Patrick D'Orazio - Into the Dark

The itchy beard and hair still annoyed him, but at least the dark circles under his eyes had retreated a bit over the past couple of days. He had a farmer’s tan-all the skin besides his burnt arms and neck remained bleach-white. Stepping back, Jeff examined his physique. The gut that been sneakily getting bigger over the past few years had shrunk significantly and was barely visible anymore. He was surprised to see that there was even a bit more tone to his arms and legs.

“You may look like a serial killer, but at least you’re a sexy one,” Jeff smirked as he flexed.

He grabbed the toothbrush he had been allocated from the supplies and brushed his teeth. Pooling some of the water in his hands, he rinsed and spit.

Moving toward the bedroom, he sifted through the pile of clothes they had dumped on the floor the night before and picked out a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He knew it was going to be hot again today, but the less exposed skin, the better.

He saw George shift in his chair, the pillow falling away from his face.

“You going to get up?”

George slowly turned toward him. He stared at Jeff like he barely recognized the man.

“Maybe we can get some breakfast. I think it’ll be a little while before we go into town.”

George did not respond immediately. He simply continued to stare sullenly at Jeff.

“Not hungry,” he said before twisting around on his makeshift bed and moving his face into the pillow once again.

“Look, George, I’m sure we can figure out some way to get you out of here. It just might take a few days… ”

George raised his arm and waved the discussion off.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. Just go have your breakfast. I’ll be fine; I just want to sleep a little longer.”

Jeff opened his mouth to say something else but knew it would be pointless. He sighed in frustration and turned to head out.

When George heard the door closing, he tossed the pillow off his face and stared at the ceiling of the RV. The resignation that had been in his eyes ever since Jeff’s unsuccessful meeting with Michael had changed, replaced by a look of determination he kept hidden from the others. He knew it would be best if everyone thought he had given up and would play ball with Michael and his ridiculous demand that George stay in the camp.

A thin-lipped smile appeared on his face. He would only have to play gloomy and sullen for a little while longer. Soon they would be heading out to Manchester on Michael’s supply-gathering expedition and then things would change. There was no telling what might happen once they were outside the camp. George’s smile expanded as he thought more about it.

“Yep, things could get crazy out there.”

Jeff stepped outside and shaded his eyes. Even in the morning, the air was already sticky with humidity. It was going to be a nasty, uncomfortable day. He looked around the courtyard and spotted a large pot boiling over a metal grill. Lydia and Megan were sitting next to it, giggling like schoolgirls. He saw Ray, Teddy, and Jason playing cards at one of the tables while Ben whittled on a tree branch in front of his trailer. Jeff moved over to the women.

“So what’s for breakfast, ladies?” He rubbed his hands together and plopped down beside Megan. They gave him a brief glance and looked at each other, then began giggling again.

“What?”

Jeff waited as they fought to compose themselves. Both kept sneaking glances at him between snickers, Lydia in particular. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, though he had no idea why he should feel embarrassed.

Megan waved her hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. Just girl talk.”

Jeff rolled his eyes, knowing it would be pointless to press. “Okay, fine. But what have you got going in the pot?”

Lydia looked at him, still grinning. “Just boiling some water. You missed breakfast.”

Her smile widened when she saw his crestfallen look.

“Don’t worry; you can have a Pop-Tart. The stuff you brought us was a real godsend. You only missed me heating up some of the meat we had left over from last night.”

Jeff grabbed one of the silvery packets nearby and ripped it open, gulping down the dry pastry. He accepted a bottle of water from Megan and made quick work of the skimpy meal.

The women’s conversation had died out, and he was beginning to feel awkward in front of them. They had stopped laughing, but shared knowing grins with each other as they watched him eat.

“Okay, so what’s the boiling water for? If it’s not for breakfast…?”

Lydia stood up and gave Jeff a mysterious smile.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

Lydia held a small mirror in front of his face, and for the second time within an hour, Jeff stared at his reflection. He touched his hairless jaw, and it felt strange. It had a slight numbness to it after such a long time of being covered with the scraggly beard, as if a bandage or a layer of thick leather had been removed. The skin was slightly paler than that of the cheeks above the razor line. He took the mirror from Lydia and admired the haircut as well. The pile of hair covering the floor was immense. He was beginning to recognize himself again.

“So did I do okay?”

Jeff continued to admire her handiwork.

“I would show you the back, but I don’t have another mirror.”

“No problem.” He looked up at Lydia and smiled. “You did great.”

Lydia beamed at Jeff. “I’m so glad you let me do it. Megan said she was tired of hanging out with a hobo.” His grin broadened, and she laughed. It was not long before he joined her.

“So that was what you two were laughing at, huh?”

Lydia nodded slyly. She had taken a coffee cup of scalding-hot water from the boiling pot and surprised Jeff when she brought out some of the shaving cream he had gotten at the drug store along with a straight razor, a plastic bag of scissors and other grooming implements she already had. The cloth she had doused in the hot water had done the trick, and his beard felt like it was sliding off his face when she took the razor to it.

“I tried to get some of the others to let me do this to them, but only Michael and Ben seemed interested. Ben kept his beard, but he lets me trim it. Frank and Marcus apparently like looking like chimps.” Lydia swatted the excess hair off of Jeff’s shoulders as she spoke.

“Michael looks like the type who would want to keep well groomed.”

The hand on Jeff’s shoulder paused. After a few silent moments, Lydia continued brushing off the trimmings. When she was done, she sat down at the table with a determined look on her face.

“You and Megan don’t trust Michael, do you?”

The question caught Jeff off guard, but he hid his surprise well as he continued to admire Lydia’s handiwork in the mirror. After a few moments, he looked at her and carefully set the small mirror on the table.

“What makes you say that?”

Lydia gave him a world-weary smile, and there was an intelligent gleam in her eyes.

Jeff shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he continued to stare at her. Lydia was plain. Not unattractive, just simple, clean, and careworn. He guessed she was in her early sixties. Unlike many women her age, she kept her hair long and didn’t bother to dye the gray out of it. Even with it falling past her shoulders, it was well maintained. She was solidly built and sturdy looking. He guessed that she had probably never been much of a looker, but she had a gentle aura that made her look like she would make an excellent companion in life. There was a crinkling of age lines around her eyes-and the eyes themselves held sadness, but also a great deal of wisdom.