I settled for the big chain store on the outskirts of town. They would be open later and would probably have a wider selection of products. There was also plenty of light and people. Signs in the parking lot said there were surveillance cameras. Given the afternoon, I wanted more security.
The toothbrush aisle and its neighbors had everything I needed for the bathroom. On my way to find locks, I went past the groceries and grabbed a box with a pasta kit. I hadn’t looked too closely at my kitchen, so I didn’t know if the bad guys tampered with anything.
I finally found the lock display. There were quite a few. Sergeant Beringer said to buy the best I could and suggested that price reflected quality. The prices did range pretty far, but several locks topped at the high end. Using my phone, I did a few quick Internet searches to see if there was a notable difference.
“Hi!” said the voice beside my cart.
I jumped, startled. If the person had intended harm, I would have been dead.
The voice came from a small woman standing at the other end of my shopping cart. She looked familiar.
She waved her hand a little, and her face turned red. “Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I tried to regain my composure. “It’s okay,” I said. “Today’s has just been a little stressful.”
“Sorry to hear that. You’re the zombie guy, right?”
Uh oh, another fan. “Uh, yeah, I’m Timmy, Timmy Hunt.”
She reached out her hand for shaking. “I’m Hannah Thompson. I work at the convenience store. I see you when you come in, but you always look like you’re busy.”
I shook her hand. That’s where I had seen her before. I learned long ago that it is best to let people think that they made more of an impression than they did, mostly because of my poor social skills. “Right, I see you there all the time.” I probably did but had been too lost in my own little world.
Though she was out of uniform, so to speak, she was definitely the same woman. About five and half feet tall, and, what was the polite phrase, delightfully plump. Her sandy blonde hair hung a little past her shoulders, and that seemed important at the moment. Have you ever noticed how some inconsequential things can sometimes seem really important?
She nodded to my cart. “Buying a new lock; did someone break in?”
I don’t know why, it was probably because I had no one else to talk to, but I gave her the whole story. I included the worries about the toothbrush and the food.
She seemed to pay attention to every word. “That’s terrible,” she said. “I don’t know why people have to act that way. At least nobody got hurt. Is that your new food?” She pointed to the pasta kit in my cart.
For some reason, it embarrassed me that I was eating something that seemed so childish. “I figured it would do well enough for tonight.”
She clasped her hands together in front of her chest in an exaggerated manner. “That’s my favorite!”
Before I realized what was coming out of my mouth, I said, “There’s plenty enough for two.”
“I accept!”
At that point, my brain tried to reboot. Some anonymous, hidden part from deep inside my brain very smoothly asked this woman I barely knew to join me for supper. Worse yet, she accepted the invitation and I was going to have to continue being sociable. The smooth-talking part of my mind was nowhere to be found and a few other parts screamed in terror.
“Great,” I said, “but there may be a little delay. I should probably get the lock fixed.”
She nodded her understanding and then a thought came to her. “If you don’t mind a different cook in your kitchen, I could make supper while you work on the lock. Would that be okay?”
“That would be great,” said the smooth-talking bastard lurking in my head.
A few minutes later, we were checked out and in the parking lot. I think she grabbed a few more grocery items as we walked through the store. I gave her the address in case we got separated, and then she followed my van in her little, green sedan.
It was already dark out. I parked on the street and grabbed my flashlight in one hand and my shopping in the other. By the time I climbed out of the van, Hannah was already out of her car. Like me, she had a store bag in one hand, but her other hand held the baseball bat propped on her shoulder.
“We’ll have to use the back door,” I said and nodded toward the back of the house.
We carefully walked around the house. Listening carefully first, I unlocked the door. With a bit of hesitation, I reached in and turned on the lights.
It was odd that I could walk into possible zombie infested buildings without much trepidation, but my own house after a burglary was a total fright fest.
With lights on and no one home, we relaxed a bit. We dropped off our bags and she did the expected look around the place.
“So, the zombie thing is really what you do?” she asked as she walked around looking at the things on the walls and the books on the shelves.
I braced for the standard, negative reaction. “Yep, that’s what I do.”
She nodded a few times. “That’s cool. Some people said you were probably just a secret analyst spy for the government and the zombie stuff was just your cover. I didn’t think it was a very good cover…” She paused for a moment. “Unless you really are a spy.”
I smiled. Usually, if I gave any consideration to what people thought of me, it was never something cool, pleasant, or dignified. MY imagination typically used words like “loser” and “fraud”. The idea that someone might think I was a spy seemed unlikely and amusing.
“No,” I said, “I’m not a spy or anything cool. It’s just the zombie thing.”
She walked back to me. “Do we get a lot of zombies in Iowa?” It was a very pleasant delivery for that question.
“No.” I smiled, but I didn’t know why. “I haven’t yet found a single one.”
We stood there for a moment, just smiling at each other.
“Anyway,” she said, breaking the moment, “I’ll get started on supper and you can get the lock fixed.”
With unnecessary enthusiasm, I bounded away to fix the lock.
The repair didn’t take long and I’m pretty sure I followed all the directions. Honestly, I wasn’t very focused. My brain worked oddly and it probably had something to do with the woman making supper in my kitchen. Normally, something affecting my thinking made me furious. This time, I seemed to be okay with the whole thing. That should have been wrong too, but wasn’t.
By the time I put the tools away and washed up, she had set the table and laid out the food. The only other person to sit at that table with me had been Rich when we discussed some investments. That had been years ago.
Hannah smiled as she stood with her hands clasped behind her back. “I hope you like it.”
In addition to the boxed pasta kit, there was a salad, steamed broccoli, and rolls. It looked really good. The echoing growl from my belly agreed.
“That looks great. I really appreciate you going through the effort.” In truth, I did appreciate it. I also appreciated the company. It had been a while since I thought about the breakin and the place definitely felt more home-like.
Over dinner, we chatted a little. She asked how I got started with Zombie Abatement. She also told me that her mother died of cancer about a year and a half ago and how she had been on her own since then.
After supper, we both cleaned up. She found all the food storage containers and put things away.
“You know,” I said, “you really should take that food with you. There’s too much for me to eat and it will just spoil.”
She smiled again. She seemed to do that a lot. “I guess I will just have to come over and help you eat it.”
“That sounds like a plan,” said the smooth-talking voice again.
Planning happened next. She gave me her contact info, including her home address. She also laid out her work schedule for the next two weeks. I had to explain that I didn’t have a real schedule but was working “on-call” instead. Either way, we decided to go for a drive the next afternoon to be followed by dinner.
I walked her out, going through the front door this time. When we got to her car, she unlocked it and put her baseball bat back in. Then she turned to face me.
“I had a really great time,” she said.
Most of the parts of my brain had gone back to screaming, so the smooth-talker came to the rescue. “Me too.”
She paused for a moment. I had the idea she was contemplating something. I didn’t have to wait long to find out what.
“I’m glad to finally get to know you, Timmy.” Then she launched forward, threw her arms around me, and kissed me.
Presumably, the smooth-talking part of my brain knew how to handle this situation as well, because the rest of my brain seemed to shut down. It didn’t start to reboot until she pulled back a little, smiled one more time, and then climbed into her car.
I watched her drive off.
Some unknown amount of time went by before the rest of the brain rebooted and told me I should go back inside.