“Lindsay?” Jake called.
There was a laundry room off to the side. Lindsay had insisted on washing his sweats during lunch one day. She’d said he smelled like a goat. They’d gone at it on the floor of the laundry room, carpeted, and then he’d got her up on the washing machine during the spin cycle.
Barksly was acting strange now. Moving toward Jake, who was at the bottom of the stairs, and then toward a pile of blankets in the corner, stuffed in the square of empty space between the couch and the love seat.
Jake’s heart was pounding. Was he about to find the corpse of his lunch buddy in the corner?
Maybe Barksly had been gnawing on her. That would be hard to take.
And then Jake heard music.
In the light of his LED headlamp, the pile of blankets moved. A hand came up. Then the music got louder. Jake got it—earbuds coming out of ears and the music pouring out.
“Linds?” Jake called. “It’s me, Jake.”
And then her head popped up, her black hair falling away from her face.
“Jake?!”
“Yeah! I came to check on you.”
“How’d you get in?” Then, “The air!”
She scrambled out from her nest of blankets and groped for a fireplace lighter. She started lighting the candles.
And then BAM!
A hollow bang, coming to Jake’s left.
BAM!
“WRAAUGH!” from the laundry room.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Barksly whined and slunk behind the love seat.
“Help me!” Lindsay said. She threw Jake the lighter. He tossed his backpack down and started lighting any candle that had wax left in it.
“It’s my dad,” Lindsay said.
Lindsay picked up what looked like a bundle of twigs and lit it off a candle.
“Smudge stick. It cleans the air,” she told Jake.
Grunts and howls of rage came from the laundry room.
She brought the lit twigs over to the door.
Behind it her father raged. BAM! BAM! BAM!
“I think he’s got an old piece of pipe from the boiler. He keeps hitting the door,” she said by way of explanation. “But the door is metal.”
She waved the smudge stick along the space at the bottom of the door.
“I’ll check the seal,” Jake offered. He went back up the stairs and patted the duct tape holding the sheeting down around the door. It only held so-so. He pressed the tape down hard.
“Do you have more tape?” he asked.
“No.”
He pressed down harder.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay. I have to open it once in a while anyway because the air gets really skanky with me and the dog. I take out the trash. My dad goes crazy. Then he calms down after a while.”
Even now, Jake could hear that the curses from the laundry room had turned to moans and weeping.
“It’s okay, Dad,” Lindsay called. “It’s going to be okay.”
Lindsay looked at Jake and put her finger to her lips. Shhh.
Jake nodded okay, though he didn’t know why he was being told to shush.
He dropped onto the stuffed chair. Barksly jumped up on his lap. Jake scruffled the dog’s neck. The dog loved it.
Lindsay came over and reached behind Jake, into the nest of blankets.
She took out an old-fashioned boom box, the kind that played CDs, and unplugged her earbud jack. The room filled with the sound of Bruno Mars.
“I don’t want my Dad to know you’re here,” Lindsay said. She took the boom box and put it in front of the laundry room door.
“You don’t think he heard me already?” Jake asked quietly.
“He’s not himself when he’s O. But he’ll get back to normal soon and I don’t want him to know.”
She looked up at him, pleading with him for some reason.
“Sure,” Jake said. “I’ll keep it down. Fine.”
She was wearing a sweatshirt he remembered. It was cut so it would hang off her, showing neck and shoulder and that little bit of fat next to her breast. That delicious part of a girl between the armpit and the tit.
There it was. Lord almighty, she was maybe the only girl in the state of Colorado who could get his blood up.
“I brought something for you,” Jake said. He grabbed his backpack and rummaged through it. Every stupid thing was jammed in and in the way.
He took out the handgun and put it to the side.
He heard Lindsay gasp.
“Don’t mind that,” he said. “That’s not for you. Obviously.”
It didn’t exactly make sense, what he’d said, but she always made him feel nervous and awkward. Maybe it was the way her big, dark eyes watched him. Like they were watching him now.
“Here it is!” And he brought it out. A Snickers bar. Sized to share. How awesome was it that he’d chucked one in his backpack before leaving the store?
Sweet coincidence. Seriously.
“Oh, my God,” she said, and she started to laugh. She laughed and Jake’s face went red. Then she kept laughing and laughed so hard, she crossed over to the boom box and cranked it up all the way.
She wiped the tears from her eyes. The last spasms of laughter leaving her giggling, then serious, then giggling again. She collapsed onto the couch,
“God love you, Jake Simonsen. You braved the apocalypse for a booty call.”
Now that she was smiling at him, a grin on her face, Jake could chuckle, too. He knew he was still blushing. Probably blushing all the way to the scalp.
“You know my Dad’s in the next room,” she said.
“Yeah, well. I know now. I didn’t … obviously I didn’t, when I came. I mean … I didn’t know whether you’d be alive or dead or what.”
Lindsay drew up her knees onto the couch with her. Her sweatshirt fell off her shoulder just a little more.
Yeah, she did it for him.
Look, everyone knew that Jake lived for sex. It was his thing. He was handsome and popular and he talked about it—how sex ruled his life. People liked him for it; Jake knew they did because everyone laughed when he talked abut it, and not an uncomfortable laugh either, but a loosening-up, warming-up laugh.
He’d have rather had O type rage or be an A type who might blister up if he went outside. He’d have much rather been AB.
But no, the chemical warfare compounds that had leeched into the sky when the earthquake cracked the hull of Mount NORAD had taken Jake’s most important joy away—his ability to get it up.
Now, here was a girl who kindled that fire and that fact was reason enough to celebrate.
Jake threw the Snickers bar at Lindsay. She caught it.
“Eat your chocolate,” he drawled, with his lopsided grin, and she laughed. Jake plopped down on the easy chair. Barksly put his two front feet up on the chair and buried his face in Jake’s crotch.
“Down, Barksly, down.” Jake said. “Lord, this dog does not know the meaning of the word ‘down.’”
“I know it,” Lindsay said. “I’m glad to see you Jake. I can’t tell you how glad I am.”
She got up and went to the corner, where she had three plastic milk jugs filled with water. She poured a cup and brought it to him.
“We have a well,” she told him. “I get it from the laundry room sink when my dad’s asleep. It’s pretty yummy.”
It was pretty yummy. Had a cold, mineral taste. Jake gulped it down.
He had a feeling like a golden wreath around his heart. It was good he had come.
It was right he had left the others. They didn’t need him and this girl did.
Now came a sob from the other side of the door and a different kind of bang.
Lindsay got up and crossed to the other side of the room. She turned down the music.
“You okay, Dad?” she said toward the doorframe.
“I’m sorry,” he wept from inside. “You have to leave me, Lindsay. You need to go.”