Chapter 10: Nights of the Living Dead
"Pour me another one, would you, Michael?" Evelyn asked from her place on the couch next to me and across from Michael. She held out her glass, draping a slender arm dramatically over the back of the couch, her legs crossed with a pointed right toe. "I feel like Audrey Hepburn sitting on a couch as fancy as this," she said, smiling widely over at me as Michael poured more whiskey into her glass.
Michael sat back down in his chair, chuckling over at the woman across from him, "Evelyn, you are the epitome of class, I must say." The woman chuckled as she uncrossed her legs and placed the glass on the coffee table in front of her.
"Oh, stop." She waved a hand at him, causing me to grin over at Michael's unshaven face. He always put off shaving during the winter. He said it kept his face warm. I, however, had to put up with the beard burn. Not that I particularly minded. It kind of gave me a look into our future.
Michael loved Evelyn. He said that she was like the mother he never had. They got along like old friends each time they saw one another and could talk for hours about, well, anything.
The wood of the chair creaked as Michael leaned back, his whiskey between his palms, looking like a true Irishman. "So, Evelyn, are you planning on taking in anymore kids anytime soon?" He'd really taken a keen interest in children lately. We weren't even married yet and he was already thinking about kids. I could barely plan what I wanted for breakfast the next morning.
Evelyn sighed loudly before taking a sip of her drink tentatively. "Oh, perhaps." She raised a hand to her head to pat down her hair. "Lately I've been really concentrating on Jeremiah's family. It's Amelia's birthday next week, so we've all been stressing about what to do for that. I'm afraid that if I take in anymore kids, I won't be able to give them my full attention." There was a short pause, and I looked up from my glass to see the wheels in her head turning. Something was wrong and she was debating whether or not to tell us. Finally, she spoke in a pained sort of voice that I was unfamiliar with. "I think that Jeremiah's been having some trouble… financially."
Michael and I both leaned towards her with concern. "Is there anything we can do to help?" I asked her, and for the first time ever, I saw Evelyn Mercer looking and feeling completely helpless.
But of course, a hand was waved before me, stopping me from saying anymore, and when my eyes returned to Evelyn's face, it was back to that, cool, calm and collected sort of look that everyone around her held so dear to them. "Oh, no, dear, I'm sure I'm just imagining it. I'm sure if Jerry was in any real trouble, he would tell me." She nodded her head, looking back down to adjust the hem of her floral covered skirt.
"Well, please, if there's anything we can do, Evelyn, please let us know," Michael said, his voice almost sounding pleading. But I knew that he would do anything to help the woman in anyway. He saw something in her. I too would have done anything to help her, attempt to repay her for all the things that she'd done for us. Just her presence brought us happiness.
Sniffing the air, I got to my feet to go check on the meatloaf in the oven. I still didn't trust my cooking skills even though Michael and Evelyn had been trying desperately to teach me the ways of the kitchen. I was still pretty much useless as far as cooking food went. Microwavable meals were the extent of my knowledge. Anything that didn't have the risk of salmonella or any other food-born bacteria. But tonight, I was gonna make a special exception for Evelyn, who had, in fact, taught me how to make meatloaf. I was eager to impress with my skills. Or at least typhoid fever.
Donning a pair of kitchen gloves, I bent down in the limited space that was our kitchen in front of the oven. There didn't appear to be any sort of burning. Opening the oven, I carefully removed the pan from the heat and placed it gently on the countertop. I removed the oven mitt and pressed a finger lightly to the surface. The meat sprung back into shape, a sign that it was cooked.
I heard uproarious laughter from the living room as I began to carefully cut the loaf into even sized chunks and lift them with care, onto the clean white plates, serve the beans and carrots I'd been steaming for 10 minutes and then finally, picking the red wine from the wine rack in the pantry. I felt strangely accomplished as I set the plates and glasses on the table and called for my two companions.
The dinner was to go without a hitch. Why wouldn't it? I was with Michael and Evelyn, my two favorite people in the world, what more do I need?
XXXXXXXXIt's an odd feeling. Waking up, not knowing how long you've been out for. And I'm not just talking about after a seizure, either. I'm talking about everyday-waking-up-in-your-own-bed kinda waking up. From my experience, my first instinct is to make sure that I'm still alive. I don't know, maybe I've just always been paranoid. Most of us find ourselves unsure of the answer to that question: Are we alive? It's just such an disturbing thing, sleeping. You're mind is basically dead for a few hours and then you're just suddenly able to snap out of it. I usually wake up alone. Even if there are other people with me, I feel this sense of just utter aloneness. It's an awful feeling. But, hell, somebody's gotta feel it.
I usually find that it helps to get the brain working first, then work on the other mechanics of the system.
What are the three best-known western names in China?
Jesus, Richard Nixon, and Elvis Presley.
What is the American dollar actually made out of?
Cotton.
How many people in the whole world have actually died from moshing?
6.
What's the longest word you can type with just the left hand?
Stewardess.
Okay, one more: What is the Statue of Liberty's real name?
"Mother of Exiles"
My own voice is what brought me back to the present. When I started to unconsciously move the joints in my fingers and toes, I felt water trickling down my face. Along the cheek, down the nose and off the tip, along the cheek, down the nose and off the tip. Someone was patting a wet washcloth on my free cheek. On my other cheek I could feel the soft comfort of the bed linens. I shifted my weight so that I was lying on my left shoulder and opened my eyes. I was suddenly aware of the fingers that were tickling my scalp and I looked up to find Jack, his eyebrow furrowed and his eyes were looking into mine. I tried to sit up but found I was too tired to lift my own weight and I flopped back down on mattress, closing my eyes again.
"Do you need anything?" Jack's voice croaked. I cracked an eye and craned my neck to look at the digital clock on the bedside table. 12:30. Not too bad. I've been out for longer.
Curling my body into itself, I touched my head to my knees. "How many did I have?" I asked. I was tired, I wanted to go to sleep but I felt the overwhelming feeling of hunger rising in the pit of my stomach. Was that hunger?
The bed shifted as Jack lay down next to me and put his hand on my hair, gently burying his fingers into the brown strands. "Around 4," he said softly. "They all kind of merge into one."
I tried to keep my eyes on my fingernails that were digging themselves my denim-clad knee; an attempt at keeping myself from getting stressed. Or maybe it was to keep myself from looking up into his eyes that I could tell were staring in the direction of my forehead. Finally, I felt Jack's fingertips under my chin, drawing my face upward to look him in the eyes. My head was still spinning from the whiskey and the seizure. I felt weak. Pulling myself up again onto an elbow, I found that my bottom lip stung annoyingly and I touched a fingertip to where the pain was coming from. Blood trickled freely down my middle finger, down along my wrist before dropping to the bed sheet below. I suddenly became aware of the fact that a small portion of the floral patterned quilt was drenched.
Damn.
I hadn't bit my lip since my very first seizure a year ago, and even then it hadn't been this bad. It wasn't until I heard approaching footsteps from the bathroom that I realized that Jack had left my side. His face looked pale, his hair stood up from all angles and it made me wonder what the hell I was looking like. I felt a blush coming on.
He sat back down next to me and I saw that he had tissues as well as the disinfecting alcohol and Neosporin I'd packed just in case of another Jack-and-fist dilemma.
I sat up, still holding the back of my hand to the place where the blood was still trickling out, as Jack switched on the light and began to remove the cap from the alcohol.
"You sure you know what you're doing?" I asked, hesitant of Jack now having the upper hand. "I would rather avoid having permanent scaring."
Jack chuckled, gently pouring a small amount of disinfectant out of the confines of its bottle onto the one ply toilet paper in his hand. "You're fine in my hands, babe," he said, quickly screwing the cap back on the neck of the bottle which he placed on the wood of the table next to him.
I scoffed. "Remind me to kick your ass the next time you call me babe." I realized that he was waiting for me to remove my hand from my lip. "Lemme do it," I said, warily looking at the wad of paper in his hand and thinking about all the consequences that came with letting Jack Mercer clean my wound.
Mimicking me, he scoffed, "Hey, I trusted you when I needed disinfecting. Now it's your turn." I apprehensively removed my hand from the bite and awaited the excruciating pain that was to come, a permanent wince on my face. "Come on, Dylan, it's not that bad." This statement made me replace my hand to where it had been.
"Says the man who nearly cried when I was cleaning his injury."
He dropped the tissues on the ground, whether it was in shock or just in stupidity, I didn't know. Or cared. At least not until he said, "Well, at least mine wasn't self inflicted…"
"SELF INFLICTED? SELF INFLICTED? I WAS HAVING A FUCKING SEIZURE JACK! YOURS WAS MORE SELF INFLICTED THAN MINE WILL EVER BE! YOU'RE JUST A GODDAMN IDIOT!" I removed my hand once more, apparently just as Jack had intended, and he saw it as the opportune moment to make a move on my face… With the alcohol.
I'm sure the screams could have been heard from every single dimension of the motel. And that was just the shock of it all.
I need a cigarette.
"There, now doesn't that feel better?"
My muffled reply came from behind the bitter smell of the tissues: "No." My eyes were watering from the stinging in the mouth area of my face and I was beginning to think that maybe infection was the better option. This was just hell.
I was unconsciously glaring at Jack for god knows how long until he said, "Hasn't anyone ever told you that if you keep your face like that for too long, it'll stay that way." He removed the tissue from my lip and quickly observed the bloody mess before tossing it into the wastebasket. I was silent for a good two minutes, thinking about nothing in particular when Jack's voice reverberated around the badly lit and barely furbished room, removing me from the caverns of my brain. "I'm kinda wishin' I was still drunk right now." He was smiling widely at me.
It was weird to hear my cynical scoff through the thick silence. "I can guarantee you that if you were still drunk you would not be touching my face with medical materials right now."
"Not with medical materials, huh?"
"Bite me."
A cold sensation coated my lip and I realized that Jack was applying the Neosporin and the pain had diminished into almost nothing. My eyes were beginning to droop and I could feel a yawn coming on but I held it back. Well, at least until Jack started to replace the cap on the tube. "You're tired," he said, returning to his feet and pointing a dirt-ridden fingernail in my direction. "You. Sleep." His finger pointed at the bed.
"Did you seriously just point a finger at me?" My body was still shaking. Post-seizure, I'd found was worse than the actual seizure. It was as though I'd been in a bomb shelter during an air raid until I was finally able to return above ground and thus witness the aftermath of it all. Except for me, I was the aftermath as well as the witness.
I could see Jack trying to hide a smile as he pulled the bloodstained bed sheets down. "And the bed, too," he said. He threw down the pillows on the floor next to where my feet dangled from the bed.
"You're so… annoying," I yawned, unable to think of a retaliation.
Jack finished up the bed before straightening up and looking at me, expectantly. I crossed my arms across my chest and returned his look in annoyance. I was getting irritable from tiredness. "What now, freak?"
An eyebrow rose on Jack's face, and for the first time in the fifteen minutes since I woke up I saw that his eyes were red except for the dark circles that surrounded them. My annoyance diminished slightly and I uncrossed my arms so that my hands fell into my lap. He let out an exaggerated sigh, his eyes falling to the ground and his entire body seemed to droop in mock exasperation. "Well, am I gonna have to undress you myself or are you gonna do it for me?"
I shook my head before removing myself from the bed on still shaking legs. "I think I'd prefer to take the latter," I muttered as I grabbed a pair of Michael's old boxers and an old Ramones t-shirt from my suitcase and stepped smoothly into the bathroom.
Once inside, I finally got a good look at the state of my appearance. I was stunned to find that the gash in my lip was about 3 teeth worth and was black from the blood having dried into a threatening looking scab, Neosporin slathered generously across it. My hair, which had been tied up before the seizure, was gracefully falling out of its rubber band and onto my shoulders in unraveled, frizzed ringlets. I gently pulled the tie out of my hair and raked a hand through the mess. As I knew it would, my fingers got tangled up in the curls. I was too tired to care and just retied it on top of my head. My eyes, like Jack's were red around the grey of the iris. Nothing I could do about that.
After changing quickly and giving myself one more inspection in the mirror (why the hell did I care so much?), I opened the door to find Jack sitting on the bed, shirtless, hair a mess in minor chaos and looking more tired than he did 5 minutes ago.
My eyes fell on the only scathed part of his chest. It was in the upper corner of his left shoulder, surrounded by some tattoos, just inches above his heart.
The gunshot wound.
The gunshot wound.
I'd seen it before, of course. After I'd moved in, most of the times I'd seen Jack, he'd been shirtless, but this time was different. The orange light from the bedside lamp left mystifying shadows around the area of which the wound lay. It was only a small circle of scarring, but right then, to me it looked bigger than I'd ever seen it before. It was almost as though a spotlight had been shown on it and my own shoulder began to hurt just looking at it. I knew it still pained him. Even though he'd never say so out loud, I occasionally caught a glance of him wincing while he tried to reach for a plate from the top of the cupboard. His eyes would still replay the moment over and over again. In that sense, Jack and I were the same person: replaying the reflection of a life-changing event, never to be the same again.
"Ready?" he asked, his voice breaking through the silence.
I nodded and made my way over to the opposite side of the bed, on which Jack had replaced the bloodstained quilt for a blanket I assumed he found in the dresser drawer.
It was the biggest relief when my head finally hit the pillow and I felt Jack draw the blankets up to my elbow before lying down himself on his side of the bed. The light was switched off and the entire room fell silent, even though neither of us had been speaking. That's the thing about darkness, it has this way of making everything surrounded by it peaceful. I've never been afraid of the dark. There are far worse things to be scared of.
Jack's hand found mine beneath the bed sheets and he grasped it between his palm and fingers. For some reason, that one small part of my body felt safe, thus making the rest of my anatomy feel protected as well. I couldn't remember the last time I felt that sheltered.
My mind was brought back to Michael. Still sleeping in the sanctuary of his bed, unknowing of where I was or what I was doing. The thought made me drop Jack's hand and pretend to itch my arm instead. I felt the sudden longing to be in Michael's arms again. For him to touch me, tell me he loved me, feel his fingers gently tickle to bare skin of my stomach, legs, arms, neck.
A car pulled into the lot outside, causing the headlights to be scattered in wide broken rays across the ceiling through the window.
The loss I had felt for Michael a year ago was nothing compared to what I was feeling at that moment. I needed someone to tell me that they loved me. That I was beautiful. That they couldn't live without me by their side.
I'd been trying so desperately to rid myself of these emotions because Michael wasn't around to fulfill them, but sometimes I thought that maybe it wasn't Michael I was longing for.
And as I drifted off to sleep, memories of Michael's hands, voice, lips swirling and scattering around my brain, I could have sworn I heard Jack whisper the words, "I love you," under his breath. But then again, it may have just been the protrusions of a dream, rising up at the back of mind, before engulfing my consciousness in darkness.
A/N: I don't even know how to begin to apologize for taking a ridiculous amount of time. Things have been really busy, but I should be able to update more often now. ALL of my exams are over and the amount of work they've given us is manageable. Thank you to everyone who reviewed during my unexpected hiatus. They were fucking incredible in every way possible. Also, I apologize for the length of this chapter. I'm sure it's a big let down after waiting for so long. But I can assure you, next chapter is going to be big. In fact, it's gonna be HUGE. In length and in content. So, fret not. I shall be posting again soon. And I hope you're all excited. 'Cause I am D.
On a blindingly brighter note: WE REACHED 70+ REVIEWS! YESSSSS! THANK YOU EVERYONE! We should reach a hundred by Chapter 11. Wow.
Please, tell my you don't hate me and reviewwww.
Xoxox
Review replies (ALL 15 of 'em…):
Smilinflash: You are amazing. You are incredible. I love you I love you I love you. I fucking hate Wednesdays. But I definitely love you. Xoxox
Jubilation379: Thank you so much for your review. Your words were unbelievably kind and I'm glad you like it. Please review again soon!
X3missie attyn: HI MISSIEEE! I'm so sorry we haven't spoken in like a kagillion years! That's totally my fault and I promise we will speak again soon. Did you get the songs I sent you like a month ago? I wasn't sure if they sent 'cause my computer like freaked out when I sent them but I hope you got em. I hope everything's well wit h you. How's your sister feeling? I was so incredibly happy to hear/read that you got cheerleading captain this term. I ran around my house at school telling everyone. LOL. Anyway, I'll write you again soon and I'll get all the details, but until then, AVOIR MON AMIE!
Embry: THANK YOU! LOL. The name was just something I threw in at the last minute, so I'm glad someone enjoyed it. Until next time!
Electricxrain: RAIN! Eee. Sorry about the whole pneumonia thing, that really sucks, but at least you got to do the tryouts, which sounded cool. And really, who wants to be performing while there's a kid with a plastic sword in the audience/backstage/anywhere near you? But I hope you're feeling miles better and I'm glad you liked the chapter. I hope you like this one. Sorry for the wait. I suck. Lots of love!
x. Cosmic.Dancer .x : I'm so ridiculously happy that I inspired you. I don't think I've ever been anyone's inspiration for, well… anyone. But that's great! So, hat off to you, my friend. Thank you maximum amounts. Glad I could be of service! Haha, dirty. Xoxox
Duchess4ever: Thank you so much! I love my muse. Except when she abandons me for 2 months, at the expensive of you and the rest of the readers. But I hope this chapter was okay. Review soon!
Shining Star of Valinor: HELLO! Ugh, SATs. Let's not talk about them. They just suck. I did okay though. I managed to get higher than a 450 on each section and above 500 on the math section, which is pretty good considering I'd only been studying for them for about 3 days. But, whatever. It's convinced my parents to let me have a gap year so I can retake them and stuff. Coolness. I thank you for every single on of your reviews because they are just so kind and amazing. THANK YOU!
ImAdctd2A3rdClssRkStr: HEY! I still really need to read your story. Actually, that's my goal for this week. And I'm gonna review every chapter. Because not only did you review everyone of MY chapters, but you also reviewed chapter 9… Twice. I love YOU so mother fing much. The next time we're both online, you and I shall talk. Sound good? Good. Hope everything is amazing for you! Xoxoxox
RAWRx Athena: You changed your name! Very nice. Very hardcore. Your review was and always is great. Amazing even. Thank you for helping me in my quest for more reviews! It was very rewarding! Sorry this chapter boring, but I PROMISE you. The next one will be fantabulous. I've been looking forward to writing it for a very long time. Talk to you soon!
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I run with scissors: Thank you! Every story needs conflict, right? I'm sorry that this chapter isn't as good as the last one. This one's kind of a transitional chapter (god, I hate them.) but I hope you enjoyed it all the same. Review again soon!
Vampire Queen: Sorry about the cliff hanger! I too hate when authors leave chapters like that and then don't update for ages. But I hope that my updating at shorter intervals will make up for it. Thank you!
Verona Sage: OMG! I didn't mean to rid you of sleep and I'm sorry about the withdrawal! Thank you for the review though, it's nice to hear when people choose my story over more essential things. Like, um, sleep. Which, by the way, is my call in life. Yeah, sleeping. Keep reviewing!
Professor Simms: No hanky panky…. Yet. Hopefully soon though! Hopefully for you. Not for me, I already KNOW when they're gonna get it on! BAHAHAHA! Sorry. Thank you for the review, though and I hope you liked the chapter!
Another apology: Sorry for the, uh, surreal review replies, author's note and chapter. : mentally ill :
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