ZPD 8.17

If we had kept on the move, I would have likely been the better for it. It’s difficult to settle the mind on troubling thoughts when it is occupied with moving your feet, feeding your belly, and keeping your head on it’s neck. For the next few days however, I had nothing but time. Tripper had assumed leadership, and was bent on resting everyone after the big fight from the night before. They had lost a man during the assault. They buried him in the backyard next to two other unmarked graves. That was something to think about. Who knows who those poor bastards were. Pete helped out some with the digging. Even with his bandaged hand, he was ready to work. Not me. I didn’t even want to move.

Of Trippers group, there were four left including himself. Jesse I’ve already mentioned. He was the young guy who’s elbow had been dislocated by Pete’s aluminum bat. Jesse’s older brother Marshall was the one I had clubbed unconscious in the upstairs bedroom. He had a pretty bad headache when he woke up. It was probably a concussion, but he didn’t complain. He didn’t even seem very upset with me for clubbing him. I think he was just happy to wake up alive and safe for the moment. Sabir was the third man. That’s what we ended up calling him. His full name was Mirza Sabir-khan or something like that. He was a Persian, though he spoke better English than I did. He was shorter than I was, and very thin. I remember wondering how he survived. I assumed it was thanks to Tripper.

Tripper didn’t take long organizing the house into a defensible fortress. The dining room was his central post, and he set up shop there. All of our weapons and ammunition were laid out and arranged against the interior wall. He started inventory lists on our food, on our medical supplies, and on everything in the house with a label. Sabir seemed to be Trippers right hand. He was given reign over the kitchen, and the first thing he did was turn it into his own little science lab. The non perishable food was carted out into the front lobby area. Water was poured from the tap into containers and stored all over the house. Unless Sabir gave you explicit permission, no one was supposed to go into that kitchen. I’m not sure why anyone would want to anyways… it started smelling really bad in there.

Guy and Penny were given Penny’s old room for quarters. Tripper and Marshall rigged up a bolt latch to keep it locked from the outside. They kept their distance from the girls at all times, and wouldn’t allow them to walk freely through the house. The girls could always escape out their second story window. I think that’s what those guys may have hoped for actually. Washroom breaks were given under guard. One at a time. Pete was in charge of feeding them. Just as well. He was the only one that wasn’t as likely to poison them.

Tripper didn’t like the look of Pete’s hand. It was starting to look pretty gross. Sabir had a look and re-wrapped it with some more antiseptic compresses. Jesse had his elbow reset. I heard them do it. He’d had a belt shoved between his teeth, but he still managed to scream loud enough to wake me from my sleep. They put him in my room after that. They just left him on the floor with a blanket. I felt bad about it, being the one with perfectly healthy elbows and sleeping on the bed. I didn’t offer to switch though. I just went back to sleep.

I woke up slowly in the morning. Jesse was on the floor talking in his sleep. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it was loud enough to rouse me. I had taken Pearl’s old room. That was the worst idea. Sleeping on her pillow. It smelled like her. She was out there somewhere, alone and I felt so guilty for it. I had promised to keep her safe, and now her mother was dead at the hands of the men I was sharing a room with. I couldn’t wrap my head around their fear and loathing of these girls. They seemed to blame them for the entire ordeal. I tried to tell myself she would be okay. Pearl was a smart girl. She could survive if she put her mind to it.

"We’re all going to die"

I could see her face. "We’re all going to die" were the words she repeated in my head over and over. She had tried to warn me. She knew men would come to the house. I had shrugged her off and fallen asleep. That’s all I wanted to do again. I held the pillow against my face and groaned out in frustration.

"Hey!" came the voice from the floor.

I took the pillow away from my face, and looked at him without expression. He had propped himself up against the opposite wall, and was stretching his one good arm out away from him.

"They left you some pills to take on the stand there." he said, pointing at the night table.

"What are they?" I was leery of drugs for obvious reasons.

"Happy pills man! You looked pretty rocked. Your buddy there had some in his pack."

I felt skeptical. I know Pete had drugs in his pack, but he’s not one to prescribe anything. Especially anti-depressants after his ordeal. My doubt must have been written all over my face.

"C’mon." Jesse said. "Don’t tell me you’re just gonna pass. Dude, that’s sissy. Throw em here if you’re not gonna take em".

I did as he asked.

"You feeling depressed?" I asked him.

"Uhh, no shit. What do you think?" He fumbled with the blister pack in one hand. It folded too easily, and wouldn’t pop the pill out right.

"Goddamn child proof" he said under his breath. He tried to open it with his teeth. It actually worked, but he ended up crushing the pill into powder in the process.

"Gah! Yuck!" he gagged and screwed up his face. He looked like a baby being fed mushy peas. He still licked his lips though, and made sure to swallow every bit of chalky powder. He actually seemed pleased with himself when he was done.

"Ha! Man, I think that’s actually better than just swallowing it. I can usually take these things by the handful. But man, I’m already feeling better about it."

"About what?"

"About life! About being alive. I think I snorted some of that stuff dude. Why haven’t I done that before?"

"I don’t think it works like that."

"Yeah, says you. You’re just too pussy to try it."

"I don’t take drugs from people I don’t know, and I definitely don’t put them up my nose." He was irritating me.

"Whatever, they were from your buddy. Like I said. Anyways what’s wrong with the nose? It works way faster. Instant delivery!" He yelled that last part out as if he were some sort of Fed Ex superhero.

"I don’t play with my drugs. I take them seriously, and I don’t like taking them at all if they’re not oral." Really, suppositories are the worst.

He gave me a goofy grin, and saluted me.

"Okay sir.  Serious oral only."  He started to giggle after that, and kept laughing to himself every few minutes after reminding himself what he’d said.  He was a prick.  Eventually he calmed himself down and tried to start another conversation.

"So who’s the black chick?" he asked.

"The black

chick?" I knew he meant Guy, I just wasn’t willing to make anything easy for him.  I wasn’t even sure she was black.  She definitely had some kinda mix in those genes, but I wasn’t sure it was dominantly African.

"The black chick in the room with the other girl. You know the one I’m talking about.  She your girlfriend or something?"

"She’s not my girlfriend.  Her name’s Guy".  He gave me another funny look after that.

"No really, c’mon" He leaned forward, trying his best to look sincere I suppose.  When I offered no other response, he started to laugh again.

"Haha.  Guy.  Her name is Guy?"

I nodded affirmative.  My face held an unimpressed position as I did my best to make him feel stupid.  It really didn’t have the desired effect.

"Hahahaha! That’s the dumbest name ever."

"No it isn’t" I felt defensive about it.  I actually liked Guy’s name.  It made her different.

"Oh, okay captain Oral.  You’re telling me that if you were having a daughter, you would name her Guy?  How about Manly?  How about naming her Hazzadick?  Subtle don’t you think?"  He fell back into another fit of laughter.

Marshall opened the door then, and walked in.

"What’s so funny?" he asked, smiling.

"Hey Marshall, guess what that black chicks name is."

"Guy?" he asked.  He had the same unimpressed look on his face.  Jesse continued to giggle.  Marshall looked at me, and then let his eyes drift to the floor where Jesse had left the rest of the pills.  He picked up the package and wiped some of the spit off, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.  I shook my head, and looked back toward Jesse.  He understood my meaning right away, and cursed under his breath, turning on his brother.

"You took his drugs didn’t you?" he asked, showing him the package the way you show a puppy a chewed sneaker.

"Just the one.  Don’t get all pissy dad."

"Dad would kick your ass." Marshall grabbed him roughly at the shoulder and hauled him to his feet.  Jesse yelped in pain.  He’d grabbed the wounded side.  Marshall looked slightly apologetic, and let him go.  His tone stayed strong however.

"Get out.  Let the man alone."

"He’s a kid." Jesse growled.

"You’re a kid.  Shut up and get out."  He shut the door behind his brother and turned to face me, holding out the pills.

"Sorry about that.  He’s a jackass sometimes.  I should have known not to leave him in the same room with the drugs.  I’m actually surprised he only took the one.  This is all he took wasn’t it?"

I told him it was, explaining how he’d opened the package.  Marshall just shook his head.  The sounds of hammers banging were coming through the floor below.

"What’s going on?" I asked.

"Renovations." He said.  "To tell the truth, I came up here to check on my brother as an excuse for a break."

"Make yourself at home." I told him.

"Ha.  Home." He said quietly, almost to himself.  "In the death-house."

"Huh?"

"Nothing.  That’s just what Jesse started calling it.  The zombie porno death-house."

"Why do you call it that?"

"That’s a long story.  I’m just as curious as to how you ended up inside here."

"Yeah", I agreed. "That’s a long story."

He smiled.

"Rock, paper, scissors to see who goes first?"

"Sure" I said.

I chose paper.  He chose rock.