Corn, Cows, and the Apocalypse (Part 1) (9 page)

-The Middle-

             
A month later, I should have been getting better, but I wasn’t.  Garrett insisted that I was, but he was still beating me hand over fist, and that was quite literally.  I was covered in bruises, and slashes.  I was the poster child for abused women: beaten to a bloody pulp and still going back for more. 

             
I wanted to do well more than ever, for myself, but I still couldn’t beat him.  My sword fighting was laughable, and even Garrett admitted that we were probably wasting our time trying to force skill where there wasn’t talent.  My running speed had improved as well as my jumping, but no matter how fast I was, I still couldn’t beat him in hand to hand combat.

             
I flew back feeling the full impact of his fist on my eye.  It was amazing how much that hurt.  I was certain several times that my eye was going to explode like a water balloon, but it didn’t.  The swelling would go down.  The black eyes would fade, although they were usually quickly replaced.

             
Normally—in regards to my recent new normal—I would have gotten right back up and went after him, but this time I just stayed down.  We had been sparring for an hour working our way up to real hits as a way to build endurance to pain.  Basically we were beating the crap out of each other.  Naturally, I was losing.

             
“Get up.”  I could tell he was already angry.  He was getting more temperamental every day.  I assumed he was as frustrated with my progress as I was, but I wasn’t sure what he thought his anger was going to do about it.  He was already hitting me daily, what more could he threaten me with.  “Get up!”

             
I opened one eye, since the other was already swelling shut.  He was panting.  At least he had to exert some effort.  I shook my head at him and he ground his teeth huffing his derision like a big-nosed bull. 

             
He kicked my leg.  It hurt, but not enough to offer him the satisfaction of winning.  When I mouthed “fuck you” at him, I could almost see the steam coming out of his ears. 

             
He knelt down beside me and grabbed me by my shirt.  I wasn’t surprised that he had the strength to pull my torso off the ground, but I was impressed that my cotton shirt didn’t rip in his grip.  “That’s a great idea.  Maybe since you’re just going to lie on your back I can get a little use out of you.”

             
He tried to look me over luridly, but his eyes too quickly came back to rest on mine.  It was just a threat.  He might have wanted to do just that, but from what I had gleaned of his closed mouth personality over the last six weeks, he was bashful when it came to sex.   

             
More than a few nights I had fallen asleep on the couch with him, and each time he delivered me to my bedroom without any attempt to do more.  I had even gotten brave enough to walk around the house in my towel after my shower, but he didn’t take the bait.  Although, for the most part I still hated him, I was starved for attention.  Even the potential of having sex was better than nothing at all.

             
I smiled up at him.  “As long as I don’t have to move, you do whatever you need to.” 

             
His face contorted into three or four confused and menacing expressions, before he settled into interest.  His eyes flickered over mine, trying to read me.  Was I just being a smart ass, or did I really not mind if he had me?  He couldn’t read me so he looked over my body. 

             
He was evaluating me.  Seeing how much he wanted to have me.  Was it worth throwing out the whole days schedule just to satisfy his needs?  Adding to that, was it worth potentially disrupting days and weeks after that if he wanted more?                  

             
I hated to interrupt the questions lining up on his face to be answered.  I probably needed and wanted sex even more than him, but I also needed and wanted to win one freaking battle.  I wasn’t an egotist, but I was definitely a feminist, so for the remainder of female kind, I wanted to beat him.

             
The rock I had been slowly wiggling loose just beside him was a decent handful.  When I got my grip on it I rapped his skull with it being careful not to hit the temple.  I punched him with the other hand, and kicked him back.  I got another good hit with the rock after I straddled him, which made his eyes lull back.  Just for good measure I punched him in the stomach.  When it was clear he was knocked out, I did a long victory lap around the yard before checking on him.

-The Humbled and the Proud-

             
“What up my bitch?”  I chimed as Garrett walked into the kitchen with my homemade bandage around his head.  He had been out for several hours, and I was really starting to worry, but instead of fretting, I just cranked up Jimmy the Card’s pre-supper request hour.  I had already called in several requests in honor of my low blow win, but so far Jimmy wasn’t playing anything he didn’t want to play, which was often the case with him.  His radio, his rules. 

             
Garrett perked an eyebrow at my rap stimulated dialogue.  I just laughed at him, and continued to make another round of tuna helper.  “How’s your eye?” 

             
I couldn’t help but chuckle at the endearing way he asked.  I had black eyes nearly every other day since we started, and he never asked about them.  “Swelling nicely.  If you’re planning another attack, I would advise coming from my right, since I have virtually no peripheral vision.  What about you?  Are you going to live?”
              I looked him over.  Concussions were dangerous, since doctors were few and far.  Since he was talking and walking, that was a good thing.  “Headache, but no more than I’ve had before.  I should live.” 

             
“So, I don’t have to feel guilty about bragging my success over the airwaves.”  I said offering a little shoulder dance. 

             
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”  He said.  “You did well.  Perhaps not the traditional gentlemen’s method of fighting, but clearly grim aren’t gentleman.”  I shook my head in agreement, before adding my tuna to the skillet.  “Can I help you with anything?”  He asked.

             
I raised my eyebrows at him.  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words spoken in this kitchen.”             

             
Garrett nodded and came up behind me.  For a moment, once again betrayed by the visions of romantic novels forever stashed in my brain, I thought he might have intended to rub my shoulders, or kiss my neck.  Instead he took my wooden spoon and gently shoved me aside. 

             
Not sure what to do I just leaned on the island and watched him do my job.  He immediately adjusted the heat on the pan and added more water.  At first I thought he was doing it to look like he knew what he was doing, but it was clear after he started doctoring with spices that he was familiar with cooking. 

             
“Am I that bad of a cook?”  I asked when he sipped the sauce.  He dipped the spoon back in and gave me a come hither finger with his free hand.  I moved to slurp the hot liquid and nodded.  “I am that bad of a cook.”

             
“Not bad.  You haven’t killed anyone have you?” 

             
“With my food, no.  I doubt August would have let me join otherwise.”  I sat down at the table and propped my feet up.  It was just dinner, but it felt like pampering. 

             
“You do realize she didn’t bring you in just to cook and clean.”  Garrett said turning more attention to me than the skillet. 

             
“Of course she did.  I’m the non-fighter.  What else am I going to do to earn my keep?”

             
“First off, no she didn’t.  She invited you into the group because you were clearly lonely and needed some friends.”  I crossed my arms like being accused of loneliness was something to be ashamed of.  “Second, you are officially a fighter and third, most importantly, you don’t have to earn my sister’s friendship to keep it.  She loves unconditionally.”

             
“Then why didn’t she say something.  I’ve been cooking and cleaning for them since I joined.”

             
“Well,” Garrett smirked, “she’s not stupid.”  I let my mouth hang open as I thought about how many times I wished someone would clean up after themselves.  Apparently, they might have if I hadn’t been doing it for them.  “You should have been a little worse at cooking; then she would have offered more help.” 

             
I scoffed and threw a bundle of napkins off the table at him.  He smiled at the pubescent attack.  It was a real smile, one I hadn’t seen before.  It made his hard muscular face seem softer.  He looked younger when he smiled.  To my dismay it didn’t last, and he was back to stirring the supper. 

-
Are we done yet?-

             
It had been nearly three months since I had been left with Garrett to train.  Our living arrangement was starting to grate on me.  He was starting to open up, and be friendlier, but he was still a rather boring companion.  He wouldn’t reveal too much about himself, and in the end what little attraction I had for him was turned off by his distance.

             
When the rain came, I thought cabin fever might force him to converse more, but he had other plans.  “Here put this on.”  Garrett threw a poncho at me. 

             
I stared at the plastic coat paused in mid chew of my Lucky Charms.  “What for?”

             
“You’ll want to stay dry if possible.  Training in the rain sucks.”

             
“It’s not raining, it’s pouring.” 

             
“Yeah, but you aren’t going to be snoring.”  He quipped deadpan.

             
I proceeded to nibble on my not-so-lucky charms like he wasn’t there.  His patience was always paper thin, but he waited for me to finish my meal, before pulling my bowl from me.  I took as much time as I needed and wanted to get my shoes and poncho on.  All the while, Garrett was threatening a tantrum.

             
When I finally met him at the door he offered me a look that told me he was trying not to blow up over such a trifling thing as my slow motion morning starts.  “Well let’s get out there pokey.”  I motioned to the door without any hint of humor in my voice.  Instead of glaring like I expected him to, he smiled.  My face scrunched in confusion to the rare anomaly.  “What’s so funny?”

             
“Just for that I’m going to work you until you puke.”

             
“Ah, the bulimia workout today, fun.”

             
“Are you ever going to take this seriously?”  He asked.

             
“Are you ever going to not take it seriously?”  He shook his head.  “Well, then somebody’s got to put some personality into the mix.”  He looked me over like he wanted to respond to that statement, but instead opened the door for me to exit. 

             
The rain was coming down particularly hard and fast.  My poncho served to keep my shirt dry, but since the yard was saturated there was really no hope of keeping my shoes and pants dry.  “This won’t last long.  We can wait until it’s done.”  I turned to see Garrett’s refusal for myself, but he wasn’t behind me.  “Damn it.”  I whipped around, offering the sheeting veil around me a cursory glance, but he wasn’t around. 

             
I already knew this wasn’t going to be fun.  Somewhere between looking for a weapon and wondering if my shoes were machine washable, I was pushed to the ground.  I flipped over to defend myself, but he was gone. 

             
I got to my feet and scanned again.  Aside from the yard directly around the house, we didn’t mow down much of the acreage.  The foliage on the outskirts had taken over in short order.  An abundance of lilac bushes, and cedar trees had staked a claim on anything we left alone.  At this point I could barely see beyond the rain anyway.

             
I was pushed down again before I even finished my scan.  I jumped up quick hoping to catch his escape, but he was gone.  I ran away from my spot hoping to find solace of my own behind a bundle of fountain grass. 

             
I waited there for some time, before my feet were kicked out beneath me.  I face planted in the mud.  This time I didn’t bother getting up fast.  Garrett had established his game.  He was going to bowl me over like an overeager dog until I stopped him.  Every time he managed to knock me down, I should consider myself dead. 

             
Since remaining dry was no longer a task I could accomplish I ripped off the poncho.  With it off I had far better hearing and peripheral.  I wondered if Garrett intended for me to figure that out.

             
Instead of staying in one spot I moved rapidly bush to bush, and in and out of tall grasses.  I wasn’t sure if it served any purpose, but it would look good until I figured out something else to do. 

             
My butt burned from a drive by spanking.  I caught a glimpse of Garrett running away and I bolted after him.  If he was the runaway dog, than I could be a dog catcher.  He glanced back and saw me coming up to him.  He made a quick turn through a white trellis arch to evade me.

             
I followed the bush line and ran through the arch.  His arm shot out before I could stop.  I was close lined and slammed into the ground.  I could barely breathe and by the time I could, he was gone again. 

             
I cursed and got up.  I padded back into the middle of the yard and waited.  Hiding wasn’t doing me any good.  I might as well go back to what worked for me: being bait. 

             
I braced myself for an attack and waited.  I couldn’t rely on my sight, since I was practically standing under a waterfall.  I could barely hear over the downpour.  I couldn’t outrun him.  I had only one option left: my brain. 

             
I was doomed.

             
I stood facing the driveway.  The house was to my left and the bulk of the foliage to my back.  That meant he was likely going to come from my back.  The yard stretched out farther to my right.  That meant that he would have farther to go to disappear behind a bush.  I suspected that he would angle toward the house, so he could disappear behind it.  That way he could pop back out on the other side back in the safety of the foliage.  It sounded logical anyway. 

             
I heard the splotch of footsteps when he was practically on me already.  I didn’t hesitate.  I dropped low throwing out my left leg to the side.  He missed his target and skidded through the wet grass.

             
Not entirely satisfied with my win, I leapt on top of him straddling his chest and pinning his arms with the weight of my knees.  He tried to bring his legs up to lasso my neck, but I gave him a hard crotch shot.  He coughed and spluttered.  I could tell he didn’t want to show his pain, but he didn’t have much of a choice. 

             
I could see his eyes searching for an escape.  I held up my fist to his face.  “Move and I make you a falsetto.”                He relaxed his head back and let his arms give up the struggle.  “Do I win?”

             
“You already lost four times.  We can go again and if you beat me another three times, then we can call it a draw.”

             
Without warning I punched him in the crotch again.  He groaned and huffed in shock at my unnecessary violence.  I was surprised by it myself, but I was sick of the training.  I was sick of him looking down at me.  I was also sick of having the crap beat out of me.  “What the hell, Lenore?”

             
“Do I win?!”  I yelled in his face.  He looked confused, so I punched him in the jaw.  His expression of confusion was replaced by shocked anger.  “Are we done?!”  I hit him again, even though my fist felt like I had hit a brick wall. 

             
I wasn’t sure what he saw in my expression to wipe away his anger, but it died away as swiftly as it came.  I moved to punch him in the face again.  I had no purpose. I just wanted to hurt him.  “Okay!”  He said interrupting my enthusiasm for his pain.  “You win, Lenore.”  My hand was still primed, but it was shaking.  I didn’t want to put it down.  I knew he was only trying to appease me to keep me from beating in his face any further.

             
“I hate you.”  I hissed.  “Everything is different because of you.  I liked the way things were.  I was happy.  I was happy, you bastard.”

             
“Lenore.”  I could hear the paternal tone in his voice.  He was just trying to talk a jumper off a ledge.  I jumped off of him before I could hear his pathetic negotiations for my calmness. 

             
It wouldn’t have helped though.  I was finally mad.  I hadn’t been mad when August left me.  I hadn’t been mad when Garrett pretended to rape me.  I hadn’t been mad the first time he gave me a black eye, or the subsequent dozen.  I had spent more than enough time being sad and scared, it was time to be mad, and I didn’t want him trying to talk me down from it.

             
I stalked off with no particular direction in mind.  I wanted to go see Priest, but he didn’t need or want to see my latest battle wounds.  I walked along the road in hopes that I could just keep walking.  I still wasn’t brave enough for that, but it was a coward’s dream.  I managed to make it a mile before Garrett’s motorcycle rumbled up behind me.

             
He slowed to a stop just ahead of me, and pulled off his helmet.  The rain had let up and I could see he was starting to get a little black eye where the second punch hit, but it wasn’t nearly as big as I would have preferred.  “You’ll catch a cold out here.”

             
I stopped and stared him down.  I wanted to say something, but I ended up just waiting him out.  I talked enough for the both of us.  He could try to get a conversation rolling for once. 

             
“Why don’t you let me take you back, Lenore?  A shower and some warm soup, how does that sound?”

             
“Like placation.  Like appeasement.  Like a bribe.  I’m done Garrett.  Everyone has their bad days, but I’m tired of this.  I’m tired of you.  I want my life back.  The apocalypse sucks enough. I’m not going to spend every waking moment preparing for the worst case scenario.”

             
“If you want to survive—“

             
“Survive?! No one gives a shit about that!  The world is full of people who didn’t survive, and I envy them!  I would have rather been on the first bus out of here, but if there is another one coming, then bring it on, because I don’t much care anymore.”

             
Garrett looked at his feet.  “Are you giving up?”

             
“I gave up…the day I figured out my God left me here.”  My eyes watered with the thought abandonment from a being I’d never met.  It shouldn’t have hurt still, but it did.  Admitting to Garrett I wasn’t an atheist probably wasn’t wise, but I didn’t care anymore.  “You can belittle me all you want about it, but I’m not a coward, and I’m
not
lazy.  I just don’t care.”  I started to walk away.

             
“That’s why she chose you.”

             
I stopped.  “Because I don’t care?”  I sneered. 

             
“No, because you do care.  You care that He left you.”  I didn’t respond.  He got off his bike and met me in the road.  “You don’t have to fight for Him though.  You can fight for August.  You can fight for me.  It doesn’t matter, because in the end, you’re just fighting for yourself.”  He put his hand out and I stared at it. 

             
“I’m not going back.  I’m sick of fighting you.”

             
“Good because my jaw hurts like hell.  Remind me not to piss you off again.”  He winked at me and I couldn’t help but smile because it reminded me of Devin, which conversely made me sad again.  “Come on. Let me buy you something pretty to make up for the last three months.”

             
I rolled my eyes, but eventually he lured me onto his bike.  He took off fast, and I was forced to hang on tight.  I gave into it though, because he was warm and the wind on my wet clothes was making me cold.  Instead of heading home, we went into town.