"Come here, Lou," she said.
Lou stood up and walked over to her like a child walkingover to their parent when they know a whipping is in order.
"Have a seat," Joan said. "Can I get somelight over here?"
Clara shined her light at Lou's face, and he squeezed hiseyes shut in the dim room. "Lean your head back," Joan said. She heldthe suture thread in the flashlight beam, twisting and turning it as shethreaded the needle. When she had finished, she looked Lou in the face andsaid, "This is going to sting a bit."
She grasped the needle in her right hand and inserted itinto the skin. Years of practice on bananas and then people had made her fairlygifted at suturing. She had always joked with her co-workers that when she wasdone being a doctor, she could get a job as a seamstress. She drove the needlethrough the skin and then pulled it tight. She placed her left hand on the backof Lou's head as he jerked backwards. She knew it must hurt, so she decided todistract him with conversation. "What do we do next, Lou?"
He winced as she pulled the suture tight and inserted itinto the opposite side of the first claw mark. She had started with the topmostwound, as it was still bleeding at a steady pace. Lou hissed inward and thensaid, "Step one is to get the fuck out of this place."
"How do you propose we do that?" Katie asked.Her bitterness and darkness had become more and more prevalent over the lastcouple of days. Joan was worried about her, but not from a physical level.There was nothing in her bag that was going to heal Katie. She didn't even knowif time would. She was fundamentally broken.
Without moving his head, Lou looked at Katie from thecorner of his eye and said, "There's a hole in the roof. When Joan's doneclosing me up, I'm going to crawl up there and see what I can see. Maybethere's a way out."
"And then what?" Clara asked.
Joan pulled the stitch tight. She was halfway through thefirst claw mark, her fingers were both sticky and slippery with Lou's blood.
"Then we continue like we said we would. Get our assto the beach, find some margarita mix, and go to town," Lou answered.
Katie scoffed at Lou. "You act like it's so easy.Well, we've already seen how easy it is, and it's fucking impossible. We'relucky we're not all dead right now."
The room was silent, and Lou barely winced as Joan insertedthe needle once again. Joan could see his eyes teared up with pain, but hedidn't even flinch. He just said, "I know it's bad, but we're all stillhere. We're all talking. We're all walking. It's gonna get better. Once we getout of civilization, it's gonna get better."
"I hope you're right," Clara said.
"Even if I'm not, what other option do wehave?" Lou hissed as Joan started on the next claw mark. "If we hadstayed where we were, we'd be dead. If we stay here, we're dead. We got to keepmoving. It's gonna get easier. It's got to." Joan could see the hope inLou's eyes. It was good enough for her.
"Can we please be a little more detailed about thisplan? All I've heard so far is the beach, the beach, the beach. Don't just tellme the end destination; tell me how we're going to make it happen," Katiecomplained.
"Cut him some slack," Mort said.
Katie said, "Mort, if there's one thing we don'tneed right now, it's slack. We need to be tight as tight can be, because themoment we relax, we're dead." She looked at Lou again. "We need food.We need supplies. We need ammo."
"And medicine," Joan said as she closed thesecond of Lou's scratches.
"I need cigarettes," Clara said.
"I thought you were going to quit," Joan said.
"I have quit, but it's from lack of availability,not from choice. Besides, I figure if they're always going to be this rare,then you might as well smoke 'em when you find 'em."
"Speaking of smoking 'em when you find 'em,"Joan said, "why don't you guys go through this place, see what you canfind."
Without a word, the others spread out. From other rooms,they could hear drawers opening and closing. Blake snored gently on the floor,his body beaten, battered and bruised from his encounter. Joan finished herwork in silence, and Lou said nothing. He just looked off to the side as shedid her work.
"You're doing a good job," she said.
"Yeah, well it doesn't feel like it," heanswered.
"No, I'm serious. No bullshit. You're doing afantastic job. Like you said, we're all still alive. We're all stillkicking."
"Blake doesn't look like he's kicking. Katie lostsome fingers. My dreams of being a model are over."
Joan laughed. "Everyone's dreams of being a modelare over, Lou." She pulled the last stitch, and the final wound wasclosed. She cut the suture thread and said, "There you go. Good asnew."
"How does it look?" he asked.
"I think it's going to look pretty badass when it'sall healed."
"You think it's going to get infected?"
Joan bit her lower lip, thinking. "It's too soon totell. We cleaned it, but you never know when you're using hand soap and bottledwater. But it would be a good idea to get the hell out of here and find apharmacy or something soon. For him more than you." Joan nodded her headat Blake.
"Got it," he said as he rose to his feet. Heturned to go upstairs but then stopped and said, "Thanks."
"Oh, it's nothing," Joan said.
"No, not for that. For making me feel like less of afailure."
****
Katie looked at herself in the mirror. She could hear theothers moving about the building, underneath the din created by the dead. Thedead were out there, those poor souls like her husband and her son. She didn'tthought about everything they had gone through that day, and she didn't knowhow they were still alive. It wasn't amazement at having made it; there wereactual holes in her memory.
She looked down at her mangled hand. Her pinky and herring finger were gone. The wound was still oozing blood around the stitches,but
