Free The October Light of August by Robert John Jenson

nightstand so I grabbed it and used it to make my way back to my mom's room, dragging the comforter behind me. The floor wasn't so wet there, but I mopped it as best I could and then shoved the soggy fabric into a corner. I would hang it in the basement later.
    The storm seemed to be passing over, lightning and thunder still fairly regular but more distant. I went to the window to watch, and in a crackle of illumination I spotted Jesse's wife leaning out her open window into the rain. The thunder rolled over us, and as several other bolts lit the sky I could see see was grinning.
    Seeing as her husband had fallen out that very window, I was a little concerned for her safety. I slid the window open.
    “Please be careful,” I called softly.
    I saw the dark shape of her shift as she directed her attention to me. Thunder rumbled.
    “I do so love a thunderstorm,” she shouted, and laughed.
    I couldn't tell if she was drunk, off her rocker, or just energized by the storm. Lightning flashed again, and she had her head tipped up into the sky, her wet hair twisting across her face and hanging in tangled strands.
    “Well, yeah,” I said. “So do I. But...be careful. Is all. I mean.”
    She laughed again.
    “What's your name?” she asked.
    “My name?”
    “Yeah. You're name!”
    “Uh, Arthur. I usually go by 'Artie' though...”
    “Well Artie, I'm Jackie. Pleased to meet you.”
    Jesse and Jackie. Jackie and Jesse. That rolled off the tongue easy enough for friends, I bet. I could almost hear it, echoes of “Let's see if Jackie and Jesse want to meet us there. Do you know if Jackie and Jesse are coming? Did you hear about Jackie and Jesse?”
    “Pleased to meet you as well,” I replied.
    I heard a small hum of  acknowledgement, and then we were quiet for several minutes. Lightning lit her again, and she had her head hanging down, rain running off the tips of her hair to the grass below.
    “I'm really sorry about your mother,” she finally murmured. Thunder gave an irritated grumble in the distance. “She seemed like such a sweet lady.”
    “Yeah,” I replied dumbly. “She truly was.”
    I paused, and then added, “I'm really sorry about -”
    “I know, I know,” she said.
    The rain poured harder for awhile, and in bursts of lightning I watched it cascade from her shoulders and hair. As the downpour eased again, she looked over to me and I could see a tired smile flash and disappear.
    “Never, never get blind, stinking drunk while the zombies are circling, Artie. Let that be a lesson.” A flash of lightning, and her head was shaking sadly, water drops flinging from her hair to get lost in the rain. I could hear the weariness in her voice, and wondered if I heard some guilt as well...
    “Yeah,” I offered,  always the sparkling conversationalist.
    “I'm getting cold, Artie,” she said abruptly. “I think I'd better go in and dry off. Looks like the storm is winding down now.”
    “Oh. Sure.”
    “But it was nice chatting with you,” she added, and ducked back in through the window. Lightning dimly flared, and I saw her slide the window down with a quiet thump.  I reached up and pulled my window down and said quietly, “Nice chatting with you too.”
    I hadn't gotten too wet, so I stripped off my shirt and then lay on the bed. With my hands folded across my chest, I lay in the dark and whispered, “Jackie and Jesse. Jesse and Jackie,” over and over until I fell asleep.
     
     

 
     
    I was debating the idea of trying to brew some coffee on my camp stove, when I heard muffled voices outside between the houses. I heard a gate shake violently, and then voices again, sounding irritated. I darted up the stairs, my knees groaning. The morning had brought sunshine streaming through the window, so I had opened it before going down to figure out what breakfast would be.
    As I was creeping towards the window I heard what sounded like a semi-truck's horn blare out in the street. This was the most