Toothpaste looked like an item no one had been interested in. He grabbed a couple of different brands and a pair of toothbrushes. As far as he could tell, not one roll of toilet paper remained, and almost all the drugs were gone. In a corner, behind a bag of cotton swabs, he found a box of aspirin. It was the only pain killer left. All the cold remedies were missing. He grinned sadly. How pathetic that people would try to treat the symptoms of the virus that killed the world with Nyquil or Sudafed. Antiseptics were gone; so were bandages and tape. He wrinkled his nose; a strong smell of bad meat told him what to expect behind the prescription drug counter where he found the long dead pharmacist, still in her blue smock, on her back, a messy wound on her neck. Not a single bottle graced the shelves. Eric took another route back to the employee area. The garden area seemed untouched. Droopy-leafed plants hung forlornly above bags of fertilizer. Neat displays of garden hoses cast odd shadows. Some boxes blocked the path in the toy section, but generally most of the goods still crowded the shelves. He looked at a red fire truck whose ad said “REAL EMERGENCY SOUNDS. TRY ME,” and an arrow pointed to a row of buttons below the cab. He pressed one. The red lights on top flashed and a tiny voice announced, “We have a hot one boys! Start her up.”
Back in the employee area, he heard the shower water. He sat in one of the chairs and turned off his light. Leda hummed a song. He couldn’t identify the melody. Water sounds came to him unevenly, the sounds made when someone is moving under a shower. She’s nice, he thought. Not half bad for an adult. Dad probably would like her. She’s independent. He imagined her in the shower, water cascading, cleaning her arms, bending over to get behind her knees, hair hanging nearly to the floor, and he found himself standing at the door into the locker room, listening. He didn’t consciously remember making a decision to stand up. Pressing his ear gently to the door frame, he heard water hitting skin. She still hummed. It’s cold, he thought. She won’t stay in there long. He thought of the way she walked, how her shirt dropped away from her belly when she bent to look in the car window earlier, and he imagined himself pushing the door open. Her flashlight must be on the floor, he thought, pointing in on her like his had been when he showered. She would never know the door had opened. She’d never know I was standing there.
He remembered necking with his pimpled girlfriend in high school. Lips together, she’d breathed on his cheek, evenly. It wasn’t like he’d thought it would be. No real passion, but he’d been so aware of where his hands were: one around her shoulder, the other on her waist, and he thought of what other guys had told him, what he’d seen in movies, what he’d imagined. It would have been so easy to slip his hand up, across the shirt.
He stood, listening. Leda hummed. Water splashed on the floor. His stomach ached with tightness. His hand rested on the door. But is it right? he thought. Is it right to look at her, and he found his mind tumbling. What did he think of her? Who was she? A friend? A woman? A sister? A mom? What would it say about him if he did look? His other hand hurt, and he realized it was clenched. Painfully, he straightened his fingers and made them relax against his thigh.
When he’d kissed his girlfriend, he’d put his hand on the back of her neck and caressed the fine little hairs there. Just when he thought he might slide that other hand up, she’d put her hand on it, stopping any chance for motion. It was then he’d opened his lips, reached out with the tip of his tongue. Pulling back, she’d said, “Don’t, that’s gross.” But he hadn’t really heard it that way. No, not that way at all. For weeks after, and even now, he heard it as, “Don’t, you’re gross.” What did Leda think of him? He had saved her life, and she had saved his. They’d talked for hours in that basement, not sure if they would live or die. But he had cried in her arms earlier today. She’d let go of his hand in the darkened store. Don’t, he thought, you’re gross.
The water still fell. He could almost hear soap sliding on skin, around curves, up and down. He wiped sweat off his forehead. Why is she staying in there so long? She must be goddamned frozen by now!
Through the crack in the door, he could see the light on the floor. It was pointed toward the shower. The tile glistened where some water had splashed out, or maybe it had fallen off him when he’d dried. She must know I’m out here, he thought. Why else would she stay in so long. She must want me to look! He breathed hard. Oh God. He pressed his hand against the door, trying to remember if it squeaked, then deciding it wouldn’t matter since she couldn’t possibly hear it. He swallowed and pushed harder. It moved a half inch, then stopped. Something was against the door. Dropping to his knees, he looked under the door. A shadow a foot or so wide blocked the light. He reached under with his fingers and felt slick nylon.
Sitting back in the employee chair, his flashlight still off, Eric looked at the light under the door, at the shadow. The shower turned off. Silence replaced the throb of falling water. He heard her walk. He heard a towel rubbing briskly. It’s her backpack, he thought. She leaned her backpack against the door, and a thought came to him very clearly, like a wave crashing on a beach: sometime while I was showering, or maybe even when I was toweling off, Leda pushed open that door and looked at me. That’s why my pack was moved. She looked at me, then went back to the clothes section so I would never know. I stood naked in the water, and she watched me.
He didn’t know what to think of the thought.
But it made him happy.
Chapter Fifteen
BACK ROADS
Eric was unhappy. Dodge and Rabbit stood in front of him in a gully removed from the road. Farther down, just out of earshot, Teach argued with Ripple, his gestures wide and sweeping. She stood defiantly, arms across her chest, chin thrust out. High and bright, the sun glared off tiny mica specks in the surrounding rocks, while a fresh breeze swept the bitter smell of cordite away. Federal’s blockade was out of sight, but only the curve of the canyon hid them from it.
Eric shaded his eyes and said, “This has to be my last word, boys. As long as we were just hiking, you could come along, but men with guns are too dangerous. Go back to Highwater with Ripple. Teach says she knows a safe way. He and I will go on alone.”
“Grandpa, you’ll need our help,” said Dodge. He jammed his fists on his hips and glared. Eric could see Troy in him, clear as if his son were there. He wanted to hold him, and for a moment, tears quivered beneath the surface. Dodge was younger than Troy was before the disastrous deer hunt that changed everything between them. Troy had never read with him again, had never said again, “I love you, Dad.” He cupped the side of Dodge’s face; the skin felt smooth and warm. His eyes glistened. The brown orbs reflected back the sun. “You will be helping,” said Eric. “I’ll travel better knowing you are safe.” Dodge’s lips set grimly, and his ten-year-old expression looked tragic and adult. He nodded, then turned away. Eric almost ran after him. The thought that Dodge might grow to hate him the same way Troy did made him queasy. Rabbit picked up their backpacks and followed. When Ripple finished her argument with Teach, she joined the boys, and the three of them climbed over a ridge above the road and disappeared.
Teach’s voice rumbled quietly behind him. “They’ll be off the road.” He clasped Eric’s shoulder. “Of course, she’s like a shadow, that one. I don’t expect Federal’s men could catch her in these mountains if she didn’t want to be caught, and from what I’ve seen of Rabbit, he could hold his own too. About the only mortal there is your grandson, and he’s got a touch of quickness himself.” Eric grunted uncomfortably. “They’re just kids. I’m responsible to the boy’s father.”