Status: In Progress
Risk
Four.
Ten hours had passed and he still hadn’t woken up. At this point, I was getting really impatient.
With the help of the dolly cart, I’d moved Van Helsing into the mattress store on the second floor. (There was one, and I made a point to pick a mattress out later and drag it down to the basement.) I went around the mall and found disinfectant and gauze in the REI, making a makeshift splint for Van Helsing’s arm by breaking a ski pole. When I took off his boots I saw his right ankle was swollen and purple, and propped it up on a couple throw pillows from the Pottery Barn. Unfortunately I didn’t have any ice, so I had to bear through watching it swell.
I’d done everything in my power; I’d gotten him all set and comfy, fixed the glass and swept the shards, dragged the It down from the roof and burned it along with the It from the bookstore. Now I was picking small pieces of glass out of Van Helsing’s coat with work gloves on my hands.
And he still wasn’t awake.
If there’s one thing I have never liked, it’s waiting. I picked at the gloves and watched Van Helsing’s strong chest rise and fall at a steady rhythm. I’d checked his sides, amazed he hadn’t broken any ribs, but when I checked under this shirt I saw a bulletproof vest about the thickness of a goddamn Christmas ham. Apparently that had been armor enough. Regardless, after taking the vest off, he still had a lot of bruises, adding more to the grand total along his entire body. Not only did he have a gash on his forehead, but a nice shiner and a bruise along his cheekbone.
But even when he was all bruised up on one side I could see the right side of his face. He was handsome, I noticed, in that scruffy kind of way. If I had to compare his appearance to anyone it would probably be… Aragorn. Good looking yet a rogue. Definitely a rogue. He had that roughness about him of someone who had seen the world— maybe too much of it. He had strong and callused hands; white half moon scars on his arms and legs; a thin, taught face; and well muscled.
Oh yeah, he was tough.
I was prying apart a slice of his leather jacket, trying to get a particularly tiny and stubborn shard out. I wondered if Van Helsing would want to leave right away when he woke up… I hoped not. First of all he’d basically become easy prey for Them with that ankle and arm, no way he’d be able to make a running escape on that foot. But even after he healed, would he want to go?
I was fine on my own and I knew it. Hell, I’d been on my own for three years, I knew how to handle myself. But it had been the most lonely three years of my life. The only contact I had with living creatures was animals. Which I shot within seconds of seeing them. The only things to talk to were the occasional Its. Other than that I’d thought I was the last human.
And now there was Van Helsing. Someone to talk to. He may have been a little off his rocker, sure, but he was someone to be around. He’d heal within weeks. After that he might vanish.
I didn’t want to be alone.
My stomach growled loudly. Shit, I hadn’t eaten all day! I’d just been too damn busy. I checked my watch, and— holy shit, it was already six in the evening. I looked at Van Helsing again; of course, he was still out cold. I sighed. I’d go and grab a cold can of beans from the basement and some coffee from the Starbuck’s. These were the kind of fabulous feasts I got to experience every day.
I swung my AK back onto my shoulder (a habit I was very careful to remember now) and headed for the door. I glanced back at Van Helsing, not completely comfortable leaving him alone if any of Them found another way in and attacked him. Looking up I saw the metal gate that used to be pulled down when the mall closed at night. I looked around and saw the hooked pole they used to use to drag it down. I put it to use, hoping to God They were too stupid to realize it wasn’t locked if they came along. I didn’t want Van Helsing hurt. Further.
Armed with two cans of cold refried beans and a travel mug of House Blend, I returned to the mattress store. I had to set my treasures on the floor and use both hands to swing the gate up. I scooted everything in using my foot, and decided to close the gate behind me, locking Van Helsing and myself in, just in case.
Gate shut, I bent down and picked up my food. When I turned my heart lept— Van Helsing was stirring.
He was at that point where it was probably gonna take a little while. I sat back down in my chair, setting my beans on the floor, sipping my coffee and watching him. Waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting.
Finally his eyes fluttered open. He looked exhausted and totally disoriented. I only saw his left eye moving as he scanned the room around him.
“Good morning, starshine.” He jumped and turned his head to look at me. Yeesh, his left side was really fucked up. I grinned. “The earth says hello. And so do I obviously.”
He stared at me blankly.
“Okay. I guess that was too many words for you to take in right away.”
He blinked, then shook his head. “Uh, no, it’s… it’s cool.” He started to sit up on his elbows. I tried to warn him about his arm but it was too late. He let out a yowl of pain and [creatively] swore. “Goddammit, what is this?!”
I sighed. “I was trying to… Oh nevermind. You broke your arm.”
He glared at me. “I can see that. How?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Obviously not.”
“No need for the sass, you know, I totally saved your life.”
He looked like he was about to say something but bit it back last minute. No doubt it was something sassy. “Tell me how you saved my life.”
I took another sip of my coffee and leaned further back in my chair. “Well, for starters, you fell through the ceiling.”
“…Excuse me?”
“You fell through the ceiling. The glass sunroof. Probably thirteen, fifteen feet to the floor. It’s actually sort of impressive that you made it out as pretty as you did.”
Van Helsing gave himself a once over. “This is ‘pretty’?”
“I repeat: ‘as pretty as you did.’ I did not say ‘pretty.’ ” He shrugged, seeing my point. “Anyway: your ribs are bruised, your arm is broken, you have a twisted ankle, a nasty gash on your forehead (which I would have stitched while you were out but that seemed a little invasive so I wanted to ask first), and multiple cuts on your face. I’m betting you have a concussion too.”
“Psh, is that all,” he deadpanned.
I chuckled. “Hungry?” I picked up one of the cans of beans from the floor. When he saw it, Van Helsing’s eyes widened.
“Where did you GET that?”
“I guess that means yes.” I reached into my jeans and pulled out my Swiss Army knife, flipping out the big blade and slamming it into the top of the can. I spun the can around and watched the knife slice through the metal; I left a little piece untouched and flipped the lid up. “Here-- well, now… shit. How are you gonna manage this? I got your arm splinted there.”
Van Helsing looked at his arm, noticing my ski-pole-handiwork. “Hmm. I’ve got an idea: can you use a few pillows to prop my torso up somehow?”
I skittered around and brought back four pillows-- two for his lower back and two for the upper. Then he took the can of beans from me and propped it on his left thigh.
“Don’t suppose you have any utensils, do you?”
“Here.” I quick sliced open my can and then handed him my knife. “Scoop it and eat it off the blade. That’s what I normally do.”
Van Helsing took the knife. “Well what’re you gonna use?”
“My fingers, duh. You’re the guest, so I won’t make you eat like a kindergartener.”
“I cannot express my gratitude.”
“Mi casa es su casa.”
Van Helsing stuck the blade into his food and slowly took a bite. When he tasted it I swore he was having some sort of oral orgasm. Poor guy, I wondered the last time he ate.
I stuck my fingers into my food and got a good bite. “So. Van Helsing, huh?” He grinned and nodded. “How did that come about?”
“Well, you could say I have basically the same job.”
I stared. “Vampire hunting?”
Van Helsing rolled his eyes. “Not Stoker’s Van Helsing. Like, Hugh Jackman’s Van Helsing. Monster hunter in general. Not just vampires.”
“Gotcha.” I took another bite and swallowed. My voice dropped a bit when I said, “So by monsters you mean…”
“Zombies, yeah.” He took another bite of food, completely nonchalant. I, on the other hand, flinched.
I didn’t like the Z word. Hence my use of “Them” and “It.” Zombies weren’t supposed to exist. They were pretend; imaginary and silly and only made for horror movies. That’s what Uncle Henry told me when I went to him after a nightmare from watching Romero’s Dawn of the Dead on TV while Daddy wasn’t looking.
When The Crisis first broke out I used the Z word. But when I lost Daddy and Uncle Hen…
“Something wrong?”
I looked up to see Van Helsing staring at me with concern in his eyes. I cleared my throat.
“Nope, I’m good.” I took a sip of coffee and moved along. “So you hunt Them, huh?”
He looked at me sideways. “ ‘Them’?”
“What?”
“You say it like--” he gestured grandly with his unharmed hand “-- ‘Them’! With a capital T.”
“So?”
Van Helsing rolled his eyes. “You make them sound like fucking royalty. I mean, they’re the other end of the spectrum, sweetheart.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t like the Z word.” I looked down at my beans. “And I’m not your ‘sweetheart.’ ”
“Sorry.” Then he chuckled. “I never thought of ‘zombie’ as a swear word…”
“You just said it again.”
“Force of habit. I’ll stop.”
I nodded curtly.
“So,” I asked, scooping more food with my fingers, “What’s your story, then?”
He shrugged. “Haven’t got one, really. The Crisis broke out. I was stunned like anyone, of course, but I never figured it would make it overseas; that sort of ‘it’ll never happen to me’ mentality. Which everyone had because we Americans were frikking ignorant.”
I gave a snort of laughter. We had all thought that. The Crisis had first begun in Europe. It’s been too long for me to remember where. But Van Helsing was right, America never believed it would make it over here. But there was always that one escapee to Asia, then to America, with just a speck of the virus on their sports coat or they’re skirt that meant the end for the rest of us.
“Anyway, once it broke out I fought like hell to stay alive. At first I hid and tried to avoid it. Then one day I was walking, trying to get as far away from my hometown as possible, when about five of them came out of nowhere. That’s when I realized no one was actually going to fix it. The government was full of shit because, what else would you expect, they never did anything. So I just took it upon myself.” He paused, somber. “I wiped out all five. After, I was shaken. They were once people but I wiped that idea from my mind and kept on keepin’ on. And I went on, still go on, trying to save the world.” He took a bite of food. “I was chasing that zom—sorry, that It across town when she ended up here. I was chasing three of them, actually. They all headed this way.”
I paused from sipping my coffee. “Three?”
“Yep, three.”
“What did they look like?”
“Well, there was Blondie, an ex-Backstreet Boy, and one I called ‘Tycoon.’ Like, old business type.”
“And you chased them all this way.”
He gave me a sideways glance. “Yes? I’ve stated that.”
I put my coffee down slowly, and pinched the bridge of my nose. Okay, so he may be the second-to-last living person on the planet. And his intentions were good. But I’d just seen three of Them in one day. I hadn’t even seen three in the last four months, let alone a day! Then in roles this asshole and I find out it was his doing that my home got raided. It was all I could do not to give him another black eye.
“What?” he asked dumbly.
I sighed, trying to exhale my impatience. “This mall. It’s the only thing for miles. It was built in the middle of a no man’s land to encourage suburban development. If you’re chasing any of Them, they’ll go to the first thing they see that resembles civilization in any way.”
“I know—Oh.”
“Yeah dude. And I live here. I’ve put a lot into this place to keep it safe from those fuckers. And you pushed them this way.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t even know this was here—”
“And in one day three of them manage to break in to escape a hunter.” I put my head in my hands.
There was a moment of silence. Then Van Helsing said, “I’m sorry, Risk. I really didn’t know anyone was here. I knew the mall was so I herded them here but… I had no idea. I thought… I thought I was the only one left. I’m so sorry.”
“This is my home,” I whispered.
“I understand.” He sighed. “Should I go?”
I sighed and sat up. “You wouldn’t get anywhere like that. Except a grave should any of Them have the etiquette to dig one for them,” I grinned.
Van Helsing smiled back. “Thank you. When I’m better, I’ll go. I won’t cause you a greater trouble.”
“Well...” How should I put this? Emotional attachment was bull, but I did have a, shall we say, social attachment to him already. I mean, the last two people on Earth, I obviously wanted to know this guy was okay. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want him to get hurt. “You could, you know, stay. I need an extra hand around here sometimes. Keeping things running. Hunting food and keeping watch and stuff.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You hunt?”
“Yeah, problem?”
“No, I just never pictured a, you know…”
“A girl hunting?”
He gave a guilty half smile.
“It’s cool. But yeah, I do. And there’s a ton to do around here to keep everything going. An extra hand would be helpful. And it’s safe here, there’s food, there’s a place to sleep…”
I saw his face fade. “I’m sorry, Risk. I couldn’t stay.”
“Seriously, it won’t be any trouble—” I saw the look in his eyes and gave up. “Yeah. Okay.”
“I mean, all I’ve got to live for is to keep after these things.”
“I get it. It’s cool.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You gotta do what you gotta do.” I gave a quick smile. “In the meantime, though, you kinda have to stay. Till you get better.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
We continued eating for a moment until Van Helsing said, “So what’s your story?”
I paused. As much as he already meant to me, being my only friend, I wasn’t ready to let that information leave my thoughts. I remembered Momma and Daddy and Hen every day, so I wouldn’t forget their faces. But I didn’t talk about them. The less I let them leave my mind the less I cried.
“I haven’t got one,” I said darkly.
“Pff, everyone has one.”
“Not me. Not right now.”
Van Helsing looked at me out of the corner of his eye, and he understood. “Okay. Some other time, then.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Van Helsing cleared his throat. “Well, sorry for taking over your bed.”
“You didn’t. I sleep in the basement. This just seemed like the most comfortable place for you.”
“Wouldn’t it be the most comfortable place for you, too?”
“Yeah, I guess, but I live here alone. I’m not exactly protected if I’m up here by myself. And I never found a chance to sleep on an actual mattress. I never thought it was a good idea to sleep comfortably or I wouldn’t wake up fast enough to protect myself.”
“…That logic is so ass-backwards, you know that, right?” He rolled his eyes. “You’re muscles and skeletal system are going to be so fucked up by the time you fight one of them that you’ll lose.”
I stared at him. “I beat one of them to oblivion today with a hammer and my bare hands. Do you think a neck ache hindered me?”
He seemed impressed. “Still. I’m here now. Sleep up here tonight, have a real rest. I’ll stay awake for a while and watch, if that would make you feel safer.”
I considered this. “This gate doesn’t lock, you know.”
“Does the basement lock?”
“Yeah, there’s a padlock on the door.”
“Then why not bring that padlock up here to lock the gate?” he patronized.
Embarrassed, I agreed. “Only to keep an eye on you,” I lied. In actuality I did want a good night’s sleep for once. As good as I could get.
I brought up the padlock and locked Van Helsing and myself inside the mattress store. It was only a little after seven in the evening, but after today I was already beat. I started to set myself up on a small single mattress on the opposite wall from Van Helsing when he said, “And what are you doing, exactly?”
“Setting up a bed?” I wondered if he really was off his rocker.
“In my condition, if one of Them found It’s way in here, do you really think I’d be able to aim a pistol over there and shoot It without shooting you?”
I shrugged. “Aim right?”
He looked at me with disbelief. “That’s a single. I’m on a king. Only half of it, might I add.”
Don’t you fucking dare ask me to sleep on your other side you filthy rat bas—
“Just sleep on my other side.”
“Uhm, I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“If I had to shoot at something I’d rather you be here than me accidently hit you over there.” He looked at me carefully. “I’m not thinking what you think I’m thinking. I promise. I wouldn’t do that. Not when this world’s as mad as it is.”
I nodded brusquely. “Okay.” I grabbed my pillow and lay it down on the other side of Van Helsing, then lay down myself and curl up to sleep.
“Risk?”
“Hmm?” My eyes were already fluttering closed.
“How old are you?”
“I think… I think I’m sixteen. I’ve lost track of the exact date recently.”
“I haven’t. It’s June 11th, 2017 today.”
My eyes opened again and I looked at him. “Really?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“Well then, I’m seventeen. As of 9:37 today.” I rolled over and closed my eyes again.
The last thing I heard was Van Helsing say, “Happy birthday, Risk…”
With the help of the dolly cart, I’d moved Van Helsing into the mattress store on the second floor. (There was one, and I made a point to pick a mattress out later and drag it down to the basement.) I went around the mall and found disinfectant and gauze in the REI, making a makeshift splint for Van Helsing’s arm by breaking a ski pole. When I took off his boots I saw his right ankle was swollen and purple, and propped it up on a couple throw pillows from the Pottery Barn. Unfortunately I didn’t have any ice, so I had to bear through watching it swell.
I’d done everything in my power; I’d gotten him all set and comfy, fixed the glass and swept the shards, dragged the It down from the roof and burned it along with the It from the bookstore. Now I was picking small pieces of glass out of Van Helsing’s coat with work gloves on my hands.
And he still wasn’t awake.
If there’s one thing I have never liked, it’s waiting. I picked at the gloves and watched Van Helsing’s strong chest rise and fall at a steady rhythm. I’d checked his sides, amazed he hadn’t broken any ribs, but when I checked under this shirt I saw a bulletproof vest about the thickness of a goddamn Christmas ham. Apparently that had been armor enough. Regardless, after taking the vest off, he still had a lot of bruises, adding more to the grand total along his entire body. Not only did he have a gash on his forehead, but a nice shiner and a bruise along his cheekbone.
But even when he was all bruised up on one side I could see the right side of his face. He was handsome, I noticed, in that scruffy kind of way. If I had to compare his appearance to anyone it would probably be… Aragorn. Good looking yet a rogue. Definitely a rogue. He had that roughness about him of someone who had seen the world— maybe too much of it. He had strong and callused hands; white half moon scars on his arms and legs; a thin, taught face; and well muscled.
Oh yeah, he was tough.
I was prying apart a slice of his leather jacket, trying to get a particularly tiny and stubborn shard out. I wondered if Van Helsing would want to leave right away when he woke up… I hoped not. First of all he’d basically become easy prey for Them with that ankle and arm, no way he’d be able to make a running escape on that foot. But even after he healed, would he want to go?
I was fine on my own and I knew it. Hell, I’d been on my own for three years, I knew how to handle myself. But it had been the most lonely three years of my life. The only contact I had with living creatures was animals. Which I shot within seconds of seeing them. The only things to talk to were the occasional Its. Other than that I’d thought I was the last human.
And now there was Van Helsing. Someone to talk to. He may have been a little off his rocker, sure, but he was someone to be around. He’d heal within weeks. After that he might vanish.
I didn’t want to be alone.
My stomach growled loudly. Shit, I hadn’t eaten all day! I’d just been too damn busy. I checked my watch, and— holy shit, it was already six in the evening. I looked at Van Helsing again; of course, he was still out cold. I sighed. I’d go and grab a cold can of beans from the basement and some coffee from the Starbuck’s. These were the kind of fabulous feasts I got to experience every day.
I swung my AK back onto my shoulder (a habit I was very careful to remember now) and headed for the door. I glanced back at Van Helsing, not completely comfortable leaving him alone if any of Them found another way in and attacked him. Looking up I saw the metal gate that used to be pulled down when the mall closed at night. I looked around and saw the hooked pole they used to use to drag it down. I put it to use, hoping to God They were too stupid to realize it wasn’t locked if they came along. I didn’t want Van Helsing hurt. Further.
Armed with two cans of cold refried beans and a travel mug of House Blend, I returned to the mattress store. I had to set my treasures on the floor and use both hands to swing the gate up. I scooted everything in using my foot, and decided to close the gate behind me, locking Van Helsing and myself in, just in case.
Gate shut, I bent down and picked up my food. When I turned my heart lept— Van Helsing was stirring.
He was at that point where it was probably gonna take a little while. I sat back down in my chair, setting my beans on the floor, sipping my coffee and watching him. Waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting.
Finally his eyes fluttered open. He looked exhausted and totally disoriented. I only saw his left eye moving as he scanned the room around him.
“Good morning, starshine.” He jumped and turned his head to look at me. Yeesh, his left side was really fucked up. I grinned. “The earth says hello. And so do I obviously.”
He stared at me blankly.
“Okay. I guess that was too many words for you to take in right away.”
He blinked, then shook his head. “Uh, no, it’s… it’s cool.” He started to sit up on his elbows. I tried to warn him about his arm but it was too late. He let out a yowl of pain and [creatively] swore. “Goddammit, what is this?!”
I sighed. “I was trying to… Oh nevermind. You broke your arm.”
He glared at me. “I can see that. How?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Obviously not.”
“No need for the sass, you know, I totally saved your life.”
He looked like he was about to say something but bit it back last minute. No doubt it was something sassy. “Tell me how you saved my life.”
I took another sip of my coffee and leaned further back in my chair. “Well, for starters, you fell through the ceiling.”
“…Excuse me?”
“You fell through the ceiling. The glass sunroof. Probably thirteen, fifteen feet to the floor. It’s actually sort of impressive that you made it out as pretty as you did.”
Van Helsing gave himself a once over. “This is ‘pretty’?”
“I repeat: ‘as pretty as you did.’ I did not say ‘pretty.’ ” He shrugged, seeing my point. “Anyway: your ribs are bruised, your arm is broken, you have a twisted ankle, a nasty gash on your forehead (which I would have stitched while you were out but that seemed a little invasive so I wanted to ask first), and multiple cuts on your face. I’m betting you have a concussion too.”
“Psh, is that all,” he deadpanned.
I chuckled. “Hungry?” I picked up one of the cans of beans from the floor. When he saw it, Van Helsing’s eyes widened.
“Where did you GET that?”
“I guess that means yes.” I reached into my jeans and pulled out my Swiss Army knife, flipping out the big blade and slamming it into the top of the can. I spun the can around and watched the knife slice through the metal; I left a little piece untouched and flipped the lid up. “Here-- well, now… shit. How are you gonna manage this? I got your arm splinted there.”
Van Helsing looked at his arm, noticing my ski-pole-handiwork. “Hmm. I’ve got an idea: can you use a few pillows to prop my torso up somehow?”
I skittered around and brought back four pillows-- two for his lower back and two for the upper. Then he took the can of beans from me and propped it on his left thigh.
“Don’t suppose you have any utensils, do you?”
“Here.” I quick sliced open my can and then handed him my knife. “Scoop it and eat it off the blade. That’s what I normally do.”
Van Helsing took the knife. “Well what’re you gonna use?”
“My fingers, duh. You’re the guest, so I won’t make you eat like a kindergartener.”
“I cannot express my gratitude.”
“Mi casa es su casa.”
Van Helsing stuck the blade into his food and slowly took a bite. When he tasted it I swore he was having some sort of oral orgasm. Poor guy, I wondered the last time he ate.
I stuck my fingers into my food and got a good bite. “So. Van Helsing, huh?” He grinned and nodded. “How did that come about?”
“Well, you could say I have basically the same job.”
I stared. “Vampire hunting?”
Van Helsing rolled his eyes. “Not Stoker’s Van Helsing. Like, Hugh Jackman’s Van Helsing. Monster hunter in general. Not just vampires.”
“Gotcha.” I took another bite and swallowed. My voice dropped a bit when I said, “So by monsters you mean…”
“Zombies, yeah.” He took another bite of food, completely nonchalant. I, on the other hand, flinched.
I didn’t like the Z word. Hence my use of “Them” and “It.” Zombies weren’t supposed to exist. They were pretend; imaginary and silly and only made for horror movies. That’s what Uncle Henry told me when I went to him after a nightmare from watching Romero’s Dawn of the Dead on TV while Daddy wasn’t looking.
When The Crisis first broke out I used the Z word. But when I lost Daddy and Uncle Hen…
“Something wrong?”
I looked up to see Van Helsing staring at me with concern in his eyes. I cleared my throat.
“Nope, I’m good.” I took a sip of coffee and moved along. “So you hunt Them, huh?”
He looked at me sideways. “ ‘Them’?”
“What?”
“You say it like--” he gestured grandly with his unharmed hand “-- ‘Them’! With a capital T.”
“So?”
Van Helsing rolled his eyes. “You make them sound like fucking royalty. I mean, they’re the other end of the spectrum, sweetheart.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t like the Z word.” I looked down at my beans. “And I’m not your ‘sweetheart.’ ”
“Sorry.” Then he chuckled. “I never thought of ‘zombie’ as a swear word…”
“You just said it again.”
“Force of habit. I’ll stop.”
I nodded curtly.
“So,” I asked, scooping more food with my fingers, “What’s your story, then?”
He shrugged. “Haven’t got one, really. The Crisis broke out. I was stunned like anyone, of course, but I never figured it would make it overseas; that sort of ‘it’ll never happen to me’ mentality. Which everyone had because we Americans were frikking ignorant.”
I gave a snort of laughter. We had all thought that. The Crisis had first begun in Europe. It’s been too long for me to remember where. But Van Helsing was right, America never believed it would make it over here. But there was always that one escapee to Asia, then to America, with just a speck of the virus on their sports coat or they’re skirt that meant the end for the rest of us.
“Anyway, once it broke out I fought like hell to stay alive. At first I hid and tried to avoid it. Then one day I was walking, trying to get as far away from my hometown as possible, when about five of them came out of nowhere. That’s when I realized no one was actually going to fix it. The government was full of shit because, what else would you expect, they never did anything. So I just took it upon myself.” He paused, somber. “I wiped out all five. After, I was shaken. They were once people but I wiped that idea from my mind and kept on keepin’ on. And I went on, still go on, trying to save the world.” He took a bite of food. “I was chasing that zom—sorry, that It across town when she ended up here. I was chasing three of them, actually. They all headed this way.”
I paused from sipping my coffee. “Three?”
“Yep, three.”
“What did they look like?”
“Well, there was Blondie, an ex-Backstreet Boy, and one I called ‘Tycoon.’ Like, old business type.”
“And you chased them all this way.”
He gave me a sideways glance. “Yes? I’ve stated that.”
I put my coffee down slowly, and pinched the bridge of my nose. Okay, so he may be the second-to-last living person on the planet. And his intentions were good. But I’d just seen three of Them in one day. I hadn’t even seen three in the last four months, let alone a day! Then in roles this asshole and I find out it was his doing that my home got raided. It was all I could do not to give him another black eye.
“What?” he asked dumbly.
I sighed, trying to exhale my impatience. “This mall. It’s the only thing for miles. It was built in the middle of a no man’s land to encourage suburban development. If you’re chasing any of Them, they’ll go to the first thing they see that resembles civilization in any way.”
“I know—Oh.”
“Yeah dude. And I live here. I’ve put a lot into this place to keep it safe from those fuckers. And you pushed them this way.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t even know this was here—”
“And in one day three of them manage to break in to escape a hunter.” I put my head in my hands.
There was a moment of silence. Then Van Helsing said, “I’m sorry, Risk. I really didn’t know anyone was here. I knew the mall was so I herded them here but… I had no idea. I thought… I thought I was the only one left. I’m so sorry.”
“This is my home,” I whispered.
“I understand.” He sighed. “Should I go?”
I sighed and sat up. “You wouldn’t get anywhere like that. Except a grave should any of Them have the etiquette to dig one for them,” I grinned.
Van Helsing smiled back. “Thank you. When I’m better, I’ll go. I won’t cause you a greater trouble.”
“Well...” How should I put this? Emotional attachment was bull, but I did have a, shall we say, social attachment to him already. I mean, the last two people on Earth, I obviously wanted to know this guy was okay. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want him to get hurt. “You could, you know, stay. I need an extra hand around here sometimes. Keeping things running. Hunting food and keeping watch and stuff.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You hunt?”
“Yeah, problem?”
“No, I just never pictured a, you know…”
“A girl hunting?”
He gave a guilty half smile.
“It’s cool. But yeah, I do. And there’s a ton to do around here to keep everything going. An extra hand would be helpful. And it’s safe here, there’s food, there’s a place to sleep…”
I saw his face fade. “I’m sorry, Risk. I couldn’t stay.”
“Seriously, it won’t be any trouble—” I saw the look in his eyes and gave up. “Yeah. Okay.”
“I mean, all I’ve got to live for is to keep after these things.”
“I get it. It’s cool.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You gotta do what you gotta do.” I gave a quick smile. “In the meantime, though, you kinda have to stay. Till you get better.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
We continued eating for a moment until Van Helsing said, “So what’s your story?”
I paused. As much as he already meant to me, being my only friend, I wasn’t ready to let that information leave my thoughts. I remembered Momma and Daddy and Hen every day, so I wouldn’t forget their faces. But I didn’t talk about them. The less I let them leave my mind the less I cried.
“I haven’t got one,” I said darkly.
“Pff, everyone has one.”
“Not me. Not right now.”
Van Helsing looked at me out of the corner of his eye, and he understood. “Okay. Some other time, then.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Van Helsing cleared his throat. “Well, sorry for taking over your bed.”
“You didn’t. I sleep in the basement. This just seemed like the most comfortable place for you.”
“Wouldn’t it be the most comfortable place for you, too?”
“Yeah, I guess, but I live here alone. I’m not exactly protected if I’m up here by myself. And I never found a chance to sleep on an actual mattress. I never thought it was a good idea to sleep comfortably or I wouldn’t wake up fast enough to protect myself.”
“…That logic is so ass-backwards, you know that, right?” He rolled his eyes. “You’re muscles and skeletal system are going to be so fucked up by the time you fight one of them that you’ll lose.”
I stared at him. “I beat one of them to oblivion today with a hammer and my bare hands. Do you think a neck ache hindered me?”
He seemed impressed. “Still. I’m here now. Sleep up here tonight, have a real rest. I’ll stay awake for a while and watch, if that would make you feel safer.”
I considered this. “This gate doesn’t lock, you know.”
“Does the basement lock?”
“Yeah, there’s a padlock on the door.”
“Then why not bring that padlock up here to lock the gate?” he patronized.
Embarrassed, I agreed. “Only to keep an eye on you,” I lied. In actuality I did want a good night’s sleep for once. As good as I could get.
I brought up the padlock and locked Van Helsing and myself inside the mattress store. It was only a little after seven in the evening, but after today I was already beat. I started to set myself up on a small single mattress on the opposite wall from Van Helsing when he said, “And what are you doing, exactly?”
“Setting up a bed?” I wondered if he really was off his rocker.
“In my condition, if one of Them found It’s way in here, do you really think I’d be able to aim a pistol over there and shoot It without shooting you?”
I shrugged. “Aim right?”
He looked at me with disbelief. “That’s a single. I’m on a king. Only half of it, might I add.”
Don’t you fucking dare ask me to sleep on your other side you filthy rat bas—
“Just sleep on my other side.”
“Uhm, I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“If I had to shoot at something I’d rather you be here than me accidently hit you over there.” He looked at me carefully. “I’m not thinking what you think I’m thinking. I promise. I wouldn’t do that. Not when this world’s as mad as it is.”
I nodded brusquely. “Okay.” I grabbed my pillow and lay it down on the other side of Van Helsing, then lay down myself and curl up to sleep.
“Risk?”
“Hmm?” My eyes were already fluttering closed.
“How old are you?”
“I think… I think I’m sixteen. I’ve lost track of the exact date recently.”
“I haven’t. It’s June 11th, 2017 today.”
My eyes opened again and I looked at him. “Really?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“Well then, I’m seventeen. As of 9:37 today.” I rolled over and closed my eyes again.
The last thing I heard was Van Helsing say, “Happy birthday, Risk…”