Page 20 of Resurrection
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The next morning, after we slept off our self-induced sex-comas, I called a family meeting with the intent of fully processing all our emotions regarding the past few days. Cole helpfully agreed, and we took some time to sit down and lay everything out on the table.
While the sex therapy helped each of us mull through the stress and trauma of recent events and successfully pulled me back out of my manic obsessive-compulsive spiral, there was no way I was going to go down lightly with regards to the triggering argument. Did I enjoy myself? Absolutely. But will I bow down and agree to never attempt to save them again? Fucking, hell no. I agreed to it at the time because emotions were running high and we needed to fight one battle before tackling another, but our love goes both ways, which means the sacrifices we choose to give for one another act just the same. It’s not up to them whether or not I risk my life to save theirs; it’s just something they’re going to have to submit to me on, whether they want to or not.
It took a few hours and a few compromises, but, reluctantly, they each agreed with my point of view, withthe caveat that they’d take more time to instruct me in combat when they were able, as well as further assist me with my panic attacks so I don’t freeze up as much when the shit hits the fan. We all know it’ll take some time for both sets of training to truly take effect. But both concepts eased Jax’s worries back at the estate, so, theoretically, they should continue to do the same now. Regardless, they’ll have my retribution to look forward to. The punishments I received will stick with me for a long time. And while they might have forgotten one key fact, I haven’t: I still won the race back at the cabin.
Regardless of their intentions last night, their asses are now, officially,mine.
Chapter Ten
Aly
“This place is insane,” Hawk says, gawking at our surroundings as we walk around the house. Well, Hawk, Jax, and myself. Cole is currently sitting upstairs, facing the lake and enjoying the rest of his cold instant coffee in the biggest, comfiest chair ever.
I’m happy to report that his back has pretty much healed. With the stitches having been successfully removed, he’s left with two battle scars and one hell of a story to tell. His foot, on the other hand, is still sore. But, compared to what it looked like originally, it looks much better.
When the swelling finally went down after a few days, Cole concluded that his ankle probably wasn’t broken, but more than likely just a really bad sprain. However, judging by the streaking contusions and swelling that remained on the top of his foot, it wasassumed that he, unfortunately,didmanage to break a few metatarsals during the escape. Due to this, we all agreed that we couldn’t leave the safety of the house and continue our journey until he fully recuperated. Thankfully, surgery wasn’t necessary to fix his broken foot, but he did need at least six-to-eight weeks to recover by way of rest and elevation. Not to mention, a healthy dose of ibuprofen and acetaminophen to curb the pain. As such, we all agreed to give it about a month or two so Cole could recuperate without the added stress of dodging zombocalypse to boot.
That first day after we arrived here… I can’t even describe how terrified I was. I’m almost positive Jax and Hawk were right there with me on the fear level, even though they probably weren’t almost ready to piss themselves like I was. I thought we were going to lose him. It’s a harrowing thought. An impossibly traumatic thought. One I never want to have ever again.
We’ve been distracting ourselves over the past few weeks by wandering the property and have been surprised at each turn. This place is actually much larger than it looks from the outside, and is filled with all sorts of rooms catering to various needs and tastes. So far, we’ve counted ten bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a game room, and two dining rooms—to go with the two separate kitchens and butler’s pantries. There’s even a theater and a pool that, unfortunately, we can’t even think to use unless we want to stare at a blank screen all day or get a UTI from the algae infested water.
I gave a blunt‘no thanks’to both.
The gameroom, however, has been an unexpected highlight to our stay. What’re the odds that we just so happened to stumble upon a house that’s basically a grown-up kid’s paradise? We’ve been able to play pool, foosball, ping-pong, shuffleboard, and even bowling! The pin re-setter obviously doesn’t work, but we’ve had no problem manually restaging the pins after each frame. It’s been a much-needed reset after everything that’s happened. The relaxation and the ability to put the past behind us has been nice.
Well… the lack of food isn’t sonice.
We left the safety of the cabin with what we had on our backs: just a bunch of supplies and enough food to last us a few days. Truth be told, we never intended to stay anywhere long-term until we finally made it to Tryon Palace. Understandably, we’d rest here and there as we went, potentially restocking at each pitstop, but definitely not staying as long as we’ve been in this place.
Looking back, I’m not so sure we would have done everything the same if we’d known what we do now. Jax, having good expectations and knowledge of the supplies he’d hidden, decided to take a small detour to his old estate, but, in hindsight, I’m not entirely sure if that was actually good or bad. Did we get a replenishment of much needed supplies, sustainable food rations, and more ammunition? Sure. But was it worth the cost?
Cole almost died.
We could have gone without the additional supplies before we went to the old house, but after the attack? It became a necessity. Cole needed those antibiotics. There was no question about it. His injuries were too severe not to have them on hand right then and there. But if we’d never set foot on the estate, could we have possibly gone longer without the need of immediate medical attention and the abundance of food needed for an extended stay? No one could possibly know for sure.
When we asked Jax where the truck with all of our supplies was, he informed us that it ran out of fuel—a gas leak or something. He ended up having to dump it on the side of the road, only taking the bug-out bags and med-kits with him when he found a different car and drove that one here.
The car, or the ‘jalopy’ as Jax calls it, isn’t the greatest. It’s not even close to good, to be honest. Half of it is covered in rust, and the other half that isn’t? Well, let’s just say at one point itwaspainted. Not sure what you’d call it now. Faded primer? I have no idea. It looks like it’s held together with duct tape and a prayer.Heavyon the prayer. Jax said it was the only one that actually turned over and had fuel where the truck died, so I guess beggars can’t be choosers. Plus, itdidmanage to get him and our emergency supplies here in one piece, as well as get us through our food restock when I went with him, so I can’t complain too much. It’s done its job and provided us with what we needed at the time, but we only had so much food to begin with, and what we’ve brought back with us is almost gone.
Thebitch about the whole thing is that we’re not even able to rely on any food that’s currently in residence. In fact, when we raided the two pantries, they were both stark empty. It’s almost like this place was meant as a showhouse. You know, the places that realtors bring potential buyers so they can see a layout for new construction. I’m not sure anyone ever actually lived here. The only items in the pantry were ‘staging’ items, like fake fruit in baskets and a few bags of chips, pastries, and cookies. The cookies, unlike the pastries that somehow miraculously survived, were unfortunately covered in mold, much to my dismay.
What did those poor cookies do to anyone that they deserved to die that way? Huh?! Shameful… That’s what it is.
Jax and Hawk have been out each day trying their best—Hawk down at the lake with his rod and reel, and Jax with his bow—but it hasn’t exactly been fruitful. For some reason—probably because he turned into a lumber-snack and chopped down half the trees around the house, scaring them all away—there haven’t been any deer on this side of the lake. So Jax has had to rely solely on small game like squirrel, rabbit, fox, and grouse to name a few, but even those have been sparsely seen. Jax said he saw a skunk the other day and was tempted to shoot it, but the potential smell alone kept him from doing so. I had to whole-heartedly agree with him on that one. You can’t eat something if you instantly want to throw it up.
Apart from the gopher, Hawk has had some luck on the lake. Not a lot, but some. Without the boat, fishingwould have been damn near impossible. The soft slope of the manmade beach, as well as the lack of any vegetation in the immediate area, didn’t exactly create the best environment for fish to hide in. He’s caught a few from the boat, rowing out a bit from the shoreline, but not enough to consider it reliable. One fish, maybe two every four or five days isn’t really anything to tame four hungry stomachs.
Even when they were at Jax’s estate, the meat they were able to procure was stockpiled—obtained in large amounts by hunting, trapping, fishing, and farming—and then stored for long durations. In addition, he had the gardens and fruit trees producing year-round which provided, for lack of better term, thefluffto the meal. Meat on its own is good, but sides? Oats, potatoes, pastas, rice, veggies? They fill you up. Hunting and fishing by the day for four people without really any supplemental food is living about as bare as it gets.
The lack of utilities is also slightly problematic. We’ve made due by building fires each night with all the trees Jax decided to decapitate, so it’s not that much of an issue. Well, that is until the zombies show up because of the literal smoke signal pointing them directly at us. There are a couple of stoves between the two kitchens that would’ve solved that problem, but, unfortunately, absolutely no way to power them because they’re electric. In fact, the entire home is rigged that way. Even down to the toilets.
I know, it surprised the crap out of me too!
There isn’t a lever to simplyflushaway everything like a normal one. Instead, they have state-of-the-art bougie loos with sensors that not only flushforyou, but also analyze your…leavings. Who the fuck needs that?! I sure as hell don’t need a robot to tell me that, maybe, I shouldn’t have eaten that cupcake in the pantry that was half-opened. I knew it was questionable. I don’t need a toilet to judge me for my actions all while giving me a shit-eating grin.
You can fuck right off, Loo….
