Infectious

Arrival

I sit on my bed with Mia and gently fold the laundry.

"Aren't you excited?" she asks in a fidgety way.

She nervously plays with the hem of her pink sweater.

"Excited for what?" I ask.

"Your mom's friend's arrival!" she exclaims in an I-can't-believe-you-forgot-that tone.

Her high ponytail swishes as she talks excitedly about todays events. I stare at her with a certain overwhelmed feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"I mean, yes, I simply..." I try to collect my words,"don't think it's wise to have more people around, that's all."

"I don't understand, it's more civilization that could be gon-"she starts defensively.

"I don't disagree," I cut her off, "but think about it. More people equals more mouths to feed, more sound which can attract the dead, and more people to worry about."

"Plus, if her son is wreckless then he'll get us into even more trouble," I point out as I get up off the bed and tuck a stack of jeans in my drawer.

"It's logical, it's just that it seems like we're slowly losing our humanity, you know?" she asks.

"Ya, I got it," I tell her since I have to understand her point.

-----------------------------------

It's like a staring contest except the winner is whoever feels smaller. I look my mom in the eye and stand in a menacing way.

"I disagree," I tell her.

"There is no where left to go!" she practically yells.

"No mom, there must be something else out there," I say firmly.

"THERE IS NOT!" she yells as she's on the verge of tears.

After a moment of silence I suggest something else, "what about an army base?"

She looks up at me and has a sudden twinkle of hope in her eyes and I can already tell that she's forming a plan.

"We can get Tom and your father to go down there in the morning since its only a twenty min-" she starts.

I cut her off, "no."

I say through gritted teeth, "I'm going this time."

"What?!" she asks, clearly outraged, " I don't think so!"

She says this to me as though I'm asking her to go to a bar with my fake I.D and get wasted.

"Listen, I'm sick and tired of being slid under the rug for everything because of you and dad," I say as I start to wave my hands around like a maniac (I have the tendency to do that when situations get me hyped up.)

"Who wants to go pick the vegetables? Who wants to go to the tool shed? Who wants to go on a wild goose chase after an army base? Anyone but Raine," I say a tad dramatically.

We both defensively smack our hands, palms down, on the chilly marble counter of the island. Her piano fingers are bony and withering with age. A set of unfamiliar voices comes from the front of the house.

"I'm going and, no mean to be rude, but I'm going whether anyone here likes it or not," I say in a cold tone I've never used before and exit the kitchen.

I easily push the rickety, turquoise screen door as it swings with loose hinges.

"Here, let me help you with those," my father offers to a woman with jet black hair. She seems to have somewhat of a Hawaiian background with her honey kissed skin.