Darkest Days: A Southern Zombie Tale (8 page)

In between flashes of approaching lightning and howling winds, Bryant placed two candles on the kitchen table and set an old fashioned hurricane lamp by the sink casting its warm glow over the nearby stove-top.

Together they prepared the meal. Bryant baked the breaded chicken while Cara boiled the noodles. One blazing eye on the stove held a saucepan with simmering marinara and another eye with a pan containing oil for the appetizers. Accompanied by the sounds of batter-covered mushrooms and popping oil, Cara and Bryant stole amorous glances at each other.

She was so physically attracted to him that she feared that she might sleep with him that very night. Despite her body’s preparation for physical love, she knew that the risk was too great. Lacking any kind of contraceptive and surmising that Bryant would not have any on hand either, she debated broaching the topic of purchasing some with him. Truthfully, she did not trust condoms and remembered reading somewhere that prophylactics had a thirty percent failure rate.

Upon the successful completion of cooking, both teenagers sat down at the table with delicious smelling dishes resting in front of them. Bryant picked up a mushroom with his fork and dipped it into the marinara on his chicken. “They’re really good like this. You should try it.”

Cara gave a half-hearted smile. “I don’t really like eating fungus.”

“That sounds so sexy when you say it.” Bryant chewed quickly and stabbed another. “They have to be eaten first because they cool off so fast.”

She watched him relish every bite of his fried mushrooms and finally gave in. “You really want me to eat one, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “More for me.”

She picked up her fork and speared a small one. “Okay, are you happy now?”

“I’m neutral on this one. I love you no matter what you eat.” He paused, shocked by his own words.

“What did you say?” Cara quietly asked in stunned disbelief.

“I said ‘I love you’.” He sounded unsure of himself. He repeated it with more confidence a second later. “I love you.”

She leaned forward and brushed his lips with the very tips of her fingers. “Wow.” She could not manage to recover. Her mouth opened and then closed like a fish struggling to breathe. Every time words came to her, the traitorous mouth rushed to cooperate, fumbling every utterance. Finally, the lips, tongue, and jaw synched and she could articulate again. “I can’t believe this. How can you know you love me so soon?”

Bryant set his utensil down and looked into her eyes. “You can’t ask me how I know I love you. I just do. I know it reflexively, the same way I breathe the air or know when I’m sleepy. I just know.”

She reached out and held his hand. “I’m not going to say it right now, but I will. It’s still too soon for me.” She knew at that moment deep down she loved him. Being in love frightened her to the point that she did not want to admit it to him. However, looking at his innocent face, she could not doubt her feelings.

Bryant let fear rob him of his volition. Instead of leaning forward and kissing her, he sat petrified. She had not reciprocated his statement. No matter how empathetic he was to the enormity of what he wished her to say, he still could not help but feel hurt.

Slowly, Cara mustered her courage. She had engaged in battles of wits with people twenty years her senior. She had faced down schoolyard bullies who had singled her out for being different. Even with her inclination towards confrontation, she was frightened by what was about to happen.

“What if I said it back?” She asked in the dead silence of the room.

“I would be very happy,” he meekly spoke, “but I don’t want you to say it because I did and you feel guilty.”

She reached out and took his hand. “I don’t do things because of other people. I do them for myself.” She gave a brief squeeze and decided that it was time. “I love you.” Those three powerful words hung in the air. She thought to herself as a postscript to that statement, “I will sleep with him, not tonight, but soon.”

***

A day later, Cara had her mother drop her off at the Gutherie Smith Park. Jean Creed obliged, not knowing that her daughter had engineered the outing so she could meet a boy. A wooden fence composed of rounded slats bordered the narrow entrance road which forked, creating an extended loop through the park. From the air, the automobile’s path resembled a teardrop. A thick mixture of hardwoods and pines surrounded the road, while on the inside of the loop sat four baseball fields, a basketball court, four tennis court, and a large playground. The Fayette airport resided adjacent to the park and even donated the old runway for parking. The long stretch of disused tarmac only ran for half a mile, since the airport never landed anything bigger than a Cessna. The man-made lake, however, stole most of the attention. A walking trail wound its way through the woods and then around the calm body of water. A red gazebo rested out on a small island with a strip of land (only wide enough for two people walking abreast) connecting it to the shore. Driving around the park, one saw scattered pavilions hidden on the edges of the forest.

The Caprice’s air conditioning hummed on the lowest setting as Cara looked in the mirror. Normally, she never wore makeup but today she had experimented with a small amount: She had applied a light coat of foundation and a natural shade of lipstick. No blush, no mascara, no eyeliner. She already felt too “dolled up”. She brushed her hair, even though it hung straight down in its normal style. She had shed her jacket but still kept it close at hand in case she needed her makeshift security blanket. She had even convinced her mother to take her shopping for some clothes. She had picked out what she wore now, dark blue jeans that hugged her hips and a snug black tank top exposing just a little of her midriff. None of the changes made her feel more attractive though. They made her feel like a sell-out. The way she looked at the moment, she could have passed for a popular girl.

Cara spied Bryant’s truck parked by the tennis courts. She directed her mother to slow down and let her out. She needed to exit before they reached the vehicle. “I’ve got to give her time to get out of sight.” She thought. She did not want Bryant meeting her family yet. Even the day she had called for a ride home from Bryant’s trailer, she had not introduced them. She had waited by the road despite his protestations.

Mrs. Creed spoke, barely registering her daughter’s presence. “I’ll be back in two hours. That should give me enough time to take care of my errands.”

Cara gave a brief intense look at her mother, wondering about her adjustment to the town. Shopping, bills, Tupperware parties, PTA. Maybe it was just a front; maybe her mother actually enjoyed the slower pace of life. She shook her head and pulled the chrome colored handle, popping the door open. The heat rushed upon Cara as she stepped out of the Chevrolet and toward the brown idling pickup.

Jean Creed mashed the accelerator, speeding the Caprice over a speed bump and causing a loud jangle of bouncing automotive parts as the shocks vainly tried to absorb the impact. Distracted, she did not see the young man exit his truck and walk toward her daughter.

Cara turned at the loud noise coming from her parents’ vehicle. When the car kept going, she assumed everything was alright and turned back to her goal. Bryant already stood in front of her, appearing like a magician’s trick. Oddly, his face showed surprise instead of hers.

She realized that he had never seen her dressed that way. Suddenly, her stomach fluttered with butterflies as she fought how she wanted him to react. He needed to observe the work that she had put in on her appearance, or at least acknowledge it. If he did not notice, how much attention did he really pay her? At the same time, she held to a romantic notion of Bryant not caring what she looked like, because he liked “her for her”.

Bryant gazed at her with wonderment. She possessed a natural beauty, her complexion unblemished and her skin a light cream color. The features of her face combined to form an intelligent but vulnerable countenance. Now, with her trace amounts of makeup and revealingly cut clothing, she appeared ravishing.

He reached out and wordlessly pulled her to him. Her fingers slid around him and gripped him under his shoulder blades. His hands met over the exposed skin of her lower back hovering just above the belt line.

“You’re beautiful.” Bryant did not feel capable of poetry or eloquence, but what he lacked in flowery words or cultivated vocabulary, he made up for in sincerity. In that respect, his limited lexicon served him amicably.

Cara leaned up on the balls of her feet and kissed him. He returned the gesture with more force, and then broke their embrace to point through the trees. “There’s a walking trail over there. Would you like to take a stroll around the lake?”

She nodded.

The path consisted of loose sand wedged in between huge spreads of fallen pine needles and undergrowth. Thin streams of sunlight filtered through the foliage canopy overhead. Birds chirped and small animals rustled through the leaves, but the couple did not talk. Finally, Cara broke the silence. “Alabama has the most trees of any place I’ve ever seen.” The statement sounded lame. She lowered her eyes hoping Bryant did not see how blank her mind had gone.

“Where else have you been?” He asked.

“Not many places outside New York City. I’ve been to New Jersey, a little of Pennsylvania. Other than that, just the places that we drove through on the way down.”

Bryant laughed. “Then you’ve seen a good bit of the East coast”

“Actually, I spent the ride reading until I got car sick and I also slept a lot.” She replied.

He reached out and held her hand as they walked on. The trees thinned out and the lake appeared before them. Its murky water lapped at the steep bank as a small family of ducks paddled around a covered bridge. A small creek draining away from the larger body of water passed under the bridge and snaked away into the forest.

Bryant tilted his head back, observing the clear sky. “Looks like all those clouds moved on.”

Cara gave a cursory glance and changed subjects. “How are you with your parents?”

Bryant jerked back in surprise. Quickly recovering, he spoke. “Well, this is supposed to be a pleasant afternoon and I wouldn’t want to bring you down.”

Cara stroked the back of his hand. “I want to know.”

He gave a quick summary in emotionless tones. “My father’s dead. My mother’s an alcoholic. I don’t see her anymore, except once a week I’ll help her pick up some groceries. I mainly keep the truck.”

Cara had originally wanted to complain about her parents but knew her jibes were trivial in comparison. Feeling like a heel for drudging up his pain-filled memories, she turned away, looking down the trail. A figure walked toward them smiling as if he recognized them both.

Bryant spotted him and waved. Maybe the visitor would distract her from the subject of his parents. He did not feel comfortable thinking about them when he was alone, much less with a girl he was still trying to win over.

“Hey, Bryant.” A young man facing them greeted. “Hey Cara.” He gave her a brief nod.

“Who is this?” She asked her boyfriend.

“This is Robert. I work with him at Micky D’s.”

Bryant’s coworker chimed in. “I’m on the grill and your boy here is a cashier because he can’t keep up with me.”

Bryant laughed. “I’ve got stamina, part-timer. How many hours do you work?”

Robert chuckled. “Why don’t we just whip our dicks out and see whose is bigger?”

“You started it.” Bryant responded with good humor.

Cara sized Robert up as she spoke. “You seem very colorful.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, unsure of whether or not it was really a compliment.

“What are you doing here?” Bryant innocently asked.

“I was playing a friendly game of football with Rick and some other guys from the team.”

“You practice all week, play Friday nights, and still want to play for fun?”

“Yeah.” Robert responded as if such a question were ludicrous.

Wanting to keep the conversation flowing, Bryant continued. “Do you work tonight?”

He nodded. “I’m going in at three. How about you?”

“No, I’m planning to ask Cara to go with me to a distinctly Southern youth revival tonight.” He gave her a pleading look that begged her to not refuse him.

Cara felt left out of the conversation, not really knowing Robert. She glanced at the stranger and saw him looking back at her expectantly. “Oh my God, this is peer pressure!” Her eyes widened. She had never understood adolescents being pushed into drug use or sex or even smoking, but suddenly she felt the strain that wanting to please someone could put on a person. Thank goodness it was just a trip to a church.

Recovering, she swung her eyes back to Bryant. “I’ll think about it.”

Robert stepped away a few feet. “Well, I need to head out. You kids have fun.” He walked away swinging his arms and humming something indecipherable.

As Cara watched him go, she asked, “Is he your friend?”

Bryant shrugged. “I’ve never hung out with him outside of school or work, but he’s probably the closest thing I’ve got to a friend.”

Cara playfully slapped his arm. “What about me?” She delivered the line jokingly but hid a serious inquiry within. Her pride would be wounded if he did not even consider her a friend yet.

“I thought you were my girlfriend. That’s, like, a completely separate tier. Calling you just a friend would downgrade you.” His eyes did not contain any humor. To him, she had made a serious allegation. When he watched her face for a moment, he broke out into the low-pitched giggles of a guy. “You know you’re special.” He watched her eyes light up. “Come on, let’s see the rest of this place.”

***

David Creed arrived home from work with his lightly colored blazer slung over his shoulder and his briefcase swinging in one hand. As he neared the entrance to his home, his wife swung the door open. His stride slowed, surprised by her. She had been lying in wait like a predator. That only meant one of two things: either she was horny (he doubted that, she hadn’t initiated sex with him in at least a year) or she was pissed at him.