Blood and Picket Fences

Forgotten Things: Grayson Chapter 11

Grayson watched the trail of blood as it swirled down the sink, for now they had water, how much longer he was unsure of. The bite mark on his father's hand an angry red screaming of infection left for days not of minutes. Had it been 30 minutes yet? He wasn't sure. Gray pulled the inhaler from his pocket, welcoming the rush of medication as he slowed down his breathing. The itch of anxiety creeping up his back and twisting in his chest. He felt like his stomach was in knots, and all he could do was stare. Shell shocked in his own way. He hadn't noticed the blood before they had gotten back. Hadn't noticed what was truly important.

Kara paced the kitchen, a never ending body of movement out of the corner of Gray's eye that made him itch with unease. She'd put the gun on the table but it had taken her a while to do it.

"They're just movies," he whispered to himself trying to reassure the dread seeping into him. "it's not real. It's not going to happen." He swallowed back the self pity and the nausea.

"What?" His father was spreading cream on the bite before wrapping it up skillfully. Mom had taught him a thing or two and it was obvious by how calm he was acting. Did he know? His father avoided horror movies like the plague, did he know what this could mean?

"The bite," Kara's voice came out painfully. "What if you..." she waved a wrist loosely towards the backyard. It had been quiet so far, it didn't seem like the ones in Kara's house had figured out where they had gone. Yet.

The room became quiet, the kind where you could hear a pen drop two rooms away. The only sound their shaky breathing.

Gray watched as Benzion flinched. His face was red and sweaty was he already burning with fever? "Well..." His father's large hand went to move wet strands of hair from his forehead a frown creasing between his thick black brows. He seemed lost for words, opening his mouth to start, only to stop, then to try again.

"We've only seen the dead come back! Maybe you have to die first, and if you don't die then you will be fine," Gray tried his voice cracking, in a way it hadn't since he'd turned fourteen. He felt like he was grasping onto the idea like a life jacket at sea, giving his father a pleading look. Gray tried to find any sign of hope on his dad's face but came up empty. He seemed troubled and contemplative not hopeful. It broke him.

"Hope for the best and prepare for the worst," Benzion finally admitted shaking his head as he went over to the kitchen cabinet where they kept the medication, sorting through it before coming back with the antibiotics Gray had taken for an ear infection a few months before. He opened the bottle popping two before dry swallowing them. Would that do anything? It never helped in the books or movies...

Gray was shaky as he quickly got him a cup, instinctively going to use the fridge to get the ice and water only to be reminded as nothing happened that the power was out. Shit. The reminder was more painful than him looking like an idiot, it was that moment where he stood there staring at the thing confused about it not working and then sinking into the despair as the other reality of their situation came over him. How could he have possibly forgotten about the power?

He looked around himself as he fingered his father's cheesy number one dad mug, the chipped red thing they'd bought at Disneyland when Gray was seven but refused to throw away even though a part of the rim was missing and the handle had to be gorilla glued on. You don't just throw something you love away because it was broken, you fix it. It was good solid 100% dad advice that seemed for Gray to transition from childhood to teenage years, and if he made it, adulthood as well.

Light streamed into the room through the partially closed blinds, reminding him that it was summer and beautiful outside, the heat of the day starting to bake the air around them, barely noticeable like the lack of lights. They tried to conserve power during the day, it was better for the environment. It was the sound that was really off, the lack of hiss of the air conditioner, that steady drum that made Florida much less hostile. They were stingy with lights, running water, carbon emissions... How many times had Gray, skillfully might he add, tried to persuade them to get a first car- but, they had reasoned a new laptop was a better sweet sixteenth present and a car was more of a college gift. Something he could use to drive home on weekends, but as they put on most college campuses he'd still be getting around on the same mountain bike he used now. The town wasn't that big that he needed a car and it was better for the environment to cycle, plus his mom was adamant he spent too much time playing videogames and in the library to get adequate vitamin D. Gray tried not to think of his mom, her many lectures on the importance of physical activity and adequate sunlight, because then it made him remember that he had no clue where she was at the moment and it made everything so much harder.