36 Hours (50 page)

In the dark catacombs it was cold, freezing. You couldn’t see anything. The men and women didn’t eat anything, but remained underground for days, drinking sparse water and eating beetles scurrying over the dirt floors. One by one they meandered through the stone maze, and exited into brilliant sunlight, the triangle shadow before them shaking in the sand as if it were a sign from the sun god himself.

They had remained out of reach for days. They watched as the infected attacked each other, ate each other… and one by one, they rotted away due to the malnutrition. The survivors, weak and shaking, having survived on pigeons and insects, crept down the winding staircases, to the dirt floor. They looked about at the Anthony Barnhart

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crumbling ruins, and felt they deserved their place there. Now they were survivors. They were heroes. The silent onlookers cheered. Birds sang.

I abandoned the wheel and walked downstairs. Hannah was sitting on the bed, staring numbly at the wall. I sat down next to her, the mattress squeezing beneath me. She acknowledged my presence with a brief nod, and looked down at her feet.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Probably what you are,” she said.

“Thinking about how we’ve overcome? Thinking about how now we can breathe and sleep… in peace?”

She managed a quiet laugh. “I guess so… I am thinking about..”

“What?”

“I’m thinking about everything. About everyone. It just floods my mind.”

“Maybe it’s better, now that it’s done. God cleansed the earth with the flood. Preserved the righteous.”

“Your parents were wicked? My parents were wicked? Ashlie and Peyton were wicked? I thought you didn’t believe in God.”

“I guess now, I do.”

“That’s great,” she said, almost sarcastically. Her arms were shaking.

“You’re afraid it isn’t over?”

Slowly, “I don’t think it’s over.”

“But that’s not what you’re thinking about. I can read it in your eyes. You’re thinking,
Why me?
”

3:00 p.m.

Hidden Past

The Fallacy of Beauty

So simple, so close

She looked over at me and a tear sprinkled her eye. “I don’t even know who my real parents are,” she said. “They tossed me out of their house when I was just a baby. I was passed between the family members, shunned and forgotten, the little orphan under the stairs. My birthdays were barely remembered; if they Anthony Barnhart

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were, my birthday gift was my own plate of macaroni and cheese. No one really loved me. No one really cared for me. My grandparents wanted nothing to do with me – they called me a bastard child because my father ran off and was never identified. I remember being driven places and left, told to walk home. Left at bus stations and train stations, having to wait for hours in the rain and snow for some other off-the-wall family member to pick me up for my unwanted three months there. It wasn’t until Mom took me in that I was really cared for. She loved me like no one else ever has. She gave me all new clothes, she took me with her to church and social functions, introduced me to all kinds of people. I even made some friends.

“She started dating this older guy, and then she started neglecting me, spending all her time with him. I remember, six years old, huddling in my room, hearing them fight, and I hear her scream, and a door slam. I just stayed in my room and cried. Then an ambulance came and they opened my door and told me to come with them. Mom had called the ambulance, because the man had…

stabbed her three times. My mom met a doctor and remarried. That’s who I call Dad. That’s who everyone thinks is my real dad. No one really knows that I’ve been tossed around and abandoned so many times.”

I didn’t know what to say. All this was new. So I didn’t say anything. She continued: “I’ve always wanted to be loved, Austin. I’ve always thirsted for it, hungered for it. My diaries are full with it. I just always looked to the football players, the jocks, the preps for it. I opened my legs wide hoping they would really love me. I don’t know how many… how many guys took advantage of that. I love God, I
loved
God, but I just needed something more, and this controlled my life. It took me down so many bad roads. I just wanted someone to tell me, ‘You’re beautiful,’ someone to tell me, ‘You’re everything to me,’ because almost no one ever has. And all my friendships are superficial, social-status friendships. Except for a few. Like you.

“I was corrupted by the high school society. In high school, everything is about competition. Who isn’t a virgin? Who’s the best looking? Who’s the greatest athlete? Who flirts the most? It’s all driven by a bite-your-head-off competition. It really is sickening. Everyone is out to prove themselves, to be better than the rest, and this just leaves us empty, barren, thirsty and without water. Have you ever noticed how those who just go with the swing of life, who don’t try to outdo everyone, the ones who take a back seat, are the ones who ultimately succeed, are the ones who are happy, the ones whose dreams come Anthony Barnhart

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true? How does that work? I don’t know. Maybe it’s a God-thing, maybe it’s just chance, but you can’t deny that it happens. I was burned out on that competition mindset. I was burned out to the point where my competition was look good and be seen as good. There’s where teenage girls take the plunger.”

“Take the plunger?”

“Shallow.”

“What’s shallow?”

“We are. All of us. We spent our time doing our hair, painting nails, worrying about stupid stuff like age lines, ingrown toe-nails, pimples, dimples. Eye shadowing was our god; we worshipped the idol of beauty, dedicating our lives to it. Our own ignorance kept us bound.”

I cracked a smile. “Doesn’t sound like you’re too absorbed in the whole mess.”

“What happened changes people. I trusted in worthless junk. I put my trust in crap. I forsook my family, friends, I backstabbed those who’d helped me in life just so I could put myself higher. Every mistake I made wasn’t mine; I was perfect. I was a queen, a god, a teenage idol. Everyone wanted to be me. I was conceited. So much that I devoted my life to excelling in my conceit. I didn’t eat, I ravaged my body thin to the bone. I slept around. Did everything for peoples’ attention. I was a beautiful monster, but a monster to the bone. I wouldn’t admit I was wrong. I refused to face my problems. It isn’t a good game-plan to dig yourself a hole, then keep digging until you can’t escape. I never even realized how trapped I had become, not until now.” She shook her head, staring through a prison of bones. “I was a prep, doing everything for acceptance, refusing to admit the fact that I was crap. My life had become worthless, my goals were worthless, I was worthless. I put down others, exalted myself, in a rise to reach a goal that was so gorgeously terrible. I was a god…

until I came here. Then I realized how horrible I real y was.

“Do you know what we used to complain about? How bad our cuts and scrapes affect the color and smoothness of our skin. How bad our hair is messed up from the rain. How we stink with sweat. We hadn’t realized how pretentious and ignorant, how stupid we really are. Beauty is fallacy. It is nothing. It’s a whisper in time, then gone. Our bodies die, rot, all beauty is lost. The beauty is within. I didn’t realize that. Not until now.”

“I never thought I’d hear words like that from you.”

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She managed a cleft smile. “Neither did I. And it’s not just beauty, Austin. We all jive for popularity. Everything is prep fest. How will I look if I do this? What will people think? Our lives are dictated by the choices of others. Our own desire for control controls us. It is like being enslaved by freedom. You never realize it until you step back, step back and real y… see.”

She fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Do you know what I always wanted? I wanted a simple life. A simple life with a husband, working as a nurse, really helping people as much as I could. Watching my kids grow up, watching them have families of their own and have fun. I wanted to go to barbecues and parties. I wanted a husband who would love me more than he’d ever loved anyone before, someone I loved more than I’d loved anyone before.

“I didn’t realize that I’d had that simple life. I was blinded by the simplicity of it all.

“And I didn’t realize that person I so desired, I so craved, was so close.”

4:00 p.m.

Oasis

A Better World

Revelation

I rolled over, lying down next to her, my face almost touching hers. She rolled onto her side and looked into my eyes. Those eyes, the wellspring of grace, from that oasis I drank, drank my fill, deep and heavenly, a void of celestial paradise. Those eyes.

“Somehow I always knew,” she said, her sweet breath falling over me like lilies in spring.

I ran a hand through her hair, so soft. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want-“

“I always knew,” she said, and she wrapped her fingers around mine. Her skin was so beautiful.

“You’re not scared?”

“I’ve been so scared. But not now. The time of running is gone. I can’t run anymore.”

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Our faces closed in. Her mouth opened, and we pressed together. My tongue entered her mouth, and those feelings, those arousing, rushed through me, a platonic plague. Our lips smacked and we drew in heavy breaths. Our legs kicked and our arms shuddered, and we shivered against one another, lying on that bed. One of my hands touched her hair, the other her cheek. She wrapped her arm around me and closed her eyes. Glad for what we’ve got, done with what we’ve lost, our who lives laid out – right in front of us. The passion kindled, exploded, burst through me. Energy coursed through me. She was close. She was there. My obsession was realized.

I reeled backwards, breathing hard. Her own hair covered her face. She was sweating; so was I.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m so-“

She wasn’t allowed to finish. I rolled on top of her, kissing her face. She kissed my neck.

As I kissed she panted, “I’m sorry, so sorry, gosh, I’m so sorry…”

I leaned forward, pressed my face on her chest, felt her breathing. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry… You don’t understand…”

“I don’t have to,” I said, looking into her eyes. “This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

She stared into my eyes, and leaned forward, pulled me close. Once so shy, now so brave. Her hands were stiff with excitement. Our lips entwined and we rolled over on the bed, messing up the sheets. She hovered above me, kissing with such deep passion I’d never imagined possible, and I closed my eyes, let her explore my mouth with her tongue.

Suddenly she rolled off, landing beside me. She was crying. I propped up next to her. “It’ll be okay,” I said, whispering into her ear. She embraced me and kept crying. “People have always survived - we will, too. We survived the Romans, the Crusades, the Black Plague, World Wars, we'l survive this. It's nature's way of thinning us out so we can build a better world. We'll survive. We'll build a better world. You and me. We’ll be together. We’l build our lives together. It is beautiful.”

She just cried harder, and pulled away. “Austin,” she cried. “Austin-“

I reached up her shirt, feeling the soft skin. She cried more. I tried to kiss her. She refused: “I can’t do this. I can’t do this to you.”

“What? Why not? Where’s the minister? Who is going to marry us?”

“It’s not that,” she said, lying on that bed. “It’s not that. I love you. I want it.”

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“Then why not? Do you just want me because I’m all you have?”

“No. I won’t let you, because… Because
I’m
all you have.”

“You’re not making any sense, Hannah.”

“I know,” she cried. “I know, I’m so sorry…”

I began to kiss her again, trying to move on top of her. She pushed me off.

“Austin. Please stop.”

I lay next to her. “I don’t understand.”

“I just can’t, Austin.”

“Why not? Hannah, tell me. Why not?”

She got up from the bed, stood beside the dresser. I lay on the mattress staring. Her chest heaved in sobs.

“Why not? Why-“

She bent over, grabbed her pant leg, pulled it up.

Color drained in my face.

5:00 p.m.

Oasis

Heaven & Paradise

Revelation

My head was spinning. I rolled off the side of the bed, onto the floor, gripped at the carpet. My stomach retched, but nothing came up.
God, no, God – you can’t
do this. God, no, no, no…

Hannah fell against the wall.

I pulled myself up against the bed, stared at her. “When?”

“The surf shop,” she moaned. “That’s why I… That’s why I had to get you to move. Because I knew that if we waited, then… Then I’d turn, and you would die… I had to get you moving, had to get you to a boat, had to save your life, because you saved mine. Now you’re safe, and I thank God, every part of me thanks God, my wish… You’ve been blessed-“

“I’ve been cursed,” I cried out. “I lose you, I lose everything.”

“I just wanted you to be okay.”

“How can I be okay without you?”

“Now you have to kill me,” she sobbed. “You have the gun. You have to shoot me…”

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“No,” I moaned, standing. “No.”

“You have to… I am already feeling sick…”

“You’ll turn, and you’ll bite me, and I’ll turn, and we’ll be together.”

“It doesn’t work like that. It wouldn’t be me. It wouldn’t be you.”

“I can’t stand you being one of them. God-“

“I won’t. When I die, I’m gone. I’ll be waiting on the shores of heaven, I promise.”

There is no such thing.

I coughed. “Hannah. Please…”

“Give me the gun,” Hannah said. “Give me the gun and I will do it.”

“No. You can’t. God, no…” I stumbled over to her, fell down at her feet, kissed her legs. “No…”

A thumping sound filled my ears. It was growing closer. The boat was rocking.