. He has some kind of interest in you.” She’s being very honest, and I don’t know what to say.

  “Not in the way you’re thinking,” I tell her with a blank face, because this is true.

  Harley makes an appearance, and it makes me think the weed Kale smoked gave him a good sleep he probably needed. “Oats and oranges.” I point to the counter with my spoon.

  “Yum!” he says delightfully.

  “Where is Nadine?” I ask Harley, scooping the last bite of oats into my mouth. His clothes are rumpled, and Johnny Five has a big crease down the middle of his picture on the T-shirt.

  “Don’t worry. No fever,” he says, chewing a mouthful of food.

  “Good.” I pause, but I need to ask, “Are you two together?”

  He laughs, “No, she was married to my brother before the outbreak. She’s my sister-in-law.” This surprises me.

  “She’s your family?” I ask with obvious, pure envy. Wishing for my family seems to be a constant weight. I check myself and swallow hard.

  “Yeah. Listen, I have a favor to ask. Is it all right if we stay here? At least until she…” He let the sentence trail off. “I mean we will help with whatever you need to get done. I can hunt. Maybe take a day trip for extra supplies. I think I should try to look for some ammunition,” he rambles as he looks at me hopefully.

  I really don’t want this, but I also don’t want to turn them down. The first people I have seen in three years. I don’t have to be happy about it. Bridget seems indifferent with the idea.

  “Yeah, you can stay.” I pause before saying, “I’ll shoot her if you don’t.” Standing up, I grab my pack and walk out.

  ***

  I want to make my rounds, but first I go into the house. I don’t know which bedroom she’s in, but I take a wild guess and go into the master. It shares the front hall off the foyer with the office space. The floor is nothing but plywood. Long ago, I took up the hardwood for flooring in the bunker. The plywood creaks under my weight, and amazingly, it still smells like new house. When I enter the room, she’s still asleep. Crown molding traces the vaulted ceilings and the tops of the teal walls. My mother’s dark brown drapes are closed. The vanity stool is pulled out and the mirror is free from dust. My mother’s floor model jewelry box stands ajar. Noisy pricks. Fat chance jewelry will do them any good.

  I close the jewelry box, before tiptoeing to the side of the bed where Nadine sleeps. She looks like a picture of health. In my experience, she should at least have a fever. I grip the crossbow tighter.

  The next thing I know her eyes shoot open and she has a gun pointed at my face. She sits straight up in the bed and lowers the gun when she realizes it’s me. Her wavy hair sticks up awkwardly from sleep and her cornflower eyes are wide and alert.

  I laugh a little and try not to fidget, “Why are you pointing a gun with no bullets at me?”

  She keeps staring at me and takes a deep breath, “Sorry. You know the saying, old habits die hard. I think Harley wants to look for ammunition soon.”

  “Yeah, you guys are staying here while he gathers supplies.” I inform her without telling her the real reason.

  “You mean he’ll have a nice place to bury me,” she says with perfect ease, sounding content with the idea. “I won’t be leaving here alive, I know. I’ve accepted the inevitable.”

  “I came in here to change your bandages, and to check your bite. You don’t seem feverish…” I place my trembling hand on her forehead. “Which is weird. Here, give me your arm.” I reach for her wrist and she jerks away.

  She looks at me apologetically. “I’d rather Harley look at it. I’m starving,” she says, peeking over my shoulder.

  I turn to find Kale leaning against the doorframe. The teal walls make his eyes stand out, and he stares at Nadine. His expression changes before I can decipher the look.

  Plastering me with a smile, he says, “Wake and bake?”

  I glance at Nadine, but she just tucks the gun in her waistband as she rises and walks out of the room. “No, I’m going out for a little while,” I state and leave.

  Chapter 5

  The day is almost as exceptional as it was yesterday, except a few fluffy white clouds dot the sky. In the old life, I hated these clouds when I would lie out to tan. The breeze blows on my face and arms with no sign of the previous smell of rot as I make my rounds, checking trip strings that tell me when something tracks through my neighborhood.

  I fix the trip string in the woods where the zombies and gang came through yesterday. I couldn’t track the path of the other zombies from two nights ago. It’s likely they came from the same direction as the others. It just seems odd. Maybe I’m just being paranoid because Nadine will become a walking hungry corpse any day now.

  Something is not right. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s puzzling that Nadine doesn’t show any signs of turning. She did mention she was hungry. I hurry to get back and keep an eye on her.

  I make it to the bunker to find everyone in silence. They’re nonchalantly doing something unimportant, as if they were just talking about me. I suddenly feel too tired to think about what. I want to be by myself to get rid of the headache from the strain of having guests. Getting used to being around them has proved a challenge. Maybe I haven’t changed from being a selfish person.

  Ignoring them won’t be productive. “You guys can really make someone feel out of the loop. You’re like family to each other, and that’s great. People tend to come together when they lose loved ones. To tell you the truth, I’m glad I have company.” I try not to say it grudgingly. After a deep breath, I continue, “I have checked out things. It’s a normal day and seems fine. I think we can relax for a bit. Maybe make a big dinner and get to know each other better.” I smile and it feels forced to me, but they don’t seem to notice. I look around at them and each one smiles back at me, even Nadine.

  “There’s no better way to spend the time,” she says, bravely.

  ***

  For the faux occasion, I decide to make some cornmeal cakes and pinto beans. Harley wants to go hunting. I don’t like this idea. Not because I don’t eat meat, but because there are few living things nowadays and we have plenty of food. He plans to take Nadine along.

  As the day passes at a dreadful pace, I get more anxious about her. Well, anxious about the bite. It has become a desperate need to see it. She’s outside with Harley practicing the crossbow on a big, spray-painted hay bale. I haven’t used it in a while because it’s falling apart from target use. They both see me and smile.

  “I like this thing, Kan!” Harley beams as his dark eyes light up. His eyes cut back to the target, aiming the crossbow. The arrow shoots out, hitting the hay bale, but not the target. Smugness perks me because I’m a much better aim than he is. I can tell it’s new to him by the look on his face. I recognize it because my dad got that look all the time, especial
ly when he wanted to share something he learned with me.

  “Yeah, it’s sweet. As long as I don’t lose my arrows, I’ll never run out of ammunition. The main reason I chose archery. You can reuse the arrows until they bend or break.” I move closer to where they stand. “I have a book that teaches how to make them. It takes skill to make a homemade shaft,” I tell them, pointing to the shaft part of the small arrow. They both nod. I push forward without any grace or tact, “Nadine, may I see your bite?”

  I start to grab for her wrist, but she just jerks it away. “I’m sorry, Nadine, but I need to see your bite. I’m worried about you,” I say the last quickly, trying to disguise my urgency with concern.

  It doesn’t work because Nadine looks down and stalks off.

  “Sorry, she just holds things in. I thought she had come to terms with it, but obviously not,” Harley says, watching her go underground.

  “Maybe I’m paranoid, but she’s acting strange. She pulled an unloaded gun on me this morning.” I watch him run one of his rough hands through his hair, and blow out a rush of breath, causing his stubbly cheeks to puff out.

  “I really don’t know what to think about it, but I will get her to show the bite to me on the trip.” By his tone, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it. Guilt threatens to consume me for not being more sensitive to the situation. Wanting to talk to her, I go into the bunker to find her.

  She sits on the floor with her back to the wall. Her knees are pulled up as far as they can go – her head tucked so I can’t see her face. She looks so small and defeated. I pull a box from beneath the counter. I have two and a half bottles of tequila, and the rest of the bottle of Jack Daniel’s. I figure Harley for a bourbon guy, and pull it out. After pouring a tumbler, I walk slowly to Nadine. She still hasn’t looked at me.