To hell with them, Doug thought as he shoved more clothes back into his backpack. How much I drink is my damn business, and not theirs. If I want to drink all the damn time, its my business and none of theirs. He stopped as he realized that there was no real need to pack more than a change or two of clothing. I can just pick up whatever I want.
I'm not an alcoholic, he thought angrily. I'm not. And I'm not crazy the way they are, thinking that there's some sort of last bastion of civilization in Boulder, Colorado. What a crock. The fact that he was about to embark on a journey to Las Vegas based on nothing more than the fact that he was pretty sure he'd be killed along the way. He intended to keep his promise to Carol. He wasn't going to kill himself, despite the fact that life was rapidly turning into one giant pain in the ass. He missed Carol desperately, but he had promised her that he wouldn't kill himself. It was the last promise he'd ever made to her, and it was probably the only one he would ever keep. She deserved that, if nothing else. God knows he had never kept any other promises to her. He hadn't been faithful, and that had been the big issue. He couldn't exactly be faithful now, that was for sure, but he could keep his promise. If he got killed,so much the better. He was absolved of his promise and he got what he wanted.
And these bastards can have what they want, a Doug free environment. With that thought, he swung the pack around onto his back. I'll walk to the next town, he decided, and pick up a bike there. It was three in the morning so the odds were against anyone waking up at the sound of a motorcycle, but he didn't want to take the chance. He didn't want a long emotional scene. It was easier on everyone that way.
If nothing else, he wasn't a fool, and he knew that they were all genuinely concerned. To a certain extent, he agreed with their assessment. He drank far too much. He didn't enjoy it, not at all, and the hangovers, blackouts, and all around crappy way he felt told him that he was developing a problem. Still, the alternatives were equally bad or else simply didn't exist. Drinking kept all of the memories and guilty feelings nicely repressed. He had no wish to undergo amateur therapy at the hands of his companions, and the days of Alcoholics Anonymous were long past. It's better this way, he thought as he stealthily strode down the stairs. This way I don't have to put up with their half assed attempts at solving my problems, and they don't have to feel guilty about failing. That they would fail, he had no doubt.
He crossed the living room floor, almost delighting in the quiet. The house was silent, except for the gentle sounds of snoring. He assumed it was Kovac, the only one who really consistently made noise at night. At least someone was sleeping soundly. There had been nothing but restless noise for most of the night. Quiet restless noise, that was how the whole evening had been, despite the attraction of numerous electronic toys to play with. Of course, he had withdrawn to his room to nurse his beer and his rage, but generally speaking so had everyone else. Then again, he reasoned, people were tired, sick and tired. A rest would do them good, not that he planned to stick around to see it. He carefully opened the french doors, stepped out onto the wide porch, and then closed the door.
" Running off and leaving? Surprise, surprise." Doug spun around, and spotted Kerry sitting up against one of the porch pillars, her bad leg propped along the porch's wide shelf like railings. Much to his surprise, she was holding a fifth of bourbon and it was obvious she had been drinking. Great, Doug thought, one last lecture.
" Yes, Kerry, I'm leaving." It was just possible that he could walk off without answering her. God knows she couldn't walk along with him, but he didn't. He waited for her to say whatever it was that she wanted, knowing that he hadn't yet worked himself into such a state of disregard. " Have you been drinking?"
She shrugged. " As if that should matter to you. You're not the only one with problems you know. You aren't the only one having trouble coping with our brave new world. Maybe I wanted a drink. Maybe I needed, just for one night, to forget everything. Maybe I've been feeling humiliated because someone felt it was necessary to force me into admitting a suicide attempt that I'm more than a little ashamed about. I appreciated that, Doug. I really enjoy being treated like a mental invalid, I do. It's a high point."
He felt his anger boil over. " And being accused of being an alcoholic isn't humiliating?"
" Doug, you are an alcoholic." Her words were tired and a little slurred, but her eyes seemed very sharp. " The only time you aren't drunk is when we're traveling and that's probably the only reason no one has said anything until now."
" And you're not a mental invalid?" Doug asked snidely.
She cocked her head. " Fine. If I have to say it, I will. I've been mentally ill. I've been severely depressed. I've had at least two episodes this summer where I'm still pretty convinced a man from my dreams tried to talk me into killing all of you in exchange for my own personal empire. I think he was real. I still do. I tried to kill myself. Until about two days ago, I was convinced I was a danger to everyone around me. Everyone treats me like I'm completely useless and a time consuming drag unless they want to eat. Trust me Doug, you don't know what depression is. " She stopped for a second. " Are you happy now? You aren't the only one suffering."
It didn't make him happy. In all honesty, he just felt worse. Things hadn't been easy for anyone, he knew that, and baiting Kerry into admitting it wasn't making him feel better. It made him sad. He didn't want to keep feeling sad and depressed all of the time. The liquor didn't help, and he knew deep down he was just trying to die, but he didn't want to talk about it. Not now, he decided, its too late. " Kerry... You're not going to stop me. And you can forget about chasing after me."
She shook her head. " As if I could stop you. In case you missed it, I'm not exactly capable to forcing you to stay. So go ahead. You're an adult with free will. As for chasing after you, I learned a long time ago that I'm going to come in last in every race I run." She gestured to her crutch. " Think about it Doug. If none of you had lived through the plague, I would still be in Chicago, probably within a five block radius of the hospital. That's if I was still alive, and all things considered I probably would be dead. If I had gotten separated from you all back in that town, I sure wouldn't have gotten here within two days by myself." She took a long drink. " In a world without roadside assistance and clean sidewalks, people like me don't get very far." Her words held more than a little bitterness. " So go on Doug. Just remember, no matter how much you justify it in your mind, you are killing yourself."
He took the bottle out of her hands, and took a drink himself. Again, he was struck by how good her taste in alcohol was, though anything picked up in Carter's house generally reeked quality. " I think you're just projecting your own suicidal intentions, Kerry." He didn't, but he knew it'd get a rise out of her.
She smiled wryly and stood up, leaning against the wood pillar. " You're not the only one who knew Carol Hathaway, Doug. And I have to give her credit, she knew you, and knew exactly how you were going to act. She made you promise not to kill yourself." She held up her hand as he started to protest. " Don't start, Doug. I know it's true. I can see it in your eyes. You think drinking yourself into a stupor and getting yourself killed doesn't count, but it does. And heading west, to whatever's there is just your way of punishing yourself. You don't belong there, and you know it. More importantly, the man running the show there knows it. You'll be killed. You think that's what you want, but I don't think you realize the consequences."
"Right. " He shook his head. " I'm not enough of a drunk to buy into everyone's little fantasy about an evil empire in the west." Even though their dreams did eerily match his, he didn't want to admit it. He also didn't want to admit that he believed it more after hearing Kerry admit to believing it. No need to feed her ego, he thought.
" Doug, if you don't believe, why are you heading west at all? If we're all just delusional, then there's no chance that there's anything at all in Las Vegas except dust and old gambling chips." She took a step closer, and put her hand on his arm. " Doug, no one here wants you to go. I don't want you to go."
" Kerry..." he said softly. It hurt, it hurt like knives being stabbed into his heart. He had never seen her as a very warm person. Caring, yes, but she had always been a little rigid and cold seeming. Now though, as she looked at him with pleading eyes, he was reminded of Carol. Carol, who had been the warmest most caring person he'd ever known, and seeing that warmth in another person was... strange. Different. Oddly arousing. " Kerry, I..." Without thinking, he pulled her closer and kissed her on the lips.
Much to his surprise, she responded in kind. They kissed passionately. I shouldn't do this, Doug thought as they both lowered themselves to the porch floor. She's been drinking, I've been drinking. On the other hand, she wasn't exactly stopping herself, and it felt so good. He let the moment of indecision pass and kissed her again.
Kerry awoke, the pain in her side telling her that sleeping on a bare hard wood floor hadn't been one of her better ideas. Oh this really was the night for bad ideas, she thought as she pulled herself up into a seated position. She spied the bottle of bourbon and sighed. Did I really think drinking was going to help, she wondered. She pulled herself upright, feeling every ache. Doug was gone, and that didn't surprise her. It disappointed her, but she had known that the moment he was confronted, he would leave.
And I really helped that along didn't I? Getting drunk, and screwing him like a mink in heat, that was just a great idea. A real mature way to help him. He probably left from embarrassment. She grabbed her crutch angrily and as she looked up, she caught the first dark pink rays of the coming sunrise.
No, she decided, he didn't leave out of embarrassment. We didn't sleep together out of pity, and I can admit I enjoyed it. The problem is that he's going to kill himself and I can't go chasing after him. She sighed again. She believed, more than ever, that they were each being asked to make a choice, a choice between good and evil. Doug was far too depressed to make a rational decision and the people on the other side of the mountains were going to eat him alive. She had almost made a very bad choice herself and it was only chance that had stopped her. She feared Doug wouldn't be so lucky, and she wasn't in any position to go after him.
She limped to the french doors, and made up her mind. I can't go after him, she thought grimly, but I know someone who can. He deserves that much of a chance.