The October Light of August (3 page)

And then ran.

*  *  *

The crows hadn't settled down yet, so I was sure
something
was still moving in the parking lot. I had dashed between the gap in the fence and into the residential area, then dove quickly behind a line of shrubs. The crows were circling and calling, yet they hadn't descended once. I waited and listened, but all I could hear were the birds. I could see nothing between the slats of the fence. I waited about ten minutes, my heart slowing and tremors fading, then sighed and crawled to the gap and peeked around.

The dead man was down by the dumpster – twitching, but down. I could not see the warrior, and that bothered me a lot. I didn't think the guy had a wound that was fatal – yet. He was going to die, to be sure. If not from blood loss (or choking on it!), then he was infected and the fever would take him in a short time – days, or within a day – there never seemed to be a fixed time frame for it. So he was dangerous until the fever made him incapacitated. I wasn't sure the guy even knew he'd been attacked from both sides. It had all happened so quickly.

A hollow boom rumbled from the dumpster, and I saw that the warrior was now on his feet, on the far side of the metal container. I could see a raised hand – the uninjured one – shaking, either in pain or rage. Then the man stepped into view, pushing off the dumpster and again creating another miniature sound of thunder. His injured hand jammed against his neck, the man started gagging and hacking again. As he took another step towards the office building, he arched his back and his good hand shot around and down to rub futilely at the pain there.

I wish I could say I'm sorry dude
.
But you came to my little patch of paradise and were looking to stir things up.

The man continued to jerk across the parking lot. He seemed to be trying to walk on his tip-toes, as if he could somehow defy gravity and walk on air. I almost expected to see him begin to float up above the pavement, his tattooed calf muscle flexing to find leverage in the chill autumn air. Perhaps he thought if he could just get airborne the pain would ease in his back. And neck. And hand.

You need to put him down,
I thought.

But I was afraid to get closer – the guy was still heavily armed. I imagined the self-recriminations running through his head right now, and how he would dearly love to take his misfortune out on someone.

Is he lucid enough to begin to wonder what the hell happened?

I began to scoot back from the gap in the fence, and a crow landed close enough to give me a reproachful squawk. I looked up at it and couldn't help but grin. “What do you want from me?” I whispered to the bird. It eyed me dispassionately, and cawed again, louder – scolding me for wasting time.

I could hear the oddly dainty tapping of the warrior's footsteps cease, replaced by the sound of his boots pivoting and crunching in a much faster tempo. Towards the fence.

Aw, shit...
 

The guy couldn't be much of a shot at this point. But he could get lucky. I jumped up and spared a glance over the fence and immediately locked eyes with him. I felt as if all my muscles were fused solid. It was the first time I had frozen in fear in several months, and I was pretty startled by it. The guy looked just as surprised as me, and we gaped at each other for far too long.

The warrior snapped out of it first, gurgled inarticulately and began to grope for the assault rifle across his back. Yet something kept him from swinging it around - two thin, dead arms had wrapped themselves around him from behind. Delicate, blood-stained hands began to grasp and claw their way across and up his chest as a blond head popped into view over his shoulder. It didn't take long for the dead woman to sink her teeth into the warrior's neck. The man's eyes were wide and full of shock and fear.

The dead woman began to shake her head violently, sawing her teeth into his flesh and was soon rewarded with a gush of arterial spray. The warrior made keening, mewling noises deep in his throat, and thrashed in circles – trying to both dislodge his attacker and reach for any weapon he could find. Blood jetted and corkscrewed around them, and soon he lost his balance and they crashed to the pavement, pinning his good hand under himself. He gave a mighty shove with the pinned arm and was able to flop onto his back, the dead woman trapped under him.

But now he didn't seem to know what to do. He stretched his arms up like he was reaching out to someone, a child begging to be picked up. His right leg rose, shook, dropped, the heel of his boot thumping on the pavement. And again, raising and thumping down. His arms sank slowly, shaking gently in sympathy with the gnawing motions of the dead woman. His leg rose and wavered, bent at the knee, then stretched out again.

Still trying to walk on air
, I thought.

The crow on the fence cawed again, and I automatically looked in all directions. But we were alone for now, and I shot the bird an exasperated look.
It's all about you, isn't it?

The dead woman was still trapped under the warrior, feasting happily.

Well, it's not as if she'll suffocate.

The warrior had quit kicking out with his leg and only lay staring up into the bright sky of the morning. I stepped into the parking lot, walked quickly up to the dead man that was still twitching by the dumpster and gave his head a few more solid whacks with the hammer until the movement stopped (and so it ends at last for Shitty-Shorts). I then dragged the corpse, hauling it at least fifty feet away from the feeding dead woman, and shoved it snugly up against the fence. The crow had hopped-flew along the barrier with me and I muttered, “There you go, your majesty.”

Not for the first time did I wonder why animals never caught the fever. Not even one, that I - or anyone else - knew of.
Something to be thankful for
... I turned away and after carefully surveying the area, walked back towards the dumpster, while the rest of the crows began to circle in to feast behind me. I looked to see if I could spot any of the ball-bearings, but I was feeling naked now. Later. I was tired, and the morning was getting late. Let the dead have the day.

I toyed with the idea of trying to grab what I could off the warrior, but decided it was too risky to get that close to the gnashing teeth – even if she was pinned under her meal. Which wouldn't be for long - already she had wormed herself around and was able to wrap her left leg across the pelvis of the warrior. She wore gray fleece sweatpants. And even though I couldn’t see it, I knew that across her bottom, stitched in cursive, was one word: Pink.

I suppose I should back up a bit. I thought that writing this down would just be my version of the final days of my life. Not that I think anyone gives two farts about that, or me in general. I need something to pass the time, now that I don’t find it all that desperate anymore. Being an avid reader, I think, makes you a frustrated writer. So what the hell - I can give it a shot. Is this just an exercise to justify the decisions I’ve made since 'shit got real'?  I don’t see me doing anything a whole lot different given the options I had. I didn’t kill anyone. Or rape anyone. Or destroy anything with random wantonness. All I did was survive for a year and a half the only way I could - by staying the hell away from the rest of y’all.

So I'll back up, at least to try and give some perspective on all of this. It seems I have more time than I thought to tell a longer story. Or at least more willpower than I thought I had. The tale grows in the telling, as they say.

*  *  *

I had first seen her at the gym. At 4:30 every morning, I would go work out. It was something I had decided that I needed to do, and very nearly abandoned it. Sure, I was unhealthy and overweight. I needed to exercise, and my mother convinced me if I just got into shape, I might feel better about myself and then find the courage to socialize. And maybe go on dates. Left unsaid was the possibility of marriage and grand kids. Baby steps, after all.

So I joined a gym near the mall – one that was open 24 hours. But I didn't want to work out when a lot of people were around and decided that the earlier, the better. I should be able to get out well before the 6:00 crowd came in. For two months I grimly rolled out of bed at 4:15 and routinely drove the short distance to jog on a treadmill for 30 minutes.

I met her on the third day of this routine as I gasped and wheezed away, trotting towards hell. Feeling foolish, I decided to give it up for the morning after 20 minutes. Stepping away from the treadmill I felt dizzy and I bent over, chest heaving and sweat dripping off my nose to plop on the gray carpet.

“You are an utter moron,” I gasped to myself. The carpet seemed to grow several shades darker at the corners of my vision, and a queasy feeling started to build in my stomach. I sat down hard on the floor, and felt a warm hand on the clammy skin of my arm.

“Are you okay?”

I jerked at the touch, and flushed in embarrassment - which may have saved me from passing out. I nodded my head, and looked up to see a blur of tan skin, blond hair and blue, concerned-looking eyes.

“Maybe you should lie down for a bit?” she asked me. “Get some water in you?”

“I think...,” was all I could manage.

The young woman stood abruptly and called out, “Hey Jordan? Jordan! I think this guy needs to hydrate!”

Not getting a response, she squatted again and looked me in the eyes.

“Just stay here, 'kay? I'll get you something to drink.”

She stood again and turned, and I noticed her fleece-covered bottom displaying the word 'Pink.'

Jordan was the popped-collar douche at the check-in desk, who was supposed to be paying attention to the members, but at 5:00 in the morning he could get away with playing with his PSP or flirting with any women who would show up that early. While annoyed to be bothered by the likes of an overweight man in his late twenties passing out from heat-stroke, he didn't mind at all dealing with the girl in the sweatpants with the word 'Pink' stitched across her ass. So he acted concerned with me, while admonishing that I should take things easy in the beginning. You can't climb Everest in a day after all, and other pearls of wisdom.

“You should be paying attention,” Pink stated bluntly. Jordan nodded his head solemnly and helped me to my feet.

Pink turned to me. “You okay?”

I managed a wan smile and a thumbs-up, which earned me a smile full of even white teeth.

“Awesome,” she said, and turned away to begin her morning workout.

I was sure I would give it up right then and there, but I found myself driving to the gym again in the middle of the week. Jordan greeted me with a “Don't pass out on me today!” and I nodded foolishly. I eased into my run (okay, brisk walk), drank plenty, and while I didn't end my session feeling good about myself I certainly met my goal for the day. It dawned on me in the middle of my workout that I had hoped to see Pink. That she could see me gamely exercising and that she would approve. Then, of course, I realized she wouldn't even remember me. I was just a bump that slowed down her morning routine. She was more likely to recall a pothole in the road before she ever recalled
me
. I was probably 10 years older than her, not particularly attractive and painfully shy. Who cared if I was trying to get in shape? Still, in the weeks ahead I continued to show up at the gym. I started my routine as a Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule but by the end of my second week I started going every day.

And did not run into her at all. Yes, I was feeling good and had lost five pounds already. Co-workers had mentioned I looked better – the matronly ones that always threatened to set me up with this or that daughter of so-and-so. But I hated showing up at the gym and never running into her again. Hell, even if she was just
there
– we didn't have to make eye contact or anything. It wasn't like I daydreamed about her. I had associated the gym with her and her momentary kindness, and I could not separate the two.

I’m not too anal a personality, but I liked my routine. I had been going to the gym daily for two straight months, and one morning I overslept. I toyed with the idea of just skipping it. But if I did, I would skip again. And again. Would that be so bad? I could continue to eat healthier, and get out and exercise by jogging. It was getting warmer and lighter out, and lately I had taken to running down to the gym instead of driving. I could work up the nerve, surely, to run out in front of God, nature and everyone else? I loved Riverside State Park, and the idea of running the trails there appealed to me. Yet I had taken up more than just the treadmill, so I sighed and decided I would brave the 6:00 crowd. Also, I
really
hate paying for something and not using it.

It was much more crowded than my normal schedule, but there were still plenty of machines available. I was not one to plug in an I-Pod or bring an e-reader while running, so I always just focused straight ahead as I ran.

“Look at you
go
!”

Startled, I twisted my head around and down, and there she was.

“You're looking good!”

I slowed the treadmill to a stop, but still stumbled a bit as I stepped off.

“Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt you or anything,” she apologized.

“No. No problem,” I panted. “I probably need to...hydrate.”

Without any self-consciousness, she gave one of those open-mouthed grins some people have when sharing a joke. I liked the way the freckles on her nose and cheeks moved when she did that.

“You remember me, then?” she asked, almost as if she was sure I wouldn't have.

And smoother than I ever had been when addressing a woman, I said, “Yes I do – you were very kind to me.”

I didn't think her smile could grow any wider, but it did.

“Well...we have to look out for each other, right?” And then, out of the side of her mouth as she tipped her head towards the front desk and Jordan, “Not like we can count on the local jocks to keep an eye on us.”