by Wade Ebeling
Seeing his son’s change in demeanor, Allen tried to keep the mood light. “Let’s take a look,” he said smiling, taking the lead going down the hall. Once in the room, he saw the solar chargers spread out on the floor, very little light shining on them. He stepped in a little deeper, to give Daniel a comfortable amount of space to occupy by the door.
“Do you mind if I take one?” Allen asked, retrieving three batteries and a flashlight from the floor. “You can go get more from the basement. If you want…” Allen added the batteries to the flashlight and clicked it on and off. “Here this one works,” he announced, flipping the light over to Daniel with an underhanded toss.
Daniel clicked the button on the end of the flashlight several times, shining the light on the floor and into his eyes. Blinking rapidly, Daniel finally asked, “You don’t mind?”
It was posed as a simple question, but it covered so many things. The weight of the possible answers were not lost on him.
“No, I don’t mind,” Allen offered benignly. “Why don’t you run downstairs and get some more batteries and a couple more flashlights for me?” he asked smoothly, trying to avoid the looming dead air between them. He turned and assembled the next flashlight for himself, as Daniel ran off. He stood back up to check its condition on the wall. This flashlight seemed to work fine, as well. Allen spread his smile out further.
While he waited for Daniel to return, Allen searched for what he was feeling. His son had seemed to grow up overnight, or within ten days, as that was the last time that he had seen Daniel. Relief was what came to mind after a moment. That pinpointed exactly what he was feeling. Relief. He always had a nagging, encompassing despondency when he left Daniel here. Allen now felt almost free again. Not just free from his obligation, but free from his stress, his worries. His son seemed to want to take care of himself; at least, more so than he had been already. Allen had a sudden, obvious idea.
His son came stomping back down the hall and into the room. He looked at his father, who was still smiling, then at the empty chargers on the floor. Looking back to his father for approval, Daniel waited for him to nod slightly before diving down to set new batteries in place.
“What were you going to do with the flashlight?” Allen asked calmly, astonished by how long and unkempt his child’s hair had grown.
“I was gonna go look in an empty house,” Daniel replied sheepishly. “It’s over on the other side of the block. I don’t know…I was just looking.”
“You wanted to do some exploring,” Allen stated knowingly. “You will need more than just a flashlight and a knife…” His idea made even more sense to him now.
“I wanted to take some water and some…food. I don’t know. Maybe, that backpack that I saw...I don’t know,” Daniel said, searching his father’s face for what he thought, fearful that he had mentioned the backpack in his bedroom.
“Tell you what, you get these going and I’ll be right back. Don’t take off for a bit. I’m going to go get you a few things…Things you might need…for…exploring,” Allen said. “Will you wait for me? I’ll be back in like…an hour. Give me an hour, Okay?”
Daniel got a stressed look on his face. He looked at his feet while he thought about what waiting an hour meant. “You won’t be that long, right?” Daniel asked hopefully.
“Nope, I’ll be quick. You know how to tell time? Like, on a watch with hands?” Allen asked without judgment.
“I…I think I used to know,” Daniel said, hoping it would be a sufficient answer. It wasn’t like he had been provided with a clock to stare at, pining away the hours until his father returned.
“Well, here. Take this. Keep track of how long it takes you to get places. You will need a map…” Allen trailed off.
“What?” Daniel asked. His father took off his wrist watch and handed it to him.
“Never mind. Stay here for a bit. Promise? I’ll be right back,” Allen rambled, making his way to the front door.
“Okay. Um, Dad?” Daniel asked quietly.
Allen paused at the doorway, and looked back at a young man. “Yeah?”
“I just…well…thanks,” Daniel stuttered, finding the nerve to look straight at his father.
“Don’t thank me yet. You’ll see when I get back…But, you’re welcome,” Allen said, shaking his head at himself. “Be right back.” With that, Allen went back to his truck. Thoughts of coming home to change the fuel and air filters to combat the poor gas and air quality were long forgotten.
An hour and a half later, by Daniel’s new watch, Allen returned. He came back into the house with a squat, olive-drab backpack, which had zippered and open pockets all over it, and a folding table. Allen put the pack on the kitchen counter, deciding not to say anything about how cut up and just generally abused it was looking. He opened the table legs and set it up where a dining room table would have normally gone.
“Here we go,” Allen said magnanimously, dumping the contents of the pack out onto the table. “I got you an atlas and a compass. I’ll show you how to use those first. They will help you explore anywhere you want. A sleeping bag and pad. The rolled up foam, I mean, that’s tied to the bottom of the bag. You understand? Let’s see…You know how to use a knife sharpener? Guess I’ll have to show you how to use this too. You got this roll of paracord, that’s good for all kinds of things…Oh, here put this on your belt. It’s called a multi-tool.”
Daniel stood mute, staring at all the shiny new baubles. Ever so slowly, cherishing every heartbeat, he started touching and playing with things. The multi-tool was especially amazing, and he pulled his belt partially out to hang it next to the knife. “Wow, Dad. You got all this…for me?” he finally muttered.
“That’s not all. Wait here. I’ve got to get you the rest of the stuff,” Allen said, already on his way back to the truck. “Oh, never mind. Come on out with me,” he blurted, waving Daniel forward.
When Daniel got outside, Allen was already in the bed of the truck, wrestling with a bike. Daniel could not believe that it was for him. He refused to believe it, so it wouldn’t hurt when he heard otherwise. Allen hopped down to finish pulling the bike out. It was a big, dark blue mountain bike, tags and manufacturing stickers still attached. Plastic book racks, which had metal tabs along the sides, hovered over both tires, and a tangle of bungee cords were wrapped around the rear. Allen raised a finger to forgo having to say ‘one second’. He reached back into the truck bed and pulled out two shoe boxes and a large bin full of spare parts and a pump for the bike.
“These should fit your right now…And these…should fit you in a little bit. At least, at the rate you’re growing,” Allen laughed, handing Daniel the two shoe boxes.
Both boxes contained very expensive looking hiking boots. Daniel was officially in awe. Words escaped him completely. He sat on the step of the porch, kicking off his old tennis shoes, which had the heels tucked down like slippers to accommodate his growing feet. His upper lip and hands trembled while he tried to lace up the new boots.
“Hey, kiddo, that’s not all,” Allen said mysteriously. He opened the passenger side door of the truck and gathered up a few things before pulling a small rifle from the floorboards. As he came around to the back of the truck, Daniel was staring wide-eyed at the gun. “I guess we can teach you how to use the rest of that stuff later, huh?”
Daniel felt like he was dreaming, playing out a lie. He was certain that he would wake up soon, feeling a great disappointment that this had all been fabricated. This whole day had gone so much better than he would have ever believed possible. This last part was almost too much. Daniel’s smile was back.
“Thanks again, Dad,” Daniel said naturally. If his father could forgive him, it seemed only right to do the same.
Allen stayed for three days, and this was quite the pleasant rarity. The two acted like nothing had ever come between them, walking and biking around the neighborhood together each day. Allen taught Daniel how to use the map and compass, how to hone the edge of a knif
e, and, most importantly, how to carry, load, and shoot the rifle safely. It was an accurate, wooden, semiautomatic .22 with a spring-loaded tube magazine and a leather strap for a sling. It was, by far, Daniel’s favorite amongst all the presents that he had received. Allen kept having Daniel grab the rifle quickly to shoot at distant street sign or tree. The two had loads of playful adventures together; all of them with the goal of teaching something new to Daniel. Whether it was learning basic gun safety, actively stalking slowly and quietly, or practicing tying snares, Daniel loved every minute of it.
After the three days had passed, Allen started to get the sense that Daniel wanted to try out things for himself. His son was not going to go off on his own; unless, he was left alone. Allen had to leave. He had to give Daniel a chance to grow. When he pulled away from his smiling and waving son, Allen felt a sense of mourning, like he had just lost someone close. He found it very had to stay away at first, but he did not return for two weeks. The time had let Daniel flourish, but it also let the gratitude slowly wear off.
Chapter 18
Wednesday, September 1 - 2031
Fifteen year-old Daniel Moore was the king of his own little world. His routine was based on excitement. He did not just ride his bike, he stormed the roads with abandon. He did not just break into a house, he made meticulous plans for infiltration. Of course, bringing the loot back home was as fun a part as all the rest. After planning a breach all morning, Daniel would spend the remaining daylight hours searching, or just playing, in the ever-changing adventure lands. As soon as the sun started setting, he would load up the bike and race home, battling imaginary hordes the whole way. Truth be told, Daniel had only seen a handful of other people in the past two years. Each of those times it was from a long distance away, and both parties gave wide berths.
The expanses where Daniel stalked squirrels and stormed fake prisons and bunkers were surprisingly safe. His area of operation was south of the official quarantine line, placing him in a sort of bubble. Much of what was still afflicting the rest of the world had been staved off in this small area, due in part to equal measures of father’s tenacity, geographical distance away from the destroyed nuclear plant, and luck.
For days on end, Daniel would spend his time outside with the dust and ash, searching for new items and adventures. After making a discovery and transporting it home, the entirety of the following day would be spent cooking and sleeping. He had become quite the deadly shot while using the .22, as tended to happen when missing meant going hungry, and he had singlehandedly reduced the varmint population within a three block ring down to extinction levels.
There were still plenty of staple foods left down in the basement, but Daniel could hardly eat if plain rice or beans was all he had. Fresh meat, whatever the source, kept Daniel moving and growing. He was driven to keep going. Survival was part of his motivation, but not nearly all. The other part was more of an intangible. Perhaps it was just an innate curiosity about things, or, perhaps, it was because of the thoughts that caught up with him when he stopped moving.
A couple of weeks ago, his father showed up with all sorts of plans to spend time with him. The first day, they cleaned and organized everything that was out in the garage and down in the basement together. Over the next few days, Allen showed Daniel all sorts of things. He revealed where his “hidey-hole” was, and let him drive the truck all around the local streets.
At a library, Allen demonstrated how to breach a reinforced, metal door. He then made this big show about a book that he wanted Daniel to read. Making him promise to come back to read it someday. For some reason, Daniel did not question why they didn’t just take the book with them, if it was really that big a deal. He was just happy that he had gotten out of reading it. There were no plans to go back.
Despite all of Allen’s attempts at reconciliation, Daniel still felt an obligation to show his father that he was not wanted or needed. Allen eventually gave up trying to make amends with his son, only making two short appearances since then. When Allen did show up, for the entire duration of his stay, all he would do is angrily disparage people who Daniel had never met, or rant about the Department of Cunt-tin-u-ation; Daniel was unsure what the real name was.
The pubescent boy was glad that his father was nowhere around.
Keeping himself busy, Daniel was on day ten of raids upon his former middle school, half a mile to the south. The school sat in the middle of the block, a long driveway cutting in through the surrounding houses. It took him an entire day to find a way to get close to it. Every direction, either by road or sidewalk, had an occupied home nearby. The houses were not all that close to one another, but they all seemed to be positioned in the worst possible spots; if, like Daniel, your goal was to avoid other people. It was nearing dark when he finally found a place in the chain-link fence where he could cut an opening, without someone hearing or seeing him.
A small window pane on the bottom of a classroom door had been broken out years before, and this was Daniel’s way inside. The room held so many treasures that he did not realize until hours later that the door leading out to the hallway was locked. He took his plunder, which consisted of pens, paper, chalk, half a case of supplement “breakfast” drinks, six bottles of “diet” soda, and seven packages of cheese and peanut butter crackers back to his bike.
The next time back to the school, Daniel expected a long fight to pry open the door quietly. Within an hour’s time, Daniel had the door open. Once he figured out the trick as to where to pry on the door frame it was easy. There was no way that anyone could hear him, either, and he started to relax in the building. The next door was opened in no time at all.
The corridor looped around the school through the library on one side and the reception area on the other. Daniel checked every door along the way, finding them all locked tight. The only areas open to him were the library and the small gymnasium in the center of the school. Not surprisingly, and somewhat anti-climatically, he only found books inside the school’s library. The gymnasium only contained a stage and a plush red curtain that was pulled open. Wanting to sit down to eat his lunch, Daniel went back into the library, which at least offered a cushy chair and a wide view across the overgrown football field in back.
Quite by chance, Daniel sat in front of the windows that had a low shelf of books underneath them. As he pulled out his thermos full of stewed cat meat, green beans, and canned gravy, Daniel scanned the books lined up in front of him. A large, green, hard-covered book caught his eye. “Edible plants,” he read with some difficulty from the spine. It fascinated him immediately, walking over to pull it from the shelf. Daniel thought that he recognized some of the plants shown in the book’s colorful pages, and he wanted to go home to study the book in a setting where he could lose focus on the world.
Instead of rushing home nearly empty-handed, Daniel started making piles of books on the table by his backpack and rifle. If a book looked even slightly interesting, he would free it from the thousands of others, all doomed to remain unread. The more he looked around the library, the more books he carried back to the table. Books on military vehicles and weapons, trees, forest animals, and knot tying piled up higher and higher. When he found the book on wilderness survival, Daniel knew he was done looking for the day. He bound a short stack of the choicest books with paracord, tying the bundle to the bottom of his backpack. He retreated out the broken door, pausing to gather a handful of dust collecting in eddies near the recessed doorways. He sprinkled the fine dirt inside the door where he had climbed in and out of. If anything passed after he left, it would leave tracks in the dust as a warning; it was a trick that he learned years ago from opossums.
He made the trip home in the late afternoon heat and ash-filtered, amber light. Daniel pushed his bike into the orderly garage and closed the door. His package of trussed books felt very important when compared to the useless power tools, boxes of clothing, roofing materials, auto parts, assorted candles, and stacks of phone books that all
ringed the way to the house door. Once inside, he placed the books on a wooden, round table that was found in a house two blocks over. Sitting on one of two comfortable, padded chairs, Daniel started to read. He did not stop reading for three days, except to cook, eat, or sleep.
Armed with a dearth of new knowledge, Daniel alternated days of breaking into classrooms with days of scouring overgrown fields and yards for new edibles. Daniel was flourishing. He had almost completely stopped having to dip into the stockpile of food that his father had stored away. Independence was joy. The more he learned to do for himself, the greater the emotional payoff was. Daniel fancied himself as one of the great explorers that he had started to read about, and everything was seen as an exacting challenge. He was no longer just living, he was taking control. He no longer played in a fantasy world, he struggled in a real world, with real consequences. The acceptance of his own role in how well or poorly he lived made him work all the harder. The work he did was for himself, and the benefits were his alone.
After ten days of raiding the school, reading, and gathering wild plants, Daniel was taking the day to rest. The ash outside was as thick as he could ever remember, and he wanted to make himself a hearty meal. He roasted whole, peeled burdock roots over a small fire in the fireplace, chopping them into small pieces after they cooled. He added the root to a pot of simmering squirrel meat, dandelion greens, flour, salt, and can of peas and carrots. Tight, berry clusters from the tops of sumac plants were roughly crushed, and sat steeping in a pitcher of cool water. He was working on a second bowl and third glass full when the roar of an engine sounded through the dark day.
At first, the ash hid the direction that the engine noise was coming from. All Daniel knew was that it was definitely getting closer, and that it was not the sound of his father’s truck. The approaching vehicle sounded huge and frightening. Daniel ran into the living room, grabbing the belt that held his tools and knife. Once the belt was fastened, he scooped the .22 rifle from the kitchen counter and ran to the front room window. As he stood looking out into the murky, swirling dust, the creeping behemoth emerged, coming to an abrupt halt right in front of the house. It was as if the driver had practiced parking there a hundred times before.