Tim Washburn - The Day After Oblivion

“Four eyes are better than two,” Zane whispers.

“You could watch that house with one eye and not miss a thing. I need to stretch out for a few minutes. My back is killing me.”

Zane scowls, but doesn’t argue. He moves deeper into the trees, trying to work his way a little closer. He finds a tree stump and sits. His stomach is growling loud enough to be heard if anyone was around to hear it. He tries to push the hunger from his mind and his thoughts drift to his traveling companion. Tall and thin to begin with, Alyx now more closely resembles a scarecrow. The veins and tendons are visible on her arms and neck, and her collarbones stand in stark relief to her muscled shoulders. Even with that, she’s still attractive as hell, as far as Zane is concerned. They’ve gotten along well but there are no hints of a budding romance, at least on Alyx’s part, or so Zane thinks. He’s not exactly an expert on women, having been single for a number of years.

In his peripheral vision he catches slight movement from the curtain on the far window. He watches intently for a few more minutes, but the curtain remains still. With the number of cats snuggled on the couch on the front porch, there’s a high probability there are more inside the house. Zane closes his eyes for a moment to reduce the strain. After a time, he, too, grows weary. He decides to wait until dark and works his way back to Alyx and strips off his smock, joining her on the blanket. She rolls over and spoons against his back. With the physical contact, and despite being exhausted and starving, Zane’s little head takes over the thinking department. He moves his hands to his crotch to conceal the tenting of his jeans.

Zane is astonished moments later when Alyx’s right hand slips over his side and drifts down to his crotch. She whispers in his ear, “Would you like to put your little friend to use?”

“He’s my big friend,” Zane says, rolling over to look Alyx in the eyes.

Alyx cackles softly. “Is he now? Truth or dare?”

Zane ponders the question for a moment. “Truth.”

Alyx begins to stroke his penis through his jeans. “How many times have we fucked in your mind?”

It doesn’t take Zane long to answer. “Too many times to count.”

Alyx smiles and leans in for a long, lingering kiss. “I’ve had similar thoughts, too.”

It doesn’t take long for them to shed their clothing. Though neither has bathed in a week, the mix of musky odors only adds to the desire, and their lovemaking is intense, passionate, and exhausting.

Alyx rolls over and says, “That was nice.”

“I couldn’t agree more. We should do this more often.”

Alyx laughs. “I could probably be persuaded.” Alyx sits up and removes the hoop from her left nostril, then all of her earrings, and tosses everything into the woods.

“Why did you have all of that stuff to begin with?” Zane asks.

Alyx shrugs and stretches out next to Zane, pulling another blanket over them. “I guess to announce my presence. Know how many female programmers there are?”

“Yeah. Not many.”

“Exactly. It’s damn hard to get ahead.” Alyx sighs. “I guess I wanted to shove my femininity in their faces. Anyway, all that shit’s behind me now.”

Zane runs a finger across the tattoo above her left breast. “And the butterfly tattoo? Any significance?”

“Nope. That’s the result of too many tequila shots when I was in college.” She turns to face Zane and snuggles against his chest, draping an arm across his midsection. After several moments of silence, they drift off into an easy, contented sleep. When they wake it’s full dark and both quickly dress. “Are we going in?” Alyx asks.

“If there are no signs of life, yes.” He clicks on a flashlight and smothers the lens with his palm as they creep closer to the house. The interior is as dark as the outside, with no sign of a candle flicker or any hint of movement. He looks around on the ground and leans in to whisper in Alyx’s ear. “Grab that big stick, in case we need a weapon.”

Alyx nods and bends to pick up the stick before continuing their approach. When they reach the porch, a cat darts through Zane’s legs, momentarily stopping his heart. Zane can feel Alyx trembling beside him as he steps up to the door. He buries the light against his thigh and cups a hand around his face to peer through the window, but it’s too dark to see a damn thing. He lets a little of the light from the flashlight eke out and reaches for the door handle, surprised to find it unlocked. Carefully, he twists the knob and nudges the door open. The first thing to greet them is an awful stench. Alyx gags and claps a hand over her mouth as they step farther into the house.

“What’s that awful smell?” Alyx whispers in his ear.

“Something dead,” Zane whispers. He repositions the flashlight, allowing more light to leak out. They’re in the living room. A tattered floral couch, similar to the one on the porch, holds center stage and is flanked by a pair of scarred wooden end tables. At a right angle to the couch sits a broken-down red recliner. Newspapers are stacked on a stained coffee table and a threadbare rug lies underfoot. The only concession to modernity is the fifty-inch television resting on a pair of plastic milk crates. Behind the couch is the kitchen, with a narrow hallway leading to the rest of the house. Imprinting the layout in his mind, Zane kills the light.

Not sensing any threats, he whispers to Alyx to ditch the club and takes her hand, leading her around the couch and down the hallway. Within the confines of the corridor, the stench is gut clenching, and both are gagging. Zane covers the lens and switches on the flashlight. Three doors lead off the hallway, and as luck would have it, all are closed. Zane gags, bends over, and dry heaves. “Screw it,” he mutters, shining the flashlight down the hallway. He opens the first door and it’s a filthy bathroom, but not the source of the odor. He deduces the other two doors are bedrooms. He approaches the first door on the left and quietly pushes it open to find a bedroom that had been converted into a sewing room. Partially completed quilts drape across every surface. Zane backs out and steps over to the last door and sucks in a deep breath, something he instantly regrets.

Zane twists the knob and nudges the door open. The odor that escapes makes his eyes water as a swarm of flies zip past their heads. Zane aims the flashlight through the door and shines the beam around the room. On the bed, and atop one of the quilts, are two dead people. The bodies are bloated and there are enough flies still left in the room to produce a near-constant hum. Zane steps farther into the room. Most of the skin has sloughed off their faces but the remnants of gray hair suggest the couple was older. Congealed blood covers nearly every inch of the quilt, and, upon closer examination, Zane discovers half of the woman’s skull is missing.

“What happened to them?” Alyx says out loud, making Zane jump.

“Murder, suicide, I think.” Zane edges around the bed and spots an old revolver on the ground. “Found the gun. Looks like he shot her, then himself.”

“Why?”

“Guess they didn’t want to spend their last days in a screwed-up world.” Zane places the flashlight on top of a broken-down dresser and rolls the edges of the quilt over the dead couple. He leans down and scoops up the pistol and tucks it into his waistband. “Grab one end. We need to get them out of the house.”

“Where are we going to put them?”

“Outside. I’ll try to bury them in the morning.”

Alyx gags as she grasps the edges of the quilt. The couple hadn’t been large in life and the corpses are even lighter. Working together, she and Zane scoot down the hallway and out the front door. Alyx backs down the porch steps and they carry the dead couple over to the tree line.