Until the End (16 page)

“Hurry up, slow poke!” I shout over my shoulder, smiling at him.

It takes a second, but he grins and breaks into a run after us. He makes sure to give the girl plenty of room, fully aware she isn’t as in love with him as she is with me, and we race to the end of the bridge. Jordan wins, which is no surprise to me, even with the girl running as fast as she could. He’s barely breathing hard and she and I are about to collapse, which makes it easier to subdue her and keep her from running again. After a few minutes of regular paced walking, she seems to forget her terror on the bridge and goes placid and vacant again.

“She’s quiet,” Jordan mentions. “I’ll give her that.”

“I think she saw some pretty terrible things.” I say, and I feel like I’m defending her even though she hasn’t been attacked.

Jordan nods, studying her with serious eyes. “Yeah, probably.” He looks up at me and his face softens. He looks unsure for a split second then asks gently, “How old were you?”

I know what he’s talking about without having to ask. “Sixteen.”

“You said you saw it happen.”

“I did. Well, I saw the aftermath.” I swallow hard but I don’t look away from his eyes. “She killed herself. In our kitchen. Put a gun in her mouth and…boom. I was the one who found her.”

“Shit, Ali.” His face is pinched in an emotion I can’t label. Pain, disgust, shock, anger. I can relate to all of those.

“Yeah, it messed me up.” I say quickly, and look away.

“That’s why you take the pills? Is it depression from that?”

It would be so easy to say yes and move on because all of the puzzle pieces fit and he’d be satisfied with that answer, but I’ve been dodging this question since we met and I’m all out of fight on it.

“No, not depression. I had a… pre-existing condition and my mom amplified it. Sent me into a spiral.” I take a deep breath and try to look at him, but I can’t. “I have schizoaffective disorder.”

He’s silent for a long time and I almost hope we drop the topic, but I also want to talk about this with him. I want him to know and I want him to understand that I’m not broken. Not ruined.

“Is that different from schizophrenia?”

I scrunch my face up briefly. “Kind of.  It’s a lesser version of it. I have some of the symptoms of schizophrenia, but not all of them. I also have symptoms of other things. Like depression.”

“Is schizophrenia the disease where you can hear voices in your head?”

“Yeah.” I say, and it’s so quiet, I almost don’t hear it.

“Do you hear them?”

I smile sadly. “Not right now.”

He doesn’t laugh at my poor joke and I didn’t expect him to.

“What other symptoms do you have?”

“Um… I—it’s been a while since I’ve had them. I’ve been on meds for four years now. I used to… see things. Hallucinations. That didn’t start until after my mom. Be—before that I heard things. Not voices, but there were sounds that I thought I heard, but they weren’t there.”

“You started to hear voices, though?”

“Not multiple, no. Just the one. Hers. She would talk to me.”

“Your mom?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t ask what she said to me and I almost faint with relief. I wouldn’t tell him. I’ve never told anyone and I’ve spent four years trying to forget.

“Anything else? Any other symptoms?” He pauses. “Is it rude I’m asking?”

“No, it’s fine. If we’re going to… well if we’re doing what we’re doing, then you should know.” I close my eyes briefly and take a breath. “Symptoms, um… Yeah. I had some depression. I lost a lot of weight, I didn’t want to do anything at all. I also dealt with some mania. It’s common in people who are bipolar. I was euphoric, like I was on a high and I wouldn’t sleep at all, but then I’d crash into the depression and sleep for days.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

During this entire conversation, his voice has been calm and even, exactly what I’d expect from him. And it helped. I wouldn’t have been able to tell him all of it if he was full of sympathy and “poor you” bullshit. I’ve gotten plenty of that, I don’t need that. I don’t
need
anything from anyone. When I’m on the pills, I’m completely fine and I’d like to be treated that way. Not like a freak show and not like fine china. I am not fragile.

“So if you don’t have your meds, you’re a completely different person?”

Christ, that question hurts. We don’t know each other well enough for him to find medicated me sufficiently endearing to put up with non-medicated me. That bitch is a mess and I don’t blame him. I work my tail off making sure she doesn’t come around because she just messes everything up. I almost flunked classes in high school because of her. I lost all of my friends because of her. I’m about to lose Jordan because of her and she hasn’t even come around yet.

“I’m me.” I tell him firmly. “Meds or no, I’m me. The girl you know is the girl I am. The only difference is that without the meds, I’m fighting a disease. There’s a lot of emotional stuff
that will go down. It’s a stressful situation and I’ll act out of character at times, but at the end of the day, I’m still Alissa.”

He’s frowning in concentration, thinking about what I’ve said, and my heart is skipping in my chest. He could walk right now and I wouldn’t blame him. Between Snickers and I, there’s a lot of baggage on this trip and he’s a young guy. He doesn’t need this hassle.

At length, he sighs heavily. “Let’s keep you on those pills then.”

We walk for miles, and eventually with Jordan ahead of us because Snickers freaks out and nearly dislocates my arm whenever an infected comes vaguely near. I walk behind with her, holding hands and intentionally lagging. My hand is seriously sweating and I’d love to have her release it so I can wipe it on my pants, but I know that’s a lost cause. Sometimes she clutches it tightly
for no apparent reason then let’s her grip go slack again. Missing the conversation I usually get with Jordan, I begin singing to her and I think she’s actually listening to me. Her hand stops clenching mine tightly and she even looks up at me a few times. There’s no expression on her face, but at least I know she’s aware of me. After an hour, maybe more, Jordan stops up ahead and waits for us.

“There’s a house here.” he calls as we approach. “We should check it out. See what’s inside and hope it’s not a person with a gun.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I say, glancing at the mansion surrounded by acres of open land and flanked on one side by the river. What is it with rich people living by the water?

Jordan falls into step beside me and we approach the house slowly and in plain sight.

“Were you singing?”

“Ha,” I chuckle, embarrassed. I had hoped he was far enough ahead that he couldn’t hear me. “Yeah, I was singing to Snickers. It calms her.”

“Snickers?”

“I named her.” I say, gesturing to the girl beside me.

Jordan gives me a weird look and smiles at me. Just before we step out of the fields and onto the driveway to the house he reaches out and stops me by touching my arm. I turn to face him and find his eyes soft but his face serious.

“Is this you?” he asks plainly. “Without the drugs, when you’re clear and the disease is dormant, is this you? The girl I know right now.”

“Yes.” I say firmly. “This will be me a lot of the time, I promise you. Things will get intense, but it won’t always be like that.” I pause and swallow hard. “But if I run out and I start to see things, I’m leaving.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t want to get confused and hurt you.” I whisper.

“Shit.” he mutters and runs his hand through his hair. He stares at the ground and shakes his head. “For your sake, not mine. We agreed on that.”

“I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you. I’d be leaving for my sake.”

“That’s a loophole and you know it.”

“If it gets ugly—“

“Then we’ll deal with it.” he interrupts and meets my eyes. “When the hallucinations happen, do they trick you or do you know they’re lies?”

I take a shuddering breath and release it slowly. I think of my mom, who I know is gone, and my uncle at the table, who I knew was fine as I watched his skin slowly peel from his body. They’re grotesque and horrifying, but I always know they can’t be real. The problem is, though, that if I see Jordan as a zombie falling apart before my eyes, that’s not necessarily outside the realm of possibility. Not anymore.

I try to explain this to him but he shakes his head adamantly. “You’ll know me. We’ll make a safe word.”

I have to laugh. “A safe word? Like people use for kinky sex?”

“Maybe that could be our safe word. Kinky sex.”

“Wait, what are we doing with this safe word?”

His voice becomes serious and my smile fades at the sound. “When you see something that you’re not sure of, something like me with white eyes and a zombie walk, you ask me what the safe word is. If I can’t tell you, I’m one of them and you need to kill me. If I can say it, please don’t.”

“That’s risky at best.” I tell him, unsure if this is a good idea or just insane.

“I don’t want to leave you.” he says earnestly. “I’ve thought about it for the last hour, and even with this on top of everything else we have to deal with, I don’t want to leave.”

“You don’t?” I whisper with a shaky smile.

He shakes his head and tucks my long, dark hair behind my ear.

“If this is you, if this is who will be underneath everything else, then that’s something worth fighting for.”

I step forward and press my lips hard against his, my free hand running behind his neck and holding him to me. He puts his hands on my hips and holds me against him, moving his mouth over mine with a fierceness we haven’t touched upon before. I’m scared shitless because I still worry he doesn’t know what he’s getting into, but I’m so glad he took the time to really think about it and equally relieved that he finally knows and he’s still here.

We break apart when Snickers pulls me suddenly toward the house and I hear Jordan laughing over my shoulder as she runs, dragging me behind her. When I shoot a glance back at him though, my stomach drops and I see why we’re running.

“Jordan, run!” I shout, and wave for him to follow us.

He frowns, turns to see what I’m seeing and takes off at a dead sprint after us.

Coming around the back side of the massive shop that sits on the far side of the property is a swarm of infected probably twenty strong. We run for the house, Jordan passing us and making a break for the door, and I’m screaming at him to get it open, because rounding the building now are three runners. They’re fresh, probably the owners of the house, and they are closing on us fast.

Snickers and I collide with Jordan as he tries to open the door and I hear him cursing and fumbling with the knob. I shove Snickers behind me and pin her between Jordan and I while I load an arrow and take aim at the closest runner. They’re almost to us and I know I can drop one, maybe two, but I’ll never get to the third in time, and I’m struggling to keep my breathing even and my panic on lock while I sight the first one. I hit him in the cheek and he stumbles to the ground, toppling end over end twice on his residual momentum. As I pull my second arrow, the last one I have time to get out, I shout for Jordan.

“Little help!”

He doesn’t respond, and just as I’m pulling back to drop this hungry asshole in flannel pajamas, Snickers grabs hold of me and yanks me off my feet. She’s shockingly strong, and as I fall backwards, I have the horrible thought that maybe she is an infected after all. When I land, I hit the ground on my pack, bending me at a cruel angle, and my head smacks the hard ground. I see stars and the world blurs for a moment as I groan and try desperately to stay focused. I hear a crash and Jordan shouting. I try to sit up but my back protests and I can’t shake the blur in my vision.

Suddenly, looming above me, I see Snickers’ pale face closing in on mine. Her wild, tangled hair is everywhere and glowing from the sunlight behind her and she’s making a terrible sound from deep inside her throat. It sounds like a tortured moan.

“Snickers… Snickers is trying to eat my face.” I mumble.

My head feels like it’s going to explode, and I sort of want it to if only to release the pressure. My temples are throbbing with my pulse and I think I smell vomit. No, I
taste
vomit. I must have thrown up recently and I realize that I don’t know when “recently” was. I don’t know where I am or what time it is but I know I’ve lost some. I’ve been unconscious, that’s for sure, because the last thing I remember is running from the swarm. I was firing arrows… I had hit one, maybe two… then Snickers grabbed me and my head hit something hard and…

“Snickers, no.” I moan, and try to open my eyes, but my lids are impossibly heavy.

“Hey, it’s okay.” I hear Jordan’s voice from somewhere nearby but I can’t find him. I can’t open my eyes to look for him. “Snickers is fine. She saved your life.”

“No.” I protest weakly. “She tried to eat my face.”

Jordan chuckles, but it sounds like he’s trying not to. “Stop saying that, she can hear you. She didn’t try to eat your face.”

I feel a cold wash cloth brush across my forehead and I pry my eyes open. The room is dim but I can see the vaulted ceilings above me and evening light is shining in through two-story windows to my left. I think I can see the river rolling by but it might be the road. My vision is messed up. I roll my head and find that I’m on a couch in a palatial living room with Snickers on the floor by my feet and Jordan kneeling beside my head with the wash cloth.

“There you are.” he says encouragingly when my eyes open and I’m reminded of Meredith. I have to stop passing out, I’m going to get a reputation.

“What happened this time?” I ask groggily.

“I finally got the damn door to open,” Jordan says flipping the cloth and bringing a freshly cool side to my throbbing head. “I had to slam myself into it a couple times and I stumbled in when it gave. Snickers grabbed onto you and yanked you in as hard as she could. She’s really strong.”

“I noticed.” I croak.

“You landed all wrong, but at least you made it inside. I slammed the door as soon as you were in, but one of them got their arm in. I kept crashing against the door and eventually I broke his arm…off… at the elbow. It was brutal. Anyway, I closed the door and Snickers was crying over you. I think she thought she killed you when you cracked your head on the tile in the entryway.”

I try to sit up and I almost make it before I vomit again. I make sure to not let it land on either of them, and when I’m through, I glance at Snickers and tell her thank you. She doesn’t respond, not even a nod or a blink, but I think she understands.

“You were only out for about five minutes, but I think you have a concussion.”

“Probably.” I touch at the back of my skull tenderly. “Did I bleed?”

“No.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to bandage my entire head.” I sit up straight and take deep breaths, prepping to stand. In the end, Jordan helps me as I lurch to my feet and the second I’m up, Snickers is at my side holding my hand. I smile down at her and pull her to my side. It’s affection, sure, but I’m also going to use her to help me walk.

“Where are you trying to go?” Jordan asks.

“I’m finding one of the fifty bathrooms. Is the plumbing working in this joint?”

Jordan smiles and helps guide me toward the stairs to the second floor.

“Yeah, electricity too so the water should be hot. Let’s find you a bathtub. You can’t stand long enough for a shower.”

“Are the infected waiting outside?”

Jordan nods grimly. “They are. A lot of them.”

I frown. “Your worst nightmare. Four walls and a swarm at the door.”

“Can’t be helped.”

“Still sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.”

We reach the second floor and Jordan guides us to what must be the master suite because it is absolutely huge with floor to ceiling windows facing the water and a massive bathroom attached to it. Of course they have a Jacuzzi tub and I almost pass out again just looking at it. They deposit me on the edge of the tub and Snickers takes a seat on the floor beside me while Jordan hunts down fresh towels for me. When he brings them back, he places them on the counter and faces me.

“Can you undress yourself?”

I blush hard. “Of course I can, yeah. Go watch TV or something. I’ve got this.”

“No way.” he says shaking his head. “You have a concussion, you could pass out at any moment. I’m not leaving you alone in a tub full of water. You’ll drown.”

I gesture to Snickers and raise my eyebrows. “She’ll be right here.”

“Sorry if I don’t trust a mute child to alert me to your drowning. Either I’m in here or you don’t do this.”

“Fine, but find me some bubble bath. Give me some coverage.”

“I don’t know if they have any.” he mutters, searching through cupboards.

“Oh believe me, this lady has bubble bath. Read the labels on everything. It’ll probably be written in French. No Elmo or Sponge Bob on the bottles.”

He finds some, imagine my surprise, and it is indeed French, as if they have a healthy grasp on clean. It’s probably manufactured in Pittsburgh. He fills the tub for me and pours in the bubbles, though not as many as I would have liked. At my request, he also finds me a fresh lady razor, shampoo and conditioner.

As I kick my shoes off, I remember my torn shirt. “Hey, Jordan, while I get undressed will you go into the closet in the bedroom and see what size this woman was? Maybe she has some clothes I could fit into. Something to replace this shirt.”

“Sure. Holler when you’re in the water and it’s safe to come back in.”

When he’s gone, I strip down to just my sports bra and underwear but keep both on. I slip into the deliciously hot water and sigh in relief. My leg is so happy. The cold water in the lake helped, but this hot water is heaven. I look over at Snickers and see her watching me. I smile happily and I’m not surprised when she doesn’t respond.

“Hey, Snickers, can I brush your hair for you? Maybe you can take a bath too, we’ll get you cleaned up.”

She must understand me, or misunderstand me as it were, because she stands up and steps straight into the tub, plunking herself down on the seat across from me. This thing could hold three adults easily, so having her in here with me isn’t a space issue. It is a little odd though, and when Jordan calls for the all clear and I give it to him, he looks at me stunned when he sees her in the tub with me.

I smile and shrug. “She needed a bath too. And now her clothes will be clean.”

“Okay.” he says, still eyeing the situation. “Speaking of clothes, she’s a large. A lot of it’s pants suits and dresses but I found a bunch of workout gear in a drawer. Figured that would work.”

“Perfect, thank you.” I say leaning back and relaxing.

Jordan brings over the soaps, razors and a hairbrush for me and then sets about finding a razor and shaving cream for his face. He has a nice wild man, scruffy thing going and I’ll be sad to see it gone, but apparently it itches him so I keep my peace.

I grab the brush and smile at Snickers. “Can I brush your hair for you?”

She nods and lets me angle her so that her back is to me and I set about calming the crazy tangles of her golden hair. It’s really beautiful and fine in a way that only a young girl’s can be and I love seeing the sheen it takes on as it’s brushed out. Jordan brings me a cup and I’m able to wet it without making her dunk her head and I shampoo and condition it, then comb it out again with my fingers. When I get her settled into her seat again facing the right way, she looks less like a street urchin and more like a sweet, beautiful girl. I wish she’d smile.

I go about my own grooming and by the time I’m done, Jordan is clean shaven, Snickers is falling asleep in her seat and I’m pruney and bored with my bath. Jordan helps me out of the tub, averting his gaze like a gentleman after he’s reminded to be one, and then he helps Snickers out as well. She immediately comes to my side and takes my hand. I help her undress, dry her off and put her in a T-shirt and pair of shorts Jordan found. Once they’re cinched tight, they stop threatening to fall off her narrow waist.

Jordan has changed into a T-shirt and sweats from the husband’s collection, and he takes our dirty clothes downstairs to look for a washer and dryer. We figured why not have clean clothes if we can and Snickers’ have to go in the dryer anyway. I tuck Snickers into bed and she won’t let go of my hand, even when I ask her to, so I climb into bed beside her thinking I’ll stay until she falls asleep. Once I’m lying down, she curls into me, resting her head on my arm and burrowing deep under the fluffy down comforter. There’s no way I’m getting away without waking her. When Jordan returns, he sees my situation and laughs quietly.

“Is she asleep already?” he asks, coming around to sit by my feet.

“I think so.”

“She’s stolen my spot.”

“It’s a California King, I think we can all fit.”

He reaches up and taps the back of my free hand gently. “As long as you save that for me, I’m happy.”

I raise my eyebrows at him and he looks back at me blank and innocent for a moment.

“Oh, come on.” he finally says, getting it. “I was being sweet. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

I chuckle and reach out my hand to hold his. “Sorry, it’s all yours. Everything else seems to be hers, though.”

“That little girl is in love with you.”

“Well, I’m very loveable.”

Jordan chuckles and stands up to leave. “Yes, you are. I’m going to go back downstairs and search for food we can take. I’ll pack both bags so we can be ready to go in the morning.”

“Good idea. Check their medicine cabinets. They probably have more first aid supplies and maybe some bonus prizes.”

Jordan smirks. “Cocaine?”

I try to stifle my laugh, not wanting to wake Snickers.

“Leave it for the junkies if you find it. I was thinking pain killers could always come in handy. Sleep aids, too.”

“Do you want me to look for…”

“I seriously doubt they have it.” I sigh, hating that this is a thing now.

“Worth looking, right? What’s it called, Ali?” I hesitate and he frowns at me. “It won’t change anything with me knowing the name of the drug.”

“It will make it more real.”

“No, you running out will make it real.”

“Ugh,” I groan, knowing he’s right. If I’m going to trust him, I need to hurry up and trust him. “Zyprexa. It’s sometimes called Olanzapine.”

“Got it.” He turns to leave then stops at the door and looks back. “Did we decide on our safe word?”

“I thought it was kinky sex.” I say, forcing a grin.

“You good with that?”

“No, not really.” I admit. I think for a minute about a word that has meaning to us but that is also uncommon. Suddenly I genuinely smile. “I got it.”

“What is it?”

“Huckleberry.”

Jordan laughs. “Alright, it’s Huckleberry.”

“You good with that?” I ask, mimicking him.

“I can live with it. I’ll count myself lucky it’s not the N-word. I’m not saying that, zombie or no. We good ole boys can’t get away with that one.”

“I already know you’re a racist, Jordan. No sense hiding it from me.”

His eyes meet mine and they’re sparkling, happy and blue. “And you want me anyway.”

“I definitely do.”

He pauses. “I want you too, Ali.” he says, his voice becoming serious.

My breath hitches in my throat. “Crazy and all?”

“You.” he replies softly. “All of you.”