August Burning (Book 1): Outbreak (5 page)

 
Three hours before Outbreak. Washington,
D.C

 
Of all people, it had to be him.

Elvis tried to smile. Troy strolled
up, his luscious beard looking rather absurd in combination with a shaved head.
Elvis sighed, knowing most people were intimidated by the aggressive man.
Troy’s relentless energy didn’t mingle well with Elvis’s own suave,
manufactured style. They were the first two to arrive at the docks, much to
their shared chagrin. Elvis shifted in his seat, annoyed with his own rising
anxiety. He craned his head out over the water, hearing it slapping lazily at
the old wooden posts green with mildew. The pair was extended out over the
brown river, and a series of highways passed far overhead, elevated on massive
columns. The capital was nothing like the cities to the north. Here, Elvis
hardly felt “buzzing” was an appropriate word. It was a city of schools, of
rich white men and women sweating in expensive suits from 9 to 5, and of a
massive bureaucratic system of equally sweaty men and women wearing decidedly
cheaper suits. What little character the capital offered, he had never been
impressed with.

Troy slouched in his chair next to
Elvis, rubbing his shaved head and entirely comfortable to wait out the moments
in silence that was only awkward for one of them.

“What’s she doing here?”

A girl trying her best to look casual
and succeeding famously strutted across the wooden planks out towards the end
of the docks. Elvis saw her curvy form moving towards them and then met her
bright hazel eyes with an interior groan. He was smitten, and he knew it.

He smiled weakly, “Hi Harley.” Her
delicious energy struck him, her face at once bright and expressive.

“I was looking for you two,” she said
happily, reaching out to feel the soft stubble on Troy’s buzzed head.

“The company just got that much
better!” Troy yelled excitedly, to Harley’s obvious delight. “No offense,
Elvis.”

Elvis just grunted in reply, and began
counting the number of dragonflies that were currently annoying him.

“The others are coming soon, I think.
But, I actually wanted to speak to Elvis.”

Elvis felt the surprise leap in his
chest, and struggled not to show it. He coiffed his jet black hair tediously.

“Well then I’ll leave you to it. I
really shouldn’t leave you alone with Elvis though, he has unnaturally high
testosterone. Impregnates women with a simple glance,” Troy walked off
chuckling to himself, no doubt impressed by his own perceived wit.

Stubbornly, Elvis continued to look
stoically at the sluggish river. He felt Harley drag a seat up next to him. She
waited calmly, revealing herself to be a keener judge of character than any of
the others knew.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

He looked to her directly. “Isn’t it
absurd?
How much power you have over me.
I can honestly laugh about it. You can pretty much ask me to do anything and I
would do it. What the hell is up with that?”

Harley raised her eyebrows, but she
did not smile.

“It’s not worth it. I’m done with it,
done with that weakness,” Elvis finished in a rush, satisfied with himself.

“How many dates have you taken me on?”
Harley asked pointedly.

Elvis looked at her hands, trying not
to fidget. “Four.”

“And how many times did you walk me to
my door and not get aggravated when I decided to walk up alone?”

“That would also be a nice, even four.
Why did you hook up with Liam?“

“Elvis, we didn’t sleep together.”

Elvis felt his jaw click. “What do you
mean?”

“Look, guys want me. Even your friends
will want me, despite themselves. That’s how it’s always going to be, till even
my plastic surgery and spray tans fail me at 55. But I’m interested in you.
Don’t give up yet, please.”

Elvis felt his heart hammering, and
like a movie the scenes of him touching Harley began racing thru his mind. He
couldn’t stop it, even though he wanted to.

 
“Liam is like our aunt. The group’s loving aunt.”

Harley laughed giddily. “I might have
gone with
uncle
.”

Elvis looked away, annoyed at himself.
He didn’t see her leaning closer until his nostrils were suddenly full of her
smell. He opened his mouth to speak but faltered as she pressed her lips to his
quickly and softly. Then she pulled away, and he was at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry if I made this way harder
for you.” She said, eyes bashful.

Elvis sighed even as he felt his body
buzzing. “No you’re not.” His mind seemed to work more slowly, with none of its
typical, smooth pep.

“No, I’m not,” she said with a
smile.
 

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. “This
is bullshit. This always happens to me.” Elvis ran his hands through his
pompadour.

Harley suddenly shouted back towards
the shoreline, raising her hand and waving. “The others are here. Don’t forget
what I said, ok?” She jumped up. The old oak boards creaked precariously as her
auburn hair swung back and forth.

The cacophony of drums competed with
the growing din of warm-air insects. Two-dozen sets of hands thumped an
eclectic collection of hand drums. Adira observed the drum circle, spread out
over the downtown park. These people all just brought their own drums and
hammered out a beat, unrehearsed. While her head was hammering delightfully from
the drum-beats, her dark eyes tried to pick out which dancers felt awkward. She
loved trying to pick out these sorts of things. One tall figure in a skin-tight
skirt moved suggestively with her eyes closed while biting her ample lower lip.
Adira pursed her own in amusement; the dancer was putting on a show for a crowd
of eager young men. Another woman she saw dancing reservedly, as men with
dreadlocks and faded tank tops hammered out the beat behind her, with her eyes
darting this way and that, making sure she didn’t look too silly. Still many
others barely moved at the fringes of the drum circle, looked eager to join but
unsure how to do so.

Adira looked to the man closest to
her. He seemed content to walk in silence, observing in the same way she did.
Adira smiled; Bennett looked at ease, for once. She smirked. His walk was
definitely a bit awkward as he swung his long arms. He met her eyes and raised
them, before turning away again. She smiled lightly. The sex had been what she
expected. Bennett had been far too nervous to try anything too crazy, and she
doubted he was hard enough to make it happen. Obviously, she hadn’t finished.
Still, it felt good to help him.

The afternoon sun beat down on the
group as they moved slowly along the little wood-lined paths.
 

She turned her arresting gaze back to
Troy, who looked like a caveman. Two of his own Army-ROTC buddies followed
close-by, with closely cropped heads and clean-shaved faces. She frowned
slightly. Their confidence was manufactured, given to them by their new
stations. If there was any violence in their reserved gaits, it was buffoonish
rather than deadly.

Adira shot a glance backwards, at
Elvis and Liam. The shorter one strutted, eyes narrowed to affect a fierce
swagger. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh, to catcall him. The bigger one
walked easily, his burly form moving as the chaperone of the group. As they
walked, Liam made off-beat jokes and grinned effortlessly. Only Harley laughed.
Adira had just met her the night before. The girl’s dynamic smile and charisma
were probably alluring. She seemed to touch the stoic Elvis more than a few
times, but her eyes always flicked eagerly towards Liam when he spoke.

Adira had caught Jaxton staring at herself
more than once, but his intensity was off-putting. His grey eyes didn’t match
his brown hair, but she had found herself looking at his muscled physique
several times.

“Of course! These good people have
parents that love them,” Liam said with a dramatic scowl. Adira saw several
giddy, graduating students among the crowd, standing with proud parents. She
felt a twinge of discomfort flush her face.

“Has anyone’s parents even made it
down yet?”

Jaxton frowned. “My mom said there is
traffic backed up for miles around the cities in the north. She said they’ve
moved like ten miles the past two hours.”

Liam tapped him lightly with the back
of his large hand, “Mine said the exact same thing. Are they on I-70?”

“No, mine tried to get a head start on
Route 15. It’s totally jam-packed.”

“Our old friend Admiral Nelson calls,
he’s getting lonely,” Troy said ruefully, his fierce gaze attracting the stares
of more than a few women.

“We’re not drinking your shitty
whiskey again, not a chance,” Liam exclaimed.

“My parents have been here since last
night. Took them the regular 2 and a half hours yesterday. I don’t know what
you guys are talking about,” Elvis said.

Jaxton gave him a little shove. “Quite
puffin’ out your chest, youngblood. No one’s payin’ attention.”

“Give me a piece of that!” Adira cried
from the back.

Elvis squinted and mocked her. “Oh,
really funny. No, that’s great. I mean it.”

Harley fawned dramatically over his
coiffed hair as he struggled to untangle himself from her embrace. “Don’t be
such a grumpster.”

“Isn’t Cold Spring your town too
Elvis? I didn’t take you for a hick as well.” Adira said.

“I’m actually quite a hit with the
hick chicks. No, I am. They love the hair.” Elvis nodded to press home the
guarantee.

The group had strayed away from the
drum circle still thumping away under the weeping willow trees. Their steps
took them closer to campus, past families reuniting at local restaurants and
wandering around the city. Its lack of skyscrapers should have guaranteed a local
charm, and the feel of distinct neighborhoods. Somehow, those developments had
never materialized amid the endless collection of squat offices and government
buildings.

As they wormed their way back through
the crowds, the mood in the air began to shift. Though no one said anything,
there seemed to be a tension hanging between certain families, who spoke in
hushed whispers rather than joyous yelling. Almost all of them ignored the hair
standing up on their spines, assured it was they alone who felt it. All save
one.

Jaxton felt his pulse quicken, though
he couldn’t say why. His mind had been so sluggish with the realization that he
had no idea what to do with his life. And nothing called to him. So when he
sensed the tension in the air, he clung to it desperately. It took his mind
away from the mundane life he feared lay ahead. The others had already
forgotten about it by the time they burst back into the air-conditioned dorm
rooms. Jaxton mostly forgot as well, but he began to nurse a nebulous suspicion
that something wasn’t right.

…

“How did we end up with this shit
again?” Liam indicated the plastic bottle of whiskey with disgust, even as he
fought to keep his last shot down.

“Nelson is a wily one,” Troy replied
happily, tapping the poor depiction of a drunken admiral on the bottle. He
leaned back happily in his chair, yawning excessively and moving his head with
the music without shame. The six of them were cramped into a small apartment
kitchen, shot glasses littering the table. The tiny air conditioning unit
hummed loyal behind.

“Next. Next. Next.” The future-soldier
took it upon himself to dictate what music would be acceptable.

“So needy. Here, let me,” Harley
smiled absurdly as she took the iPod, revealing just how sober she wasn’t.
Elvis wasn’t there, but she had found herself arriving with the rest of them.
 
Troy opened his eyes with interest,
watching her. “I think I know just your type,” she said.

Some instantly catchy female pop song
began filling the tiny space with highly auto-tuned lyrics, to Troy’s utter
joy.

Adira was frowning at her phone.
Bennett dropped his voice, “What’s wrong?”

She leaned close to him, so he could
smell her sultry perfume again. It dragged him to their last encounter, and he
felt himself staring as she bit her thin lip. He didn’t care if it wasn’t very
plump. “My parents aren’t even paying for my ticket home. I have to ship
everything myself, and then take the fucking train.”

“I’ll help you pack, don’t worry.”
Bennett forced a grin, but found himself beset by a creeping doubt. Most of
their families lived in the same town, in the mountains of Western
Pennsylvania. None had arrived save Elvis’s.

“Another toast!” Jax roared, feeling
the energy. He loaded up the glasses and raised his own with a magisterial
effort. “A toast to your coffin, everyone. No, just bare with me. I like this
part. May it be made of 100-year-old oak. And may we plant the tree tomorrow.”
Jaxton could feel his own eyes fluttering lazily, glassing over. He was met
with a loud chorus of guffaws and jeers, a mix of loyal approval and mockery.
They drained the glasses with zeal.