Surge by Katelin;katie LaMontagne Page A

the terms, Sarah’s a cuddly kitten compared to the teacup ninja at my right. “So, where we staying?”
    “I hear the Imperial Inn has vacancy,” I quip and John laughs. “You can even stay in the honeymoon suite for free. Just don’t expect 5 stars, I heard the staff service is terrible.”
    John begins singing R. Kelly and Cassidy’s “Hotel.” When he gets to the part having her participate, he looks at Olivia, who flips him off.
    “I got a place nearby,” Olivia replies. “But we have to be quiet,” giving us a pointed look, “And move fast.”
    <~~~<~~~ ~~~>~~~><~~~<~~~ ~~~>~~~>
    We make it to her safe house just as the sky’s about to open up.
    Olivia’s place is not the Imperial, but it’s more than sufficient for the night. A two story brick house attached to a row of clones, with window boxes full of what used to be flowers but are currently neglected weeds, and is located on a tree lined street, it has Bostonian charm.
    Entering through a small spiked gate, Olivia fishes around in her bag before coming up with a bike lock to keep it shut. Giving the lock a tug to make sure it holds, she steps back with a satisfied nod. Hopping up the stairs, she takes out a key chain with what appears to be thirty plus keys, and starts flipping through until she finds the right one. After turning the lock, Olivia opens the door and swings an arm out.
    “Welcome to my humble abode,” her voice is still muffled behind the visor, which she must realize, because she flips it open before continuing. “One of them anyway.”
    “Why so many?” John inquires with furrowed brows. “Wouldn’t you rather set up a base?” Olivia gets a faraway look in her eyes. She’s silent for a few seconds but comes back with a vigorous shake of her head.
    “No,” her voice is hard. “It’s best to keep moving.”
    And move she does. After triple locking the front door, she leaves John and me staring after her retreating form exiting from the foyer. Knowing there’s more to the story than she’s willing to tell, I turn my attention to observing our temporary safe house. It was a multi-million dollar home prior to the infestation, so the furnishings reflect the wealth.
    Traditional couches, antique rugs, upholstered chairs and rustic wooden tables are spread in a design centered around the massive fireplace with original brick. The brick extends down the entire left side of the open concept house, leading to a formal dining and massive modern kitchen. Dark wood cabinets with granite counters and stainless steel accents decorate the space. Off to the right is a staircase with wood and iron spindles for a railing. In conclusion, it’s a bittersweet reminder of what the world used to be.
    I plop down on the couch in front of the floor to ceiling fireplace while John takes the tufted recliner to the right. I’m staring at the still hot coals, indicating that Olivia must have been here before bumping into us, and listening to the raging thunderstorm outside when John speaks up.
    “She’s a strange one,” he remarks quietly. “Fucking gorgeous, but a bit of a kook.”
    “She is that,” I agree. “But who isn’t a little off kilter living in the world that we do?” John nods to admit I have a point.
    “Not to mention she’s all alone,” he adds. “We’ve always had each other and Sarah, and then we found the others along the way. What’s to say we might not have turn into a couple of Rambos toting machetes if we were all alone?”
    “You have to admit, that was fucking awesome,” I say with a grin.
    “You always did have a thing for Rambo,” John counters slyly. I laugh because it’s true, not in an ‘I want to fuck him’ kind of way, but an ‘I wish I were a badass like he was.’ Totally not gay, but I do still have the useless DVDs in my room to prove I was a fan.
    “And Tomb Raider,” I reply. “So did you, you sick bastard. Always making her drown, so that you could check out her virtual ass.” John