Stories (2011) (79 page)

"I don't think you want to do that," the boy said,
eyes wide. The gun always frightened the country boys.

Sally smiled. "Maybe. Maybe not. If you got a knife,
show it now. Toss it over here or I'll shoot you right between the eyes."

The knife slid between her feet. "I'm unarmed now. You
got me dead to rights. But are you sure you want to kill and eat me? You don't
look like a cannibal."

"There ain't much meat on you, I do confess. Some fat
makes for better eating when it comes to roast meat."

"I got some carrots, onions, potatoes and I can get
some eggs. Wouldn't that taste better?"

"Yeah and I bet you've got some Spam, pork and beans
and sardines. Am I right, you lousy, no good, asshole THIEF?"

"And you got a cute T-shirt and some Hanes underwear I
think I might like to have. Fair exchange?"

"Not on your life," Sally said, trying to keep a
smile from flickering across her lips. The fall weather meant her legs were
cold. And the T-shirt wasn't enough to protect her against the cold to come.

"And tea. I got tea back at my sleeping space. Lipton
or some Stash spice tea I've been keeping for just the right time. I'll share
it with you if you don't kill me. That's a fine piece of gun you got there. I
don't reckon I've seen one of them guns before. Not in these parts, anyway.

You from the city?"

"I want my food back."

"I'll give it to you, just put the gun away. Okay?
Let's be friends."

Her dog, Little One, had done nothing. He had stood beside
her, didn't growl and his tail began wagging.

"Nice dog. What's its name?"

"Little One."

"He's not very little."

"I know and if you are mean to me, one word and you're
dead meat."

"Okay."

"So—do you want to go shopping with me? I need me some
clothes." Mother and Sally used to go shopping. She would never forget
shopping. That was another word for scavenging now.

"Only if you don't kill me if we don't find much. There
is this little clothes place that still has some wearable stuff. I bet you're
kind of cold."

Sally looked at her torn, smelly T-shirt. "Yeah, I am.
Lead the way."

The boy stood. He was a young man with long legs in worn
jeans. The bare chest that showed through the opening of his button-less
flannel shirt had brown hair on it while his shirt had sleeves that were far
too short for his arms. He had some hair on his face, too, not a lot but enough
to scare her just a little bit. At least it wasn't a lot and it looked kind of
fine. Sally also realized he was a lot taller than she was. She followed him
cautiously.

He led her out of the library and down about three blocks or
so, to a small department store.

A few mannequins still stood in one display, miraculously
sporting the latest in pre-Revolution, post-Republic of Texas fashion, cobwebby
and filthy. But the shoes looked intact—sturdy black shoes that might fit.
Hands slightly shaking, she snatched them and tried them on. He threw her some
socks. She put them on and then tried the shoes. They fit. "This is
good," she said. She didn't know how long they'd last but she'd take them.

"The best clothes are at the back in a storeroom most
looters miss," the young man said.

"Okay. What's your name?"

"Jim, James Leroy Carver. What's yours?"

"Sally Louise Alice Mistral Corabeth Angelique Kiki
Anne Robinson Lewis Thompson Johnson Mason Something or Other. In other words,
I haven't the vaguest clue but I think my Mother called me Sally."

"Well, dang, that's a mouthful, Sally." He smiled.

Sally felt suddenly weak. He held out his hand. "Let's
get you some new clothes. I could use some new trousers myself. These jeans are
getting too tight."

They
were
tight, she noticed, but didn't think that
was such a bad thing.

In the storeroom, the lantern came in handy. They tried on
clothes, backs turned, used to nudity and unaware that seeing each other might
provoke some strange feelings.

She looked at him like a wolf looked at a wounded pig when
his pants slipped to the floor so he could try some gray silky suit pants.

"You don't got any underwear on. How come?"

He seemed stunned and uncomfortable. "Just don't see
the point."

"Oh." She pulled on a short red skirt. "This
is cute but I guess I need me some pants, too."

He threw her some jeans. She tried them and grinned. "I
can wear these. They fit. I want me a shirt with pockets. And a jacket and
sweater, too."

He grinned.

"I need me a backpack better'n that thing of yours. How
come you carry such a little baby backpack? Don't you need a bigger one now?
You're a man, not a kid."

"I guess I should. Never thought about it, really. Hey,
thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"What do you mean?"

"I guess we're friends now."

She tried on a jacket after shaking the dust out of it.
"This could do with a wash in the creek.

Mud Creek has a creek, doesn't it?"

"Sort of. We can go bathe in the creek, if you'd like,
but you can't swim with a gun."

"I'd like that, Jim. But I want my food back first or
I'm telling you I'll kill you and roast you for supper." She waved the
Glock 19.

"Put that away or we can't be friends," he said.

–•–

Jim had done more talking with Sally than he'd ever done
with another human being. She talked so much that it shocked him. He talked so
much he got hoarse. They talked at the creek before they got naked and jumped
in. He had never seen such a pretty girl in his life, certainly not one his own
age and certainly not one with a gun.

He really wanted to look at the gun up close but she
wouldn't let him. She made her dog sit on it while they swam.

Jim wanted to touch her so badly he actually ached. It hurt
to watch her breasts bob in the water. They swam closer and closer to each
other. He shook the cold water out of his ears when he came up for air after a
few strokes that brought him right next to her. He suddenly had to do something
or burst. He grabbed her and kissed her. She resisted at first and then she
kissed him back. They were kind of sloppy at kissing.

It took a few tries before it felt right.

They kissed a lot and then she got scared and swam away. She
got into her clothes, whistled to her dog and left. Jim treaded water for a
while and then he got out before his skin got all wrinkled. The sun was going
down and the warmth of the moment had vanished.

He waited for her to come back and get the food he'd stolen
from her but she didn't. He didn't want to go all the way back into town to the
SUV so instead he went to the rocket ship where he hid things.

That night he sat alone outside the Rocket and looked at the
stars and wondered what she thought about their kisses. Way out in the
distance, coming from the mountains, he could see light. Fires. Someone was up
there. He wondered if one of the lights belonged to the girl. He wondered if
she were still alive or if some other man had her and was enjoying her.

It was not a thing he liked to think about for very long.
Then he thought about the ridge and the giant faces.

He told himself that she was most likely not that far away.
The lights from the fires looked near, but they were not. Maybe the beasts of
the jungle were coming or the monsters or the cannibals. He wondered if they
would come to the Rocket and find him. He feared that. He knew that he could
stay inside his hiding place and finally figure how to close it up, and it
would be impossible for them to come in after him, with him way up high, the
hatch closed and air-tight. No one could ever get to him in here.

Maybe that girl Sally had become a cannibal. Let her have
that damn Glock 19 and that dog she liked to sleep with. Maybe she had fleas.
Maybe if he slept with her he'd get fleas and they'd scratch themselves to
death. If he did not get caught outside, nothing could happen. That was the
thing to watch out for, not getting caught out where there was a chance of
being hurt, captured, killed and eaten. Or maybe just his supplies taken, his
rocket ship stolen by a girl who could grow up to be like, well, Mrs.

There were other rockets. Someone like that girl could come
along and move in next door.

There could be a lot of people living in the rockets. They
could call it Rocket City on Wuthering Heights Street. They could borrow tools
and plant gardens and share and work their way straight into a Post-Revolution
civilization. They could get that dang DVD player working again and the
electric plant and make new Spam and pork and beans that never rotted.

It was a pretty thought, but he knew it was just a thought.
If more men and women like Sally came with guns, they would most likely kill
him. They had formed their packs, and the packs were what they protected. If
you were outside the pack, they wanted you dead; they wanted to eat you.

He wondered if he would eat a human being, and knew, if
there was no other food available, he would—easily—with or without potatoes.
Sally had mentioned garlic. He liked garlic.

He remembered his garden behind the garage growing in the
moonlight. It was fat with vegetables, and he was pleased by the thought of the
coming harvest. If he didn't go check on it, what would happen? The garden
needed watering.

Seemed like several days went by and he got bored waiting to
see if Sally would come find him. She didn't so he decided to go into Mud Creek
to just see what she was up to and check on his garden but he was afraid. What
if she laughed at him?

He lingered in the rocket ship, at the doorway, after
checking his clothes, and he looked out, hoping she'd still come so he wouldn't
have to search for her. He had slept poorly the night before, and while it was
dark he had released the hatch and sat with his feet dangling out of the
opening. Just sat there watching at the sunrise, as bright as red-orange
trumpet flowers opening in the morning air.

The air smelled rich with oxygen and the trees around him
were bright green and the mountains in the distance shimmered a blue violet
capped with white snow. He thought going to the mountains might be nice. It was
cold up in the mountains and the air might be thin, still he might be able to
breathe better, think better. The beauty might be enough to soothe his itch.

But he decided he had a better chance of coming home if he
went into town, and even that was not smart.

He went anyway. He went back to the store where he first saw
her.

–•–

Sally hid behind a stack of hardware when she heard him
enter the store.

He looked about, didn't see her. It was a large store. She
knew he was looking for her. The store, an old Wal-Mart, had mostly been
looted, but there were still tools lying about, and any one of them might make
a good weapon.

He didn't pick one up. Maybe he didn't want to look
aggressive. Still, she couldn't be sure it was safe to be his friend. Could
humans be friends now? Was she human? Could anyone be trusted after the
Revolution? She crept backwards, trying to reach a back room.

"I'm just lonely," he said out loud, and that
surprised her. "I've seen you in your underwear, and you've seen me in
less than that. We kind of know each other." He laughed. "We should
at least be friends."

And then she stood, at the back, just behind a door. But the
door had not pulled back far enough. It had swollen and would only go so far,
and he could see her right elbow poking out.

"Look. I don't have a weapon. I know where you are. I
don't want to hurt you. Wouldn't you like someone to talk to some more,
Sally?"

He stood still, waiting.

She did not move.

He said, "I have more fresh food. I could share it. I
have some cocoa powder, too. I have a nice safe place to stay in the rockets. I
don't want to hurt you."

–•–

The elbow moved.

An arm appeared. Sally waved. "Hi, Jim."

"Hi," he said.

They embraced. She shivered in his heat.

–•–

He took her not to the rockets, but to the ridge. He wanted
her to see the stone faces staring up into the stars that night they finally
satisfied their hunger.

The faces watched them make a fire. They ate and they mated
like the animals in the jungle.

He felt almost safe in her arms. Then he became frightened.
Towards the chill of dawn he slipped from her sleeping form, gently disengaging
her arms from his waist and pulling his blue blankie over her to keep her warm.
Little One took his place. Sally moaned in her dreams but didn't awaken. He
crept to the rocket where he hid things, where he felt truly safe. He fell
asleep curled around his ratty backpack,
The Jungle Book
on his bare
chest.

Morning came. Jim rubbed his eyes as he heard something
rustling. The hatch he had not been able to secure had betrayed him. She had
found a way inside.

Sally stood over him with her Glock 19.

"I should kill you now, but I won't."

Jim tried to snatch the gun. She drew back. Little One
growled.

"Go away!" Jim said.

"I intend to do just that."

"Go!" he said.

"Well, I am. But do you want to go with me?" Her
large eyes blinked away tears.

Jim shook his head, confused. "This is my rocket. You
leave, now!"

"Jim, please—don't you understand? I'm taking this
spaceship. I know how to activate it and I'm going home. The second I saw it, I
remembered everything I'm supposed to do. Maybe my mother told me or something
or somebody else. All I know is I've got to get out of here, now!

I'm leaving this awful place. It's programmed to take us
home."