SEVEN DAYS

by James Ryke

  Her next project was to create an electric water heater. The task seemed daunting, even to her. Rick had spent close to two minutes disparaging the idea in one of their Atriach meetings. He said that “it most likely would be too complicated to work and wholly unnecessary.” Initially, she thought that she might be able to find an electric water heater that had not been damaged by the EMP, but this soon proved fruitless. They were all equipped with computers that had been fried.

  The design, however, was simple enough, and she thought she could replicate it. She had the build crew draw a second water line from the pressurized tank and hook it into the church’s preexisting hot water pipes. The next step in the process was the most difficult, and it took almost as much time scavenging for the right parts in the city as it did in hooking it up. She put a small turbine into the water pipe. As a faucet was being used, the turbine would spin. The rate of spin on the turbine adjusted and governed the amount of voltage that was shot into the piping. The higher the demand for hot water, the more voltage was shot through the water. It took her twice as long to build the electrical water heater as the water tower, but when it was done, not even Rick could find fault with it.

  Next, Kate had the build crew building windmills. Norwich was not known for being a particularly windy city, but with enough windmills, Kate reasoned, it would not matter. Instead of a large dominating windmill, as Rick had suggested, she elected for something smaller and more dynamic. She wished she could take complete credit for the design, but she had discovered a home improvement book that had a chapter on designing your own windmill—a fact she swore she would never disclose to Rick. She used PVC pipe to create the rudders of the windmill and then hooked them each up to one of the alternators they had taken from stalled vehicles. Since the alternators generated DC voltage, she did not need an inverter before hooking them up to the batteries. The devices proved effective, easy to install, and portable.

  Today, Kate had the build crew installing solar panels. When the idea was presented in the meeting of the Atriachs, Rick remained uncharacteristically quiet. The confident woman flaunted the idea, staring Rick down as she explained it in detail. Ever since Kate made hot showers possible, she had everyone’s constant support. There were no objections. After the meeting was done, she noticed that Rick was trying to meet her eyes. She felt a flush of triumph as he approached her. She shot him a wicked smile and blew past him as if he was a stranded motorist in need of a lift.

  It was not until the build crew finished installing the scavenged solar panels onto the roof before she felt a ping of guilt. She reflected back to Rick’s softened expression. Stop it, Kate. Don’t be weak. He thinks you’re weak; don’t prove him right. Don’t let him trick you. She pushed the guilt aside and turned back to her work, her jaw set with new determination.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Day 40

  Rick had timed his routine perfectly so that he could run into Kate Hensen as if by accident. He took the basement stairs quickly, acting as if he was bored with his day-to-day routine. In reality, however, his heart was pounding in his chest and his nerves seemed to tighten with each passing second. He did not know if it was pride or some other emotion pulsing through his body, but somehow he dreaded this conversation far more than he should have. Even when he was fighting for his life in the city, he was not nearly as anxious.

  He spotted her immediately at the far end of the basement. She was wearing capris pants and a white shirt. Her long hair was tied up in a ponytail. Rick let himself study her at a distance before he approached. She’s one hot lady. No makeup or fancy clothes, and she’s still hotter than hell. Too bad she’s half-crazy. Rick approached noisily, hoping to break her concentration before he had drawn too close. For some reason, he did not want to use her name to get her attention. He did not want her to think that he even knew her name, but to no avail. She did not notice him.

  “Kate, I need to talk to you,” Rick’s voice came out so forceful that it even startled himself.

  Kate stepped back, almost dropping the clipboard she held in her hands. When she saw who it was, she straightened her back and took in a sharp breath. “What do you want?” Her voice was cold and distant, carrying a tone that few reserved for even their most vile enemies.

  Suddenly, the nervousness in Rick’s voice was gone as he spoke. “Good job. The gasifier works.” The words seemed to contradict the tone. It was almost like he was accusing her of stealing.

  “Did you just figure that out?” Kate hissed. “It’s been working for almost a month now. What are you doing down here anyway? You don’t have anything to do with inventory.”

  Rick did not respond right away. “I didn’t expect much of you: You were an inexperienced metal shop high school teacher. I didn’t expect you to know what you were doing. I couldn’t afford to take a gamble on something that could threaten everyone’s lives.”

  Kate turned sharply. “Wow, you’re a piece of work. What is this? Is this some sort of an apology, because it feels much more like an insult. Look, before the world turned to crap, I had a Ph.D. in practical technology. The only reason I got stuck in this city is because my mother had brain cancer, and I was the only one that could take care of her. I did have job offers, ones that probably paid more in a year than what you’ve made your whole life, but I chose to place my family first. And—what if I’m just a high school teacher…that doesn’t mean I can’t have a good idea.”

  Rick rubbed his eyebrows with his large hand. This conversation is going from bad to worse. Jane, why did you send me down here? What’s the point in talking to this woman?

  “What good ideas have you come up with?” Kate said, her eyes burning with accusation. “You might know how to handle yourself with a gun, but do you even know half the names of the people you protect? The Mayor is gone, and you still act like we’re in a war zone. Why don’t you ease up? Why don’t you just back off?”

  “I’m sorry,” Rick roared, “that’s what I’m trying to say—that’s all I came to say. Listen, I give credit where credit is due: You’ve got the solar panels and windmills recharging our battery bank; you built the pressurized tank, despite my objections, and it works; and you made the gasifier—which still impresses me, by the way. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. But, I’m sorry that my opinion doesn’t seem to consider everybody’s feelings before I give it. I don’t have time to figure out everyone’s name in the Congregation because I’m too busy doing what I know how to do. And what good will learning their names do? Do you think if I went around chatting it up with everyone like some sort of Seinfeld sitcom that we’ll magically be safe? If I don’t do what I do, no one will.”

  “What? Who is Seinfeld?”

  “You seriously don’t know who Seinfeld is?” Rick growled in frustration.

  “You want us to be at war with somebody,” Kate said, “that way you can justify in your little mind how you treat other people. Here, why don’t you make yourself useful? Take this.” She shoved the clipboard into Rick’s hands. “We’re missing a few boxes of food. Why don’t you try to figure out where they went? And don’t ever talk to me again—I’m done with you.”

  With this, Kate stormed off, her ponytail bouncing menacingly as she ran up the stairs.

  Rick swore and punched a box of food. The box indented but did not break. He swore again. He looked at the clipboard, anger still pulsing through his body. It took him several minutes for him to calm himself to the point where he could read the sheet in front of him.

  The numbers did not match, which meant one of two things: either Kyle Trabu, the individual in charge of inventory, was completely off on his math, which given the simplistic nature of the inventory seemed impossible, or, and this seemed the much more likely option, someone in the Congregation was stealing food. It was only a matter of time before someone started to realize that there’s not enough for everyone—and now someone is trying to hoard it. Even this small amount that was taken will cut days
off the Congregation’s survival. He swore out loud. How can Kate possibly feel like I don’t do anything?

  Rick had set strict rules about who could access the food, but in the wake of the Mayor pulling out of the city, these rules, as did most others, seemed to go by the wayside—until even the sign in and sign out sheet in front of the food stores was neglected. Only the kitchen staff was supposed to have access to the area with the food, but on more than one occasion, Rick had seen a myriad of people breaking that rule. There had not been any problems of theft yet, but that seemed to have changed now. They were missing three boxes of food—a total of eighteen cans. Inventory was only taken once a week, so it was impossible to tell precisely when the food was stolen.

  Isaac appeared, his face turning into a smile when he saw Rick. “Kate said you might need some help down here. How have you been? I haven’t seen you all day.”

  “Much better before I talked to Kate.”

  “What happened?”

  “I came down here to compliment her—something that your daughter suggested I do by the way—and she threw it back in my face. You would’ve thought I had just kicked a baby kitten in the head the way she was reacting. That woman is so frustrating.”

  “It’s so weird that you can get under her skin so easily,” Isaac said. “Everyone else thinks she’s the easiest going person here—even Jane likes her.”

  Rick shoved the clipboard into Isaac’s hands. “Here. Trabu has been doing inventory, and he found some irregularities.”

  “What?” Isaac replied. “What are you talking about?”

  “We do inventory every week,” Rick answered. “Trabu counts every box of food we have, just to make sure that none of it goes missing. Something like this was inevitable, but I had no idea it would start happening while we still had plenty of food.”

  “I had no idea Brother Trabu was that thorough,” Isaac answered. “But I don’t think anyone is stealing.”

  Rick pointed at the clipboard. “The boxes we have don’t match the number of boxes that we should have. They’ve matched our physical inventory every week until now. Someone took them.”

  “Maybe,” Isaac asserted, “the kitchen staff took them.”

  Rick shook his head. “Kyle Trabu is an arrogant weakling that complains every time he has to do any heavy lifting, but when it comes to counting inventory, even I have to compliment him. I’m sure he already checked with the kitchen staff. He’s pretty thorough. He worked in Target’s shipping and receiving department for over ten years without ever making a single mistake on inventory, according to him. Someone took those boxes, and we need to find out who. We need to squash this before it becomes a real issue.”

  Isaac rubbed his hands over his face. “Well, in that case, I think it was me. I took some boxes a few days ago.”

  “What?” Rick asked. “Why?”

  Isaac rolled his eyes and looked up, struggling for the right words. After several moments, he shook his head, and his shoulders shrank. “I…I…you…just have to see it. In a way, it’s probably a good thing that you found out about this now.”

  Rick’s expression turned into a permanent frown. “Show me what?” His eyes narrowed and his muscles tightened.

  Isaac looked down, avoiding eye contact altogether. “Let me show you.”

  Minutes later, Rick and Isaac stepped outside, the early sun momentarily blinding their vision. Isaac led the way down the road and towards the city. Each step they took, Rick’s temper seemed to raise a couple of degrees. His mind could not help but jump to various possibilities. Maybe he’s setting food aside for his family, just in case our stores in the church run dry. Or maybe he ran into someone and was using it to barter. But none of the dozen thoughts in Rick’s head seemed to make sense. He would be the last person to think of himself before other people. And if he was thinking about bartering with someone, the first thing he would do is tell me about it. Of all the people to take from the food stores without letting me know, he would be the last on my list. Rick attempted to ask additional questions, but Isaac refused to answer, which only seemed to fuel the tension between them.

  After about forty minutes of walking, the two brothers arrived at the corner of Main and 1st street. Isaac led them to a small, oddly constructed church. The building was made of wood of all different types—most likely donated by local construction companies. The church was in a sorry state: the sign in front looked like it was on its last leg; the roof was missing several tiles; the sidewall had been vandalized with spray paint; and at least three of the glass windows were shattered.

  “Now that you’ve taken me to the armpit of the city, do you mind telling me what we’re doing here? It’s been fun, but I’ve got a lot on my plate today.”

  Isaac looked at his brother intently. “I’ve seen a miracle.”

  “Now you’re starting to worry me.”

  “This is not what you wanted to see,” Isaac replied, his enthusiasm increasing as he spoke, “but this is something that you have to see. A few days ago, I dreamed about a building in town. The next morning, I joined the group of scavengers that enters the city every day to look for supplies. I felt pushed—literally pushed—to come out here. And so I ventured out to the city, with the other scavengers from the Congregation, gathering everything that might be of use—everything you said that we should look for. I didn’t know exactly what I was doing until I saw this church.”

  “Was this the same building from your dream?”

  “No, the building in my dream was a Chucky E. Cheese or something. But, that dream is what made me want to venture out here in the first place.”

  “What are you talking about,” Rick replied. “Cut the crap: what did you find? Never mind, I’ll find out myself.”

  Isaac stretched his hand out to catch his brother, “Wait.”

  Rick walked passed his brother’s hand as he shouldered his M4. He pushed through two sets of doors before he was able to step into a meeting hall. Between the first and second doors, the smell of excrement, urine, and sickness hit his nose, almost forcing him to stop. He entered a large room lined with mismatched benches. There were bodies spread all over, as if they had been spilled out on the floor. The people were weak and thinned, most of them too frail to stand up for very long. They were covered in a layer of dirt that congregated around their hands and faces, which were stained black. Their faces were sullen and sunken, like neglected infants that had been fed water instead of milk. The only few that seemed to have much life, if any, were the children that were sprinkled about a few of the families. Despite it all, despite the depressing conditions, the people smiled when they saw Rick. Some even bowed their head as if they were seeing some kind of deity. He took a few more steps inside before he had seen enough. He turned around, bumping into Isaac.

  “Wait,” Isaac said. “Hold on.”

  Rick tightened his jaw and continued his exit out of the building—Isaac followed.

  As they exited the front door, Isaac grabbed Rick’s shoulder. “Rick, listen to me.”

  Rick flipped around, a lethality in his eyes that Isaac had rarely seen. “This is the miracle you wanted to show me—that you’ve picked up more people to add to our band of misfits?”

  “The miracle is that they’re still alive and that we're in the position to help them.”

  “Help them? How can we help them? What do you want us to do? Take them in? Feed them?” How many are there—a hundred?”

  “There are a hundred and forty-seven, and that’s exactly what we need to do.”

  “What?” Rick yelled. “The only thing we need to do is survive, and taking them in will do exactly the opposite. More people means more responsibility—it means we’ve got more mouths to feed.”

  Isaac looked up to the clouds, his eyes staring far off into the distance. “Rick, whether by some miracle or chance, we are still alive. Our families are still safe. That’s something that not many people can say. How can we turn t
hese people away, after we have been so fortunate?”

  “We have survived because we’ve been smart.”

  “I don’t know if we’ll survive if we help these people, but I’m as sure as life itself that we will not survive if we do nothing for them. Humans will survive this—as we have survived everything else, but our humanity is what we’re fighting to keep alive.”

  Rick scoffed.

  “We can’t turn our backs on these people, not now, not ever.”

  Rick shook his head as he took out a small pad of paper from his pocket. “Let me show you something, Isaac, just so you know what you’re talking about. Taking the number of people we have right now—two hundred and fifty-three—their needed calorie intake, on average is around 2,000 calories per day, I’ve been able to figure out how many months we can expect to survive. If we almost double our number, then it will cut our survival time in half—that’s as simple as I can make it for you. Even if we supplement our food with game and fish that we kill or catch, we’ll be lucky to make it to June—and that’s with the people we have now. But that is when the real trouble begins. We don’t have a renewable food source. We don’t have seeds to plant; we don’t have fruit trees that we can harvest; we don’t have a fish hatchery close by or a lake; we don’t have plows, farming tools, a tractor, or even horses. In essence, no matter how bad it will get this year, next year will be a lot worse. No seeds means no food. If we take in these people, we’ll be lucky to make it to Christmas.”

  “What do you suggest we do?”

  Rick lowered his voice, “You know what I’m suggesting. We walk away and let God decide how long they stay alive. It sounds repulsive, I know, but we’re literally choosing between them and us. If we take them in, we will all die; if we don’t, some of us might live. There’s a chance, no matter how small it might be, but that chance completely disappears if you take these people in.”