Page 44 of Desiderium
We don’t know anything about this.
We can speculate, imagine what might happen, use our collective general knowledge to spark some sort of hodgepodge theory to manifest itself. But in the end, we have no idea.
Overseas, we knew the dangers and the guys we were fighting against. I guess nowadays, in that regard, it’s self-explanatory. Apart from a few major exceptions, we at least have some distinctive prompt to know where to point the weapons—the infected are the bad guys. Simple. Easy.
Zombie=Bad.
Proceed to kill.
Say less.
Just point me in their direction and allow my inner Picasso to come out. I’m about to get creatively inspired here.
Done. Mission completed.
But that’s not the danger that has me set on edge. Bullets hurt and can potentially kill a person. That’s obvious. An infected bite is deadly. We know this. But we don’t know anything apart from that and it’s eating me up.
I turn and sit up, rubbing my eyes, wishing yesterday never happened. Wishing things were back to normal; just Aly, me, Cole, and Jax living out the rest of our days as the world putters out its own meager timeline; surrounding ourselves with smiles and happiness while leaving absolutely no room for anyone else to muck up our fragile slice of paradise—least of all, any fucking assholes trying to rip us apart, undead or alive.
Instead, I open my eyes and see the façade of a normal day. Cole is on his chest on the floor next to Aly. She’s awake, watching him, her fingers dancing gracefully along his shoulder. To anyone unaware, it would look likethey were huddled together in a lovers embrace. The truth is much more difficult to swallow.
Halfway through the night, we caught her trying to cuddle up next to him but kept on falling off the couch. After the third attempt, Jax and I decided to move some of the cushions to the floor, along with Cole, so she could. She’s been there ever since but I don’t think she slept at all. I don’t blame her. With all the concern and distress resonating through the house, I’m surprised I was even able to get the hour or two I did. But, then again, getting chased by an army of the undead—twice—and then tending to a brother’s fatal wounds tends to drain a guy of all his energy.
With a yawn and a groan, I move to the floor behind her, lifting Aly’s hair away from the side of her face and tucking it behind her ear. “Morning, sweetheart.” I kiss her cheek softly, lingering a moment in the relative peace she always unknowingly provides. A sigh escapes my chest as I turn my attention to Cole. “How’s our patient doing?”
“Nothing yet.” She replies softly, her hand splaying out on his back, careful to avoid the stitched-up area. “But he’s still breathing so that’s good...Right?” I don’t say anything, but I need to keep her spirits up. The last thing she needs, right now, is to lose hope. At my silence, she turns her head, imploring me.
“Yeah.... Yeah, that’s good. Breathing is good. He’s gonna be alright. You’ll see. He just needs some rest. He’s gonna be fine,” I ramble, not entirely sure if I'm trying to convince her or myself or, fuck, both of us.
Just then, Jax groans from the recliner at our feet, looking just as fucked as the rest of us. He peers down at our cuddle party on the cushions before muttering, “Coffee?” Before we’re even able to respond, he nods to himself, repeating the word under his breath, standing and stalking sleepily towards the kitchen.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper, kissing the junction between her neck and shoulder before I stand and follow his retreating shadow into the next room.
I find him going through the cupboards, throwing shit here and there, just as we’ve always done whenever we scout a new place. It looks like he wants to slam the last one, but, at the last moment, refrains, closing it gently before gritting his teeth and growling in frustration. Changing course, he turns to our packs staged right next to the island and grabs his, pulling out a set of instant coffee packs and setting them on the white counter next to three identical white mugs.
Looking around, this place is nothing but white—the counters, cupboards, fridge... All of it. Everything...It’s too white.So much so, it’s almost sterile. It reminds me of a hospital. I recoil at the thought.
I instantly hate it here...
There’s no life in this house. No love. No personality. Just contemporary bullshit screaming at you to not make a mess or live in it. The mugs say the same thing. Three posh ceramic things that look like they barely made it out of their packaging, let alone be used at any point. It feels weird. Idon’t like it. It makes the itchy feeling from earlier return before Jax’s voice filters through my thoughts.
“Hey, man, mind setting some water to boil? I’m gonna go use the head.”
“Sure, no problem.” The minor task pulls my head back to the present as I find a small pot and step towards the faucet. I go to turn the knob but there isn’t one, just the water spout. I look all around the counter for some way to start the damn thing but come to the conclusion that it must be one of those motion activated nozzles or some shit.
Whatever.
The bathroom’s plumbing is the good old-fashioned kind so I head there. While the sink’s basin is too small for the pot to fit, I know the faucet in the tub will work. I open the previously closed door and walk past Jax to get to it.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks with a deep, gravelly tone, too tired to care if I stand behind him and watch him take a piss but alert enough to wonder why the fuck I chose today of all days to do so.
“Water’s out in the kitchen,” I reply simply as I turn the dial and fill the pot.
“Fair enough,” is all he says in return, continuing his marathon pee as I leave the bathroom and head back to the kitchen. I peek in on Aly on the way and see her still cuddled up next to Cole. She gives me a small smile as I pass but doesn’t say anything. I don’t either. There’s nothing to say that we don’t already know.
Back in the kitchen, I set the pot on the stovetop but let out a whispered curse when I examine the appliance closer. My eyes follow up by darting to the ceiling as I fling my head back on my shoulders. It’s fucking electric. I suddenly get a flashback of Jax having the same fucking problem back at his cabin. He ended up throwing his toastanda hissy fit all over the kitchen before storming outside to take his frustration out on a load of wood. Speaking of the devil, Jax finally finishes pissing like a damn racehorse and steps next to me, seeing what’s caused my reaction. A similar curse escapes his lips, but, surprisingly, that’s it.
“Fuck. Well… cold brew it is. Better than nothing.” He shrugs.
