Having Avery there only sweetened the pot. He was my best friend, and I loved him more than I did my own brother. The circumstances that led him to Texas weren’t good ones. Under different conditions, Avery and I would’ve parted ways after high school. He would’ve become a hugely successful tech guy, and I would’ve stayed the normal guy I had always been. But life has a way of throwing a monkey wrench into the lives of good people – even good people who happened to be as wealthy as Avery’s parents. It had to do with his sister and dad, but that’s another story I’ll save for another time.
So, life in Texas had been going well. Hell, I’d almost go as far as saying I finally had life figured out. I was even beginning to understand the demons that haunted me. But there I was in Barrow, feeling like I was back at Avery’s watching Star Wars again for the first time: Like I was grappling with two different worlds all over again. Except for this time, the world did seem to be intractable and preordained: just like mom always said it would be, but with a huge fucking twist.
Avery rubbed his bitten hand, oblivious to everything around him except the dead body on the floor, and the dire uncertainties inextricably linked to it. The body was exacting a psychological toll on Avery, and it needed to be moved away from him as quickly as possible.
I placed my hand on his shoulder. He flinched, looked up at me, and diverted his attention back to the body. “You’re going to be okay, bud, I promise.”
Never taking his eyes off the Gray, he nodded absently.
“Titouan.” I flicked my chin towards the guy on the floor, insinuating that I needed help moving his body.
He thought about it for a second before walking over to the body. We drug it over to the corner of the building, as far away from Avery as the square footage allowed. I grabbed one of the other tarps still lying on the floor and began covering the body with it.
“Should we?”
“Should we what?”
“Should we, you know… stab him in the head?”
Fifteen hours ago, I would’ve laughed. Fifteen hours later and almost anything seemed possible. “I don’t know.” I rubbed my cold, glove-less hands together, trying to create enough heat so I could feel my fingers - so I could feel good about something. “Tish should have a knife in her bag. See if she’ll let you use it.”
By the look on his face, I think he thought I was going to do it. He brought it up, though. If he wanted to do it, I wouldn’t stop him, but I didn’t want any part of it. He nodded that he’d take care of it. I nodded in return and walked over to where Tish worked on Sam.
From my vantage point, it was hard to see just how severe his injury was, but considering it needed several stitches, it was safe to say it was bad enough. The Gray had to be strong as hell to puncture through three layers of clothing like he did and still do that much damage. I would’ve asked Tish how bad it was, but it didn’t seem like very good bedside manner to do so.
In between stitches, Tish wiped her eyes with her coat sleeve. She was a mess. We were all stressed and scared but Tish seemed to be most affected. “You got a second, Tish?”
She nodded and said, “Almost finished.” She wrapped the bandage around Sam’s leg, wiped her face, and walked over to where I waited.
“You okay?” I asked.
She gave me an odd look. “You expect me to be?”
“I just wanted to say sorry about Tom. If I could’ve done something, I —”
She interrupted me before I could finish. “Can we just drop it?”
She and Tom had become very good friends during her short time at the Patch. There were rumors they were more than friends, but then everyone was sleeping with everyone according to the rumor mill. Either way, the point was they were close.
“Yeah,” I said, a little hurt by the exchange.
She walked away.
Sam gave me a questioning look as I walked towards him. Ignoring the look, I asked him how he was.
“Son, that gray fucker done some damage, but I think I might be able to walk with a stiff-ass leg. If we have-ta run, ’ough, I’m screwed.”
“I’ve seen worse. Suck it up,” I said.
“I can still outrun you, Bubba.”
“Seriously, are you okay?”
He knew I wasn’t talking about his leg. “Them Grays… none of ’is seems real. Almost too much, ya know?” He shook his head closed his eyes.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, I know. We’re tough sonofvabitches, though.”
For an instant, I saw the old Sam. He opened his eyes, half smiled, and said, “Cept ’em two,” flicking his chin towards Avery and Titouan.
I laughed, thinking about the absurdity of what I was getting ready to say. “It took a damn apocalypse for it to happen, but those two seem to have bonded over it.”
He shook his head and lay back, trying to relax his leg as best as possible. Finally, he said, “We’ll see how long it lasts. Remind Tit about ’em generators and see how close ’ey are.”
“You’re probably right about that.”
As I talked to Sam, I noticed Titouan and Tish having an animated conversation in the far corner of the building. The knife, I thought. Tish launched an angry look my way. Bastard. He was blaming it on me. He must’ve been persuasive because she dug a folding knife out of her coat pocket and slammed it into his open palm.
I walked over to Avery. I thought about sitting down next to him, but I wasn’t sure I could get up quickly if I needed to. My legs were killing me. Too many years of eating and partying while also sitting behind a desk. I decided I’d make the best out of my pain and stand in between him and Titouan. No need for Avery seeing what Titouan was about to do. He was already stressed and worried enough.
Before I had a chance to utter a word, Avery said, “I am freezing.”
“Do you feel like getting up and walking around? That’ll help.”
“No.”
“Come on, dude, you’re not dying. You have a little bite on your hand,” I said, frustrated.
He looked at me as if I was a complete moron. “A bite is how it normally starts. Besides, I would not be dying in a literal sense. It would be more along the lines of a quasi-state between living and dead – somewhere on the life-death continuum.”
“Jesus, Avery. Just stop it, okay?”
Avery had a knack for instantly tuning out things he wasn’t interested in. I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t reply. I used the excuse of buttoning up his coat, so I could get close enough to check his temperature and make sure he was okay. He broke his gaze with whatever held his interest and turned his attention to me. “I am scared.” He thumbed towards the not completely out of his sight body. “I could very well turn into one of those.”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you. We’ll make it to Miley’s, and we’ll figure all this shit out.”
He scanned my face but didn’t offer any kind of Avery-esque reply. Instead, he said, “I need to close my eyes for a few moments.”
“No. No, you’re not going to do that,” I said, remembering what Tom had said before he had fallen asleep. I looked at everyone, and said, “We leave in fifteen minutes. We can’t stay here.” I hoped if I could keep him moving nothing would happen to him. When I banged my head when I was a kid, the doctor told my mom not to let me go to sleep for a while. I thought about that for some reason, as if those two things were even remotely related.
Maybe I was being as irrational as I was relatively sure Avery was being, but it was my job to make sure he was taken care of and protected. That, and if anyone was ready for something like this, it was Miley. I had heard rumors that he was a prepper, even though I never saw much evidence of it, aside from the numerous guns he collected and that were always on display around his office. Even if it wasn’t true, we came to Barrow to see Miley, and that’s what we were going to do. If anyone else had a better plan, I was open to listening. Besides, there hadn’t been any shots fired for a while, and that was our litmus test for leaving.