Surge (82 page)

After I’m sufficiently drained of those baby making bastards that like to declare war on brain power, I finish showering in the ice cold well-water this mansion has. I guess these rich bastards couldn’t tie into public sewage systems since they’re too far out, but it actually worked out for us in the long run, seeing as we still have running water in all seven bathrooms this monster house has. Sure, it’s cold since we don’t have electricity, but it’s still running water.

Dried and dressed, I go searching out the others. This house is like four times the size of the colonial we stayed at yesterday, so there’s two of everything. Two dining rooms, two parlors, two dens, why the fuck they needed two of all of these rooms still confuses me, but at least we can spread out. Hearing music, and knowing that it’s Olivia who packs the player, I follow it through the maze of rooms and start to smell something delicious. Picking up my pace, because music along with scent can only mean one thing, I’m nearly sprinting by the time I reach the kitchen.

There, I come to a stop so fast; that I nearly plow into a frozen John, and have to peer around the bastard’s shoulder to see what the fuck he’s just standing here for. When I catch sight of what has him dazed, I’m no better. Olivia’s taken off her coat and gloves, so she’s only in another one of my t-shirts as she dances and sings her way around the kitchen. If her hip shaking wasn’t enough, the lyrics she’s belting out, sure as hell would have revved several engines. Olivia, completely unaware of her audience, continues singing into her spoon, as she gyrates around the kitchen. She continues doing a mixture of hip hop, and something else, as she sings the chorus for 3OH!3’s “Dirty Mind” with her eyes closed.

“Is it wrong that I just came?” John whispers.

I elbow him hard in the ribs, but he just grunts as he watches Olivia continue her dance fest with a wet dream inducing performance. She’s still ignorant of her audience, and multitasking as she prepares dinner. And obviously John and I are ignorant of our surroundings, since we get a pinch to each of our ears. The stinging pain breaks my eye fucking of Olivia, in favor of facing the culprit, who just so happens to be my baby sister. There’s a boner killer for ya.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sarah demands as she crosses her arms, and taps her sneakered foot.

“Language, Rah-rah,” John mutters.

“Don’t you talk to me about language, Jon Jon, when you’re sitting here like a pair of peeping toms.”

“We were not,” I deny. First lesson learned when you’re the child of a pit bull of a lawyer, deny, deny, deny. And if they still don’t believe you, deny some more.

“Then what were you doing?” Sarah inquires. “Were you waiting for Olivia to shout out instructions to you from across the room?”

“Actually, I just got out of the shower, and wanted to see if dinner would be ready soon,” I reply and point to my still damp hair as evidence. Since I’m scabbed up, I can unfortunately wash my own hair again, same for Olivia. I almost cried last night, when she told me that my services were no longer needed, now that her tube was out.

“Sure you were,” Sarah says dryly. “And the drool dripping down your chin, was from the thought of food, and not from ogling a taken woman. You should be ashamed of yourself, Jared.” I resist the urge to do a drool check, because that would only incriminate me, and shake my head.

“She’s not taken,” I counter.

“Um, did you not see the diamond that could be seen from outer space?” Sarah asks. “I saw it yesterday, before you kicked us out from our visit.”

“She’s widowed,” John answers, when I don’t. Sarah’s eyes round, as she peers over at Olivia.

“She’s like twelve, how’s she a widow?”

“She’s not twelve,” I say offended on Olivia’s behalf. “She’s twenty, which makes her four years older than you.”

“Still too young to be widowed,” Sarah says. I grab her arm and pull her down through the maze of rooms. Finding an empty one, I pull her inside along with John, before closing it behind us.

“Promise not to say a word,” I tell Sarah. “Not to Danny, not to Whitney, not a fucking soul.”

“I promise,” she says.

Sarah holds her pinky out in our childhood code for don’t tell the ‘rents that we broke whatever it was that time, and if they figure it out, blame John. Hey, he may have been like a brother to us, but the key word here was
like
. John didn’t live with us, and wouldn’t have faced the wrath of my mother whacking him on the ass with a wooden spoon, as she would have done to us. No, we weren’t abused, but we did get a tap on the backside if the occasion called for it. Like a fifty thousand dollar vase that Sarah and I may, or may not, have used to play kickball in the house.

“Alright,” I say and reclaim my pinky. “Olivia was engaged to her next door neighbor, I won’t tell you the details, but he died last year, and now she’s a widow, and Cory’s actually her deceased husband’s brother, so that’s how they knew each other, we good now?”

“No,” she replies. “You lost me in your run on sentence that sounds an awful lot like an episode of Jerry Springer.”

“It’s not,” John explains. “Olivia grew up with Travis, they were neighbors and Cory’s been like an older brother to her ever since she was born. Her and Travis were childhood sweethearts, eventually they got engaged, got married, the whole shebang. Now, he’s gone, and she’s alone, understand?”

“Physically, she’s not taken,” I continue. “Mentally, not so much.”

“So, it’s because she’s not over Travis, that you won’t do anything about it?” Sarah puzzles out.

“Pretty much,” I agree. I could deal with taking it slower than a snail’s pace physically, but I won’t force her into a relationship, if she’s not open to it.

“You’re not so much of a shmuck after all, Jarry.”

“Thanks, PITA. But you tell anyone that I’m going soft, and I’ll deny it with my last breath.”

“Would I do that?” Sarah asks with what she attempts to be an innocent expression, and fails miserably.

“Yes,” I say easily. “Yes, you would.”

<~~~<~~~
~~~>~~~
>

“Deep breaths, Danny.”

No, that’s not sexual in the slightest, you pack of perverts. I’m making good on my promise for male bonding with the kid, so that would be why we’re out back with a hunting rifle, and I’m teaching him how to shoot it. Danny’s actually pretty good with a handgun, as could be seen when we had the raiders breaking in, but he’s never handled anything with more of a kick to it. But I have, since Cory had a sniper when he first came to us, and because John and I use to go to the shooting range prior to the infestation. This would be on account of us having nothing better to do other than play video games, or go pick up chicks.

Technically speaking, they picked us up, since we were lazy bums and didn’t have places; other than our back seat, to take them to. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried it, but back seat sex in a muscle car; when you’re over six feet tall, is damn near impossible to do comfortably, no matter what position you try. Believe me; it’s hard to get off, when you have the gear shift trying to get in on the action. Call me kinky, but I only like inanimate objects getting involved if I’m the one operating them.

That would be why I went home with whoever the woman was, because there was no way in hell I was banging some chick twenty feet away from my parents’ bedroom. They’d most likely come in while I’m mid thrust, introduce themselves, and ask when the wedding was since I
‘deflowered’
the poor girl. Yeah, I heard about that fucking hysterical story from John; and no, he didn’t complete that mission, so let’s just say it was aborted, and maybe I’ll let him fill you in on the particulars to that story later. But let me just make it known right now that I’ve never seduced a virgin, and remind you that my parents sent us to Catholic school, so I kept mum about my extracurricular activities in the homestead.

But that’s all in the past, so, I turn my attention back to the present; in time to see Danny fire off a shot, and land on his ass. Reaching down, I hook my arm and under his, and haul him up.

“Thanks,” he mutters.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I tell him. “That shot sucked ass, but since it’s getting dark, let’s go in and grab some more of Olivia’s casserole, then hit the gym.” I pinch his gangly arm that has little to no muscle mass. “These need some serious help.”

Danny nods dutifully, before heading toward the house. I can pretty much say anything to the kid, but he just agrees and follows through. I’m guessing that he doesn’t want to piss me off, but I don’t want a mindless little minion. I’ll having him cursing me out freely, by the end of the day, and make it known that I will not be kicking his ass if he does.

Danny goes through the back door first, again not sexual since I don’t swing that way, and it leads directly to the kitchen. Dinner was a couple of hours ago, but I can still smell the mouthwatering chicken casserole that Olivia made from canned ingredients. It melted on your tongue, and had a flaky crust that she wouldn’t tell her secrets on how she accomplished it, no matter how much I begged for the recipe. Grabbing up a couple of bowls, I serve up two heaping helpings of the goodness. What? I’m a growing boy as Cory claimed, so I need the calories. And so doesn’t Danny, he may be lean, but I can tell he’s still underweight.

It’s nowhere near the starving state that we found him in seven months ago, but Danny could still use another ten to fifteen pounds for him to be healthy, especially with his body still maturing. The kid’s only seventeen, and when I was his age, I ate my parents out of house and home. My mom had to make trips to the market constantly, but we can’t, so he’s been restricted to three square courses a day. And I’ve never seen Danny take seconds unless it’s forced upon him by Whitney, and now Olivia does it.

“You need to eat more.” I look at Danny damn near lapping up his bowl like one of those neglected dogs on Animal Cops. As I’ve said before, I liked Animal Planet, and whenever I got around to going to college, I probably would have ixnayed law school, to be a vet. Too bad that’s never gonna happen.

“I eat plenty, thank you,” Danny says as he immediately sets the bowl down. I pile another large scoop into his bowl.

“You don’t,” I counter. “Quit being so damn polite, and eat.”

“Really, I’m fine,” he lies through his teeth, as he eyes the bowl.

“You’re not. You’re underweight and it is not healthy. So either you eat the freaking food until you’re full, or I’m done training you.” His green eyes snap to mine.

“The others,” he says.

“They’re fine,” I tell him. I wave at the remainders of the second casserole dish Olivia managed to squeeze out of six cans of food. How she can stretch it that far, is a mystery to me, but it works in our favor. “This is gonna spoil anyway, since we don’t have our cold packs, or our coolers to store it in. So, either you eat it like you need to, or it’s going to be food for the birds.”

“You’re sure?” Danny asks.

“Positive, now eat.”

With my approval now cemented, Danny dives at the pan and digs in with the serving spoon. Since I’m done, I rinse out my bowl and set it on the strainer with the others. Yeah, I know we don’t live here, but that’s still no reason to act like a pig. Besides, Olivia would kick my ass if I fucked with her clean kitchen. Cory wasn’t lying when he said she kept her place immaculate, since it’s freaking sparkling right now. She even scrubbed the non-working, electronic stainless steel appliances to the point that I could see my reflection. Not that I’ve looked at it, I already know that I’m a scaly leper, who has some peach fuzz sprinkling up from places that weren’t burned as bad as the scabbed areas. I’m like a Freddy Krueger Chia Pet. Ch-ch-ch-chia!

“When you’re done, meet me downstairs in the gym.”

Danny mumbles out something indiscernible around a mouthful of food, so I grab some clothes from my bag, and leave my leather jacket next to it on the counter. I continue on to the hallway bathroom to swap out my jeans and long sleeve shirt, for ball shorts and a tee to work out in. Folding them neatly, I shove them into the trash bag that Whit left in here for laundry. She usually sets one up at every stop and will wait until it’s full, then clean them at the next location, along with Sarah.

No, it’s not sexist, Whitney insists on doing the laundry since she owned her own cleaning service, and said she liked the normalcy in her routine. I’m fine with it, but I always make sure she has help, or I assist her myself. Or try to at least. On more than one occasion, Whit has chased me away, wielding a broom, and shouting that I do too much. I don’t agree, especially lately since I’ve been slacking; but before the fire I only did supply runs, guard duty, gardening, adjusted the rain barrels to collect rain more efficiently, was decision maker, and appointed the other’s to their daily chores. So really, I didn’t do much at all.

Opening the door that leads to the basement, music drifts up to me. This means that not only is Olivia down here, but Cory too, because she would never close a door without him or me with her. Well, Tommy too, but he doesn’t count since the closed door is for his benefit too. Jogging down the steps, I find that I’m right on both accounts. Not only is Tommy down here, but so aren’t Cory and Olivia. The former is over by Akio and reading another one of those medical pamphlets that he found back at the outlets, while the latter are dancing around the room together.