We quickly settled into our new routine. Tina had classes and study groups and hanging with her friends and working at the coffee shop. I had my two jobs and otherwise raced home to get back into Chloe mode. I had hoped to find the time to get back to my artistic ambitions, but household chores seemed to take more time than I expected. It's not as if my housemates didn't share the workload. Well, at least Tina did. And even Zoe was a substantial improvement over Colin and Dale. She didn't really help clean up, but at least she didn't actively contribute to the squalor, like my previous roommates. This place was far bigger, and far nicer than my old stag housing, so it required a lot more maintenance to keep it up. I did find the time to set up my PC and digital easel, but never made the time to actually put them to use. Somehow I felt like I was waiting for the muse.

Meanwhile, I got manic Martha Stewart around the house.

Zoe's dad showed up one day unannounced. Thank God I was in Chloe mode when he just used his key and entered.

I had to remind myself that this was 'his house' and we were technically caretakers, paying under-market rent in exchange for upkeep and squatting privileges.

I heard him come in and loudly say 'Hello?'. Tina was out and I hadn't seen or heard Zoe all morning. I assumed she was out as well.

“Hello?” I yelled back from the kitchen. I was a bit startled, but relaxed when I came (still discreetly carrying a large kitchen knife) to the foyer to find Zoe's dad.

“Oh, hey Mister B.” I smiled.

“Hello Chloe.” he smiled. “I was in the area, so I thought I'd drop in and see how you girls were settling in.”

I suspect his real agenda was a surprise inspection, to confirm that his plan was working and the two girls he vetted were indeed being good influences on his wild daughter.

I smiled apologetically. “I'm sorry. Zoe and Tina are both out. Please come in. Can I get you anything? ...coffee? Tea?”

Frank Boecher smiled and waved me off.

“Thank you dear. No. I only have a moment..... I just wanted to swing by and find out how you girls were settling in....” he said as he casually walked from room to room, clearly inspecting 'how we were settling in'. I was suddenly grateful for all the time I had invested getting the place tidy and together. I had not expected this surprise inspection, but found great relief knowing that our home looked quite presentable.

Zoe's dad nodded approvingly as he ambled from room to room. I sensed surprise on his part. Pleasant surprise. I volunteered to show him my upstairs room but explained that I obviously couldn't show him what Tina and Zoe had done with their personal spaces. He seemed to understand and waived off a tour of my room, saying he just wanted to see how we were settling in and if there was anything we were clearly in need of. I got the feeling he expected to find sleeping bags and inflatable furniture.

Finally, he made his way to the rather messy kitchen. He looked around and inhaled deeply.

“You caught me preparing tonight's dinner” I smiled apologetically. “It's my night to cook, and I wanted to make curry.... it takes a bit of preparation....” I smiled and shrugged.

“You're making it from scratch?” He regarded me with faint surprise.

I shrugged and nodded.

“Is this a regular thing?” he asked.

Again I shrugged. “Well, we all take turns... and we all have our ...particular styles... but today is my turn, and I had the day free, and everyone was cool with Indian, so I figured I'd make fresh curried veggies, palak paneer and lamb vindaloo.”

“And Zoe eats all that?” He asked.

I nodded. “We always clear it with others when it's our turn to cook. No one's too picky, and thank goodness no one has any food allergies.” I smiled. “So far we've been pretty much able to cook what we like, and there haven't been any complaints. So far.” Then I shrugged a smile “Then again, it hasn't even been a whole week.”

Frank laughed.

“I'm glad to know Zoe's eating well. Since she was about eleven, she wouldn't touch anything that didn't come in a greasy takeout sack.” He smiled.

“Oh, she still does that too.” I laughed. “Usually when it's her night to cook.”

Frank and I chatted amiably for a while longer and he politely left so I could get back to my 'chores'.

I think he was satisfied at his spot inspection, and relieved to find there were no 'girls gone wild' shenanigans going on. I doubted we'd be having any other unexpected visits anytime soon.

I told Tina about Frank's visit when she got home. She read it the same way I did. We were both curious for Zoe's take. When we finally saw her.

It was days later at about 6AM. I was sleepily shuffling downstairs to make coffee and get ready for work when I saw Zoe come out of her room headed for the upstairs bathroom. She was just in a robe, but looked like she'd been awake for hours.

“Hey stranger. Where you been?” I smiled.

She smiled back. “Nowhere. Work. Here. Work. Here. My social life sucks.” she grinned.

She didn't seem too upset about it.

“We missed seeing you. You even missed dinner the last few days, and Tina made her famous risotto!” I smiled.

She stopped and gave me a piercing look. “I'm a private person. Deal with it.”

“Sorry!” I stammered. “I meant no offense or imposition... it's just... we missed you.”

Zoe softened. “S'okay. Sorry I snapped at you. I just.... There are times I just.... keep to myself... sometimes for long stretches.” She scrunched up her face a little and I got the feeling she was going to say something but thought better of it. Then she got back that wicked Zoe gleam. “So don't worry about me. If you don't see me for stretches... it's just because.... I'm a wicked fucking hermit.” she smirked. “So unless you smell rotting corpse after not seeing me for a week or more, don't fucking stress about it.”

I shot her an uncomfortable look.

She just waved me off with a smile. “It's all good. Just leave me my space, OK?”

I nodded. She nodded back with a 'that's that' face and continued to the bathroom.

When Tina came down for coffee I told her about my Zoe encounter. I was relieved that she seemed as disturbed by it as I did.

“My cousin Jerry is bipolar. Until they knew what it was, he really freaked out the family when he first began manifesting.” She said.

“Do you think that's what it might be? Could it explain why her dad wanted her to live with others?” I asked.

Tina pursed her lips in thought. “Could be.... If so, I wish he... told us.”

“You were going to say 'warned us'...” I smiled. She nodded with an embarrassed smile.

“Maybe that's WHY he didn't tell us? He thought we might get scared off?” I mused.

Tina shrugged. “Look, we don't really know the first thing about Zoe's situation. I just knew her from work, but she seemed cool. A little wild... but cool at the core. That hasn't changed.”

I nodded. “True. I don't want to jump to conclusions. Let's just take this as one thing. She seems to be a recluse. She stays in her room for days at a time and doesn't even come out for meals. Doesn't have to mean anything more than she just keeps to herself.”

Tina seemed to agree. “If she really did have ….issues.... like my cousin Jerry.... there's no way she would be able to hold down a job without meds. And she's only missed work a few times... and every time she's mentioned beforehand what a wild night she had planned. That doesn't sound like mental illness.... just partying too hard. That happens to everybody sometimes.” she cracked a guilty smile.

I smiled back politely. Actually it had never happened to me, and I couldn't see that changing.

And so, life went on. And for me, for now, double life went on. I let Tina use my old Hyundai to get to classes and anything else she needed. And for her part, Tina got Tom to and from work. I could duck down when we left the garage and only pop back up when we hit the highway, so the neighbors never saw 'that guy' hanging out at the house full of girls.

Once in a while Zoe would grab me at work. I think it was less about Tina being busy than Zoe being bored. She would always show up looking like a badass biker bitch from some 70s exploitation flick... all leather, chains and ripped denim and say stupid stuff to me in front of others like, “C'mon baby. Time to ditch the Clark Kent and get back to the fortress of solitude... mama needs some tamin'....” with a wicked gleam in her eye.

My coworkers at office oasis were totally afraid of her. I tried to tell them she was a friend of Tina's with a twisted sense of humor, but I think they wanted to believe the dark and outrageous stuff she made up more than my lame and boring explanation.

The guys ...and women... at the courier office weren't freaked at all. They were intrigued. “Oh, yeah.... I've always had a thing for bad boys.... and behind all that mild mannered bike messenger disguise, this one's the baddest I've ever met!” Zoe would crow.

I knew what she meant by 'bad boy', and I could tell by the gleam in her eye she meant my coworkers and I to take it two different ways. I protested that she was making it all up and not to bust me for it. But the more I protested, the more she insisted that the boy scout act was just cover and that I was a raunchy wolf in sheep's clothing. As at my other job, my coworkers wanted to believe the more lurid story.

“Why do you DO that???” I asked in an exasperated whine once we got onto the highway and I could drop the Tom facade.

“Because it's fuckin' FUN!” Zoe gave me a wicked grin. “I can't believe these people even believe you're fuckin' TOM, let alone the crazed sex fiend bullshit I say. No matter how thick I lay it on, they just lap it up!” she cackled.

“Hey! YOU bought the Tom face the first time we met.” I protested.

“Yeah, cuz I hadn't met Chloe.” Zoe grinned.

“Yeah. And when you DID meet Chloe, you never made the connection.... until I made it for you.”

Her face got thoughtful, no doubt recalling our first meeting. She smiled. “Yeah.... that was before I fuckin' knew you. Now I do, and I can't believe anybody buys the Tom bullshit. You're Chloe. Acting all slouchy and emo boy, but it's all bullshit. I can see that now. I can't believe they all buy it.”

“Well they DO. And I like working..... and paying my part of the rent. So PLEASE stop messing with my coworkers?”

“No! It's fun. Maybe next time I should come with bruises and make some comment about the sex getting a little rough....”

“Oh God. PLEASE??? WHY do you have to mess with my friends?”

“I'm not fucking with them.” She said matter of factly, then she turned to me as I clenched, wishing she'd keep her eyes on the road. “I'm fucking with YOU!” she grinned.

I begged Tina to lie and say she was nearly there anytime Zoe said she would pick me up, explaining the stunts Zoe pulled and how my coworkers were starting to treat me in a new, unwelcome way. I liked being 'invisible boy' at work. But now people were coming up to me and saying outrageous things. Clarisse at the courier company invited me to check out her dungeon and one of my bosses at Office Oasis invited Zoe and me to a 'swap party' at his weekend cottage. Dianne the dispatcher slipped a recordable DVD into my courier bag and told me she'd love to see any vids Zoe and I wanted to share.

Tina just laughed nearly as maniacally as Zoe, but she shot me a warm sympathetic gaze.
“That's what you get moving in with a wild child!” she cackled. Then she put her hand on my forearm. “OK, sweetie. I'll try to keep her away from your work.” she soothed.

I thanked her profusely and explained that I liked Zoe and was totally cool with whatever her thing was... or things were.... but messing with my workmates was not funny to me.
She nodded and got it. Then she snickered and wondered if she wasn't allowed to play with me if she might start messing with Tina's schoolmates.

I laughed. “That's what you get moving in with a wild child!” And we laughed trying to imagine what kinds of sordid stories Zoe could make up to shock Tina's schoolmates.

Fortunately, Zoe remained scarce around the house. If she was in her room or not we could never tell. She was super private and we respected her privacy. Occasionally we would see her head out on a Friday night with what looked like a lot more than an overnight bag, and when we heard her sneak in, in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, the rather large rucksack made sense.

Meanwhile, Tina managed to go to school, keep an impressive GPA, work at the coffeeshop, a hipster collectible shop called 'Nostalgia Nook' that sold everything from vintage 'beat' era fashions to Esquivel and be-bop LPs, used books and items like 1964 worlds fair postcards and souvenirs. I don't think she worked there for the money, but because it allowed her to meet so many unique and eclectic people. Her writers mind was always working, and everyone she met provided material for her creative process.

One day she sheepishly asked if I'd read over some stuff she was kicking around. It was a story ...or maybe a serial... called “Contagion”. It read like a lurid 1950s pulp, and seemed like a fairly standard zombie tale. Only the more I read the series of seemingly unrelated vignettes, the more I saw the pattern unfold. It read like a zombie story, but I realized it was told from the point of view of the zombies. Only they didn't know they were zombies. Just that it was slowly dawning on them that somehow they had become 'other'... and no one in the 'real world' wanted any interaction. As I read on, I realized these zombies were once ordinary citizens who had somehow slipped through the cracks and become outsiders, shunned by 'decent' society. Soldiers who, as idealistic young people did the patriotic thing and enlisted, only to find themselves witnessing ...and sometimes doing... things that would change them forever, and when they were finally used up and sent home, they found themselves wandering through a country they could no longer recognize and shunned by the people they enlisted to protect. Other zombies were single moms with young families living on the street after financial or domestic catastrophe, elderly people who had lost everything to swindlers, entire social groups – people of certain ethnicities, refugees from particular countries, LGBT folk, and others who suddenly found themselves branded 'outsiders' and 'threats to the status quo'. These social outcasts were the new zombie army. Feared and despised by 'the normals' because ordinary people recognized themselves in the outsiders, and the presence of the 'zombies' made ordinary people realize how close they themselves were to this sort of spreading dis-inclusion.

After about a week, she couldn't take the wait. Tina cornered me and asked if I read it. I admitted that I read it multiple times and got more out of it... actually more into it with each rereading. She hesitantly asked whether I thought it might work as a book, or maybe a series of short stories.

Rather than answer her, I held up a finger, asking her to wait while I dashed up to my room and got my tablet.

I showed her some stuff I'd sketched out and meekly suggested that I saw her story as a powerful graphic novel. Only I changed the title from 'Contagion' to “Plague Diaries'.

Her eyes went wide as she saw my interpretation of her story. How, when the story was told from the point of view of the 'zombies', it had a bleak 19th century woodcut, Edward Gorey look to it. And when told from the point of the 'normals' it had more of a Norman Rockwell feel to it. And how when a character or group was slipping to the 'darkside', their P.O.V. would slowly morph from the rosy style to the bleak style.

The more we talked about this, the more excited we got about collaborating on her story. Tina's powerful tale was the inspiration I needed to finally pick up my stylus and rediscover my own inspiration. It also gave Tina an opportunity to test her ideas about marketing her work.

Her ideas were sound. It didn't take too long for 'Plague Diaries' to generate buzz. We'd tease out installments on the web and made full tales, each a self contained short story set in Tina's rich world. It reminded me of an anthology series set in the same fictitious world.

She worked out a deal with small publish on demand services and offered her tales on epublishing and physical books that were a vague mashup of a comic book and an old 1990s style self published zine. Neither of us dreamed of quitting our day jobs, but the modest returns from our little collaboration was a tremendous validation that people actually seemed to enjoy the stuff we made.

We even got a few inquiries from people who claimed to be interested in publishing or syndicating our work. While flattered, we put them off, claiming this project was just beginning, and suggesting that if they were still interested later on, we should stay in touch.

Tina did make one deal. Working with a large publisher of magazines distributed throughout the world in a variety of languages. She ran it by me and of course got my approval, since I always considered it her story and I was just interpreting it through my images. I would send the publisher the master artwork for a story completely stripped of text and Tina would send the story notes in a separate attachment so that versions could be customized for each market and language.

Much as my old roomies would get lost in their first person shooter games and some of my coworkers became completely immersed in world of warcraft, Tina's world attracted a surprising number of fans. Or as she called them 'enthusiastic immigrants'.

I always gave all the credit to her. It was her world, her story and her imagination. I just put a tiny little Prince-like glyph which was a convoluted graphic jumble of 'Saville'. I remained blissfully anonymous for the longest time, but eventually Tina mentioned to some fan that she didn't do the art, and chose not to volunteer any information before talking to me.

The buzz over the 'mystery artist' snowballed the more I tried to protect my privacy. I enjoyed being an enigma. Who I was in people's imaginations seemed much more interesting than my rather mundane real life.