Worm

10

Two doors down from Eva Jung, Bertie Kalishek pulled off a Lark 100 and said, “Ah, that’s because you haven’t lived through the crap I have. You’re just a kid and you, my dear, do not know crap. Hell, you don’t even know what color it is or what it smells like.”

Donna Peppek sighed.

She was beginning to debate the logic of waiting this out with Bertie. Bertie was good for the most part. If you could get past the chain-smoking, beer-guzzling, and near constant reminiscing about older, better times. Some days Donna enjoyed her, some days she did not.

This was turning into one of those days.

Donna had gone over there because the idea of waiting this out alone was unthinkable. They kept saying on the radio that the National Guard were evacuating the town street by street, that everyone needed to sit quiet and wait. If there was a medical emergency, they were to call 911… but only if it was an emergency. Other than that, they advised staying out of the muck.

Don’t have to tell me twice, Donna thought.

Between the constant Emergency Broadcast System bulletins on the radio, Bertie’s grating voice, and the clouds of pungent smoke, Donna was getting a first-class headache.

You know you didn’t want to come over here. You wanted to go see Geno.

Which was exactly why she came to Bertie’s. The idea of being in the house with him and Ivy was simply too much. Donna had been avoiding Ivy in every way possible… something that wasn’t too hard given Ivy was practically a shut-in. But being in her house and having to talk with her and interact with her… no, that was just too much.

Maybe fucking her husband wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Donna sighed. The guilt, the guilt, the guilt. It haunted her constantly. Yet, for all of that, she could never say no when Geno stopped by. Now wasn’t that just something?

“…so you better believe me when I say I haven’t felt anything like this since,” Bertie said.

“Since when?” Donna said, realizing she had completely tuned her out.

“Since the Cuban missile crisis. I don’t think any of us that lived through it will ever forget it. We were god-awful close to doomsday. Awful close. Those were two long weeks for the world, I tell you.” Bertie butted her cigarette. “I remember it well. That’s when I stopped smoking L & M and switched to Lark. Been with ‘em ever since.”

To prove it, she fired up another.

“I hope they get here quick,” Donna said.

“Who?”

“The National Guard. I want to get out of here.”

Bertie laughed. “Don’t be naïve, honey. We won’t be first. Not over here. The Guard will start over on the north side, that’s where all the rich yahoos live. They’ll get to us, but I bet it won’t be for hours.”

Donna peered out the window at the rising muck. “We don’t have hours.”

“Sit down and have a beer.” Bertie popped a fresh one and toasted her with it. “Way I see it, if this is doomsday and we’re all going to die, piss on it, might as well face it drunk as sober.”