Unprepared Page 15

  “We’ll have drinks tonight with Steve and Maureen. That’ll cheer you up.”

  “I’m fucking sick of Steve and Maureen. I’m sick of their stupid, bratty kids. And they’re sick of us.”

  Without another word, Kelly got up and walked out of the room. She stopped at the living room doorway, turned around and lifted her Nikon to her face. She aimed it at David who was pouting on the sofa.

  Click.

  “Get the fuck out of here!” David yelled, breaking their no shouting rule.

  Kelly turned and walked down the hallway, into the spare room, closing the door behind her, tears forming in her eyes.

  It was going to be a long winter.

  “Hey guys,” whispered Maureen, opening the rear door of their typical suburban house, albeit without power or water.

  Something was different. The smell in Maureen and Steve’s house was heavenly.

  “What are you cooking?” Kelly asked.

  “Goose!” Maureen replied, enthusiastically.

  Without saying a word, David walked past them both and went to the living room, picking a spot on the sofa across from Steve.

  “Where did you get a goose?” she asked.

  “It was a gift from God,” Maureen responded, smiling. “I found it next to the road yesterday.”

  Kelly’s initial look of surprise drained away immediately.

  “Roadkill? We’re having roadkill for dinner?” she asked.

  “Well, no, not really. It obviously wasn’t hit by a car. It died from natural causes.”

  “Natural causes? Like a stroke?” Kelly asked, dubious about their main course bubbling away in oil in a saucepan in front of them. Maureen shrugged.

  “I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Kelly continued, “it smells delicious, but what if it’s diseased? We can’t get sick; there are no doctors.”

  “I thought of that, don’t worry. I’ve been frying it for forty minutes. Anything bad has been certainly been killed off. This goose is perfectly safe to eat, I promise.”

  In the living room, Steve and David weren’t talking much. There was nothing to say and their kids never said anything of consequence, so there was no point in engaging them either.

  “Wanna drink?” Steve asked.

  David nodded.

  Steve opened the top of a bottle of Captain Morgan rum and poured some into a dirty glass, there being no point in having spotlessly clean glassware anymore. He got up and handed the drink to David.

  “It’s been too long now,” Steve said.

  David nodded for a long time.

  “Three months today,” David finally said.

  The two sat in silence, the only sound being the frying goose in the kitchen and an occasional scrape of a utensil in the pot. They used to have a fair amount of fun in this house, reading and drinking and, when the kids were asleep, smoking weed. It was boring now; methodical.

  “I thought I heard a plane yesterday,” Steve said. “I went outside but... I dunno. Maybe my ears were playing tricks on me. They have to send help by now. It’s been too long.”

  “Three months,” David repeated, flatly, staring at the floor, nursing his rum in his cold hands.

  “You know, Dave. I don’t think I can survive the winter,” Steve said quietly.

  He stared at David for a moment, before whispering in his direction.

  “Do you ever think about just running away?”

  Of course he had. The last few weeks had been intolerable. Kelly was in a permanent foul mood, and so was he, although his pride prevented him from taking his half of the blame.

  David took a deep breath and exhaled. He couldn’t leave Kelly alone to fend for herself. They were a team and he loved her, but their marriage was at breaking point in this perpetual hell.

  “It’s never mentioned in prepper handbooks,” David said.

  “What is?” Steve replied.

  “What a disaster does to your marriage.”

  Steve nodded.

  “Sometimes I envy Jerry. He got out easy.”

  David hadn’t forgotten about their dead neighbor, but never spoke of him.

  “I buried him yesterday,” Steve continued. “Out the back of his house.”

  That was unexpected news.

  “You should have come got me. I could have helped.”

  “It’s OK. We hang out enough as it is. I just wanted to be alone, away from all this, you know?”

  David nodded. He understood perfectly.

  Kelly and Maureen were having a similar conversation of their own.

  “I do everything around the house now. Washing the clothes, cooking the food, everything,” Kelly complained. “He just mopes around like a useless zombie.”

  Maureen nodded.

  “He’s no better,” she replied, pointing an oily spatula in Steve’s direction. “He just yells at the kids - well, not yells - you know what I mean, and he doesn’t speak to me unless it’s to complain. I do the laundry, I do the dishes, I cook the food, all by hand, and he just sits there.”

  The two sipped on rum, huddling close to the frying turkey pieces in the saucepan, trying to absorb the food’s warmth as it bubbled away.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” Kelly asked, continuing before Maureen had the chance to say yes. “I sometimes think of just running away, you know?”

  “But where would we go?”

  “Ha,” Kelly chuckled. “We? So you’ve thought about it too?”

  Maureen seemed a little embarrassed, but Kelly was right.

  “Yes, I’ve thought about it. But the kids, you know? I can’t leave without the kids.”

  Maureen moved the turkey piece around the pot, the oil sloshing over it.

  “Kelly… Do you…” Maureen’s question trailed off.

  “Do I what?” Kelly asked.

  “Do you… ever regret not having kids?”

  Kelly knew the answer, but didn’t want to hurt Maureen’s feelings.

  “You’re a wonderful mother. But kids aren’t for everyone. They weren't ever in our plan.”

  Maureen stared vacantly into the bubbling pot.

  “I just… sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it.”

  She pushed the turkey around with the spatula.

  “Maybe it’s just a case of the grass is always greener, but lately I’ve been questioning my choices in life.”

  “Maureen, you’re not alone. It’s perfectly natural, given our current situation.”

  “I know. I just sometimes… I think that… I missed out on a lot. I could have traveled the world. In college I dreamed that I’d see Europe. That I’d make love to some romantic French or Italian guy. Maybe Europe is all still OK? Maybe life is normal there. Not like here.”

  Kelly nodded but didn’t answer. What could she possibly say? She couldn't turn to Maureen and say “yes, you screwed up. You got knocked up by a boring lawyer. You had kids and missed out on travel, love and adventure.”

  Of course she couldn't say that. After all, she was in the same situation.

  “You still have time,” Kelly said. “This situation can’t go on forever. Help must be on its way. I mean it has to be. China or Russia or… I dunno, Australia must surely be coming to help us out by now. Any minute we’re gonna see tanks or troops or something. This can’t last forever.”

  The smell of the turkey was mouth-watering as Maureen placed a piece each on everyone’s plate, hot oil pooling around each morsel. A scoop of cooked, white rice sat on each plate alongside the turkey, with Maureen trying to hide its natural blandness with some dried herbs stolen from one of their neighbors several weeks ago. With the six of them sitting around the table, Maureen said grace.

  “Come, Lord Jesus, be our Guest, and let these gifts to us be blessed. Amen.”

  A half-hearted “Amen” murmured around the table. Despite being dragged to church as children, neither David nor Kelly were very religious. Maybe they were alone in the universe, or maybe there was a higher power, they didn’t kno
w. If there was a higher power, however, they both would like a word in private with him or her, after enduring the last three months.

  “Bon appétit,” Maureen added, giving the green light for everyone to pick up their knives and forks in order to satiate their salivating mouths.

  “Mmm,” said Kelly, the first to put a piece in her mouth.

  It was the most delicious thing she had eaten in weeks. A real, home-cooked meal with real meat.

  “Oh, yeah. Well done, honey,” Steve added.

  “It’s good,” said David, enjoying it immensely, but keeping his words to a minimum.

  No one spoke during the meal, all overwhelmed with the feeling of oily, cooked meat washing over their taste buds. Maureen was rightly pleased with herself for finding that goose before the animals got to it. She was a prim and proper housewife, but not scared to roll up her sleeves to pluck and gut a waterfowl for dinner. The kids were both grossed out by the procedure, of course, but given the lack of entertainment available, they even pitched in and helped prepare the goose, covering it in herbs.

  The combination of goose and rum gently lightened the forlorn mood, and after dinner they sat on the sofa, talking about life before the pulse.

  “You know what I miss the most?” asked Maureen. “Music.”

  The room nodded.

  “Music was everywhere,” she continued. “You couldn’t escape it. But when it’s gone. Lord above, what I wouldn’t give to hear Huey Lewis and the News just one more time.”

  “Do you know my guilty pleasure?” Kelly asked. “Yanni.”

  “Oh, gosh. There’s a name I haven’t heard for ages,” said Maureen. “He did that beautiful aria, what’s it called?”

  “Yes!” Kelly said, smiling. “It’s called Aria!”

  A moment of silence washed across the room, replaced with Maureen unexpectedly beginning to hum the chorus of Yanni's song. Kelly smiled and joined in. They didn’t know the lyrics, but the melody was all that mattered.

  The living room came to life again that evening, the two women humming all they could remember from a happier time, the mood eliciting tears from Maureen’s eyes. On the second time through the chorus, Steve began to tap a gentle drum rhythm on the coffee table and, fueled by the great Captain Morgan, even David felt the magic in that cold living room, allowing his embittered heart to open, music soothing the savage beast within his soul.

  After Maureen and Kelly brought the song down and faded it out with softened humming, the four adults in the room quietly clapped, tapping their fingers on their palms, for what was undoubtedly the most beautiful three minutes of the last three months.

  “Your turn, Dave,” said Steve. “Give us a song.”

  Dave pondered for a moment, before adjusting his pose on the sofa, impersonating someone driving a car. He shook his head around a little to get into character, and smiling, whispered, “Hiya Barbie! Hi Ken! You wanna go for a ride?”

  Kelly reached over and hit his thigh, causing giggles around the room.

  “Be serious,” she pleaded.

  “Alright, alright,” he responded, his response giving himself an idea for a different song. Tapping his thighs, he began moving to his own beat, warming up to the intro.

  “My baby don't mess around, ‘cause she loves me so, this I know fo’ surrre.”

  Maureen was lost, but Kelly started nodding, deciding to join in the next line.

  “But does she really wanna, but can't stand to see me walk out tha’ dooor.”

  Steve and the kids knew this one, even if they didn’t know the words, so they joined in, humming at the very least.

  “Don't try to fight the feeling, ‘cause the thought alone is killin' me right nooow.”

  Now the room was swaying, a mixture of humming and soft singing.

  “Thank God for Mom and Dad for sticking to together like we don't know hooow.”

  With the room swaying, the mood light as a feather and chorus just a single breath away, an almighty thump impacted the roof above their heads. The room froze, smiles instantly replaced with fear.

  Steve signaled everyone to be silent, blowing out the candle and placing his index finger to his lips.

  “Someone must have heard us,” he whispered. “They might be trying to draw us out. Stay here, stay down.”

  Steve got up quietly and grabbed his pistol from on top of the living room shelf. David had his sitting on the table next to the sofa. With guns safely in hand, Kelly huddled down with Maureen and the kids as the two men felt their way along the walls to the back door.

  Steve and David paused by the door, giving their eyes a moment to adjust to the pitch black outside, before slowly turning the handle. The stillness of the nighttime air allowed them both to listen intently for any sounds, but the early winter night was lifeless. For all they knew, there were guns pointed at them right now.

  In the living room, Kelly and Maureen had the kids lying in front of the sofa, down and away from the window to improve their chances in a shoot-out, if need be.

  David tapped Steve’s shoulder and leaned in close to his ear.

  “Circle the house. I'll wait here.”

  Steve tapped David’s shoulder twice; a sign of agreement, walking onto the now-overgrown grass, careful not to make a sound. David went closer to the treeline to listen for footsteps or breathing while Steve circled around to the front of the house, clockwise. Whoever it was, they had to be within projectile-throwing distance. With his gun aimed straight in front, David scanned the forested area behind the house while Steve continued towards the first corner of his home, each footstep being calculated and deliberate, acutely aware of the geography of his castle.

  David waited, poised next to a tree at the back of Steve’s section, listening intently, aware of his heart thumping hard in his chest. They’ve made it this far, they couldn’t die now, he thought. The moment he heard any noise he was going to blow it away with his Desert Eagle.

  Steve, meanwhile, edged around the front of his home straining his eyes across his darkened lawn and down towards the road, every tree forming a sinister shape in the grainy darkness. He crept, catlike around the front, eyes darting in all directions, reaching the third corner of his rectangular house.

  He heard a noise.

  It sounded vaguely like movement and breathing, just around the corner. He hoped it was David, but surely David wouldn’t be dumb enough to come around the side of the house towards him while they were both armed in the dark. Steve had to trust David’s sensibilities as he slid up against the edge of his house. Steve’s head poked slowly around the corner of the house, his gun concealed. The treeline behind the house slowly came into view as his head slid further outward. With one eye, he scanned all he could see, but saw no movement. However he heard a noise again, sounding like a person breathing, somewhere low, against the base of his house. As smoothly and quickly as possible, he moved the gun over to his left hand and slid further against the corner, allowing enough space for his left hand to slide out and extend, aiming at the intruder hunched up against his outer wall. It was hard to see, but it looked like a child. Are they using children to lure people out now, he wondered, not knowing if he should shoot, aware that whoever sent the obviously terrified child must be armed and watching. With his pistol aimed at the child, he took a breath and gathered the fortitude needed to protect his family.

  “Don’t. Move.” he whispered.

  The child continued breathing, wheezing.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Steve whispered. “But don’t move. Do you understand?”

  The child didn’t respond. What the fuck do I do now, he asked himself. He tried interacting with the child-sized person again.

  “What’s your name? I’m Steve.”

  There was no answer, just frightened breathing. Now what, he wondered.

  David was aware that Steve was taking too long to loop around the house and he became worried, three or four minutes now passing. David backed away from the forest's edge
and, gun still aimed towards the tree-filled darkness, walked sideways towards the first corner of the house, following Steve’s route. After a minute of careful pacing, he saw Steve’s silhouette against the far corner. He edged closer, not wanting to frighten Steve, who had clearly seen something. He crept closer, whispering “Steve” when he was just a few feet behind him. Steve jumped a little, but then backed towards him, turning to face David.

  “It’s a kid. He’s not responding. He might be hurt.”

  “Decoy,” Steve whispered back.

  This meant that the actual perpetrator was somewhere out there in the darkness. They knew when they were outmaneuvered, with both deciding to retreat the way they came, backing into the house, quietly locking the door and feeling their way back to the living room. Steve’s foot met with Kelly’s waist as he slid back into the room, whispering to the group.

  “People are outside. Can’t see them. Kelly, Maureen, arm yourselves. Portia, Braxley, get down and don’t make a sound.”

  Kelly got up and felt on the kitchen counter for the Glock 19, which had become hers since David had adopted the Desert Eagle. Maureen stumbled into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher with a click, retrieving the Glock G29 compact handgun which David had acquired at their midnight trip to the mall. Everyone took up positions around the living room, crouching on the floor, waiting.

  They’d lost track of how long they’d been poised in a state of high alert in the living room. It was a sudden snort from Braxley snoring that gave everyone a hit of adrenaline and reminded them they were in a life and death situation. It was probably around 1 AM at that point and no activity had been heard for about three hours. It was a stand-off. David crawled over to Steve with an idea.

  “We can’t all stay up like this. We can take turns being on alert, OK?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Alright, I’ll stay awake as long as I can. You all move to the middle of the room and sleep. I’ll come get you in about an hour.”

  “OK.”

  The sound of crows in the winter air replaced the morning silence as the first light of the day appeared in a paper-thin horizontal line under the back door. Steve, who was supposed to be on guard duty, was fast asleep, sitting against the hallway door frame. David bolted awake from a dream that got a little too close to reality, reminding him of the danger they were in, causing his system to flood him with adrenaline. It truly was the worst way to start the day, but much more effective than coffee.