Surge (36 page)

Olivia ushers everyone through the gate, before pulling out four bike locks. She attaches them all methodically and tugs each one to make sure they’re all secure. Once satisfied, she brushes her gloved hands off, straightens and pushes her way to the door. I can’t see her with so many taller bodies, but I do see the door open a few seconds later and the crowd move forward.

I’m the last through the door, so I triple lock it, before Olivia approaches to do it. She still checks them herself, as if it’s an extremely complicated design; which it isn’t, but I don’t say anything. If she feels more comfortable with checking them out, then I won’t stop her.

“We have to talk,” she whispers. I nod, and she motions for me to follow her. Olivia walks into the living room where everyone’s standing around, before clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright everyone, have a seat and relax. We’re staying here for the night, so settle in, and get some rest. We leave early tomorrow morning.”

Groans emit from a few people, but I don’t know exactly who; nor does Olivia seem to care, since she gets Cory and John’s attention, and we leave the group to their complaints. With us trailing behind her, she jogs upstairs, down the hallway,  and to the roof I found her last time. Motioning us to go first, she pulls out her soda can, and shoves it into the door jam. Once it’s in place, she follows us up to the witch’s walk.

“I think it’s obvious that if we walk the rest of the way to the compound, we’ll all be older than Lenny when we finally get there,” Olivia says bluntly. “That, or we die before we get within 100 miles of it.”

“So, what do you suggest?” I ask.

“We drive,” she states. Three sets of eyes peer at her. “You know, get in car, and go vroom-vroom?”

“We know what you’re talking about, you smartass,” Cory says and Olivia grins. “We’re wondering where you’re getting enough cars and gas to get us where we’re going.”

“Don’t you worry about it,” Olivia replies. “I’ve got it covered.” She points downstairs and looks at Cory with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Did you happen to recognize whose house we’re in?”

“Your old bitch of an aunt’s,” Cory answers and she nods. He thinks a second and grins. “Holy fuck, I call dibs on the Jag.”

“That’s fine with me,” Olivia says with a shrug. “I’m taking the Beemer for a spin.” She adopts a Jamaican accent and starts singing Beenie Man’s “Who am I?” John hops in and they start swapping verses back and forth.
When they finish, I get bring them back to the matter at hand.

“Alright Beenie Men,” I say and they laugh. “So
,
you have a Jaguar and a BMW.” Olivia nods. “How exactly are we stuffing sixteen people in two cars? Do the trunks have rooms for bodies?”

“They do,” she confirms. “But alas, we cannot stuff Kelly in it, since we regrettably have another
vehicle.”

“A Ferrari?” John asks excitedly.

“Sorry, but no,” Olivia says with a smirk and looks at me. “You get the bingo van.”

“Van?” I ask horrified at the prospect, and she nods. “Fuck. That. I’m not a freaking soccer mom.”

“Believe me, that is no vehicle for a soccer mom
to drive
,” Cory counters. “It’s a fucking beast. Equipped with TVs, a DVD player, full surround sound, and captain chairs throughout. Plus
,
it seats twelve.”

“I’m in!” John exclaims. “But I’m picking the movie.”

“Damn, I knew I should have brought my
complete set of
Rambo DVDs,” I mutter and John laughs. “Fine, I’ll drive the van. We can swap drivers if we get tired.”

“Who’s riding with you two?” John asks.

“I’ll take Tommy,” Cory replies. “He doesn’t piss me off, and knows how to handle machinery with his background, so I know he won’t drive us off the road.”

“And I’ll take Leonard,” Olivia says with a smile. “I have a feeling he’s one of the few that won’t make me want to stab them, so he and I will get along great.”

“But you can’t switch to rest,” I point out. She waves me off.

“Rest, shmest,” she counters. “Who needs it, when I need to lead to troops?” Cory gives me a look, and then I remember her night terrors.

“Are we still stopping along the way?” John asks and Olivia nods.

“Yeah, we can’t sleep in the cars,” she answers. “And we’re taking the back-est of back roads, so it’s still gonna take a while to get there.” Olivia taps her chin. “We’ll have to stop for gas, most likely siphoning it with hoses from dead ones, since electric pumps won’t work. Even with the back roads, some streets are blocked, so we’ll have to ditch the cars and walk, or clear the way. But we’ll figure it out when we get there.” She rubs her hands together and looks at the three of us. “So, who’s up for a road trip?”

“Finally, someone that agrees with me,” John says with a smile. Olivia tips her head in question. “I suggested the same thing, but all I got we’re a bunch of complaining douches.”

“You just have to use the right touch.” Olivia replies. “And a bit of intimidation never hurts.”

“I’ll remember that next time,” he says with a nod.

“Great, so it’s settled,” she says. “After I cook dinner, we’ll pack the cars so we can leave tomorrow.”

“Have I told you how much I’ve missed you lately?” Cory asks as he grins.

“Please, you missed my cooking,” she counters, but she smiles back at him. “Always did know how to clear a plate.”

“I’m a growing boy,” Cory says and she laughs.

They continue talking quietly as they walk down ahead of John and I. Olivia pauses to remove the can, and stuffs it into her bag, before pulling the door the rest of the way open. We follow her and Cory down to the main living area, where she heads to the kitchen, and the three of us join the others.

Sarah and Danny are sitting on the loveseat flipping through some huge book. The twins are plopped on each end of a three seater, resting their heads on the arm rests. Tommy’s sitting on the floor cleaning weapons, and reloading guns with the new ammo, along with his grandfather. Akio is checking Mike’s gunshot, as he sits next to Whitney on the last couch. Chelsea and Marissa have found some old magazines and have them spread out on the floor, admiring fashion that’s long since been outdated. The new style is whatever is required for survival, protective clothing with weapon holsters as accessories, paired with boots or sneakers. Not Jimmy Choo heels, and afghan knit wraps. Don’t ask, I have a sister.

I don’t spot Kelly, until I’m walking toward the kitchen; where music is coming from, but I notice her observing some silver cutlery, and antique china that’s locked in a hutch in the dining room. I hear her mutter about something
‘being worth a small fortune
,
’
so she’s probably figuring out how much she could have hocked it before no one cared for that kind of stuff.

Continuing on, I finally find the source of the music coming from a phonograph on the counter. The woman sounds French, but what catches my attention is Olivia singing along fluently in her husky voice. I know that if she sees me, she’ll stop, so I stay where I am and lean against the doorway, crossing my arms as I listen.

“‘La Vie En Rose,’” a voice says to my right. “It’s one of her favorites.” I look over at Cory, who’s assumed a similar position as me, and is watching Olivia with a smile.

“So, she always sings in French?”

“No, she’ll sing just about anything,” he answers. “Edith Piaf,” Cory nods at her to say that Olivia’s current selection is by that particular woman. “Nirvana, Joan Jett, Eminem, Five Finger Death Punch, Elvis, Lady Gaga.” Cory laughs at that reference. “Doesn’t matter, Livs loves it all.” I nod. “She even passed up a full ride for her singing and dancing, when she found out that her mom was sick.”

“It might have saved her life in the end,” I point out and he nods. New York suffered significantly with their high congestion. “But she sounds beautiful.” I motion to my throat. “She still sound the same?”

“Pretty much,” Cory confirms. “She’s always had a hint of the bluesy rasp, but it’s a little huskier now.”

I nod and look back at Olivia. She still hasn’t noticed that she has an audience, and is now singing whatever was next on the record. It’s the same woman singing, but the song sounds a little more powerful. More higher verses that shift to lower runs. Olivia finishes with a strong note in French.

“
‘God, reunite those who love each other,’
” Cory translates, as Olivia pulls the record off, and wipes her eyes. She doesn’t put in another one, but finally catches us in the corner.

“Fucking onions,” Olivia says and wipes her tears with the backs of her uncovered hands. Her sleeves are pulled up, so her scarred wrists are visible, but I refuse to stare at them. She’s self-conscious enough as it is; besides all it will do is piss me off.

“Would you like some help with those damn onions?” I ask. “I can chop them into submission.” Olivia smiles a little, but waves me off.

“No, I can handle the bastards,” she says. Olivia points at the casserole dish on the counter. “It’s almost ready to toss in the oven anyway.”

“You don’t need any water for me to drag in or anything?” I ask.

Olivia laughs as she walks over to the sink, lifts the handle, and water comes rushing out. My eyes just about pop out of my head, but she isn’t done yet. Olivia then walks over to a light switch and flips it on. It’s still daytime, but I can see the light bulb shining in the pot lit ceiling.

“What the fuck?” I exclaim but she makes a cutting motion for me to shut up and come closer. Forgetting about her fear of physical touch, I sprint forward and skid to a stop when Cory just about chokes me by grabbing my collar. That’s when I see Olivia pressed against the cabinets with a knife pointed out in front of her.

“Sorry,” I say and hold up my hands. “I just got a tad excited.” Olivia gives me a shaky smile, but lowers her knife.

“I-it’s fine,” she says. Taking a deep breath, she continues. “My aunt didn’t like paying the city for her utilities, so she came up with a solution. She had very own pipe connection to the river, a septic system put in and a solar powered generator out back. It cost her a fortune, but she said that she was spending it on a good investment, herself.”

“She was a greedy old hag,” I comment. Olivia gives me a sad smile along with a shake of her head.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she says as she flips the light switch off, as well as the faucet. Once everything is set back to rights, Olivia glances toward the parlor, before looking back at me and talks in a lowered voice. “I think that it’s self-explanatory as to why we aren’t telling the others about the electricity.” I nod my agreement, those fuckers would never leave if they knew. “You can tell them about the water. Let them shower and smell clean or else you’ll be dealing with twelve different body odors all at once in the confined van.”

“Absolutely,” I agree. Then I think of something. “Why did you make John and I drag koi pond water in, boil it and lug it upstairs if we didn’t need to?”

“To tire you out,” she answers with a smirk. “No way in hell was I locking myself in with two giants who could bench press four of me.” Cory laughs at that. “Plus, I was seeing how trustworthy you were. If you didn’t follow my orders to a
‘T,’
I probably would have left you as soon as you passed out.” I shrug, she had to do what she felt comfortable with. No blaming her after what she’s been through.

“You could have done worse,” I admit remembering Frank and Victoria. Olivia nods in agreement, like she knows where my mind wandered. “I’ll go tell the others to hit the showers.”

“Good idea,” Cory says. “I’m using Auntie Scrooge’s Egyptian cotton towels to dry my
‘hick’
ass.”

“You only spent the summers in Texas,” Olivia counters.

“And the first two years of my life, missy,” Cory revises with a crooked grin.

“Get your country ass out of my kitchen,” she orders and tosses an oven mitt at a laughing Cory’s retreating back. “And don’t come back now, ya hear?” Olivia looks at me. “You too, you suburban bum.”

“Hey now,” I say with mocked offense. “Suburban jungles are pretty dangerous too, you city slicker.”

“But I got better views,” she says as she smiles. “Fenway Park less than three blocks away. Me and my dad used to watch the games with the television on mute, and listen to it live from the window.”

“Lucky,” I mutter.

“I was,” Olivia agrees and shakes her head. “But those times are long gone. Now, I enjoy the comforts that I was denied.” She twirls a finger around to indicate the house we’re staying in. I’ll get the story of that later, for now, I start walking to the door. Before I exit, I look back over my shoulder.

“Hey, Olivia,” I call and she peers at me. “I didn’t know you spoke French.” I swear I see her sun kissed skin flush. “And you have a really beautiful voice.”

I get moving before she can say anything, or throw something, about the compliment. Entering the parlor, I see that a few people must have followed Cory’s lead and hit the showers. Leonard and Tommy are still cleaning guns on the floor, Carlos is now sprawled across the sofa and snoring, Chelsea’s popping bubble gum as she and Marissa continue consulting over the magazines, and Sarah is alone on the loveseat leafing through the same huge book. Walking over, I plop myself down next to Sarah.

“Where’re the others?” I ask.

“Akio was setting up a new sick room, so Mike and Whitney went with him,” she answers without looking up. “Oscar, Cory and John went to shower somewhere upstairs. And Kelly went to score a bed, since she says that she isn’t sharing with anyone.”

“And Danny?” Because he’s usually attached to her hip. Maybe she’s finally broken up with him?

“Setting up a room downstairs for Olivia to train us in,” she replies. Damn, one could only hope.

“How’d you know about that?”

“Cory mentioned it,” Sarah says and finally looks up with a grin. “Did you see her today? I want to be able do that.”

“Olivia’s been doing this a long time,” I say. “So, I don’t want you thinking that a little bit of tutoring makes you an expert.”