Lizzie woke to a dark house. She panicked for a moment, fumbling for her lamp. It turned on. Barely 7 o’clock. The sky was socked in with dark clouds. And she was awake. Weird.
She rolled out of bed and went through the house turning lights on as she went. It was probably only a matter of time before they stopped working. She found the defrosted ice cream on the desk, poured it into a glass and added a shot of Mama's favorite liqueur—Gran Marnier. She plugged the charger into the cell and huddled on the rolling office chair at the computer. A response from Jess blinked on the screen.
Roll call. Jess. Texas.
"Sounds like a porn star," Lizzie muttered, smiling despite herself.
Then another. Lizzie? Are you there? I'm scared. And lonely.
Lizzie’s hand cradled her drink as she one-finger typed a response. mamas dead. jayces dead. phones dead or id call. She grimaced at her lame joke, sipping the cold concoction. Mama would have liked it. what do i do now?
There was no answer for a long time. Finally: OMG. My family too. So sorry.
Lizzie raised the glass to finish the drink, but it was already gone. me 2. r u alone?
She wished the dinosaur of a computer would work well enough to do video chat, but last time Jayce had tried, it had taken three reboots to start it up again.
Yes. Wish you were here.
me 2. Her phone had enough juice to turn on now. im calling. She left it plugged in as she dialed.
“Jess?”
“Lizzie. Good to hear your voice.”
Lizzie set down the drink, as if she could hold Jess through the phone. “Yeah. What’re you gonna do?”
Jess’ response was a long time coming. “Don’t know. I need to bury them.”
“They’re in the house with you?”
“In their beds. Didn’t know what else to do. They kept getting sicker. And I didn’t get it. One by one, they just…” Jess’ voice faded to silence.
Lizzie whispered into the phone, “I don’t want to be alone.”
“Don’t do anything crazy. Don’t even try.”
“Hey, I’m Crazy Lizzie. Supposed to do crazy, stupid things.”
“LIZ! Don’t! Okay?”
Lizzie swallowed; her throat felt raw. Maybe I’m getting sick. “I can’t promise.”
“Dammit, Lizzie, you’re my best friend since forever. You don’t get to be a cop out. Go outside once it gets light. See if you can find anyone left. Then call me. You hear? If you kill yourself, I’m going to kill myself too.”
They’d had this conversation before. “Okay. I won’t. I promise.” Lizzie sighed. “Not without telling you. But I don’t see much to live for.”
“Free candy? There aren’t any store clerks anymore, right?”
They both laughed and then there was silence.
“I’m exhausted.” Jess yawned. “Call me tomorrow, Lizzie. I love you.”
“Thanks, Jess.”
Lizzie went back to the medicine cabinet and picked through Mama’s collection. She took two Sonata sleeping pills and washed the green capsules down with a glass of water, refilled it and drank another one. Then she put on music from the Mama's Sad Songs playlist. She lay down on the couch and wrapped a blanket from Mama’s bed tight around her. She wanted to keep that scent around as long as possible, even if it meant she might catch this thing and die. She would never burn Mama’s things, even though she had promised.
* * *
Breakfast was a bowl of Apple Jacks and the last of the milk. Lizzie mechanically shoveled it into her mouth. Then she drank the pink milk at the bottom of the bowl.
“I go outside, or I never leave, and I die here,” Lizzie said aloud, as if Mama was listening. Seemed like she was always breaking her promises.
She went upstairs to her room to get dressed: jeans, Doc Martens with extra socks, one of Mama's threadbare flannel shirts over a baby blue t-shirt with her band logo in permanent marker: Cut Glass. She dumped her school backpack and its contents of done and undone homework. The Dante paperback slid across the floor.
Jerkwad had said she’d never graduate high school. Lizzie was seventeen and still needed almost two years of credits, but she had planned on proving him wrong.
“Fuck you,” she said and kicked the schoolwork away from her.
She opened her shallow sock drawer feeling for the old cigar box Mama hid from Jerkwad. Cash for emergencies. If this wasn't an emergency, Lizzie didn't know what was. She didn’t know if she’d need money, but it would be good to have it. She pulled out the box Mama had disguised with pretty contact paper.
Inside were Mama’s class ring, grandpa’s hankie, baby photos of her and Jayce. One slipped out she didn’t remember: Mama and a very handsome soldier in uniform, and a little baby in a yellow dress with shocking dark hair. Her jaw clamped to keep from crying. She took the photo and all but one of the crisp twenties. She closed the lid and returned it to the drawer.
End of Chapter 2
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