Once the soldiers had moved on to the next apartment, Jane suggested that Cody and I should go together the next morning to pick up the supplies. She said it would do us both some good to get out of the house for a while, to take in some fresh air, and to have some “man time”.
Cody’s face had drained of all color and his eyes had the expression of a squirrel who was trapped on the median of a busy highway. He stammered like a damn fool and, even though his words were saying the exact opposite, I knew that he didn’t want to go with me any more than I wanted him there.
“Look,” I finally explained, “what happens if trouble breaks out while we’re gone? I think one of us should stay with you girls. I’ll go get the supplies and be back in no time flat.”
“He’s right you know. He’s got a point. I should stay here. I really should.”
The damn coward. But at least I would have a little time away from the simpering idiot the next day. I swear, twenty-four more hours of listening to that fake accent and I’ll be ready to pitch him off the balcony.
I hear the floorboards in the living room creak and soft, shuffling footsteps. I swear to God, that better not be Cody. I don’t think I could handle that right now.
The beaded curtain parts and it feels as if my entire body has sighed in relief: it’s Polly.
She doesn’t notice me sitting there at first. She’s wearing this long t-shirt that comes down just below her thighs. It’s light gray and, because my eyes have adapted to sitting in the dark for so long, I can make out one of those little fishes that True Believers like to put on their cars. What Jane refers to as “Jesus Fish”. Only this one has little legs attached to it and the name Darwin written in the very center. Surrounding the symbol, in large block letters, are the words EVOLVE OR DIE. Her hair looks as if she’s rubbed a balloon all over it and used the static charge to make it jut out in little tufts; her cheeks are flushed and the subtle scent of dried sweat follows her into the room like a faithful dog at its master’s feet.
She shambles over to the fridge and throws open the door, blinding me for a moment with the unexpected light. I cup my hand over my brow, shielding my eyes from the stinging glare, and blink away the needles of pain.
Polly bends over to dig around on the bottom shelf and the hem of her shirt raises to the small of her back. She’s not wearing any underwear and I see these two perfect ass cheeks staring back at me: tight and firm from hours spent at the gym, little twin dimples on either side. My pulse quickens and I look away as she pulls a bottled water from the shelf and closes the door.
“Oh hey,” she seems unsure of her words and begins to fidget slightly, tugging at the bottom of her shirt as if she could stretch it a little lower, “I didn’t, uh, see you there, Richard. Umm… can’t sleep?”
I glance back at her and try to keep my voice from betraying the little quiver that vibrates somewhere between my heart and gut.
“Yeah. Keep thinking about everything that happened today. It’s crazy.”
“Tell me about it.”
She sounds relieved, as if she were perhaps expecting me to say something about the noise of her lovemaking. Perhaps to buy a few seconds time, she twists off the lid of the bottle and takes a swig; I try not to stare as her throat moves slightly while she swallows.
Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she makes her way to the table and pulls up a chair across from me. So close now that I can smell the faint hint of her perfume, like wildflowers after a spring rain; but there’s also the slight smell of passion still clinging to her like a needy lover.
Cody had left an empty yogurt cup on the table and she pulls it to her; for the first time, I notice the pack of cigarettes in her other hand. Flipping open the top of the box, she slides out a lighter and a smoke.
“You know,” I warn, “Jane will have your head if she catches you smoking that in here.”
Polly shrugs and flicks the lighter in the semi-darkness. She holds the flame to the tip and puffs slowly. Half closing her eyes, she blows out the smoke through pursed lips, a long slow plume that hangs in the air like a bluish nebula in the depths of space.
“Yeah, well what Jane doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?”
Polly winks at me and I feel as if my heart has forgotten to beat as my breath catches in my throat. Is she talking about smoking? Or something else? Something more?
“Uh, yeah… I guess. I mean, I won’t tell her or anything.”
She takes another drag off the cigarette and the ember glows like a meteor just before it begins to burn up in the atmosphere. The apartment is so quiet that I can hear the tobacco crackle slightly as she inhales and I wonder if she can hear the way my heart is pounding in my chest….
“So what do you make of all this, Richard?” she finally asks. “Every time we talk about it, you kinda clam up. I mean, you take part in the conversation, don’t get me wrong. But you never really share your thoughts, you know?”
I lean back in my chair and look up at the ceiling for what seems to be an eternity before committing myself to an answer.
“The way I see it, people just don’t give a damn any more. I mean, it would be easy if we could blame this on some kind of disease. Some virus or something. At least then it would kind of make sense.”
Polly nods her head as she flicks her ashes into the yogurt cup. But she stays silent, letting me talk. If I’d been having this conversation with Jane right now, you can bet she would’ve already had some little counter to what I’d said. Maybe something along the lines of not enough research being done to entirely discount a viral theory. But Polly, God bless her, was content to simply listen and smoke. Which was good. It gave me a chance to actually sort out and piece together the scattered thoughts that had been going through my mind over the last several weeks. To try to form some kind of coherent reasoning.
“But this? This is scarier. A disease can be cured. An infection can be stopped.”
“So, if not a disease… then what?”
I reach across the table and pull her pack of cigarettes toward me. She raises her eyebrows but doesn’t really say anything as I fish one out and light up my own. The smoke feels scratchy in my throat and my eyes immediately start to water. But God, it feels good… like running into an old lover who you haven’t thought of in years only to find that old spark still exists.
“You want to know what I really think?”
I feel slightly woozy from the nicotine. Or maybe from Polly’s scent, so maddeningly close. Or maybe both.
“What I think is that civilization is this really fragile thing. I mean, we have laws that were designed to protect us. But the only reason those laws work is because the majority of people want to be good. They want to have order. They choose to obey… and that’s what makes our society function.”
“Well, you got to keep in mind that if you break those laws you go to jail, Richard. Fear of losing freedom… that’s a pretty strong incentive, isn’t it?”
Her voice sounds husky and soft, like a starlet from some old film noir movie. I take another draw from my cigarette and hold the smoke in, using it as an excuse to simply admire her for a moment without needing to continue the conversation. She really is beautifuclass="underline" those high cheeks bones, that perfect nose, the creases in her brow….
“Not really.” I finally say. “I mean, let’s face it. There’s a lot more normal people than there are cops and soldiers. If everyone decided, all at the same time, to simply do whatever the hell they wanted there really wouldn’t be anything the authorities could do about it.”