Where We've Made It Dark, page 18
FIRST WORD
A slash of raindrops hits the window. The water is stretched on impact, broke to pieces. A gust brings it back together as they all slip down. The tree branches lift and shake furious in the wind. Buffeting, tapping, waiting.
Laughter swells through the room. Dad is caught bobbing in place, jutting his neck out, twitching his feet in a tumble.
— Is that a giraffe?
— No, I think he’s dancing.
— Really? Uh, Dirty Dancing! Or, ah, man having a seizure!
Dad stops, slams down his hands in place over and over, and starts again, his lips leading the way.
— Piano. Beethoven!
— Rachmaninoff!
Cameron leans back, giggling at himself with his eyes tight. Dad flails surrender. His fingers pinch into pieces that he starts popping to his mouth.
— Popcorn!
— Crackerjack!
He eagerly points and waves his hands for more.
— Peanuts.
That’s the one. He bends low and starts sniffing the ground in lines.
— Dog? Peanut dog?
— Time!
— Oh, Snoopy!
— Come on!
Noise erupts in bittersweet textures.
— The dance! You guys don’t remember the dance?
James and Eshan shrug blank at each other. Cameron too.
— Jake, you should know it.
— I thought you were a mop.
We laugh, some putting their drinks down or picking them up.
— It’s what it looked like!
— Okay, okay, next round.
Dad looks pleading at Mom and me before sitting down at the end of the couch, where only whisky is there for him. A mischievous grin darts across his face, nose-in-cup as Alyssa nudges me.
— It’s you, Imogen.
Jake claps hard as I get up.
— Yeah, and this can tie it!
I get a smack on the back from Alyssa as I’m rising; it puts me forward. Mom is grinning and red, neat in her chair. My card has President of the United States.
My eyes roll. I start marching.
— Soldier. Military.
— Parade.
I throw my hands swinging, mouth jabbering with eyes that go nowhere.
— Speech.
— Dictator.
I signal for more and place my hand over my heart.
— Pledge. Flag.
— President! US President!
I rush for the next.
— Should have led off with genocide.
— Hey, no interrupting!
The next card reads bookworm.
— Two words. First word.
I reach for a piece of air and teeter.
— Book.
I start wiggling in place. My feet are locked at the coffee table with the rest of me liquid.
— Worm! Bookworm!
Alyssa smiles wolfish. Next card is candy.
I frolic and lick the air.
— Lollipop! Candy!
Jake pushes forward. Great Wall of China.
— Good God.
There’s something loud outside. It’s painful through the distance, a car crash too fast for these streets. As it breaks pitch, the rupture slips into a heavy, guttural revving down.
We’re crowded in total darkness. Woahs go out but grow quickly still. No one speaks.
Someone hits something on the way to the kitchen and curses. Dad points light from there, giving us eyes.
— Jake, here. Go fill the tubs.
Limbs spider over the back of the couch and stumble away with a light upstairs.
— I thought they rigged the grid.
— Probably the storm.
Most get up between the leaving blades of light. Mom and Cameron are still in place as another shines on them.
— We can drive around in the morning. I think the nearest substation is in Sunset. We go there, maybe we can figure this out.
— Wait, you actually think you can fix it?
— Well, we’re hardly technicians, but it couldn’t hurt, right guys? Maybe it’s a simple fix.
— I can think of a few ways it’d hurt.
Cameron still isn’t up from the couch, but Mason is already jacketed.
— It’s probably a downed line. We can’t fix a downed line.
— Well, if that’s the case, maybe we can find where there’s still power. We’ll figure it out either way.
— That or it’s to medieval times we go.
He’s suddenly behind me. The tingle of Cameron’s jeer sits moist and alien on my shoulder. I step too close into the others but keep my elbows as sharp back as I can.
— One step at a time, fellas. Let’s just get through tonight. Here, take this.
Dad hands Eshan his flashlight.
— No, we’ll be fine. Our eyes just need to adjust.
— You sure?
— Yeah, don’t worry.
Mason has stepped out. I can’t tell where Cameron has gone.
— We’ll walkie back to let you know if we have power. You guys are good for tonight, right?
— Yeah, we’ll be fine.
— We have to be.
BATHROOM
Dark already. I grip the frame with my fingertips as I turn inside, clinging to where I won’t hit anything. Stuck in place, I feel for the door behind me until I’m shut in on the darkness. I reach down, blindly fumbling over ridges that give nothing in return. Clicking and tapping makes the piece turn warm and clammy, close to flesh. There’s a burst of light that sets the corner of the shower in an electric glow of washed-out white. The pierced perspective is dampened by the bucket that’s sitting inside, the flat black circle on top drawing the focus and setting it ajar. The spot twists me right down to it, getting me with both hands tight behind the ears. I’m quick to drop the light where the toilet huddles next to me.
I sigh. The button resists, and my pants come down in dry bursts until each part tears lampreyed from my ankles. I remove the socks too before dropping my underwear into the pile and setting the light on the counter, where its spotlight ricochets multidimensionally across the room, rolling slightly. I stretch one leg slowly in until I can get the other one up, perching on the rim of the tub, thighs strong, the balls of my feet strained.
I’m almost full in the spotlight with only the bucket here to see me.
It starts to come out, falling a few inches from the drain. Bits fly off in welding sparks below, but they don’t go anywhere they shouldn’t. The pressure leaves the place it’s taken inside me.
When it stops, I keep the rest uncomfortably tight, losing the relief.
I clamber back out, still damp, and pull out the bucket where it smacks down without a bath mat. My fingers keep at the plastic lid like there’s treasure with its yellow tent label. It’s slow to come off and it hurts until the cover pries back abruptly enough to make me stop. The weight of the contents stays together but they shift. Choked, I wait, half looking until I let my air breathe back out again, then shallow back in. With a spin, I seal it shut again with my butt. The rim cuts in, and I still have to drill my feet to keep place.
The half-used roll by the toilet sags across from the swollen one on the counter.
What comes is not pleasant. The supplements get things compact but without bringing them together.
I get as clean as I can and seal back up. I crank the tub anyway but there’s not even a rumble. Letting out the pitcher of old dishwater gets a full coat down the porcelain, and the drain rings full of air.
Fwoaheeeeeee.
DRAINAGE
The hose hits hard into the container without losing much in the switch. James lets go, smiling.
— You can look around if you want to. I got this.
The water forms a line on the bottom.
— I’m good.
Mason comes back. Boxes and cans pelt down into cardboard, mostly out of courtesy. Alyssa comes close.
— How’s it going?
— Good. I think we might have three.
— That’s more than I thought. Wish we knew where to get more jugs. Maybe we could take it to market.
James smiles.
— Water heater runners.
The level has slowed to the less-than-half, more-than-half that says nothing more. Mason walks by and touches the tank.
— Don’t, you’ll stir it up.
He pokes around like something’s there before slowly backing out.
— Anything good?
— Not that I found.
Alyssa frowns down into the container.
— We really should see if we can trade someone for more. We aren’t going to just find them waiting for us out here.
— Look at you. We catch the glimpse of a market downtown and now you need a ledger.
It drains even slower as Mason has the first container capped and up in one movement. The water leaves a shallow, clouded lake in ours, making a flatness that could be waded into for miles.
The hair at my neck shoots needled to the sound of talking. Alyssa heads to it. The only voice out there is male with the texture of soot. It’s tangled in a thread of intent, coming in bursts. James breaks ahead to be the first to step out as we go slow, sun in our eyes.
— I just wanna know how you guys got that.
The man’s hands are open at his pockets, fingers stretching with fish scales at the ends, the skin taut and glistening dryly.
— I’m not trying to get up in your guys’ business. I’m just asking.
Mason still has the water tight to his belly, phantoms of strain at the edges.
— What, you won’t talk to me?
James takes one more step forward.
— Hello.
— Hello. And how do you do?
Each word is deliberate and jestered to the ground.
— Look, man, I need to get hooked up like all you. Where’d that water come from? This one work?
— We worked for it.
He exhales loudly, the direction haphazard and sharp.
— What, you think I ain’t looking to work? There’s nothing to do around here, man. Nothing’s work; it’s just living.
He cradles back a step into his sweatshirt, unclear what he does and doesn’t have.
— I just want that water, man.
— Sorry, you can’t drink it.
— Man, it’s wet, right?
— It still has to be boiled.
— Great, so you’ll give it to me for cheap?
— I didn’t say that.
— Then what are you saying?
James is grimaced. The man’s stubble curls unevenly around his lips, the acrid smell of him coming now.
— I’m saying give us a minute, alright?
The man exhales but stands his ground. Mason slowly sets the container down on the step, his head damp all over. A forced quiet comes from Alyssa.
— Container!
— Yeah, I know.
— What’s going on? Why hello, sir!
Eshan moves in from behind as though for a handshake, high now at the steps.
— Sup, man? What you want for the water?
— Oh. Yeah, we’re definitely good to trade. What are you offering?
— Offering.
The man blows again out the side of his mouth.
— I can get you a car.
— We’ll take gas. Don’t need a car.
— Car comes with gas, idiot.
Eshan smiles darkly.
— Just the gas. How much of it?
— Man, I don’t know.
— What else, then?
He looks up.
— I got some beer.
— What kind?
— Man, it’s beer, ain’t it?
— Next.
He pauses. His teeth begin to draw out of his mouth where they stay Swiss-Army-knifed.
— I got a woman. Everybody needs that.
Alyssa’s eyes go to James. Eshan’s go to Mason.
— No, I think we’re good on that.
— What, you want me to do it?
He only looks at the guys.
— No, we don’t want you to do it. I think we’re okay today. Sorry to waste your time.
The grin drops and he starts to shift in place ready to pee.
— Man, I need that water.
His lips curl back in dismay that could almost be a smile.
— Come on, man, it don’t get more basic than that.
— Even if we wanted to trade, you still can’t have the container.
He looks up wide at Alyssa.
— What, I can’t borrow it?
— No, you can’t.
— Anyway, we really are good here. So thanks.
Eshan steps forward as though to sweep him away. The man thrusts his hands into his pockets and rocks backwards, looking up again. Mason is behind the newel and puts his hand to the small of his back, where he draws unseen, legs grounded. The doorframe is close and sturdy behind me, rough and somewhere to hide if the upright certitude doesn’t send me forward.
— It’s the water heaters.
Looks turn on me.
— You just need a hose and something to put it in, okay? Drain the tank.
He shrugs as though he’s just found some change.
— Alright, I can do that. Thank you, miss. Sirs.
Jogging off, his hands stay glued in his pockets, clothes loose and obfuscating.
— Goddamnit, Imogen.
Bright amber is looking back too from Eshan.
— What, you’d rather have Mason shoot him? Or do you really think that he’s going to run out and get all of the good water before we do?
— I’d rather be badass enough that people don’t come up to us with that weak shit. If some guy like that thinks he can beg his way through all our stuff, what do you think someone who’s willing to take it will do?
Eshan’s arms come free, moving in front of him, to the side, and back to rest on his new-holstered hip.
— Oh, so we should have shot him.
— Damnit, what you told him is worth something. And he did nothing for it but waste our time. You basically encouraged him.
— Hey, you were happy to make a deal with the guy.
He scoffs at Alyssa as Mason throws the water in with the others and moves back past me inside.
— I was happy to see what he had.
— Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was a big mystery.
He exhales, the ghost of a smile gone across his face.
— Man, whatever.
— Ah, see? Now you’re doing it.
— Very funny.
— Man.
Alyssa and Eshan look off towards the corner where the man has disappeared. James hesitates and turns back, pursing his lips and looking at me for a moment.
— Good job.
A response doesn’t come now that he’s gone. Eshan and Alyssa say something else that I don’t catch. And we have one more house to go before we run out.
BOILING
The surfaces are flat but coming alive with pots crowded furious at launch.
— You sure that all these houses are empty?
— Yeah.
— You check?
— Yes, Mom. We check.
She picks up a wooden spoon and dips it in.
— The bigger risk is being seen from the street.
— Who’s seeing you from the street?
She listens with her whole body, doing nothing to look up.
— Oh, just people.
— People?
— Random people.
— What random people? I don’t see any random people.
— Nobody. Just anyone who’s still here like us.
Mom looks again into the pots. Her finger dips briefly inside for the heat to come, and the wetness rubs immediately away after.
— People. You need how many more containers?
— As many as we can find, I guess.
— But how many? We’re already fine. All we need to do is keep going to Mountain Lake.
— I don’t know, but we shouldn’t just leave everything there.
Her eyes cut to somewhere on my cheek, where they stay focused.
— Our bottles, our boiling. Don’t know what makes them think that it’s theirs to say what to do with.
— Oh come on, you just said I shouldn’t be doing this alone.
— And you want to turn all of this excess into what?
She grips the stove corners and the surfaces shimmer back in front of her.
— I don’t know. Collateral?
— Collateral.
The word comes out small.
— And what are you going to do with all of this collateral? Find more to have?
She comes close for something hanging behind me, a strand.
— Money’s already done what it could. It’s not going to help us. And now you’re letting them get you caught up in nonsense. All of us.
— Things run out, Mom. We haven’t eaten anything fresh in forever already.
Bogwater stumps on the windowsill are still waiting to be thrown out.
— And what’s going to improve that? We have food.
— Well, not enough for the rest of our lives.
— For as long as we need.
— Oh, right, because once the zombies have been kind enough to kill most everyone, we’ll wander back in where everything will be ripe for the taking.
She glares hot. The sunlight behind shines with her.
— You know that’s the best plan that we have.
— It’s not a plan. It’s just doing nothing.
— What, you like crap? We have more crap here than you could ever have out there.
A lock of hair has frizzed out from her scalp, floating astral at me.
— I don’t know, Mom. It’s something to do. And it helps us.
— Help.
She spits the word.
— If you could just stay at home like the rest of us, you and your brother, that’d be help.
She turns where the buckets of soil have the patio. Her shoulders shudder on themselves, and she rubs hard at her face.
— I don’t speak out a lot. Not about all that you have to do. All I have to do. But Imogen, people are dangerous now. And they aren’t worth it.
She doesn’t move from the spot. I come close and touch her.
