“If we go out there…whenwe go out there…being quiet is best. So no smashing glass or making a ruckus unless you can’t avoid it, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And trust nobody. I don’t care how nice they seem. Don’t approach anyone and don’t allow anyone to approach you,” he says in his deep voice. “I can’t keep you locked up forever. Not if we want to have a decent quality of life. And handcuffing you to me would just be a damn good way to fuck up and get the both of us killed. But you and me, watching each other’s backs, being as careful as we can be. That’s how we survive this and stay alive.
“I know this has been horrible for you. You’ve got to be scared and traumatized and I don’t know what else. But I wouldn’t have done this if there’d been any other answer. Any other way for both of us to get safely through this first stage of everything collapsing.”
I may not like it, but the man is talking sense. All evidence points to this being the end times or something seriously close to same. “Alright.”
“Good.” He gives me a long look. “You’re making a run for it the second you get a chance, aren’t you?”
“You want an honest response to that?”
“Please.”
“I haven’t quite decided. Thinking this might be more of a wait-and-see situation.”
He raises his dark brows. “That’s honestly a better response than I expected. Anyway…it’s good for you to give it some thought.”
“You want me to think about running away?”
“Yes,” he says. “I want you to think about it hard and think about it now. Not after you’ve done it and you realize what it’s going to be like to be alone in this world. You know what Thomas Hobbes said about a world without the rule of law?”
“Who’s Thomas Hobbes?”
“Philosopher. He said that life would be solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”
“Sounds like a cheerful guy. What did he have to say about kidnapping your neighbor?”
“I don’t remember him saying anything about that. But he was a realist,” says Dean. “I don’t think your life would be solitary, though. You’re an attractive woman. There’ll be plenty of men in this new world you won’t want to meet on your own.”
“So you’re the best worst alternative?”
He snorts. “Something along those lines.”
“Do you remember that news channel ever being off the air?” I pick up the remote off my mattress. On the TV is gray fuzz. “That’s not even the one where the dude detonated himself.”
“No. Never.”
I change the channel. The next one has a reporter sneezing into a wad of tissues while announcing how a countrywide state of martial law has been declared. There will be a seven o’clock curfew enforced to help stop looting and the spread of the virus. And this is all ever so slightly fucking alarming.
“There go our rights, apparently,” I say.
“Bound to happen eventually. Wonder if they have enough soldiers still standing to enforce it.” He puts the backpack onthe sofa and takes down another storage box. From out of this one come thick pillar candles and matches. “We’re going to lose power sooner or later. Best to be prepared.”
“When did you order all of this stuff?”
“Start of the week.”
“You knew that early?”
“The conversations my friend was overhearing…they weren’t good.” He arranges the candles on the coffee table and then heads for the stairs. “I am going to go check on the fire.”
“It’s a week today since we first heard about this thing. You’d think it would take longer than seven days to bring about the complete and utter downfall of civilization.”
“Not really.” The edge of his mouth inches upward. “We were never as important as we thought we were.”
I get comfortable on the mattress once more. “Guess not.”
