by Andre Rex
Content Warning: language, post-apocalypse, zombies, guns, mental health, heatstroke
The Arizona sun and very stubborn people make a horrible combination. Five days in a row with temperatures over 100. People trying to give themselves heatstroke on guard duty around the camp. “Zombies don’t take the day off cuz of heat,” is what our big bad Mr. Karma had said about it, breathless and sweating after a full shift out there.
We talked about how we could make rooftop guard posts safer, better shade without blocking line of sight. Next building project, we decided. Increase temporary measures in the meantime.
We split shifts into smaller portions. Which meant we needed more people to take up the shifts. Which meant that I didn’t get to hide from the heat inside. Small price to pay, I told myself, if it lands less people in my infirmary. What a fool I was. I regretted this idea within fifteen minutes of being out there; standing on the clinic roof, dripping sweat even while hiding under a half mangled beach umbrella.
“Christ on a bike, if this heatwave doesn’t let up…”
Jay looked up at me from where he sat on the edge of the roof. “Then take off your shirt.”
“Pass.”
He put the binoculars back to his face. Lookout duty happens in pairs, one to do the distance work, one to watch up close so no one sneaks up. He did a scan before speaking again. “Seriously, Rip. I don’t care about your scars. Just take off the shirt.”
“And sunburn, like you do on a daily basis? Hard pass.”
“Fine. Be toasty in the name of sun protection then. Not like you’re gonna burn under the umbrella.”
“Hey, keeping a layer of clothing to hold in your sweat can actually keep you cooler.”
“Lemme know how that goes for you, doc.”
I adjusted my sunglasses as I looked out over the wall, to the stretch of high desert beyond. Heatwaves danced in the distance like the mirage of an ocean against the beach. For the first time in a long time, I felt a pang of homesickness for California. Maybe it was the beach umbrella. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was being in a situation for the first time in a long time where I wished I was anywhere but right here. “Damn, I miss the ocean.”
“Never seen it,” Jay commented.
“It’s amazing. Vast and beautiful. Standing in the surf with the feeling of sand slowly washing away under your feet is one of the best in the world.”
“Sounds scary.”
“Oh yeah?” I glanced down at a kid. His well browned, freckle covered shoulders were already red, accented more harshly along the edges of his tank top. “What sounds scary about the ocean?”
“Not just the ocean. What you just said about the sand under your feet. Sounds like it’d feel like losing ground. Like the bottom’s about to fall out “
“I see what you mean. It’s not like that, it’s nice. Cool water and wet sand. Your feet get buried in it after a while.”
“That sounds even worse.”
“Maybe I’m not describing it well.”
Jay lowered the binoculars again to look up at me. “Not really a thing you can describe, is it? It’s textural and textures are experienced differently by everyone. Wet grainy sand sounds awful to me. But you?” He grinned. “You’re the madman who walks barefoot outside every chance you get. Hurts my feet just thinking about it.”
“Good point. Maybe buried in beach sand just isn’t for you then.”
The little smile on his face gave way after a moment to a look of concern, then disgust. “Oh, god, you smell that?”
I didn’t. But it was common knowledge that Jay had a better sense of smell than me or anyone really. “Death?”
“Death,” he confirmed, pulling out his bandana scarf to tie around as a mask.
We both instantly cast our gaze around for the source. I spotted movement and pointed, “There! By the arroyo.”
We could just see six zombies out beyond the wall, making their way toward the arroyo bank that was one of the lines of defense. “Looks like four shufflers and two alphas,” Jay said as he went for the rifle by the ladder. “Oh, gross, the heat’s accelerating the decay. Better take ‘em down before they’re close enough to stink up the place,” he held the weapon out toward me.
I didn’t take the gun. “Go for it then. Take ‘em out.”
He pressed it toward me, “You’re a better shot.”
“And you need more practice.” I watched him closely, the way his hand began to shake and how he held his breath. He was still terrified of the gun, carrying the baggage of the last time he pulled a trigger. The fact remained that he did need to practice his aim, and he wasn’t going to get through this shit he was carrying with him if he didn’t face it now and again. I nodded to the rifle, “Go for it, kid. Let’s get you on the scoreboard. Fast ones are worth five points, slow ones are one point.”
Jay covered his fear with an annoyed tsk and muttering something about how lazy I was. Fair.
He brought the butt of the rifle up to his shoulder and looked down the sight, but stood there for a very long time just lining it up. Watching the zombies as one of the alphas inspected the edge of the arroyo, calculating the best way to climb down and get across. Those following it did their usual derping along as they advanced in an oblivious state.
“Get the one on the left, before it falls in and you lose sight–”
“I got it!” Jay snapped back at me.
He pulled the trigger, the gunshot ringing out over the camp to alert the others to the slow-moving threat. The alphas both looked up. None of the zombies were hit.
“Breathe, Jay,” I told him. “You’re okay. Line it up for a headshot–”
“I know!”
Another shot and another miss, answered with a screaming warning from an alpha.
I sighed. “Gimme the gun.”
I’ve never had something put in my hands so fast before in my life. But I didn’t lift it to aim, I slung it over my shoulder. “Jay, look at me.”
He refused to. Another gunshot went off from another rooftop, and he about jumped out of his skin.
I stepped in front of him and took off my sunglasses, putting them on him instead to hide the tears I knew were welling up. Then I took him by the shoulders. “You are the ocean.”
“What?”
“You’re the ocean. Your lungs are the tide. Breathe with me. Deep breath out, all the way out. The water recedes. Deep breath in, slowly. As deep as you can. The wave is rising. Top of your breath, full wave. Exhale all the way, at the end of the breath, that’s when the wave crashes on the beach. There you go, tide recedes. Build the next wave. Be the ocean with me a minute.”
His breathing gradually became slower, even as more gunshots rang out. I stared off at the other watchpost so he wouldn’t worry I was seeing the tears soaking into his bandana mask. “Good. You’re the ocean now. Keep breathing like that.”
Careful to watch how he was reacting, I let go of his shoulders. When it didn’t break the rhythm, I unslung the rifle and held it out to him. His breath hitched. “You’re the ocean. This can’t rival you. Take the sand out from under that zombie.”
He kept breathing and took the rifle. Butt to the shoulder, eyes lined up down the sight.
“Exhale all the way. And when the wave crashes at the end. Squeeze the trigger.”
The gunshot rang out and the alpha that had been about to disappear into the arroyo thudded back against the bank, lying still with the others. Jay stayed as he was, hands beginning to shake again.
“Good job. Five points for Jay.”
“This isn’t a game, Rip.”
“It can be. You’ll lose your mind out here if you can’t gamify it a little bit.”
He shoved the rifle into my hands without looking at me, “Stop. Just stop. I don’t want to be the ocean, I don’t ever want to go to the ocean, I don’t want to fire a gun ever again, I can’t do this!”
“Okay. What part of the thing you literally just did can you not do?”
There was a half a second where I was pretty sure he was thinking about decking me right there on the roof. Instead he marched off to the ladder, head ducked and still hiding in my sunglasses and his bandana mask. “I’m done. I’ll send someone else.”
“Take the time you need.”
“Shut up!”
And he was gone.
I did a scan with the binoculars for any straggling zombies, then gave the all clear signal to have the clean up crew go in.
Breathe all the way out. Deep breath in. Jay’s allowed to be mad at me after that. We’ll see if it helps him face the things he’s refusing to look at. Give him time.
I settled back under the umbrella to watch the heatwaves and let myself imagine, just for a while, that I was on the beach in Cali again, with the sand slowly washing out from under my feet.
Wow. Thinking about it, that is kinda ominous.
Copyright © Andre Rex. Originally posted in Avast Me Plotties Discord server and live podcast