August 17, 2003
The sun shines bright and hot on our campsite, effectively drying all of the rain from the previous day. I relax against the RV. It's not something I get to do often anymore. The amount of lurkers we've encountered has been increasing exponentially in the past couple weeks. We even had to relocate our campsite which meant leaving my parents' graves behind. I wasn't happy about it, but there was no other way. To say that I'm over my parents' deaths would be a flat out lie, but I'm much better at coping now.
Pete is where he usually is: perched atop the RV, rifle in hand. Martha and Luke sit beside a large tub of water behind the RV. Luke has the washboard awkwardly in his hands. Martha is trying to teach him how to do his own laundry. He tries, but his attempts fail rather hilariously. I can tell he's frustrated, but I know he'll get it eventually. Martha taught me last week, and it took me a couple tries before I actually got anything clean.
Nick is slumped over in a nearby chair that is way too small for his tall stature. His hat is drawn over his face, and his arms are crossed. Blinker, who is also fast asleep, lies at our feet. Nick's light breaths combine with Blinker's loud snores to create a choir of sleeping noises. Luke notices and begins to laugh at it, but Martha reels his attention back in.
From the treeline a stray lurker emerges. Everyone's attention turns, and Pete raises to his feet atop the RV. Before he can make his way down, I inform everyone that I can take care of it. They accept my decision, but they watch attentively.
The lurker comes toward me. It's very tall, with gangly legs and only one arm. As I near it, I realize it is far too tall for me to kill with my knife. Deciding to try a new method, I plant my knife into its knee. It falls to the ground, giving me ample time to stab its skull and silence its gurlges.
I wipe my knife on the grass before placing back in my holster. Pete drags the body into the woods so it doesn't smell. On the way back to the RV, I see that both Nick and Blinker have stirred awake.
"Hey, I could've killed that for you. Why didn't you wake me?" Nick asks while Blinker trods off.
I sit in the seat next to him. "You stayed up all night keeping watch. You deserved some sleep."
Pete reemerges from the woods. He has a small smile on his face and a dead animal in his hand. He holds it high to show us. "Look at this. It just walked right in front of me. Looks like we'll finally have some fresh meat for dinner!"
I grimace and question Nick, "What even is that?"
He squints at Pete who is preparing a fire to cook. "Looks like a groundhog. What's wrong? You've always been an adventurous eater."
"I don't know. We just haven't had fresh meat in a while and it just doesn't sound good right now."
Nick and I watch Pete skin the groundhog. I've seen it before but it's not the prettiest sight. I'm glad when Blinker hobbles over to me.
"Hey, buddy," I greet him, "What you got there?"
He drops something from his mouth onto the ground in front of me. It's his old, chewed-up ball that we always kept in the RV. "Where did you find this?"
"Damn, I haven't seen him play with that thing in five years," Nick says.
Blinker nudges the ball toward me with his nose. "Oh my god. I think he wants to play fetch."
I throw the ball and Blinker takes off in a fast paced limp. He gets the ball and brings it back to my feet, prompting me to throw it again. I throw it once more, expecting him to tire out, but to my surprise he brings the ball back time and time again. He is slow on his feet, but he keeps going. We continue this routine for quite awhile, Blinker growing slower with each round.
Eventually Blinker's slow walking turns to pained hobbles. The bright smiles that were on our faces drop. "Hey, buddy. I think it might be time to stop," I tell him. "We can play again another day."
He drops the ball at my feet yet again, nudging it with his nose and willing me to continue. "One last throw."
Watching Blinker's limps, I lean into Nick. He hesitantly places his arm around me, ignoring the displeasing look on Luke's face. At last Blinker drops the ball at my feet, instantly collapsing from exhaustion. Luke brings him a bowl of water. He laps away at it with the last of his energy before he falls asleep. It's a terrible feeling watching him grow older and waste away, knowing there's nothing I can do.
Pete yells that dinner is ready which prompts Nick and Luke to drag me away from Blinker's sleeping figure. We take our seats around the campfire. Pete is cutting up pieces of meat for each plate, while Martha is placing scoopfuls of beans on them. They hand them out to the rest of us. I take one smell of the meat and scoot it off my plate and onto Nick's plate.
"What's wrong with my cooking? I know it's nowhere near your dad's, but I didn't think it was that bad," Pete says.
"Oh, I'm sure it's great. I don't mean to be rude. It's just… the meat smells bad to me right now," I tell him.
"C'mon, Bea." Luke stabs his slab of meat with his fork and waves it in front of my face. "You've never been picky before."
The putrid smell enters my nostrils, causing me to jolt backward. I look at him sternly. "Luke, I'm serious. It stinks. I'm going to just stick with the beans for tonight."
He shrugs. "Whatever you say. Nick, let me have some of her piece too."
Because of my lack of food, I finish long before the others. I stare at the treeline while the scraping of forks and knives on plates fills the air.
"You remember that one restaurant in the next town over? The one we always used to go to for our birthdays?" I ask randomly.
"Yeah, it was called the Grand Panda," says Luke.
"The owners were Mr. and Mrs. Shao. They were really nice," Nick adds. "What about it?"
I draw circles in the dirt with my combat boots. "I dunno'. I was just thinking about it. The spicy noodles and crab rangoons sound really good right about now."
"Dammit, Bea." Luke sighs. "You're hungry. Why didn't you just eat dinner?"
"I'm hungry for spicy noodles and crab rangoon," I say, "Not roasted ferret."
"It was a groundhog," Nick interjects.
"Guys, really don't worry about it. Meat just didn't sound good tonight."
Luke, Nick, and I volunteer to clean the dishes. It's a difficult task, as we have a limited supply of water and soap. Somehow we still find enough to splash each other before the end of it. Martha scolds us for acting like teenagers, but I don't mind. It's nice to remember how things used to be.
Darkness sprawls over the Earth, and the three of us plod inside. Pete reprimands us for letting our soggy shirts drip all over his RV. After taking turns in the bathroom changing into dry clothes, Pete and Luke head outside to take the first shift of watch.
I converse with Nick and Martha for a while until I decide to head to bed. I help Blinker into my cot, and he lies beside me. I pull the covers over us and stroke his fur a few times. His sweet face is the last thing I see before I fall asleep.
August 18, 2003
When I awake the next morning, I can tell I slept a very long time. No one else is in the RV, and the sun shines like it is already midday. At my feet I can feel the weight of Blinker's body. I smile and sit up to pet him. Instantly I sense something is not right. My heart beats quicken.
"Blinker?" I lean toward him cautiously. "Buddy?"
He's as still as a statue. I pet his face and shake his paws, but there is no movement. My ear pressed to his side, I listen for a breath or a heartbeat. Nothing.
My hand claps over my mouth, but not before a scream is released. I grasp desperately at his still warm body. He hasn't been gone long. I plead with the universe. Why? Why? Why?
The door kicks open. The others flow into the room in a hurry, spewing out concerned inquiries. Luke reaches me first. His hands grip my shoulders tightly to stop my body from shaking. "What's wrong?"
Before I can answer, he and the others notice Blinker's limp body. Luke mutters "Oh, God," and removes himself from the RV. Nick consoles me for what seems like an eternity, just holding me while I rock back and forth.
I pull myself together and ready myself for yet another funeral. Pete sets off to make another wooden cross. Luke comes back inside, hot and sweaty and tearful from digging the grave. The others wrap him in his favorite blanket. I numbly help carry him to the grave sight. Pete covers him, but I keep my eyes squeezed shut. I only open them when he plants the cross in the ground. It reads, "Blinker: The Best Dog Ever."
Pete asks Luke if he wants to speak, but Luke is hardly able to. Luke has always tried to conceal his sadness, but this time he can't hold himself together. The deaths of our parents and dog have caught up to him. I place my hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but I can hardly tell if he notices through his despair.
"For my eighth birthday my parents promised they'd get me a dog if I stopped wandering off," I start. "I did what they asked, so they drove us an hour away just to get to the nearest animal shelter. There had been a litter of puppies, but only one was left. I loved him immediately, so we headed home. Except, it had already gotten dark. Dad's left blinker was out and he got pulled over. He was so pissed. So, I decided to name my new dog Blinker."
Nick smiles at me. "Really? I've never heard that story. I didn't know that was how he got his name."
"Yeah, I never really shared it with anyone because I thought it was kind of an embarrassing way to come up with his name." I remove my hand from Luke's shoulder as he composes himself and puts his tough guy act back on.
The others wander back to the RV, leaving only Nick and I. "Anything else you want to say?"
I shake my head. "Only that he was the best dog ever. I love you, Blinker."
We embrace, his head resting atop mine. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I say in a monotone voice. I'm numb and have no tears left to cry. "I'm just fucking sick of funerals."
It's hours later before anyone speaks. Pete and Martha announce that we are low on gas, so they offer to travel around the area to scavenge as much as possible. Luke says that he's going too because he wants some fresh air. They won't be back for hours. I beg them to be careful.
Nick sits at the table, an old hunting magazine in his hands. He flips through it idly, although I don't know why. Nick hates hunting. I imagine he doesn't know what to say to me.
I've been staring at him for the past several minutes, but he hasn't noticed. For some reason unknown to me, I am yearning for him. The feeling is sudden and strong and uncontrollable. It's wrong of me, but I can't help myself. My feet carry me to sit beside him.
"Oh, hey." He smiles at me but does not put the magazine down.
"I was thinking maybe while the others were away we could… you know…"
His eyes grow wide in realization. He drops the magazine. "I thought you said that was a one time thing?"
I groan with annoyance, wanting to speed the process along. "Well, let's let it be a two time thing."
"Bea, I don't know if I can. I mean, you're grieving." He shifts uncomfortably, refusing to meet my gaze.
"I'm fine, Nick. I really want you, but if you don't want to then we won't." I'm disappointed, but I would never want to force him to do something he wasn't comfortable with.
I start to remove myself from my seat, but Nick stops me. His hat is already on the table, and a smirk is on his face. "I mean, if you insist."