Beginning Chapter 5; sorry guys it's a Loooong one. and definitely un-edited

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5.
Chris rolled over into the sunlight: he forgot to close the curtains last night. Mama’s baking had penetrated the entire apartment and Chris knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep with the smell of fresh bread teasing his nostrils. He got up to have a shower so there would be enough hot water by the time Katrina needed it.
He snuck out of his room and into the bathroom; taking his toiletry bag and the towel that Mama had left him.

Katrina lay awake following the sunbeams from the window crawl over her bed; breaking every time a bird passed by. She held her hand in the light trying to focus on the heat from the sun.
She heard a door open and close very lightly. Mama’s already awake baking. Must be Chris. She thought. The clock beside her bed read six am. What’s he doing up this early? She perked up her right ear—her better ear due to a childhood firework accident—to listen closely to his footsteps. The bathroom door closed and the shower started.

After Chris was clean and dry, he went back into his room and there was a warm piece of buttered cinnamon bread sitting on the computer desk with a note that read “Good morning ducky. Good-luck today and don’t give up. M” He took his empty notebook out of his bag and put the pink sticky on the front page.
He ate the bread in less than three bites and spent the next hour making notes about what Katrina had told him the day before. He wrote about the scratch marks in Mama’s apartment, and Mama herself. He highlighted his meeting with Jerrid and made an outline of what he needed to do while he was in Forest Hills.

At seven thirty, Chris heard Katrina’s door open. Mama had already left—he heard the apartment door open, close and lock behind her. Chris quickly got up and met Katrina in the kitchen. He barely recognized her with her hair pulled back off her face.
“You were up early this morning. Did you not sleep well?” She asked.
“Yeah, the sun was bright this morning. I slept pretty good but it’s always weird waking up in a new place.”
“How were your dreams?” Katrina smiled.
“Not bad, a little weird, but I think that was just because I got too much sleep.”
“Oh, Okay. That’s good. Anyways, are you ready to go to Mary-Jo’s? What’s your plan anyways? Are you just going to march in there and be like ‘tell me everything that happened to you’?”
“Well yeah, kind of. I think I’m a fairly friendly person. Wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes of course, but the people of Forest Hills don’t really take kindly to newcomers.”
“I noticed. So what do you expect me to do then?” He asked.
“I think that we should go in together, have a coffee, see how the people react and then you can judge your approach to the town.”
“OK, shall we.” Chris headed to the front door and let Katrina pass through first.

At the bottom of the stairs, the fingernail markings were still there; it wasn’t a dream. Chris asked Katrina “What are these?”
“That’s a memory from an incident. I’ll let Mama tell you about that one.”
They walked on a diagonal path across the wide sidewalk, a road and another sidewalk. Mary-Jo’s was a small café kiddy-corner to the church. Even though it was like all the other buildings: brick with apartments above, Mary-Jo’s had more windows allowing the patrons to be surrounded by light.
When they got inside, it felt more like a diner than a café. There was a counter filled with fresh pastries—including Mama’s bread-- and a till immediately at the front. The room had lots of tables and at those tables, a lot of people.
Katrina passed through searching the room for an empty table. She found one by a window but tucked in a corner almost behind the long counter. Chris followed and waited for her to lay her purse over the edge of the chair before they approached the counter to order. A short woman with frizzy blonde hair and sun-aged skin took one look at Katrina and yelled: “Oh my lord! Gerry come here, it’s Katrina: the Jones’ girl. GERRY!”
“Hi Mary-Jo. How are you?” Katrina replied.
A man who was even shorter than Mary-Jo and thought side-burns would make up for the lack of hair on his head, came sprinting around the corner from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his already filthy apron. “My word!” He stopped dead in his tracks. When he composed himself, he continued around the counter to give Katrina a hug. “We knew you were back, but we didn’t think we would see you this soon. Oh how you’ve grown.”
Chris looked back at Mary-Jo who was smiling and looked like she was about to burst into tears just looking at the embrace.

“This is my friend Chris.” Katrina said throwing Chris into the fire. “He’s writing an article about what happened here—the truth about what happened here.” Katrina knew that Mary-Jo and her husband Gerry would be willing to tell all about what happened. They were the gossip queen and king of Forest Hills.

Chris wasn’t sure if he should be grateful to Katrina for this introduction so he just smiled and said “nice to meet you”.
“Oh really?” Mary-Jo asked brushing her hair back and posed on the counter pushing her over-sized bosom forward as if there were cameras around.
“Yes, I’m looking forward to talking to as many people from Forest Hills so I can get a better understanding of what happened. I actually didn’t know the truth of what happened here until Katrina told me. I thought I was coming down to inter—“
“You can talk to us anytime doll. Right Gerry? Just not during working hours ‘kay.”
Chris nodded.
“Well, what can we get y’all to drink? Do you want any pie or food? We have eggs and--”
“Mary-Jo, Katrina’s been here before.” Gerry interrupted
“Heavens I know, it’s just been so long!” Mary-Jo clicked her tongue and smiled with her head to the side as if she was admiring a sunset.
“I think just two coffees?” Katrina looked inquiringly at Chris. He nodded.
“It’s on us! You kids have a seat. I’ll bring it to you. ” Gerry said flipping the back of his hands at them to shoo them away.

Katrina led the way back to their table. She sat down and waited for Chris to adjust his tall stature into the small chair. They glanced around the room and noticed Mary-Jo already making rounds, whispering in each table’s ear. When Mary-Jo was done and her bosom was straightened, each patron slowly glanced over at Chris.
“So, this is it.” Katrina started, not knowing how to continue.
Chris looked around taking in the café: a small little place where, despite the big windows was rather dark inside. The people looked like they were just stopping by for their morning breakfast before going to work on their farms, flannel was the choice of shirt and even a few women had red flannel jackets. Everyone was sitting on the edge of their chair ready to run on a drop of a hat. “This is what?” He asked, looking at Katrina quizzically.
“The town. The survivors. I recognize everyone in here, whether they recognize me or not. They’ve all been affected in someway by what happened.”

Chris looked around the room trying to imagine what each of the people went through. He studied their faces. All of which were his definition of normal but something about their eyes had trauma stricken through them and the way they stared at him made him feel uncomfortable and unwelcome. “These people don’t want me here do they.”
“Probably not, to be honest. Like I said: after what happened no one is welcome here. Some of them probably don’t even want the people from Colorado to come back. ” Katrina took a sip of her coffee and everyone averted their glare when she looked at them.
“That’s sad. You guys are survivors too.” He took one more glance around the room and felt a pang of anxiety in his chest. He had never felt more like an outsider than now. Maybe it wouldn’t be in his best interest to just approach people and ask them their story. He was going to have to gain their trust first.

Mary-Jo walked over, her huge bosom bouncing with each step. But then there are some people more than willing to talk to me. Chris thought. Mary-Jo set down the two cups of coffee. “So, Mary-Jo when is a good time for me to come by and talk to you and Gary?”
“Well, we usually finish up here around six and we’re home around six thirty. We’re having meat pie the day after tomorrow if you’d like to join us then?”
“That sounds great. Thank you. Will it be alright with Gerry? ”
“Oh, He’ll be fine. And of course you and your grandmother are welcome to come as well.” Mary-Jo politely directed at Katrina.
“Thank you I’ll speak with my grandmother.”

Mary-Jo puffed her hair higher as she went bouncing away.
“Speaking of which: where is your grandmother?” Chris asked. “Her bread is here I noticed, but she’s not.”
“She probably went to my uncle Clint’s. Mama takes extra care of him since they only have each other. She goes over there practically every day to have coffee with him before he goes to work.”
“What does he do?”
“He works at the lumber mill.”
“ Is that where most of the people work—with Lumber?”
“I suppose so. If they don’t run the shops, then they probably do something with wood.”
“What did your parents do?” Chris was using his ‘soft approach’ tactic to try and get information about what happened to her parents. Katrina noticed and played along. “My dad got the lumber company and mill when my grandfather died. He ran that for years until he got tired of it and sold it to the Dawes family for a good amount of money. My mom spent her time gossiping with the other women in town and coming up with illnesses that kept her from spending time with us. She was a good woman though and she did love me. I could just tell. Everyone here loved her too; she was always happy and loved to see everyone. Her and Mama got along well because they were more alike than my father and Mama. I think that’s why my dad married my mom. You know how they say men always want to marry their mother and women want to marry their father.”
“They do?” Chris thought about that. He didn’t think he’d like to marry his mom, but the theory was probably right.

“What was your family like?”
“Hmm, My mom was your typical southern lady: cooking, baking, church going. I never saw her without lipstick on or her hair done. She didn’t work either, but she did a lot for us. My father has always been a workaholic, which made me resent him when I was young, until I grew up and realized everything he did was for our benefit. He treated my mom well and always wanted us to have the best.”
“No siblings?”
“Not anymore.”.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“That’s Okay, it’s been awhile now.”
“Do you mind if I ask what happened?”
“No, I guess not.” If Chris was going to be diving headfirst into the secret lives of random strangers, he should be able to tell Katrina about his brother. Maybe it made him more relatable. “When Isaac was twelve, he was over at a friend’s house and they were playing in the front yard—ball or something. Isaac ran out into the street for some reason and got hit by a car. The driver didn’t stop and we never found out who it was. I was only ten but I looked up to him!”
“Oh my God. That’s horrible. I’m sorry.” Kartina reached out and patted Chris’ arm.
“Thank you. My dad took it harder than any of us. He worked a lot longer and harder after that, and then he took a job at his head office and moved us from Virginia to New York. That was hard on my mom; all her family and friends were in Virginia.” The conversation had come to noticeable halt. “This coffee is really good!”
“Mmm, I can’t really taste it. Side-effect from the infection.”
“Really? Did the medication cause it or just the infection itself?”
“You know, I never thought about it, but I think just the infection. I can remember losing my taste before I was given medication.”
“Huh. Can I ask now: How did you get infected?
“The day before my parents transformed I was helping my mom in the kitchen. I accidentally burned myself on the oven…” Katrina showed Chris the scar on her arm. It was darker than a normal scar and had a tinge of purple in the middle, like a bruise. “…My mom kissed it better—like she always did—and I think that’s when the infection spread. That’s the only thing I can think of that caused it. Plus this scar has never healed properly and where this purple spot is, it’s extra sensitive and will open up real deep if I hit it too hard or something.”
“So you mean that you got an infection from a kiss as small as a peck? ‘Cause I assume your mom didn’t lick your arm.”
Katrina chuckled. “No, my mom did not lick my arm. But when she kissed things better she always did it three times: ‘one for the pain, one for the tears and one to make sure it heals’ she’d always say. There was so little of the infection spread into me, that’s why I can live with it and don’t transform or have any major symptoms.”

“How did your parents get the infection?”
“No one knows. We think that one of them had it and gave it to the other person. But how that person got it, we don’t know.”
“Where you there when they transformed.”
“Yes, they transformed in front of my eyes but I’ll tell you about that later I’m done with my coffee, shall we get out of here?”
“Sure.” They got up and made their way through the tables of curious faces. “It was nice meeting you Mary-Jo”
“Oh you too doll. See you guys soon” Mary-Jo waved as they left the café.