High Water Read online

  - the hand, his hand, reached for a handle. The tarnished brass was cool, the latch clicked and turned cleanly. He stepped into the empty house where the angular shadows and dancing lights within were disorienting.

  “Nobody is home,” he thought. There was nobody to tell.

  Out of habit, Pete went to close the door behind him and felt a sudden jab of pain. A miles-long splinter jutted from his finger, squirming like a bee’s stinger. Burrowing into his flesh, the sliver of white hot pain broke into fibers. Each fiber fragmented again, tunneling deeper in his skin.

  “Tetanus and lead poisoning,” he said, not knowing why. Intrigued and unafraid, he watched his entire hand turn the color of the night sky.

  With an injured finger, he changed the way he turned on a light switch and created workarounds for the most mundane activities to avoid risking tactile sensing. Pain only really presented itself when you challenged it.

  He stopped short of pulling out the splinter and halting the pain.

  Inaction was the easiest way to bear tenderness in mind and body. That was the path of least resistance. Aches and hurts could lay dormant, subdued, but only until they weren’t. We all learned that the hard way, sooner or later.

  A muffled voice came from outside the door: “Piece of garbage!” she said. He knew that voice.

  There were many ways to endure. The house wasn’t his, at least not yet. It was time to go, to challenge pain, to not give in. Pete used his injured hand to turn the doorknob.

  The key was to accept injury and hardship with mindfulness. You’d know the way when you go there.

  “Wing D Wireless 2A, signal strength: Excellent.”

  Life flooded in through the doorway. For a moment, he was falling back into his body from a distance.

  “… Well then why won’t you just connect?”

  The pillow felt so soft. He tried to turn his head but pain pressed outward from behind his eyes.

  “Pete? PETE!”

  Someone was moaning at that selfsame pain. That was me, Pete realized. Awareness spread a little bit. Something landed on him, hard. It was warm, familiar. Liz. Sleep faded away with the various body pains created by her tackle.

  “Ughhhhh,” was all he managed.

  “Oh my god, baby, you’re awake, you’re okay, oh my god,” Liz said. Tears ran from her gorgeous eyes, blessedly without any sign of the infection. Her hair was glinting red in the sunlight.

  “Mmmmppphh,” his tongue was a stale dinner roll in his mouth, dry and flaky.

  Liz nuzzled her face into his chest. Crusty drool caked a beard that was much longer than Pete remembered. The pain in his neck and head was excruciating, but Pete held Liz tight. Warm, supple skin felt like silk to his sore hands. After a long moment she broke off and kissed him. Her full, soft lips tasted like green tea. His own lips felt dry, chapped, and scratchy in comparison. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re awake. You’ve been asleep for a week and a half, are you feeling okay?”

  Pete considered the pain that now registered itself in his legs and arms. Deep inside his torso twisted and burned. Broken ribs he guessed. He squinted against the midday light that streamed in the window as Liz wiped strange tears from his eyes. The thought of being asleep for that long didn’t compute, so he focused on her question.

  “Hmmm… No.”

  Liz grabbed his sore hand, running her fingers lightly over a scar. “Well you shouldn’t. The doctor says you had a vicious concussion, broken ribs, some internal bleeding.”

  Parts of his brain turned on, one by one. He managed to get some saliva flowing in his mouth, allowing him to enunciate. “The good doctor went to medical school for that opinion?”

  She laughed lightly, “I know, these people are insufferable. And the wireless doesn’t work.”

  “Did you try new drivers?” Everything was so bright. He tried to squint through swollen eyes.

  “You always say that. It works if I’m standing outside the hospital, but not inside. What is a driver, anyway?”

  “Not Walter.”

  They both laughed. Laughing felt good, despite the pain in his ribs.

  “Well that’s a given,” she replied. “He’s awake too. He’s actually somewhere around here and just came by to see you. He’s been bringing everyone’s wishes to you from the studio. They miss you so much, it’s so cute.”

  “He’s already back training?”

  “Well sweetie, we weren’t going to all wait up for you,” Liz said, crossing her arms and frowning.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, I’m done with Tahitian, obviously, so I’ve been unemployed. With all my spare time, I moved our things into the new place. Your parents helped me out; they’re staying there right now.” Seeing his incredulous look, Liz continued without the serious expression leaving her face, “I also called Century Research Corporation and told them that you were involved in the Incident.” The ‘I’ was capitalized in his mind.

  “Oh man, Mom and Dad are going to be apoplectic.” There was a pause as he thought it through. “What did Century say?” he asked, grimacing. Work was not what he wanted to think about now.

  “Oh they were fine with it. Especially when I told them that there was a sample from Tahitian that wasn’t part of the evidence in the pending trial against Tahitian’s holding company. I still have your sample bottle. They told me to put it in the fridge.”

  His eyes opened wide and he sat up despite himself. “Wait, what do you--”

  “They were waffling about your job after you missed your first day.”

  “Was having some issues getting in,” he replied, sardonic.

  “I know that, but it wasn’t easy to explain. My whistleblower status with Tahitian and the sample got them interested, though. Then I demanded that they had to say, in writing, that you’d be on the project if they wanted in. Their general counsel was in touch with me in no time. Things got pretty hectic and they were almost begging. I must have made a good case and I’m glad I had my textbooks. You were here for the whole thing, actually. I did most of the calling from right over there. Your dad has been helping me with the paperwork. Never hurts to have a bureaucrat in the family.”

  “Damn, that’s something.”

  Liz grinned. “They also got me in touch with their HR department. And I have an appointment with their counsel on Monday. A job interview, actually.”

  “Damn, that’s something!” he shouted, too loudly. Liz shook her head and laughed. A frumpy nurse passing by the door gave him a look.

  There was an organic break in their conversation. The pause became ten seconds, then twenty seconds long. Both of them stared at one another silently before Liz broke the silence first.

  “It was fatal, you know, the infection. The people that got it were dead a day later, they say from brain swelling.”

  “Encephalitis.”

  “That’s the word on the street. That bit of information actually just came out yesterday. The news said the contagion was some parasite having to do with cats, toxo-”

  “-plasma gondii. I had a feeling. That is bizarre. The neurological manifestations were unreal. For me, it was the eyes.”

  “Yeah. You were right about it being protozoa too and cats apparently.”

  “Filthy animals, they’re as bad as seagulls.”

  “There’s still no definitive body count,” Liz said, turning her head to look out the window. Light reflecting from something outside danced on her shoulder for a moment. “Walter rescued us. He’s told me the story at least a hundred times.” She broke out into a hearty laugh, then continued, “The first thing he did when I was awake was to come and tell me.” She recounted what he had said in her best impression of Walter, “Don’t talk to the cops, yo, don’t tell them nothin’.”

  Laughing, Pete already knew she hadn’t said a thing. “There are probably plenty of other people to interview.”

  “Exactly, local PD was, uh, gone, so these are state troopers and FBI and all k
inds of government scientists. I’m just glad we smoked up our weed before they found us. By the way, as a member of your legal counsel’s office, I advise you to smoke all the weed you have as part of your recovery, of course.”

  “Do you mean…?”

  “I have the vape right here.”

  Vaporizing was the healthiest way to consume cannabis outside of eating it. Through chapped lips, Pete sipped the vapor from the pen-shaped device. He relaxed as the sweet taste of cannabis became honey on his tongue. Liz had closed the door and she sat next to him on the bed as he vaped.

  “You want some?” He offered it to her.

  Liz shook her head, “Nope, I’m good. You’re the one with the injuries. Feel better?”

  Before he could respond, the door slammed open. He almost dropped the vape, until he saw that it was Walter.

  “For fuck’s sake dude, do you knock?” Pete asked, ecstatic and surprised at the same time.

  “I run this bitch,” Walter said, closing the door and crossing the room to hug him. They pounded on each other’s backs. Pete felt relieved to see his friend.

  “You feeling better Pete?” he said, Walter’s normally straight face looking as concerned as he had ever seen it.

  “Better now,” Pete said, holding up the vape.

  “I heard that. Yo, you need to thank this girl, man. She’s been here the entire time, and I mean entire.” Liz squeezed Pete’s hand and smiled at Walter.

  “Having her here when I first woke up was… well, it was the best thing that could have happened,” he said. He felt himself choking up and switched gears, “Walter, you back training?”

  “Yeah homey.” We had China on our side. I ain’t afraid of crusty people from Jersey.”

  “I hear I have you to thank about that, too.”

  Walter looked panicked for a second. “Did Liz tell you anything?”

  “No, not yet,” Pete replied.

  “Christ, Walter, I’m not going to tell your story.” Liz said her tone somewhere between mildly annoyed and lazily outraged.

  “Good, because I wanted to tell him myself,” he replied, pointing at himself with no small amount of pride. Liz rolled her eyes. Walter stood at the foot of the bed, frowning. A few moments passed. Finally, Pete couldn’t stand it.

  “Walter, are you going to tell the fucking story or not?”

  “Right, well, when I got over there to take out fatty boom batty,” - Pete guessed Walter meant the Samoan - “I’d already taken out two of those things. One of them had wrenched my arm around bad and my clothes were all bloody. So I watched you take out that girl, and suddenly, I thought I was going to pass out too. Couldn’t see straight, stomach was ready to heave. So then guess what happened.”

  “What?” Pete said.

  “You got to guess.”

  “Walter… No I don’t, just tell me.”

  “I shit my pants.”

  “No you didn’t,” Pete said, then burst out laughing, despite the pain in his torso.

  “Dude, never go to Crescent City Diner and get the burger,” Walter explained gravely.

  “Walter, why the fuck would I go there ever again? Remember we went there for the grand re-opening? There was a latex glove in your jambalaya.”

  “No,” Walter said, straight-faced, loquacious as ever.

  “Never mind. So you shit your pants, continue,” Pete said.

  “Don’t tell me what to do Pete. I saved your ass from the zombies. I’ll tell my story when I want to tell my story.”

  Pete threw his arms in the air, “What the fuck, dude, okay, you tell the story.”

  “Thank you, Pete,” Walter said caustically. Pete folded his arms.

  “So my pants are filled with shit. I mean, it’s like, running down my leg and squishing around.”

  “Alright already!” Pete and Liz both said simultaneously.

  “Yeah, exactly,” Walter agreed. “So I suddenly feel better. Like I feel great, you know? Not nauseous or anything. I go over to you guys. Ya’ll were curled up, cuddly. Pete, your arm was right across Liz’s neck, and Liz, you were sleeping like a baby. If you weren’t covered in blood and dirt, that shit would have been straight up romantic.”

  “Let me know what you really think, Walt. Let it all out,” Liz said sarcastically.

  “Don’t get me started about letting it all out, Elizabeth. Pretty sure you got some smeared on you.”

  “Ewww!” Liz cried, looking at Walter with disgust. She evidently hadn’t heard that part of the story yet.

  “Shut it and let me tell the story,” he continued. “So anyway, I go over there and neither of you are moving. It’s pretty quiet, so I go and load you both into the back seat of the car.”

  “The car was broken, Walter,” Pete said.

  “I know but it was better than the open pavement. So I am standing there, you guys passed out in the backseat, pants covered with shit, and I’m trying to call the cops with my rinky dink phone. It’s not working and there’s no cops coming. So then I remember that you guys drove there. I ran around the parking lot for about five minutes, dodging these crusty sacks of shit, and finally found your car. Then I realized it was locked. So I had to come back, steal your keys, drive the car back over to my car, and then load you up. Once I got you two in the Corolla, I drove right to the hospital. The cops came here later, looking for survivors with injuries.”

  For Pete, the rescue was incredibly thoughtful for Walter, who wasn’t always the most responsible person. “Well damn. You did good, Walter,” he said. “Great story too.”

  Walter nodded, and they shared a moment of silence. Pete thought about the people he’d ruthlessly savaged and whether they could have been saved. He thought of how close he was to losing Liz when she turned her head and he saw a yellowing bruise at her hairline. He thought of the events that led to such a catastrophe and what neglect could wreak on you if you let it.

  Liz grinned and broke the silence first, “Well, after that story, I’m feeling pretty thirsty.”

  Zero Sum Game

  She dreamt of a place she didn’t recognize, red heat coloring her mind’s eye. The underground chamber was cold and damp and stank of the grave. Berenice saw her dead relatives, frozen in stillness. Her heart broke all over again. Her favorite, Uncle Shank, sat in his antique chair with a full glass of whiskey and a word halfway formed on his lips. A woman she barely recognized, maybe his first wife, stood with hands on her hips and a genuine smile resting on her face. An ancient couple, her great grandparents, sat to the side. They held hands while watching the generations arrive to the dark hall one by one. Figures more ancient still paraded into the background. There was a fisherman holding up a brace of saltwater fish and shouting. Beside him was a man hanging mid swing from a gallows. Far, far away, Berenice could just make out a proud, beautiful woman. Bedecked in fine gilded riding clothes, the woman smiled sublimely at her through the ages.

  The dank chamber was a place for the dead.

  Around the corner of her uncle’s ancient wooden chair came an orange, white and black cat, stalking through wooden and fleshy legs. Emotion swelled in Berenice’s breast. She cried out:

  “Apricot! Come here, girl!”

  At the sound of a voice among the silent dead, the cat dodged around her late father. A long piece of ash dangled precariously on his cigarette from his infinitely long pull. Shivers ran down the dreamer’s spine as she remembered what her father had done to her.

  The feline purred as it rubbed against her leg and drove the chill from Berenice’s veins. The touch filled her with longing and love. Pets had always been more than family and had been solace from the pains of her life. As suddenly as it had touched her, the creature ran slipping around her into the inky blackness.

  “No! Don’t leave, Apricot, not again…” she moaned.

  Berenice turned fully around, and a host of eyes stared back at her. Far, far above and beyond loomed a giant, a titan with a feline countenance. It beheld her with great inter
est. Berenice couldn’t focus on its enormous, dizzying stature. Instead she looked at the legion of glowing eyes, gasping, and then crying out in joy at what she saw. Apricot, her dearest cat, had been dead three years now but she stood proud like a lioness. All of her cats joined the multitude of souls resting eternally in the darkness: Tammy, black except for a patch above her right eye. Squire the tri-color male, a rare specimen indeed and Clarence, the grey fool.

  The loud sound of a metal door opening caused Berenice to cry out loudly. One by one the eyes closed resembling points of light blinking into darkness. As the last cat closed its eyes, the looming titan burst into a thousand fluttering beetles.

  Berenice kicked in her sleep, vaguely aware that she was also in a room of sleek metal surfaces and cold tile. Her wrists chafed against the restraints as she writhed while her sweat pooled on a cheap plastic mattress. The thigh length cotton shift she wore was in disarray. Her hair in, a similar state about her face, irritated two big swollen eyes. A cold numbness beginning in her arm swept through her as a liquid injection from an IV did something insidious to her body. A pounding headache knocked away behind her forehead at the beat of her heart and a sickly fruit smell seemed to ooze from her pores.

  Her mind was aware but ravaged by disease. Berenice felt the presence of others through her fever dream. Something else was at the foot of her bed. Two of them loomed over her.

  “So this is patient zero?” a gruff male voice asked. He sounded unenthusiastic. “No small feat sneaking her out of the hospital.”

  A cold, winter-like voice answered back, a woman, “She wasn’t missed, if that’s what you mean. Just another crazy cat lady, sick in the brain not even aware of it.” There was icy pause yet it was full of thought. “Then the local hospitals had their hands full after the disaster. Your soldiers found it was not difficult to spirit her out. You know we had to find her after we received the sample.”

  Berenice’s fever-addled brain supplied spectral faces for the voices. His, a blank faced grizzly bear, hers a snowy owl.

  “How did you get that sample, after all?” the bear said, flicking its ears.