Cotton Crossing
He was not going to let her out of his sight again.
Dimestore Novel Cowboy
Ginny stared at her plate. Spaghetti in red sauce, and they’d brought back a bunch of frozen, dry, and canned stuff, too. The meatballs were pretty decent. Even if the sauce made her stomach a little unsteady. “No,” she said, quietly.
“New York’s a ways away.” Juju was persistent. “Maybe until we know what the hell, it’s better to stay here. Or just go to Lewiston and look around.”
“You can.” There. That was diplomatic, right? He certainly could, if he wanted.
Lee hadn’t said a word since stalking across his front yard and halting at the foot of his porch steps, looking up at her with his jaw set and a blush coming up his throat to stain his cheeks. He just stood there, staring, and she decided he was upset because gone and gotten into trouble while taking Traveller out anyway, despite all his cautions. Maybe he was even upset about the snow shovel, too, who could tell? It was left to Juju to ask her what happened, and to awkwardly try to reassure her.
Which was a nice gesture, it really was, but Ginny was past being reassured. Under the sturdy rosewood table, Traveller nosed at her ankles, probably hoping she’d drop something for him. He seemed just dandy with recent events, and for the first time she found herself wishing she was a dog. It must be nice, not to worry about a damn thing.
“I’m just sayin.” Juju lifted a forkful of spaghetti. “Leastways here you’re safe, Miss Ginny.”
“Safe is kind of a strong word.” The water in her glass trembled a little as the table shifted slightly. Probably because her foot nudged one of the wooden legs as she pushed her chair back a little. The thought of just getting up, taking her plate into the kitchen, then going and repacking what little she’d pulled out of her smaller suitcase, was powerfully attractive. Except she couldn’t imagine what might happen once she got to Lee’s front door. What was she going to do, walk back to the duplex? Lug her suitcases to the freeway? Demand Lee’s truck keys? Well, if he handed them over, what would she do? Take his atlas, too, and drive off into the night?
Yeah. That was a practical, level-headed plan. Sure it was.
Juju glanced at Lee, who said nothing, just twirled a healthy bit of spaghetti onto his own fork. He must be downright furious, but wouldn’t say anything. She’d heard of the quiet type before, but this was ridiculous.
Well, he hadn’t said a damn thing to her for six whole months, so she knew he could keep his mouth shut for an extended period. Had he even read the books he’d checked out? He must have. Maybe he was channeling a dimestore novel cowboy.
“I’m going to my family,” Ginny informed them both, her spine straightening, refusing to touch the carved back of the antique, wax-rubbed split-bottom chair. “If you don’t want to come with me, that’s fine. I would ask that you take me back to my house, so I can get my own car.”
Juju cast another imploring glance at Lee, who still—big surprise—said nothing. He just put his fork down, his eyes still piercing-light, and reached for his own glass of water. They’d brought back beer, but at least neither of them were drinking.
That did it. Ginny pushed her chair back further and stood up. Her spaghetti was virtually untouched, and now the noodles looked like bloody, writhing things. Traveller peeked from under the table, wet nose twitching and his ears perked high and hard. The spots along his sides danced as his tail blurred side to side, and he was happy to follow her into the kitchen and stick his entire face into her plate. The meatballs were probably manna, for him. She patted his back while he ate, despite reading once that you shouldn’t touch a dog when they had food in front of them. He didn’t seem to mind—in fact, he stopped chewing long enough to wriggle under her hand, obviously enjoying it.
There was a soft sound from the table, shoe hitting shin. “Say something,” Juju hissed.
“What you want me to say?” Lee whispered back. So he’d talk to Juju, but not to her.
Fine. Ginny swallowed, hard. Her eyes prickled. Good God, how could she have any tears left?
“It’s a long way,” Juju pointed out, fierce and low. “You ain’t serious.”
“She got folks there, Juju.” Quiet, and steady.
“Lee—”
“She’s goin. That means I am.”
Ginny smoothed Traveller’s back. The dog put his face down again and made a low moaning noise of happiness.
“Damnfool,” Juju said, very quietly. Lee didn’t reply.
Ginny didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Why, in the name of God, did she have to leave the room before he’d open his mouth? Did they think she couldn’t hear them? All the same, something in her chest eased. She slid down to sit instead of kneeling. Lee’s kitchen floor was very clean, the worn linoleum scrubbed and no dust in the corners. Apparently he knew how to handle a mop, as well as everything else.
Traveller licked at her plate, then stuck his snout in the water bowl and lapped, noisily. Ginny rested her back against a cabinet and closed her eyes. It didn’t help, she could still see the…the thing, the patient, and feel the jolts in her arms when she brought the snow shovel down again and again.
The dog finished slurping and stepped in her lap, his wet muzzle heading for her face. She rubbed behind his ears, and the thought that he’d need to go out again filled her with unsteady nausea. God. The world had gone mad. Maybe it was better to wait here, see what happened.
No. She couldn’t think like that. Her parents, Flo…they needed her, and she had to do everything she could to get to them. It was just that simple.
Movement. Someone walked into the kitchen and put his plate in the sink; the light coming through her eyelids changed. They were lucky the power hadn’t gone out here, even with the snow. Traveller was goddamn lucky they’d found him, she was lucky she’d gone looking for a snow shovel, and lucky Lee hadn’t left her in the street to be shot. Too lucky. Sooner or later, she wouldn’t be.
When she opened her eyes, Lee crouched in front of her, his hands loose and easy draped over his knees. He’d stubbled up, and his eyes were even more bloodshot than this morning.
He looked tired.
They regarded each other for a long moment, Traveller deciding that if two humans were here, they both needed to be petting him, and doing his best to inform them. She had to keep pushing his spaghetti-stained muzzle out of her face.
Lee’s throat moved as he swallowed. “We’re leavin tomorrow.” He was hoarse.
Well, hallelujah and pass the butter, as the McCoys used to say. Ginny absorbed the news. “You didn’t find a car, I guess.”
He shrugged, a small movement that could have meant yes, or no, or don’t worry about it, or don’t ask. A very ambiguous thing, a shrug. “I ain’t havin you hurt, Ginny.”
What did that have to do with anything? “You’re angry.”
He shook his head. He really did look better without a hat, and if he’d let his hair grow out a little more, that would be even nicer. “Just goddamn glad I got a metal shovel, not one of them plastics.”
Well, that was a nice thing to say. It really was. “Me too.” There was something in her throat. At least it wasn’t tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t put it away.”
He rocked back a little on his heels, his hands tensing, halfway to fists before they relaxed. “I’d’a worried if you did, darlin.” For a moment it looked like he would say more, but in the end he just straightened and offered his hand. His skin was warm, rough in places, and he pulled her to her feet without any apparent effort. Traveller, desolate at being abandoned, decided to turn back to her licked-clean plate in hopes of finding some stray tomato or meatball molecule to comfort him.
Lee didn’t let go until she looked up at him. He studied her intently, and this close she saw a fine white scar along his jawline, and where he’d nicked himself shaving that morning on his throat. It was disconcerting to feel someone else’s body heat. It made you conscious of your hair all messed up, any stray fleck
s of red sauce on your lips, that you hadn’t brushed your teeth since beating someone to death in the front yard.
Yeah. Especially the last.
“You did right,” Lee finally said. “Don’t you worry, Miss Virginia.”
Ginny nodded. It was hard to think. The noise threatened to come back, a rushing inside her head. “Okay,” she whispered, and pulled her hand away.
She escaped to the bathroom while they took Traveller out, Juju asking something in a low anxious tone and Lee simply making a low noncommittal noise. Her face was flame-hot, she splashed cold water from the ancient tap and closed her eyes, hanging onto the scalloped sink for dear life.
So they were leaving tomorrow.
Good.
Coast to Coast
Another load of snow had come through, then crust-froze as the clouds cleared overnight and the temperature plummeted. Lee didn’t like the idea of driving on a slick sheet of ice, but Ginny was up early making coffee and breakfast, and her nervous, transparent cheerfulness was a kick to the gut. Juju took his coffee cup into the living room and stood near the front window, studying the weather with a troubled expression, and Lee joined him while bacon sizzled and eggs pop-fried. Traveller’s nose was right at Ginny’s calves again, the dog gazing adoringly at her when he wasn’t begging for manna to be dropped.
“Still got power,” Juju remarked, after a moderate gulp of thick black brew.
“Ayuh.” Lee studied the rippling liquid in his own cup. “Juju…”
“Oh, don’t even ask.” Irritably.
“Be more comfortable to stay here.” Less dangerous, is what he wanted to say, but that would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
“Until it ain’t.” Juju’s boots were on, and laced. The scar on the back of his forearm gleamed, skin pulled shiny-tight over an old wound. “You need a six, my man.”
“Wouldn’t say no.” With that, it was settled. Weighing having another person along to be responsible for against the fact that it was a damn good thing to have someone who knew what he was about in the mix if they ran across more of those things was enough to make a man’s head hurt. The cold, rational part of him was coming down firmly on the Ginny’s safer with both of us, but of course, that part of him wanted to lock the doors and talk her out of this cross-country foolishness, too.
He just couldn’t figure out how.
Ginny fidgeted all through breakfast, leaping up every few minutes to pour more coffee, or get the salt, or fetch more butter. Her hair, braided neatly and crossed over the top of her head, glowed under the electric light, and Lee slowed down, eating with deliberation. He was no nearer a good decision than he had been last night, and that was saying something. At least he’d been tired enough to sleep as soon as he stretched out on the couch. Juju hadn’t shaken him awake, either, figuring they would both be losing rest standing guard soon as they were moving.
Juju brought Traveller back in from the snow, the hound yip-yodeling with excitement and heading straight back for the kitchen. Ginny began clinking and scrubbing in a hurry, and Lee found himself in the living room.
The tee-vee was nothing but snow on two of the channels, a test pattern on the third, but when he flipped to the final one—the public channel, coming through clear as a bell when there wasn’t a haze—he had to stop and stare for a moment, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
“—Steve Penny, for PBS.” A balding, sweating man in a rumpled plaid sportscoat cleared his throat. The bags under his eyes would have to be checked as luggage if he flew anywhere, and Lee wondered if there were still planes in the air before it sank in that someone was indeed alive out there. Tee-vee meant organization, and he breathed out a profane, wondering term as Juju swung around behind him, ears perking at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. “This is the KOZK, the Ozarks Public Television, uh, station. Our phone lines are still up, and we’re still taking your calls. We have a list of cities under martial law, which we’ll go through at the top of the hour. For now, though, let’s just repeat what we know.”
Steve Penny’s unshaven cheeks gleamed. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “If you’re just joining us, please listen: the plague is widespread. It is coast to coast; we have unsubstantiated reports from outside the US. It starts like the flu, but with an extremely high fever. Once the fever and the convulsions start, leave the sufferer. I can’t emphasize that strongly enough, folks. Once that starts there is no cure, no recovery, and the sick person becomes dangerous as a rattler.” He stared into the camera, his eyes dead, gleaming holes. “They bite, folks. If you’re watching, you probably know this as well as I do.”
“Holy shit,” Juju whispered. “Coast to coast?”
Ginny appeared, her hands dripping soapsuds. She stared at the tee-vee, her eyes round, and her lips moved a little, like she was trying to ask a question. The naked hope shining on her face hurt to see, and Lee fought the urge to turn the damn squawk-box off.
The living room was silent for a long few moments. Lee thought maybe the sound had failed, but there was a crackle as the man shuffled papers in front of him.
“Keep going,” the man muttered. “Not much…friends, we don’t have much time left. Trevor, you’ll keep rollin for a bit?”
“Ayuh,” someone said behind the camera. “I will, Steve.”
“Good man.” Steve blinked several times. “Good man…folks, I’m having trouble focusing, we’ve been broadcasting nonstop for…well, quite a while. We don’t know how long we’ll have power. The Army has stopped demanding civilian news outlets go dark. If we’re still rolling after the list at the top of the hour—”
Static bloomed over the picture.
“No,” Ginny whispered. “No, please…” Like she was begging them to stay on the squawk-box, maybe with a personal message or something.
The picture came back, as if it heard her. “—like we don’t have that kind of time, there’s something going on with the relays. Be careful out there, and beware of armed bands roving around, Army or otherwise. And I’m just gonna repeat this: the plague is coast to coast, possibly worldwide, and do not try to help the sufferers once the convulsions start. It seems to be transmitted largely but not entirely through bites, and we have no…” Another burst of static.
“God A’mighty,” Juju breathed.
The tee-vee died, its large glassy eye going blank, and a vast quiet descended. It was like one of those snow-globes, where you shook it and the world inside was full of whirling, but as soon as you set it down and forgot about it, everything settled. Lee had never liked them, mostly because of the crazy thought that he wouldn’t appreciate it if his house was picked up and given a good shake. When he was a kid, he almost broke out in the sweats thinking about it.
Traveller whined softly. The humming, breathing sense of electricity living in the walls, ready to jump when you flipped a switch, was gone.
The power was out.
Once or Twice
It was kind of like a college roadtrip, really. Except if it really was, she’d be driving, because she’d been the Responsible One in their dorm. She’d only escaped being RA by the skin of her teeth, but her plan of maybe attending a couple parties had foundered on the fact that she really didn’t even like drinking and ended up as the designated driver everywhere anyway. It was a new thing, not being behind the wheel, able to watch out the window as the scenery changed in tiny fractions. There was little to see except snow, and if she tried she could probably pretend the houses were just snugly closed up instead of probably empty, or full of twitch-jerking, growling things.
Walking past the shrouded corpse of the—
The patient.
—the attacker from yesterday had been…difficult, even though Lee had put a tarp, weighted down with bricks, over the whole mess. The snow shovel, firmly frozen into the mass, stuck its red-painted handle up, and looking at it had made her queasy.
It was little comfort that it was behind her, possibly for good, now. She stro
ked Traveller’s shoulder, rubbed behind his ears, and looked out her window as Lee drove, sometimes whistling a little through his teeth, a wandering melody of concentration. Every once in a while he broke off and tried the radio again.
Juju’s 4x4 crept ahead of them, breaking through the crusted top of the snow and digging deep, chains tossing spatters and chunks of white when he hit the accelerator a little. After about a half-hour, Traveller settled with a sigh against her leg, nestling his head on her thigh and dozing. Every time the red-and-white truck bumped, his eyelids twitched, and she almost envied him. It must be nice to be a dog, and have no mental horsepower to drive a worry machine.
Then again, if they hadn’t come along, he’d still be out in the snow. No, maybe he would have come in from the cold eventually. Dogs were smart, and the house’s back door had been open. Would he have survived?
Oh, God. Now she was thinking about all the pets locked inside, all the way across the US. Would they start to chew on human bodies? Would the smartest eventually figure out how to get outside? It would be too late for a lot of them. Goldfish, hamsters, all those…rats might be all right, but cats…
“God,” she muttered, rubbing at her other knee.
“Hm?” Lee’s face didn’t change, but something else did. A subtle shift, maybe in his shoulders, saying he was listening. Maybe it was just that he was so quiet, she was forced to look for other cues.
Either way, at least he’d responded. It was an unexpected relief, but all of a sudden she wondered if sharing her morbid little thoughts was worth it. “Nothing. Just…thinking about all this.”
“Betcha can’t stop, huh.” His eyes had paled, and squinting against the snowy light made the corners of them crinkle. His throat was oddly vulnerable, clean-shaven and with a worn flannel button-down fastened almost all the way to the top. He wore that same leather vest with its threadbare patches, and over it his shearling. All in all, he looked competent. Prepared. Even the backs of his hands looked ready.