Chapter 8

I opt to continue showering. Even if I stop right now, not too much more damage can occur in 10 minutes. I pause. Can it? I speed up the soaping, do a final rinse and dry off. I put some clothes on. In case things get physical up there I do not want to be bouncing around in my pjs. Ugh. My gun. Into the living room i go, to retrieve it. I look down the barrel, across the sight. Not real sure why i'm doing this, i already know it's off. I walk over to the door at the bottom of the stairs, and listen. Nothing. I have a sinking feeling that I'm not going to get to bed until the sun comes up as I start to unlock the door. I heard somewhere that people are more comfortable in uncomfortable situations if they are holding something. I can attest to that at this very moment, because my left hand has an iron grip on my gun and I feel almost invincible. I ease inside onto the tiny landing between the bottom stair tread and the door, closing it behind me, listening and trying to sense any movement coming down the stairs. This would be one of the times i think to myself, why a two story?! My gaze travels up the 10, maybe 12 stairs covered in a ruddy brown shag. No sign of life, er... Listening intently for anything coming my way, i take the stairs two at a time, nervously reaching the top. I stop at the top of the stairs, quickly looking from left to right, and back again. Nothing. Where are they? Hopefully not where I'm about to go. I hang a right, and head down the hall to my brothers old room, and bathroom; which is where I suspect the problem is. I don't encounter anyone at this end of the house, thankfully. I shut the bedroom door quietly behind me, enter the bathroom and shut its door too. If they figure out how to turn doorknobs, i'm in serious trouble. I set my gun down on top of the toilet tank. I bend down and check the water lines: all dry. As I stand back up, my muscles scream and for a second i think of yelping, before I get hold of myself and swallow it down. Man am I sore?! I slide over and open the cupboard below the sink. Bingo. The bottom of the MDF cupboard is swollen, buckled and very wet. Water is dripping from the bottom of the trap in a steady stream. A pool has formed in the middle of the cabinet bottom and it's trending toward the back of the cabinet in a little trickle. Wonderful. I reach back and turn the water off to both faucet handles and move back onto my haunches. This is not going to be a quick clean up, and I really don't want to spend anymore time than i have to up here. The water has made its way under the various bottles of shampoo, lotions and supplies that my brother had stored here. I start to systematically take everything out, wipe it off with the hand towel from the sink top and set items on the floor and in the tub. I grab another towel from the rack on the wall and give it a sniff. Funny, it still smells like him, and is not at all musty from non-use. I toss it under the sink and start to sop up the water. Just what i want to be doing in the middle of the night, which must be turning into morning by now. I always hated this bathroom, there aren't any windows. I dislike having to rely on artificial light. Also, at this point of the apocalypse, no window means one less escape route. Not smart. I've gotten most of the water up, it's about as good as it can get given my motivation for the job and energy level. Standing, my knees pop and crackle, my right butt cheek is getting tighter by the minute and I yawn as I stretch up to hang the towels over the top of the shower curtain pole. THUD. I drop the hand towel and spin for the toilet, grabbing for my gun. The bathroom door is still closed, but if i was a betting person, i'd lay money on the fact that the bedroom door had just swung open and hit the doorstop behind it. I slide up to the bathroom door and listen to the shuffle and slide of heavy feet. My heart is beating a mile a minute in my chest and i feel the first race of adrenaline course through my veins.