Love Charms (30 page)

"It's
alright," I say to him in passing.

"What?"
he asks, his voice sounding like gravel being crushed in a meat grinder.

"It's
alright."

"Why--"
he says.  I know he wants to say more, but the words choke him up and he coughs
loudly, clearing his throat and wheezing.  "Why do you say that?" he
asks.  "Nothing is alright."

I
nod and listen to him.  I used to agree with him.  "We need to be
patient," I say.  Then, quietly, I add, "We're sick, I think.  I
don't know for sure, but I think a doctor is trying to help us.  I have an
appointment with one in a week and I need to go tell my manager because I think
he'll forget, but I'm late for work because I've misplaced my car."

The
man stares at me, listless, still laying down.  "Go away."

I
nod and start to leave.  He's upset.  I can understand, too.  Everyone has bad
days.  I don't feel so good today, either, but I have a date tonight.  With
Evan.  Does Evan have a car?  Maybe he can bring me to my doctor's appointment
next week.  I should ask him, but is it too soon?  This is only our first real
date.

I
stumble through the streets, forgetting everything and wondering why I'm here. 
I have a date tonight, but why am I here now?  I think it must be a holiday and
I don't have work because a lot of stores look closed.

The
grocery store must be open, though, right?  I'll grab a few things in case Evan
wants to come back to my apartment tonight.  A nice bottle of wine and...

I
think I'm blushing, but my cheeks still feel cold.  It's the wind, I bet.  A
chill wind cooling my burning red cheeks.

Should
I?  Should I get condoms at the store?  Is that too forward?  It's only our
first date, afterall.  Evan is really nice, though, and attractive.  I vaguely
imagine I've seen him with his shirt off and enjoyed the view.

* * *

He
shouldn't have asked Sadie on a date so soon.  He didn't even know if he could
get out of camp any time in the near future.  What was he supposed to do, skip
out and leave everyone again?  Honestly, Evan wanted to do exactly that, just
pack his things and go, but he knew he couldn't.  First off, they needed him,
and second, he was worried that if he left he wouldn't have a place to come
back to.

If
he just randomly left, abandoned camp, would Alex care?  Of course he would. 
The ex-military man might let him back easily enough, but at what cost?  Evan
didn't know, nor did he want to find out.  No one willingly left here, anyways;
it seemed safe enough and people liked safety.  Alex made it quite evident that
he didn't allow dissent or naysaying, too.  If anyone left, that was it.

He'd
need to come up with some excuse to leave.  Maybe hunting again?  Maybe he
could say he wanted to go find that hunter's shack and see how the hunting was
there?  It made sense, right?  Except the shack was something he'd made up and
if he went and returned with no meat again, that was probably the last of it.

Evan
thought about this while tossing some stuff into his duffel bag, thought about
ways to leave without causing alarm.  Maybe a fishing trip or maybe some alone
time or maybe he could offer to scout around.  Something, anything.

Someone
unzipped the flaps to his tent and stepped inside, zipping them back down
behind them.  Evan stared at his duffel bag, oblivious, until the woman came up
behind him and touched his shoulder.  He jumped, jolted, and spun around. 
Surprised, the woman fell back and Evan fell with her.  She landed on his
makeshift mattress on his cot and he landed atop her, face stuffed in her
breasts.

"Well,
hello there," she said, a seductive purr.  "Nice to see you, too,
Evan."

Evan
lifted himself off of her and sighed.  "What do you want, Desiree?"

"You,
of course."

No
beating around the bush with this one, was there?  "I'm kind of busy at
the moment," he said.  "Do you mind?"

"Yes,
actually, I do.  Take a break, Evan."

He
tried to go back to looking through his things, packing his bag, sorting
stuff.  Not to go anywhere in particular, but just in case.  He didn't want to
seem too conspicuous, but if he planned on asking to go hunting again, he'd
need supplies, right?

None
of that worked, though.  Desiree crawled towards him and pressed against his
back, wrapping her hands around his waist.  Squeezing him tight, she pulled him
back onto the cot.  Evan didn't want to hurt her, didn't want to fight against
her, so he fell.  She took that opportunity to straddle his hips.  Hands placed
on his chest, holding him down, she gazed hard at him.

"I
won't tell," she said.  "I'll be quiet, too.  How about it?  Just a
quickie, Evan.  If you don't want anything
penetrative
--"  She said
the word with a hard, harsh tone.  "--I'd be happy to wrap my lips around
your stiff problem."

He
didn't want that, but no matter what he wanted his body was reacting to her. 
Her back, arched, pushing out her breasts, giving him a show, hips gyrating and
her body grinding against his crotch.  Evan's cock twitched, trapped in his
pants, and he winced.  She started unbuttoning and unzipping his pants,
revealing his boxers.  Her hand slipped inside, touched his shaft, and her
fingers wrapped around it, intent on pulling it out.

Evan
struggled against her, but she didn't seem willing to stop any time soon.  He
didn't want to do this, felt a little bad about it, but what choice did he
have?  He grabbed her around the hips and tossed her off of him, then fixed his
underwear and zipped up his pants.

"Desiree,"
he said.  "No."

"You
want to," she said.  "I know you do, Evan.  You'll give in some day. 
You have to."

It
was some ridiculous idea everyone had, though he knew it had merit.  No one
really talked about it much, but they all understood it.  If this was it, if
they were the last vestiges of human civilization, then sometime, some day,
they'd need to rebuild.  Rebuilding involved a little more than just returning
to homes or finding a new place to stay, though.  Rebuilding meant regrowing
the population, too.  Sex, pregnancy, having children.

It
made sense in a way, but Evan thought the idea had a major flaw.  They weren't
the last vestiges of civilization, they were merely a piece of it that had
escaped disaster.  They could fix things, though.  Hope wasn't lost, not by a
long shot.  They could cure people, revitalize them, rebuild society together,
with everyone.  The sick people in the city were survivors, too, whether anyone
wanted to realize it or not.

"What
are you doing?" Desiree asked.  "Planning a trip?"

"I
was thinking of scouting around," he said.  "Kind of a vacation, you
know?  Do some hunting while I'm at it.  See about bringing in some fresh
food.  Lots of it."

"You
just got back and you want to leave again?  Alex won't like that."

"Yeah. 
I know."

"I
won't like it, either, Evan.  I... I know you think I'm being too aggressive,
but nothing else has worked.  How can I convince you here?  It's practically
the end of the world and you have a beautiful woman throwing herself at you,
but you're ignoring me."

"I
liked it before," he said.  "I liked it when you didn't do any of
that and we just talked.  I really liked that, Desiree."

She
sighed.  "I liked it, too, but it didn't get me anywhere."  With a
laugh, she added, "It's always the other way around, you know?  The guy
likes the girl, but she just wants to be friends.  You're doing that to
me."

"What's
wrong with being friends?"

"Nothing. 
Or there wasn't anything.  You're the only one in this entire camp that I'm
interested in, though.  It's not like I have a lot of other options, you know? 
I can't head to the bar or go on some dating website to find a new guy.  This
is it.  This is everyone."

Evan
turned to look at her.  "There's more people, I swear it.  There will be
more.  I don't know when or how, but everything's going to be alright.  I
promise you that.  You'll find a guy who's ten times better than me and then
you'll forget I even exist."

Desiree
favored him with a silly smile.  "You're such an idiot," she said,
playful.  "My God.  I'd never find a guy who's ten times better than you,
either.  Maybe two times. 
Maybe
."

"Yeah." 
He grinned.  "I'm pretty awesome."

"Can
I get a hug at least?  I'll stop, alright?  I want to hang out with you like we
used to, though.  Just think about it, please.  I like your ideas, Evan.  I
love them.  I think your dreams are great.  But what if they don't happen?  I'm
not the worst you could do, right?  I think I'm a good person."

"Desiree..."

"Just
come here and hug me and don't answer that.  Whatever you say, good or bad,
it's only going to make this worse.  I'll get my hopes up or hate you, but I
can't hate you.  You're a nice guy, Evan.  I didn't ask for any of this,
either, but this is what we've got, so we've got to make the best of it,
right?"

He
crawled towards her, unable to fully stand in his relatively small tent. 
Embracing her in his arms, he squeezed her tight while she did the same to
him.  Laying her head on his shoulder, she kissed the side of his neck.

"If
you ever need anything, just ask, alright?" she said.

He
mussed up her hair.  "Alright."

* * *

I
walk through the grocery store pushing a cart in front of me.  I don't know why
I have a cart except that it's a nice thing to lean against as I walk.

The
entire store is abandoned, both by people and by food.  The produce section is
a rotten, reeking jungle of fruits and vegetables, so I stay away from there. 
The check-out lines are quiet, as if I'm the last customer in the store before
it closes.  This might make sense except it's just about noontime.

I
know that there's nothing here.  Or, there are some things here, but for the
most part the shelves are vacant.  Someone's grabbed all of the cereal from the
breakfast aisle.  The oatmeal has vanished, too.  I think maybe I can find some
Cream of Wheat or grits, but I don't.  As I go to walk away, pushing my cart, I
accidentally kick something that's on the floor.

It's
a package.  A package of oatmeal; cinnamon raisin.  I hate raisins with a
passion but I grab the packet anyways and slip it into my cart.  I might as
well because if this is the only option I have, then what else can I do?  I
don't need to eat it, but I'll take it just in case.  Maybe Evan likes this
flavor.

The
store is dead, discarded, ransacked and rummaged through.  It's depressing in a
way, but I also find it enlightening.  It helps me remember.  Outside is
different and difficult.  With the sun beating down, the others walking through
the streets or sitting around, cars to the sides, I can almost imagine that
nothing's wrong.

I'm
cold, yes, but I've been cold before.  This is very cold, true, but for some
reason that never helps me remember what happened.  In here, seeing everything
in a mess, I can remember what a mess everything's become.  Not just the store
but the city and me.  I'm a bit of a mess, too.  I laugh because it's funny to
me and no one's here to say I shouldn't.

Interestingly
enough, the wine aisle is still well-stocked.  I imagine wine isn't a very high
priority when you're living at the end of the world.  Evan would dislike it if
I said things like that, I bet, but Evan isn't here and I don't mean anything
bad by it.  I scan through the aisles, looking for something I'd like.

Hogue
late harvest Riesling.  I carefully wrap my fingers around the neck of the
bottle and squeeze.  I watch myself, making sure I'm not going to drop the
glass, then I pick it up and put it in the cart next to the packet of oatmeal. 
Honestly, what am I doing with a cart?  I know it's a little dumb, but I've
grown attached to it since I took it.  It's been all of five minutes and this
cart is important to me now.

Nearby
the Riesling shelves is a display stand.  Somehow it's managed to stay upright,
probably because no one seems to like the wine aisle now.  I like the wine
aisle, though, and I like this display stand, too.  There's mead in it, which,
according to the sign, is similar to wine.

Moonlight
Meadery, the sign tells me.  Romance by the glass.  The catchphrase has a
trademark symbol and everything.

I
like that.  It sounds nice.  The bottles are smaller than regular wine bottles,
but it looks like there's enough for a few glasses of wine.  Or, no, mead.  I
take one named Fling and another called Red Dress.  They sound fancy and
interesting.  The mead goes into my cart next to the oatmeal packet, on the
other side as the Riesling.

I
don't know what the next few aisles are.  The signs have fallen down and
cracked into pieces, or else they're missing entirely.  I don't know why anyone
would want a sign, but then again I don't know why I'm pushing a cart in a
disconsolate grocery store, either, so I suppose it takes all kinds.  The next
aisle I come to has a sign, though.  And items.