Zombie apocalypse fiction – Ruth’s Story #201 Driving From The Campsite Near Warm Beach, WA #TEOTWAWKI #SHTF #WROL

I let out a string of Hebrew curse words that would have had my mother, God rest her soul, in tears. Yes, I curse in Yiddish as well as Hebrew, which is still my primary language. When I get really mad I forget English.

My Jordanian mother often reminded me to remember that “whatever you do in life for them (the Jews) you will always be an Arab.” When I left Israel following Amy to the States the Arab communities felt largely besieged and often invisible.

It surprises most people that my primary language is Hebrew. As I am half Jordanian most assume my primary language would be Arabic. I love how beautiful and expressive Arabic is. My mother and I talked almost solely in Arabic. Our household’s primary language however was Hebrew.

Yes Hebrew, the language of the oppressing Zionist state. Though I consider myself Jewish there are many things done by the state of Israel that I disagreed with especially the treatment of Israeli born Arabs. When criticizing a culture which language would you use? The language of the outsider or do you use the language of the majority?

Pissed at a life that robbed me of the woman I loved and my family I let another string of Hebrew curses. I love Shack with all of my heart. I still ache with the loss of Amy. As a Fairfax, VA firefighter I doubt that Amy survived. I pray that Amy is not a walking corpse.

“What,” I incredulously ask.

Looking at Dolcent I realize that I just screamed a bunch of Hebrew at someone who has no idea what I am saying. Dolcent’s eyes are huge as if she is expecting me to strike her.

Trying to reign in both my anger and jealousy I fume silently. I have felt this way before. Amy wanted a more open relationship offering to be ok with me sleeping with the occasional man if I did not mind adding another woman to our bed once in a while or Amy sleeping with the occasional one night stand.

Amy was strictly a lesbian and had never been or wanted to sleep with a man. Amy offered to let me sleep with a man occasionally. I know she was trying to be understanding, but Amy never truly understood my ideal of serial monogamy.

Amy thought that I needed the occasional living dick. As much as I loved her Amy never truly understood that the plumbing didn’t matter, it was who the plumbing belonged to that mattered. Amy and I fought over her idea that while I traveled for work it was ok for me to sleep with someone as long as it was nothing permanent.

Amy felt that it would be ok for us to have one night stands or friends with benefits. I did not want to sleep with a stranger (again) and did not want Amy sleeping around either. As far as I know Amy was faithful to me as I was to her.

Thinking of Shack and Dolcent together hurts. I remember my Plato: Human behavior flows from three main sources: desire, emotion, and knowledge.

Thinking of Shack and Dolcent together is also making me furious, but the hurt is terrible. This is the first time Shack has truly hurt my feelings and it is tearing me up. I try to hang onto some of my anger as I feel tears threaten to spill down my face. Fuck if I am going to cry in front of Shack and Dolcent.

Shack revs the engine bringing my attention back to Dolcent. Ignoring her sexual suggestions I give her an appraising look trying not to let too much of my anger and hurt show.

“How are you going to work with the fuel team, if your change of living arrangements angers some of their men?”

“I may have to appeal to the Colonels otherwise I hope that they will get over any hard feelings. I didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in the fuel team’s tent anymore. I was the only woman not attached and some of the men seemed that meant I was desperate for a lover. They acted like I should be thankful any of them wanted to be with me. Most of them are just horny assholes looking for a warm hole to stuff their little pricks in.”

Luce Irigaray the feminist philosopher suggested in her book This Sex Which Is Not One that woman exists “for the enactment of man’s fantasies, for the fulfillment of his pleasures not her own, unable to say what she wants because she doesn’t know what it is.”

Perhaps Irigaray had a point. Right now I am fairly pissed at the male behind the wheel of my truck.

Shack mutters, “Umm … just a wee bit angry are we.”

Glaring at Shack I wonder whom does he mean Dolcent or me? Shack still will not look me in the eyes. At the front of the convoy the green flashing light signals convoy roll out in five minutes. Relationships, jealousy, sex and anger will have to wait.

Gesturing at the truck I yell at Dolcent.

“Well hurry the fuck up. Jump in we need to get going.”

Honey leaps out of the truck letting Dolcent climb into the back seat. Wasting no time Dolcent joins Shack and Monster in the truck crawling into the rear bench seat. Honey cleared a spot for Dolcent so that she can wedge herself in among our supplies. Standing briefly with me beside the truck Honey lightly touches me on the shoulder and gives me a light kiss on the cheek before climbing back inside the truck.

“Remember, no one fucking calls me Dolly or makes jokes about my tits or lack thereof. Shack you’ve seen my ass so I’ll let you slide for that once.”

“Dolcent while you are sitting in the rear seat, you are responsible for loading magazines and keeping us stocked with ammo and food. You should check with Honey often as she and Monster need frequent snacks.”

“Who’s Monster,” Dolcent asks.

Pointing to where Monster is tucked up underneath the dash on the floorboard I say, “He is.”

“Don’t worry I’ll ask you for snacks and food when we get hungry. You don’t want us to get hungry do you,” Dolcent asks looking as innocently as an infected 13-year-old child can.

“No,” Dolcent gulps her eyes wide.

Perhaps Dolcent did not consider the fact that she was crawling into a truck with two infected members. I try not to let an unladylike snicker pass my lips when I see Honey wink at me.

Shack humming “Hello Dolly” gets the truck moving with the convoy. He smoothly shifts through the gears maintaining our interval without getting too far behind or too close to the Colonels in front of us.