Milepost 291

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“I’m normal,” Rachel said, almost to herself.

“Anybody who has to keep reassuring themselves about that may have a problem,” Campbell said.

As darkness settled in around the house, Campbell had checked all the windows and door locks. Since Rachel’s strange catatonia from the music, they had spoken little. Rachel was frightened, but her anxiety only made her more defiant. And Campbell’s concern was beginning to grate her nerves.

Or is that another symptom of the change?

Campbell lit a pile of twisted newspaper under logs he’d stacked in the fireplace. His face was reddish-orange in the glow cast by the crackling flames. They’d agreed that the heat would be worth the risk since the smoke would be mostly hidden by darkness. The flickering fingers of light dancing on the walls suggested Neanderthals huddled in a cave, somehow both simple and safe.

“I have to…visit the woods,” she said, too embarrassed to leave her waste in the dysfunctional toilet.

“I’ll come with you,” he said.

“Only if you wait on the porch.”

“I’m just worried that you might freak out and run off.”

“Worry about yourself, not me.”

“Hey, you’re the one that was talking about our future. If we don’t stick together, we’ll never rebuild civilization and I won’t ever get to play video games again.”

“I think evolution took a U-turn,” Rachel said, unlocking the door and stepping into the cool night. She wondered for a moment if Campbell might slam and bolt the door behind her, but he followed her down the steps where she made him stand.

She went around the dead Volvo in the driveway, pulled down her pants, and squatted. As she urinated, she ran a palm along the site of her infected bite wound. No scab, no scar, no pain or itching. Just smooth, healthy flesh.

Above her the stars winked on, the belt of Orion stitched across the dome of darkness. The moon rose somewhere in the east, still just a faint smudge of haze below the horizon. The surrounding treetops hid many of the constellations, although most of the leaves had fallen to reveal the black sticks of branches. November would arrive soon, and with it the bone-jarring wind, snow, and bleakness that would prove far more challenging an opponent than Zapheads or trigger-happy militants.

She thought of Stephen and wondered where he was at that moment. She hoped he was somewhere safe and secure, hopefully with an adult to care for him. She didn’t want to consider the likely possibility of his death. She still blamed herself for allowing him to get lost. She considered offering a prayer for his safety but no words came, only resentment.

She finished and let the cool breeze dry her a moment before she pulled up her pants. Around her the forest was silent except for the faint flapping of stubborn leaves that didn’t know their time was up. Insects chittered in a piercing cadence so inviting that Rachel was afraid she’d start imitating the sound. She clapped her hand over her mouth as she walked back to the house, but the resonance roared in her ears, digging deeper and deeper until she thought her skull would burst.

By the time she reached the porch, she was so dizzy she almost fell into Campbell’s arms.

“Jesus,” Campbell said, supporting her weight and leading her up the steps. “Maybe you’re not as healed as we thought you were.”

Rachel didn’t want to tell him that the dizziness was not caused by anything inside her. No, it radiated from Out There, as if the insects were merely broadcasting a message that she would have heard clearly if she’d been tuned to the right frequency. She almost laughed.

I’m fine. I’m normal. I’m crazy. I’m a goddamned Zaphead.

Once inside, Campbell eased her onto the sofa in front of the fireplace. He checked her forehead for fever, but her body felt as if it was filled with ice water. The same tingling numbness she’d experienced during her fugue state swept over her again and she was afraid she was sliding into unconsciousness.

“You’re burning up, Rachel,” he said, rolling her sweater up her belly and tugging at its shoulders until it slipped past her neck and arms. He pulled a lace cotton comforter over her and she closed her eyes.

Campbell put a bottle of water to her lips and she sipped, even though the liquid tasted oily and unpalatable. Soon the roaring in her skull eased a bit, and she wondered if it was because they were now inside and out of range of the insect calls.

“I’m okay now,” Rachel said. She didn’t plan on getting into the habit of letting Campbell lay her down on couches and undress her.

“Which okay is that? The ‘I’m just a normal human being okay’ or the “I’m a freaking mutant but I’ll survive okay’?”

“Leave me alone,’ she said.

“I…I can’t.”

She couldn’t tolerate his clumsy schoolboy crush any longer. “Look, we’re not soul mates or anything. You may be glad all this happened, that the sun burned our world to toast, and that you caught me in a vulnerable state, but nothing’s going on here. You and me…that’s not a possible future.”

He groaned in annoyance. “You think that’s what this is about? Sure, I like you, but I’m more concerned about what you mean for all of us. Think about it. If you’re a Zaphead, or even a partial Zaphead—“

“A half-breed, right?”

“You should see your eyes when you get angry. They’re popping like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Don’t try to tell me that’s normal. But listen—if you can empathize with them, or function like them, then you can help us understand them. Maybe one day even communicate with them.”

“What makes you so sure I’m on your side? What if I turn out to be some kind of spy? What if they intentionally infected me somehow so that they could send me back to enemy lines? Maybe that’s why they let us escape when they attacked the professor.”

Campbell shook his head. “We don’t really know how they think, do we? All we’ve seen is larger patterns of organized behavior. But you…you’re bound to feel like they do, at least a little.”

“I’m trying not to think about that. I want to feel like me. I want to feel normal.”

“There’s no normal anymore. Not for any of us.”

Now that the dizzy spell and flush of heat had passed, Rachel was cold, and she drew the comforter higher up her shoulders. “I need to move closer to the fire.”

Campbell dragged some cushions from the other chairs and arranged them on the floor near the hearth. He left the room and returned shortly with a stack of blankets which he proceeded to spread out in a makeshift bed. Then he helped Rachel off the sofa until she was bundled and shivering, trying not to cry in front of him. She was way more scared than she wanted to admit.

He sat beside her and rested a tentative hand on the blankets. “Don’t freak out,” he said. “I’m not coming on to you or anything.”

“Why not? Afraid you’ll get Zap cooties?”

“No, I just want you to know you’re not alone.”

“Right, because now I’m your pet project. Now I have some value. If you can get me to a lab somewhere, maybe the Army scientists can crack open my skull and see what makes a Zaphead tick.”

“No,” Campbell said, stroking his hand slowly back and forth along her body. “Not because you’re a Zaphead. But because you’re Rachel.”

She couldn’t help laughing despite her fear. “You’re so dorky.”

“Schoolboy crushes do that to me.”

“What if I turn full Zap in the night and mutilate you?”

“I’ll take my chances.”

The crackling of the fire almost seemed like mirthful giggles, building inside her head, but Rachel didn’t fight them. Instead, she followed them deep inside her head until at some point they became soft echoes that faded until she was able to sleep.