Surge (65 page)

“I know that the infection is spread through bites or possibly scratches, but we don’t know what will happen if infected blood gets in some other way. I’m guessing we get another case of
The Exorcist
.”

“Thank you for that cheery outlook, Jared,” John says and smack my back. I wince as the assault jostles my burned neck, but he doesn’t notice. “Now, everyone climb back in, buckle up and we’ll arrive at our destination momentarily. We apologize now for any inconvenience the delay might have caused you.”

I punch John’s shoulder for making light of three deaths, but that’s just his way, and it gets people moving. Akio and Whitney help to escort Mike back inside and settle him in the second row; which was relatively clean of any carnage. Sarah and Danny pull down their sleeves to cover their hands, and pinch their noses, before trudging all the way to the back with Morris strapped to Sarah’s shoulder. Carlos takes up the last seat in the back, which would have been Chelsea’s, without so much of a lip curl on his stoic face. Oscar plops down in the next row where Leonard sat so that Tommy won’t have to, and John joins me in walking over to the remaining trio. John loses his happy go lucky façade before approaching where Tommy’s grieving over Leonard’s body. He clears his throat, and folds his arms behind his back.

“I’m sorry,” he says and dips his head. Tommy who was sobbing on Leonard’s chest, springs off of the ground and throws a haymaker at John’s chin that has him landing on his ass three feet away. Tommy doesn’t move to go after him, he just points down at John with a face full of rage and pain.

“You fucking should be,” Tommy hisses without a single stutter. Olivia approaches from behind and rubs his arm. “It’s your fault that Gramps is gone, so I hope you’re happy. I know that I am, with all of your sluts gone, you’re finally alone, you heartless prick.”

Spinning his back on John, Tommy’s shoulders fall as he buries his face in Olivia’s shoulder. He has a good ten inches on her, so his back hunches over slightly to reach her tiny frame. Olivia embraces him and rubs his back as he sobs. John doesn’t make a move to retaliate, nor does he even look pissed. He just looks defeated as he ignores Cory’s hand offering to pull him up. Cory, undeterred by John’s response, pats his back and whispers something to him that I don’t catch. No matter, it wasn’t for me, it was for John; who nods at whatever it was, before heading to the van.

“Tommy wants to do something with the body,” Cory says from beside me.

I look over and my eyes must show the question asking as to what the fuck are we supposed to do with it? It’s not like we can roll him in a carpet and toss him in the trunk, or strap him to the roof like Aunt Edna in
National Lampoon’s Vacation
, nor do we have the time to bury him. So what the hell are we supposed to do with Lenny? Cory answers my silent question with a single word, one that he used himself, so he knows what the effect will be.

“Cremation.”

I nod my head at Cory, and run to the back of the van. Digging through the bags, I finally reach the buckle and unstrap the container of gas, before returning to Leonard’s body. Tommy’s now holding Olivia’s hand and looking as strong as he could manage to be, when I hold up the container to Cory. Knowing that this is the point where we would usually say something, I clear my throat.

“I only had to pleasure of nine short months in his acquaintance, but I know for a fact that Leonard was a tough bastard,” I begin and see Olivia smile a little through her tears. “He may have been pushing a thousand, but that old man could still hurl a hundred pound rain barrel around like no one’s business. I’ll even admit that he beat me in arm wrestling a time or two.” Even Tommy cracks a glimmer of teeth at that. “But what Leonard was really known for, was his heart. That man would push himself above and beyond if it meant helping anyone that needed a hand. Be that washing laundry with Whitney, lending an ear so that he knock some sense into the bullheaded, namely me.” I raise me hand and see Cory, the asshole, nod his agreement on that.

“Or fighting every one of the Doc’s orders, because we all know that Akio was
always
on a power trip when it came to Lenny’s health.” Olivia laughs silently as she wipes tears away. “Stealing Oscar’s rifle to take over watch, because didn’t you know it, but the rifle just happened to
‘fall’ 
directly into his lap.” Tommy actually smiles there. “Or when he was rocking out in the car and kitchen with his future wife while preparing a kickass meal; that man was there every time with bells on.” Seeing Cory’s nod saying that it’s enough, I wrap it up.

“So thank you Leonard Shue, veteran, Casanova, chef, father and friend. We’ll never forget you.”

I unscrew the lid to the gas tank, and look to see if Tommy wants to add anything. Remembering his silent nature, I watch as he nods his head and says something internally in respect to his fallen grandfather, so I look away to give him some semblance of privacy. Cory gives Leonard’s body a true military salute, then stands at ease. I watch as Olivia crouches down to take off Leonard’s wedding ring, and places a CD on his chest before kissing his withered cheek. Standing up, she walks over to Tommy and slips the necklace off that she gave him with the dog whistle.

Unclasping it, Olivia slides Leonard’s band on the chain and I hear it clink as the metals collide. Giving the ring a kiss, she stands on tiptoe and replaces the necklace around Tommy’s neck. He looks down at the chain and clasps it in his hand, as he gives me a nod. Taking my cue, I pour some gasoline over the body and Cory passes Tommy a lighter. Taking a step forward, Tommy flicks the lighter and drops it on the corpse, before stepping back to Olivia; who holds his hand as the flames engulf Leonard’s body.

We don’t stay for the duration, once Tommy’s satisfied that Lenny isn’t going to serve as another meal for wheezers, he follows Olivia into the van. Cory takes up the far right seat, leaving Olivia in the middle and Tommy beside her on the opposite end. Shutting the slider door, I walk around back and re-strap the remainder of the gas into the trunk before climbing into the passenger seat.

Once I’m buckled in, I glance over at John and see a bruise already forming on the left side of his jaw, but he remains silent and he starts the van. Before John pulls away, I turn to give a military salute to our fallen veteran as a final goodbye.

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>

The car ride is absolutely silent. Not a single voice is heard, the radio is off and not even a sneeze takes place during the fifty minutes it takes to reach Olivia’s safe house. Pulling down the gravel driveway, John turns off the ignition and stares at the two story colonial home. The slider opens and the twins pop out from the back.

I hop out of the passenger and stretch out my sleeping limbs, as I take in our new home, well temporary home. It’s huge with a wraparound porch, two car garage and about fifteen shuttered windows just on the front. On both sides are trees so you can’t see the nearest neighbors on either side.

Olivia walks around me with her backpack strapped on the shoulder opposite to her machete. Following after her, I hear several other footsteps meaning that the rest of the group is trailing behind us. Jogging up the steps, Olivia slides her backpack to the side and digs inside for her chain of keys. She flips through the mass of them, until she finds the one she needs, and opens the door. It’s dark inside since it’s almost dusk, but Olivia walks straight in, so she must feel confident that it’s safe. I shrug at the curious eyes peering into the darkness, and follow her example.

A few steps out of the foyer, I see that Olivia’s already lit a few candles and scattered them around the parlor. All of the windows have planks nailed to the frames, but other than that, it’s cozy. Not cozy as in cramped, but welcoming almost. Big comfy sectionals line across two walls, one aimed toward the fireplace and another at a huge flat screen that I would have drooled over prior to the infestation. There’s hardwood flooring with area rugs spread around to soften noise, and paintings adorning the walls; mostly of the beach or cottages since we’re still in Maine.

“There are six bedrooms,” Cory announces. I look over and see him interpreting Olivia’s hand signals. “Four of them have their own bathroom, but only the one on the main floor works. Lights work down here, but try to keep it to a minimum because the solar generator only lasts so long.”

“Is it just the toilets that don’t work upstairs? Or the showers too?” Sarah asks and wrinkles her nose as she whiffs Danny. Olivia shakes her head and gives a
‘sorry’
gesture.

“It’s fine,” I say and shoot Sarah a look. “We lived for over a year without showers, just be glad you get to have one at all. A little wait won’t kill you.” Sarah sticks her tongue out at me in a very immature fashion, and she’s only sixteen, so it’s expected and ignored.

“What about food?” Whitney asks. She looks a little worried about that aspect, which I guess is pretty important seeing as we have none, and no one has eaten today. Olivia holds up her finger, before jogging out of the room.

“She shouldn’t be running,” Akio mutters. Hearing the warning, I run after her and find Olivia in the kitchen; digging through a pantry and pulling out ingredients.

“You are not cooking,” I say and cross my arms. She turns with a can still in her hand and frowns at me. “You’re supposed to be
resting
.” I give the can a pointed look. “Not cooking, we can fend for ourselves. Go lay down.”

Olivia bites her lip, I know she’s trying to think her way around it, so I stop her before she can try to talk her way into something that may sound logical, but isn’t. One, she has a freaking tube sticking out of her throat. Two, she has pneumo-whatever that could be life threatening. And three, I will not risk her life for a goddamn bowl of soup.

“No buts,” I order and point to the exit. “There are plenty of us to cook, go find a bed, and get your ass in it.”

Olivia huffs and presses the can into my chest on the way out. Satisfied that she listened, I glare at the can as I think of what the fuck to do with it. Obviously, I’ll need a can opener, so I’ll start there. Rummaging through what has to be a hundred drawers, I finally find my goal in the last one. Success in that one small task already has me sweating from the exertion.

Wiping my forehead on my leather sleeve, I walk over to the counter Olivia placed ingredients on. There’s flour, canned broth and veggies, spices and some kind of tiny pasta. Not having a freaking clue as to where to begin, I grab a pot and start the gas burner. The pilot ignites after two clicks, so I put the pot over it to let it get hot. Then I remember from my mom’s cooking shows that I don’t want to burn it, so I walk over to the sink and hope that it functions like the bathroom, or else I’ll have to carry the full pot a longer distance with my burned hands. Holding my breath, I flip the handle and release it with a sigh of relief, when water streams out. Sliding the pan underneath, I fill it about a quarter of the way and carry it back to the burner. There, now I shouldn’t burn the house down.

Feeling confident that I can handle this, I pick up the hand operated can opener and ignore the pain as I pry apart eight cans from their lids. There’s a variety of vegetables ranging from potatoes to peas, and chicken stock. No meat, but we’ve survived on less. Adding the cans into the now boiling water, I pull open a drawer and use the first thing that comes in contact with my hand to stir the contents. It looks like some kind of mallet, oh well, it works just as good as a spoon would. And I’m not about to have a repeat performance of that searching fiasco.

I look at the bag of flour and spices on the counter like they hold the key to life. I don’t want to add too much and end up with paste, nor do I want to add too little and wind up with bland gruel for supper. We need something with a little bit of gumption to it in order to tide us off until we can get some more supplies. Deciding to play it by ear, I add a tiny pinch of everything and taste as I go.

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