Wilted shoulders, tucked chin, and bruised eyes. I should’ve let it go, but asked, “She didn’t glow?”
“No. Nothing like that. When she got sick…” His eyes dropped. He kicked at the loose grit that dusted the driveway. “I would’ve noticed something like that.”
Eugene thundered around the corner, “Gah damn, Evie girl. You’re tougher than woodpecker lips. Just like your ol’ man.”
Just like my father. I shuddered at the thought of finding his body in the light of day. I forced a smile for Eugene.
Spread out, we called “all-clear” from each room. Then we unloaded the supplies from the jeep. That done, Eugene and Steve loitered by the front door. A kind of reluctant good-bye. I gave Joel a short nod.
“Would you fellows like to stay?”
Their lips floated up in relief.
I cleaned weapons while they secured the house. I dissembled the carbine and wiped down the bolt assembly. Joel’s voice was like a jingle in my head. Take care of your gun and it will take care of you. I asked him once why he took my training to such extremes. Martial arts. Tactical drills. Knife throwing. Target Shooting. He responded, “I only need to be right once to justify the preparation.”
Hammering from the other room lowered my blood pressure as I pushed a bore brush into the carbine’s barrel headspace. I imagined the kind of booby traps and homemade security devices they’d install. In addition to gun dealing, Joel was a security consultant for the federal government. While it lent a certain practicality to our situation, it made him paranoid.
An hour later, the four of us settled in the family room with a few bottles of my dad’s homegrown wine. My dad claimed to have made the best in the county. That night, I agreed.
Eugene shared what he knew of Hermitage and the surrounding area. The town collapsed then quieted within two weeks of the outbreak. Joel and I told them everything we knew and everything we speculated. Our friends couldn’t validate or deny any of it. We were the first survivors they’d seen in weeks.
“What about Evie?” Eugene asked.
When Joel narrowed his eyes, Eugene said, “Why ain’t she turned into one of them things?”
“Her immunity,” Joel said, “we suspect, has something to do with testosterone.”
Excess testosterone would explain my sex drive.
“Oh, right.” Steve jumped up with unexpected excitement. “I have an idea. Let’s try something.” He knelt before me and held up his hand with fingers together and pointing to the ceiling. “Do this.”
Curious, I mimicked him. He traced the tips from index finger to ring finger. “No way. Do you see this?”
“Um…no?”
He sat back on his ankles. “Ever heard of digit ratio?”
I shook my head and Eugene said, “Ol’ Steve here is just a well o’ useless information, aren’t ya, boy?”
“This one might come in handy, Pop.” Then Steve said to me, “I heard this theory at school. There’s a correlation between testosterone in your mother’s womb and the length of your ring finger compared to your index finger.” He turned to Joel and Eugene. “Are your ring fingers longer or shorter than your index fingers?”
They examined their hands and said in chorus, “Longer.”
Steve returned to me, eyes tapered under his black mop. “Your ring finger is longer too, Evie. Thing is, girls’ fingers are supposed to be the same length. The study claimed only men have longer ring fingers. Higher testosterone.”
I flipped my hand to and fro in front of me, stretching the fingers in an attempt to modify their length. “What are you suggesting, Steve? That I’m not a woman?”
He choked on a laugh. His cheeks reddened against a pale complexion. “Uh no. Um…I think it could just mean you have high testosterone for a girl. Could explain why you survived.”
I met Joel’s eyes.
Then I dropped my hand and stood. “Okee dokee. I think I’ve had all the fun I can stand tonight.” I turned to Steve, whose face slacked with a culpable look. “Hey man, thanks for the insight on the finger theory. It’s the closest thing I’ve had to an explanation.”
Curled around a pillow in my father’s overstuffed bed, I thought about other known side effects of high testosterone. Years prior, I had laser hair removal on my entire body. I had the money. Why not? I didn’t have excessive hair then, but too late to prove it. What about other symptoms like increased energy, aggression, muscle mass, extreme emotions? Anger. Anxiety. Yeah, all those rang true.
Muffled laughter bounced down the hall from the living room. It wasn’t long before my eyelids drooped.
I swayed in the center of the Hurlin Ranch corral. The rot of the stallions surrounded me. My stomach cramped, and I plugged my nose. The taste of decay was like rancid milk on my tongue. A breeze drifted from a pathway down the hill. And the hum of Annie’s voice.