INFECtIOUS (32 page)

How Many Pints
For
A Pair Of Pink Mittens?

I finally slip
into a deep sleep, alone in my bed at the Inn.

I'm awakened
sometime later by the sound of rain. As I become more aware, I realize it's not
rain hitting my window. Something else is tapping. I suddenly know
it's
Matt. I jump up and
freshen
my
breath and my hair in the bathroom. Throwing on my shoes, I hurry to the back
door.

Matt is standing
by the back door when I open it. How he knew I would open it at that moment
amazes me.

"I saw you
there," I say appreciatively. His intense stare makes me look
uncomfortably at my feet.

"I came to
make sure you were ok. It looked like you had all the comfort you needed, so I
didn't stick around to shake hands afterward."

"Tim is a
friend," I say defensively.

"That's not
what he thinks. I need to show you something," he says, changing the
subject with his typical abruptness. "We'll be out a little longer this
time."

Matt and I walk
in silence. It's a comfortable silence between us but also a necessary one.
There is no U.R. meeting to ensure we'll have the streets to ourselves like
last time. We watch carefully for anyone who may be out this afternoon. Our
route to the hidden tunnel takes us past Harmony's apartment. I watch her
windows closely and feel nervous when I see her curtain flutter.

Matt grabs my
hand and I forget my nerves and think about the freedom I feel when I'm with
him. A block later, I glance behind us and see someone turn quickly into a side
alley. Are we being followed? Chuck is safely behind bars and he assured us
that no one else in the community is a danger to me. I'm just being paranoid.
At the entrance to the tunnel Matt disappears down into the hole. I take a
quick glance around to be sure that no one is watching and then, without
hesitation, follow him into the darkness.

We feel
more free
to talk once underground. Our conversation is
lighthearted and I'm surprised to find myself capable of smiling. He holds my
hand again and leads me through the cramped tunnel. I am less nervous this time
and don't really need his hand, but I don't tell him that.

"You were
pretty dressed up today," he says with strange humor in his tone. I feel
certain he's making fun of me somehow but I can't figure out why.

"Funeral?"
I say
perturbed, an obvious given for my attire.

"I just
thought since it was a special occasion you'd be wearing those pink heels
again."

He is mocking
me. I can't see him well enough in the dark of the tunnel, but I'm fairly
certain he is laughing silently at me. I should be offended at how light he
makes of my loss. He has no sympathy for what I've just been through. But
honestly, it's a relief to smile and I find myself giggling with him. I don't
want to be low when I'm with him. We haven't known each other long, but I have
already stored up plenty of embarrassing moments with him. I acted like such a
naive pouting princess that day we met. I must have looked so ridiculous—the
heels, the myriad of necklaces, the mismatched new clothes. I blush just
picturing my three weeks ago self.

Intent on not
being that girl again, I respond to his antagonism with playfulness. "You
are awfully fashion conscious for a guy. Most guys I know are too masculine to
pay attention to a girl's shoes. I guess you're more in touch with your
feminine side," I say sarcastically.

"Touchy,"
is his response. Of course, do the guy thing and act like I'm hormonal.

Trying to turn
the conversation back to him I ask, "Don't you dress up at a
funeral?"

"Haven't
been to one since I was a kid."

"You're
fortunate not to have lost anyone lately." I think it's a little strange
that he hasn't lost anyone, especially out there where zombies are dropping
like flies.

"I've lost
a lot of people," he says matter-of-factly, "we just don't do
funerals anymore.
Too many people dying.
No place to
put them all. Most people have evolved Ivy. They are smart enough to know that
it's just a dead body and there's no point in being sentimental or emotional
about it. Life goes on and soon it'll be me and that's just how it works."

When we get to
the other side, he once again easily pulls me up out of the hole and into the
basement. There are piles of stuff all over the place. They seem organized into
food, clothes and guns. The gun pile makes me nervous. I'm not at all
comfortable with weapons. There are large ones that look like military guns and
small ones that would fit in a man's pocket. I stand on the other side of the
hole
opposite of the intimidating pile.

"Why is all
this stuff here? Are you moving in?"

"Just
trying to be prepared," he says simply. Like having this many weapons is a
normal part of everyday life. "Here, put these on."

He tosses me a
black ski mask and a pair of pink mittens. I didn't realize he intended to
leave the cellar. Nothing he could say will convince me to go out there on the
other side. I am regretting coming with him. He just doesn't get it. I'm not
safe out there.

I shake my head
"no" and take a step back towards the hole.

While I'm
standing there, strongly considering jumping back in and running home, a loud
noise echoes beneath. I shriek and jump away from the hole.

"Jumpy."
Matt says condescendingly. "It was probably just a big rat."

"A
rat!"

"There are
lots of '
em
down there.
Huge ones.
Look, if you could walk through the rat filled tunnels with me, I think you can
handle a leisurely stroll to see something magnificent."

He says the word
"magnificent" with mysterious excitement and I find myself wanting to
know what it is he has to show me.

I don't like
either of my options. I don't want to go down there with whatever large
creature made that noise, but I don't want to step out into his world either.

"It's
completely safe," he says confidently. "No one comes out this
way,
I've never seen anyone over here." Then with a
manipulative pout on his face he says, "I had to look 10 different places
to find you those mittens in pink. And they weren't free. Come with me?"

If they weren't
free, it means Matt had to pay for them. He had to give his blood for them.
I'll never get used to the new currency. I wonder how much he had to give to
buy these for me. It's so wrong.
And so romantic.

I pull on the
ski mask and it feels strange to be covering my face. I look like a bank robber
from an old movie. I actually love the mittens, but I plan on giving the mask
back as soon as possible. I feel like a traitor to my people. Chuck mentioned
putting on a mask when he left the community. I hope God won't be mad at me and
take away my healing. It's just a walk. It's probably not my wisest choice, but
i
don't think it's actually sin.

We walk up the
old wooden stairs and through the abandoned house. Old moldy furniture is
strewn about and there are scary blood stains on the walls. Something bad
happened here. Through the jagged holes in the dirty windows, yellow sunlight
pours in and tries to pretend that this is a cheerful place, but I'm not
fooled. An involuntary tremble of nerves runs through my body. Matt kindly
pretends not to notice.

Once outside, I
can see why no one has found this place. It sits in the middle of an overgrown
clearing, completely surrounded on all sides by trees. If there was a driveway
leading to the house in the past, it is gone now, covered by trees and Kudzu
and thorny blackberry bushes. I think this house was abandoned long before the
disappearances and the disease.

I walk behind
Matt as he picks our way through the brush. We come out onto the road and the
nervous warning in my heart hammers even louder. It's still daylight. Anyone
could see us. I have no protection out here. My face is covered by the
traitorous mask but I feel even more vulnerable with it on.
Like
I'm denying Him by wearing it.
He said if anyone denies Him he would deny
them before his Father. Will He let me get caught because I'm wearing the
mask.
I should turn back and go home. I feel a panic attack
coming on. My steps slow and
come
come
to a stop. I am looking frantically around and over my shoulder as I take my first
step backwards to retreat.

Matt
sighs and turns back to see me
wussing
out.
He doesn't wear
a mask and though it's a little hard to see out of the holes in mine, his green
eyes suddenly fill my view.

"Ivy. I
promise you are totally safe. It really isn't that bad out here. Your whole
experience is based on what happened in Commerce and the
sickos
who hang out near the fence to scare you. Not everyone is bad. Am I a
monster?" he asks stepping closer to me.

My pulse is
racing, but not from fear. He's so close to me and his eyes, oh his eyes, they
do things to me. I breathe short little breaths as he reaches out to take my
hands. I think about what it would be like to kiss him. The mask and a few
inches of space are the only thing between his lips and mine.

"Can we
please enjoy our second date?" he asks sweetly, stroking my pink
mittened
hand with his shiny black gloved thumb.

Our second date?
I didn't realize we'd had a first date. I guess anytime I walk down the tunnel
of love with him he's considering it a date. I've never been on a date and I
already missed enjoying my first one. I will enjoy every moment of my second
date. I nod and we resume our walk in the sunshine.
Still
holding hands.

"Leisurely
stroll" was a bit misleading. We are literally walking around the small
city of
Toccoa
, following the path of our fence from
several blocks away. As we start down a huge hill, I realize where we are. We
are only a few hundred feet from the West Gate. Not far at all from the Inn.
This is the direction that Matt went the morning that Aunty and I walked him to
the gate.
The day he ate most of my syrup.
I smile at
the memory now. I was so disgusted with him that day. I hated him. I would
gladly give him my last morsel of food now.

As we walk down
down
down
the huge hill, I think
it's strange that I've never been this way. After all these years of living
only a half mile from where we are now walking, I'm on an adventure. I could be
home in five minutes if I walked directly to the Inn, but I might as well be in
another time and place. The route we are on feels that new and foreign. My
world has been so small and sheltered for so long now. We pass an old cemetery
and
it's
run down walls and gravestones remind me of
Aunty. The grand tomb stones and little marble temples draw my thoughts back to
this morning and the rough wooden cross marking
Aunty's
resting place. No marble angel watches over her. Loneliness fills me again as
we walk in silence.

"I saw you
that day," he says.

I have no idea
what he's talking about.

"When Tom
and I left."

I remember that
day with
it's
sadness and
regret.

"We didn't
go straight to the tunnel. We had to walk towards the gate so you wouldn't
figure out my way in. When we came around the bend, I made Tom hide in the
bushes with me."

"Of
course," I say jokingly. He loves a good shrubbery.

He laughs and
then continues. "You came around the bend not two seconds after we were
hidden. You had that coat," he pauses then adds softly, "and you were
crying. I've thought about that day a lot. You looked so sad that we were gone.
Were you sad about Tom leaving?
Or about me?"

I blush under my
mask, glad he can't see my face. "Well I had just met you," I say,
hoping he'll assume that means my answer is Thomas. "And you were really
irritating."