Chapter 3 #2
Dez, sighing, pulled me into a hug. “I won’t disagree with you,” he said.
“Honestly, I’m trained to survive, and even I can’t wrap my head around this shit.
That guy I met, he used to live in my building.
He has connections. The government’s not headed for collapse.
It’s already gone. They’re saving face to give officials time to escape, but this thing is global. ”
I wrapped my arms around him, weakly, needily, and desperately. “What is it?”
“No one knows, but it doesn’t seem to be airborne, like previously thought.”
I slid one arm back.
“Keep the mask on.”
I returned my arm to its original position.
“It’s exactly like we’ve seen,” he continued.
“The videos? Chris? They were real. The infection does something to the brain, turns people into monsters. Cannibals. A secret team at the CDC was working on a cure, but the government put in a kill order once they learned the infection couldn’t be contained. ”
I buried my face against the side of his neck and inhaled. This wasn’t what I’d hoped to hear, but I did remember Chris. I remembered what I saw, what I heard.
“Tapley, I was thinking about something. You’re a priority asset.”
“Remember that the administration switched hands since this thing began,” I reminded him.
“I know, but you’re still a Fed. So, if someone comes for you, I want you to go with them.”
With the pain from the hard ground setting in, I released him and stood. He rose more slowly, studying me with an expression on his face I couldn’t read.
“Do you mean that?” I asked.
He nodded. “I do. If I’m right about what’s going to happen, we might not make it. I need you to be all right with picking safety if we’re forced to split up.”
“Because I’m a deadweight.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then deny it.”
“Easy—you’re not. You’re a normal fucking human. I just…” He groaned, again running his fingers through his hair. “I’m not comfortable with you needing me as much as you do.”
For a second, I tried to imagine what a bee sting directly to the heart might feel like and licked my lips to hide any sign of a quiver.
“Okay. I’ll go.” I cleared my throat. “Let’s head back.”
“Tapley, don’t misunderstand me.”
“How could I? You’ve been very clear.”
“Just trust me.”
“Will do.”
Hurt, embarrassed, and disappointed, I turned and walked off.
I packed a bag and kept my distance.
Dez’s words didn’t only hurt because I had feelings for him. We’d gotten close. We were good friends. I wanted to ride this thing out with someone capable, someone I knew and trusted, not trapped inside some survivors’ camp or worse, on some rich guy’s island.
But I was terrified he was right.
Me tagging along was like an inexperienced swimmer trying to save someone from drowning. At the end of the day, I would only end up pulling him beneath the ocean’s surface with me.
So, we danced around each other all evening.
Whenever he asked whether I was all right, I lied, but faking strength was the last leg I had to stand on.
At times, I caught him watching me, but I pretended not to notice.
There was no guarantee someone would come, and we might end up having to stay together anyhow, but that notion didn’t break my heart any less.
Usually, we stayed up to read together.
It was married-old-couple behavior, and in the beginning, we barely made it past one chapter before falling asleep. Eventually, however, we found a rhythm. We made it through scene after scene, sitting or lying side by side as each story unfolded.
Tonight, instead of reading, I went straight to bed.
Less than an hour later, Dez’s candlelit shadow darkened my doorway, gripping a book in one hand. “You don’t want to read with me tonight?” he asked, soft undertones of disappointment noticeable in his voice. “Tapley, look…don’t be mad. You’re better off with a group of p—”
“Okay. You’re right.” I rolled onto my side, facing away from him. But then, imbued with the spirit of a fist rising in protest, I flopped back over. “No, I take that back. You’re wrong.”
“Tapley—”
“Let me make myself very clear, Dez. If someone shows up here tonight, they can go right on and fuck themselves. They could promise me the land of milk and honey, promise me a paradise. It-does-not-matter. I’m not leaving you.
I don’t trust anyone else within damn near a thousand miles outside of you. ”
He stalked across the room, grabbed a chunk of my tank top, and yanked me up until our faces were inches apart.
“That’s my point,” he hissed. “If you don’t leave me now, I’ll never give you another chance.
I’ll never let you go. The world is ending, and you’re all I have.
That kind of selfishness? It could get you killed or worse, and I can’t do it, Tapley.
I can’t see you turned into one of those things.
I can’t see you not getting excited about your nineties R&B, or have you look at me and…
” His expression softened. “And there’s no life behind your eyes.
If that happens, it’s my fault. It’s on me, and I can’t explain just how much that shit would hurt me down to my fucking soul. ”
It wasn’t what I’d expected him to say.
After earlier today, I’d anticipated some version of “Leave, bitch,” the moment some shadow government entity got me in their claws. My heart was at full gallop, and he had to know there was no way I’d so much as consider going somewhere he wouldn’t be after an admission like that.
“It’s not just nineties R&B,” I barely croaked out. “I like soft rock, too. Sinéad O’Conner, ‘Nothing Compares 2 U.’ Paula Cole, ‘I Don’t Want To Wait.’”
“What’s the second one?”
“The Dawson’s Creek song?”
“What’s Dawson’s Creek?”
“A show everyone knows, but I can’t seem to find a single person who watched it.”
He smiled.
I held my breath and decided there was no better time than the present to go in for a kiss.
I’d waited in the event the kiss wasn’t reciprocated, and then I’d have no way to escape the awkwardness.
If I did end up having to leave, at least it would be after braving my desires, regardless of whether he turned me down after.
I leaned in.
Frowning, he released me and walked to a window, which he often did, but there was never much to see without widespread electricity. Then, I looked down and noticed that when he pulled me up, my shirt slid, and an entire breast was out.
An entire titty, and he didn’t notice.
Yeah, this man didn’t want me.
“Did you hear that?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure I could hear after figuratively face-planting on the solid floors. I’d read this man all wrong. End of the world Larke was both desperate and pathetic.
A droning hum passed overhead.
Dez backed away from the window. “Tapley, get your bug-out bag. José said we had three more days, but that’s a Reaper.”
I’d heard the term used before.
The MQ-9 Reaper was a stealth aircraft drone primarily used for surveillance, but I knew it could also carry various weapons.
After adjusting my shirt, I went into motion.
We’d practiced an exit strategy several times since that first night, although we’d practiced with the idea of running from mobs and armed citizens in mind.
As I stepped into a pair of leggings, another rumble tore through the sky, more profound than the first, and I wondered how effective our escape route would be against trained military personnel.
“That’s a C-130,” Dez said, reaching under my bed, fully dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of tactical pants. “My source said we had three more days until extreme quarantine measures. That’s why I wanted us to move in the morning.”
He retrieved a case with a handle, one of the necessities he’d brought from his place.
I grabbed non-perishables and water and stepped into the hiking sneakers I’d bought earlier that year.
Seeing as I wasn’t a fan of the gym or counting reps, I’d planned to go hiking and take dance classes to help drop some of my “sit behind a desk for hours and subsist on food delivery apps” weight.
Had I known food scarcity was in my future, I would have simply waited.
I went to the front door.
Another aircraft passed overhead.
“Dez, we gotta go, my friend,” I called.
“I’m coming. I’d never leave without my girl.”
I beamed.
The joy melted when he appeared in the bedroom doorway, holding a rifle, the scope hovering near his eye.
“When I told you I didn’t have someone waiting for me back at home, I lied. Larke Tapley, meet the love of my life. I call her Bethany.”
He’d named his gun Bethany.
If that wasn’t the kick in the temple I needed, I didn’t know what else would be.
“We need to go,” I reiterated.
We left and headed for the stairs.
A few residents peeked at us in the corridor from their units but then dipped back inside like gophers. Staying sheltered might have seemed appropriate, but Dez had emphasized that we would eventually need to treat our circumstances like an active war zone.
Only those who move survive.
The minute I made it to the first stair landing, the ground shook.
Caught off guard, I grabbed onto the nearby railing.
Dez secured Bethany, and never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine one day being jealous of a gun.
It wasn’t as if I was well-versed in surviving apocalypse events. I still needed his freakin’ help.
“Bombs!” Someone screamed from the hallway. “They’re dropping bombs! Oh, heavenly Father…”