What's in the basement? Chapter 11

....He turned and walked through the hallway into his bedroom.

They all waited for the door to close before anyone moved. Katrina grabbed her bag and headed for a small door just off the living room. She opened it quickly and lightly shut it behind her.

Chris stood staring at the closed door, like a lost puppy left in a stranger's house; unconsciously imagining what was going on downstairs. Mama startled him when she put her had on his forearm. “I’m gonna go now chicken. I’ll see you two later?”

“Oh, I don’t know what time we’ll be home. We have to go over to Mary-Jo’s for dinner tonight. That reminds me: do you want to come? She asked us to ask you.”

“Oh dear me, tell her ‘no, thank you’. I think I’ve enough of the rumor-mill today—- don’t tell her that part.”

Chris chuckled and smiled at Mama. “I won’t.”

Mama winked at him and continued towards the hallway. “Oh, and one more thing: her meat pie has nothing on mine— no matter what she says.”

*****

Katrina entered the basement slowly and quietly. It used to be a place where Emily and her would go to play away from the grown-ups. Emily used to talk about how she would decorate it like her own apartment.
Katrina looked to the left at the familiar shape of Emily sleeping; she would be so disappointed in the way Clint had tacked some ratty bed-sheets to the walls to cover the pink fiberglass insulation. Emily’s legs were tied together and then each was tied to the bottom corners of the bed. The same was of her hands; only the rope was tied strategically to a bar on each side of the bed so she wasn’t restricted to one sleeping position. She was laying in the position she was most fond of: her arms bent up beside her head—it reminded Katrina of when they used to dance around singing YMCA, spelling all the letters out with their arms. Emily’s head was turned to the left as if she was looking out the basement window. She looked almost normal.

Katrina moved even more cautiously towards her, carefully reaching into the small pocket on the front of her purse—never removing her eyes from Emily. Emily’s feet twitched to the right, stopping Katrina half way. She reached further in the pocket, feeling the shape of the needle and then the small bottle of liquid medication.

Once she got close enough to Emily to hear the pattern of her breath, she slowly pulled the utensils out of her bag. She removed the cap off the needle with her teeth and only looked away for enough time to pierce the needle through the lid of tiny bottle, and then again to make sure there were no air bubbles in the needle.

Katrina took another step closer to Emily. She grabbed the rope on Emily’s right arm and slowly slid it down the pole until it was straight. Katrina bunched up any loose rope and held it firmly with her left hand so Emily wouldn’t be able to move it. Emily inhaled deeply and turned her head towards Katrina, opened her eyes and formed her mouth into the shape of a smile. Only, this wasn’t a friendly smile; it was more like an efficient way to make a hissing sound, showing her displeasure at her current situation.

Quickly, Katrina stuck the needle into her upper arm and plunged the stopper until it wouldn’t go any further, all it’s contents emptied into Emily’s arm. Emily thrashed briefly, but Katrina did not waver; in a minute she would be calm.

Katrina disposed of the needle and the glass bottle in the trash beside the bed. She watched Emily for a brief moment, her eyes were closed and she looked peaceful again. Her face looked almost flush and her scar was a little more even with her skin tone. Katrina turned to leave just as Emily turned her head towards Katrina one more time and lightly smiled with her lips pressed together.

Chapter 10; talking to Glen O'Toole at the police department.

...“So, what happened in the forest?”

Chris told her every detail he could remember down to how squished the truck was with all the men. She didn’t seem surprised, but interested. The only question she asked at the end was if he had fun.

“Yes. I think I did. It was exhilarating I suppose. Gets your adrenaline going, you know?”

Katrina’s smile dropped of her face and she nodded towards the door; “Incoming.”

Chris looked in that direction and saw Mary-Jo in a sleeveless, yellow, flower-print dressing weaving through tables to get to them.

“Good. I caught you. I heard you were here.”

“Ho—“

“Can you come over tonight for dinner, something came up and the dinner has been bumped to tonight,” She paused for a moment, looking between Chris as Katrina. “Oh, please tell me you’ll come.” She leaned on the table, pushing her chest forward as if to use her overly large breasts as a bargaining chip. The look on her face was sincerely concerned.

“Um, yeah, sure.”

“Oh goody.” She bounced and clapped her hands. For a moment, Chris thought he felt the café shake. “Shall we say between five and six?”

“That sounds…good.”

“Great. Don’t forget your note-pad.”

“Oh, I won’t.” Chris said condescendingly.

Mary-Jo gave a wave and made her way out. Everyone in the Café was looking in their direction; intrigued at what just took place.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know. But should we get out of here?”

“Yes, I suppose.” They got up and moved through the tables of gawking people.

Chris lead the way out of the café, eyes following them like a Victorian portrait. He was feeling much more calm now, Katrina seemed to have brought him down to her level.

“Let’s go to the church’s park and talk; we won’t be disturbed there.”

“I would love to but I have to meet Glen. Can we meet in an hour?”

“Can I come?”

Chris smiled, “Even better.”

They walked around the block--the long way to the police station.

When they got inside it smelled of stale coffee and peppermint gum.

Glen was the only person to be seen; sitting behind a generic desk with a mound of neglected papers and a small bushel of mail in the corner. When he saw them, he looked as if he had just won the Publisher’s Clearing House grand prize.

“Hey guys, I was hoping you’d come in soon. There’s not much going on in the town right now.” He patted the stack of papers.

“So now would be a good time to talk to you?” Chris asked.

“Better than any.” He pointed towards the empty seats across the desk.

Katrina sat next to the wall and Chris next to her. “Great. Do you mind if I borrow a piece of paper and a pen?”

Glen looked at him with a furrowed brow.

“I kinda forgot my notepad. I’m new at this whole journalism thing.”

“No problem,” Glen dug around in his desk while Chris and Katrina stole a glance from each other.

Glen pushed a pad of paper and a pen towards him. “You can keep the pen.” He winked at Chris.

Chris twisted the pen between his fingers. Forest Hills Police Dept. “Couldn’t afford the whole word ‘Department’?” Chris asked.

“No, it just didn’t fit.”

“I was just kidding. Nevermind.” Chris swallowed uncomfortably and marked Glen O’Toole interview at the top of the page. “How long have you lived in Forest hills?”

“Born and raised.”

“And, how old are you?”

“Twenty four.”

“How long have you worked for the police department?”

“I started training about three and half to four years ago.”

“So you were an officer when the infection started to spread? Tell me about that.”

“I came after they banned the department from fighting.”

“What do you mean?”

“Too many officers died or something, so it was left up to those two bearded cavemen.”

“Glen,” Katrina shook her head.

“Sorry,” Glen glared at Katrina. “Forgot they were your best friends.” He searched the roof for something to look at.

“Jerrid and Gregory you mean?” Chris asked.

“Yeah.”

“What do you have against them?”

“I just don’t see why they should be allowed to continue to fight and guard the town while the police department are taking care of old Mrs. Mortgensen’s cat. I’d prefer the tree top too, if I was the cat.” Glen rolled his eyes.

“Okay, So, tell me about the first encounter you had.”

“Most of it was when I was a rookie; before they force was restricted to town duty. We were called to a spot over in the neighborhood—by Katrina’s house—where a group of dogs and cats were taunting an old shiatsu. By the time we got there, both of its ears were missing, bits of flesh were either hanging off or gone and the animals continued attacking.”

“Why do you think it was the only one being attacked?”

“Because it was the oldest, of course. It was most vulnerable.”

“Of course,” Chris said under his breath. “Has any of your family been affected by this?”

“Not my direct family, but when Katrina’s parents were…you know. They were like my family too.” Glen looked at Katrina like a puppy needing a home. She rolled her eyes. He turned his gaze back towards Chris, with quick flickers towards the door. “You do know what happened, don’t you?”

Katrina was appalled that he would use her dead family to try and one-up Chris.

“Yes, I do.” Chris gave him a warning glance; telling him not to continue on that subject.”

“So, what have you had to deal with in ways of human victims of the infection?”

“None really. I’ve been lucky that way.”

“You’ve never seen a human infected?” Chris had the feeling that this was a wasteful interview.

“I had to kill an infected baby once.”

Chris regretfully perked up in his seat.

“Just ‘bout bit the mother’s nipple right off.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Serious as a heart attack. I thought it was weird that a baby that was that old was still breast-feeding too. The only reason we knew the baby had the infection. The mother tried to cover it up, but Doctor Stevensen made us privy to that info when she came in claiming to have a serious infection. By the time we got to her, the baby was irate and his veins looked purple. When we tried to hold him. He would try and scratch and bite. We had to put him down.”

Chapter 9: The morning after

9

Chris woke-up and looked at his watch; It was eight O’clock on Saturday morning. He tried to piece together the night before but his pounding head and stale tasting mouth reminded him.

“Ugh, I’m never drinking again.” He said to himself. It had been a long time since he had that much to drink. The memories of the rest of the night were washed away with his second beer on the rooftop.

He thought about sitting up and getting dressed. He could hear Jerrid and Mama in the Kitchen and he didn’t want to be rude, sleeping in all day. First he needed to lay a little longer until his head and inner ear allow him to be vertical--for more than three seconds. He curled into a fetal position with half of his legs hanging over the bed. He could feel a draft making it’s way down his back, he tried to pull the covers around him some more but they wouldn’t budge. He tugged a little harder then they tugged back. He flipped over to his right side to confront who or what was playing tug-O-war with him.

Katrina was laying with her back to him. She kept her eyes closed with the light from the window penetrating her eyelids. Her whole body was in pain from the level of toxicity in her blood.

She was still dressed in her clothes from the night before so Chris assumed nothing happened between them, but he had to be sure.

“Hey...” He shook her lightly, “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“This is my house,” she mumbled.

“I know. What are you doing in my bed?”

Katrina turned over and stared at him a moment. “You asked me to sleep here last night,” She waited for a response from him and leaned up on her elbows. “Oh, you don’t remember,” She rubbed her face, “You said you were scared and asked if I would protect you.”

“I did?”

Katrina nodded and chuckled “You were joking I think. We were both pretty drunk though.”

“Did anything happen?”

“Well, you’re still alive aren’t you?”

“No, I mean between us? Did we…?”

“Oh, no. Look I’m completely dressed.” She lifted the blanket to flash him her fully clothed figure. I wouldn’t have minded, she thought before mentally disciplining herself.

“Okay good.”

“Good?” Katrina was aware she took that the wrong way; thinking Chris would never want to have relations with her.”

“Don't take that the wrong way. I just meant I’d hate to complicate this for you.” He would have been open to start something with Katrina if they lived in the same city; she was his type but he didn’t want to use her for sex. “I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“I get it. Okay. Just think of it as a sleep-over.”

“I’m going to get dressed and go out to the kitchen, it sounds like Mama and Jerrid are up.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in a minute. I can smell egg and pastry; breakfast is almost ready.”

Chris sniffed the air, but couldn’t smell anything.

Chris grabbed his jeans off the floor and pulled them on under the covers. He grabbed a shirt nearest to him and glanced at Katrina who was lying with her eyes closed, willing her stomach to stop turning. She needed to give herself a shot as soon as she could stand. That would cut her hangover in half. She was starving and knew the medication would cut that in half, too.

“I’ll see you out there?”

“Yup.”

Jerrid was sitting at the kitchen table sipping a coffee and reading a newspaper. He looked up and nodded at Chris as he came in. When he looked back at the paper, Chris walked over to the kitchen where Mama was making something that smelled like it would help his hangover.

“Sit Chicken, I’ve made a breakfast quiche for y'all, it’s just cooling. Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” He sat down in the wooden chair waiting for someone to strike up a conversation.

Mama set a cup of terra-cotta colored coffee in front of him, along with two Tylenol and one vitamin.
“Multi-vitamin, it will help your hangover.”

“How’d you know I take cream in my coffee?”

“Oh, lucky guess I suppose, you look like a cream type of guy.” Jerrid chuckled through his nose and peered at Chris through the tops of his eyes. Mama winked at him and wandered back towards the kitchen. “Where’s Trinket?”

Chris stiffened, wondering if she already knew where she was. He glanced at Jerrid who could be less interested in him at the moment.

“Uh, sleeping I guess?” Mama didn’t reply which made Chris even more curious. “Do you want me to wake her?”

“No no, hangovers affect her more than us. Leave her be.”

“’Kay.” Chris could hear the crackling of bacon in a frying pan and his mouth started to water. “Smells delicious.”

“Thanks Chicken.”

Chris heard his bedroom door open. He turned in his chair to look down the hall. Katrina was closing his door and opening the bathroom door. He turned back towards Jerrid-- who saw the same thing. Jerrid stared at Chris a moment before clearing his throat and re-occupying himself with the two-day-old newspaper he was reading. He glanced at Chris only once more through the corner of his eye. Chris, in a moment of panic shook his head; he wanted to yell that nothing happened, but Mama hadn’t seen it and he didn’t want to make a bigger situation of it than it already was.

“What’s your plan today Chicken?” Mama put a slice of the breakfast quiche in front of them both, along with silverware and napkins. They both looked at her to see whom she was referring to. She looked at Chris waiting for a response. Jerrid folded his paper and set it on the chair beside him. He grabbed the quiche with his hand like a piece of pizza and finished it in three bites.

“Oh, I have to go talk to Glen O’Hare. Soon actually.”

“About what?” Jerrid asked through a mouthful of egg and crust.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? I’m thinking about becoming one of Forest Hills’ finest, Glen’s going to show me the ropes. I think I might even get a badge today.”
Mama chuckled and took Jerrid’s plate to get him another helping. Jerrid finished chewing his food, “Are you being a smart ass?”

“Yes.”
They both dropped the subject and Mama came to sit with them.