Reduced

by Robin Tidwell

  As the intruder reached the remains of their small fire, Abby reached out and grabbed an ankle, giving a hard yank. In a flash, she was straddling his body, her knife at his throat.

  “Abby. Do you think you could get off me now? And do you really think I didn’t see that coming?”

  Abby jumped to her feet. Oh, good Lord. Noah. She didn’t know whether to hug him or slap him.

  With a sigh, Abby stood up, offering Noah her hand. She smiled. Tentatively. This, after all, was the man who’d sent them away and from whom they hadn’t heard in nearly half a year. True, she’d thought he was dead. And he’d sent her out that door to save her life, and Juliet’s.

  Still.

  She whistled, short and sharp, and Juliet emerged from the forest, running to Noah.

  The three gathered around the fire, Juliet fetching more wood, and Noah held up his hand. “I know you have a thousand questions, but just give me one second . . . there!”

  Abby blinked. Noah set down a can of coffee, something she hadn’t seen in weeks and weeks. And he handed her a pack of cigarettes. She looked him suspiciously. She was beginning to think she was hallucinating, but no, Juliet was smiling—that was also something she hadn’t seen for a very long time.

  “Now,” said Noah as they sat back with their coffee, “I’ll fill you in on everything.” His smile faded.

  When Noah had regained consciousness that horrible afternoon, the first thing he realized was that yes, indeed, he was alive. Most certainly alive, as he could feel every broken bone and every single bruise. Which covered most of his body.

  The second thing he realized was that the bombs had stopped and the choppers had left. He tried to open his eyes, but it was too bright and the world seemed to be spinning. But it was quiet. Too quiet.

  And then, he remembered. Emmy, Ted . . . their bodies were nearby. The old infirmary was gone. Flattened. Somewhere in there, Cal and Pops lay, troubles over and at peace, he hoped.

  He became panicky, searching the ground around him, looking for Abby and Juliet. He was afraid . . . He knew his name. He knew what he did. He remembered it all. Then he lost consciousness again. It was too much.

  When he awoke again , the sun was just rising. Another day. Water. He crawled to the creek, just 100 yards away, and made it there by the time the sun was overhead. He figured he passed out again at some point along the way. He drank, he splashed water on his face, he drank some more. And he slept.

  Noah paused at this point and refilled their cups. Abby lit another cigarette and Juliet squirmed around on a blanket, shifting position.

  “You know, Abby, those things’ll kill you.”

  “Right,” she snorted. “Yeah, I’m worried about these.”

  Noah smiled. “Hand me one, will you?

  “So,” he continued, after a minor coughing fit, “I figured if I got to my truck, I had some bandages and such and some painkillers. My leg was broken, just a fracture really, so I had to crawl. Took me a whole day. And boy, was I hungry too.

  “By then, I realized I probably should be watching the skies but it didn’t matter. Guess they never came back to check for survivors. Figured their damn bombs did all the work.” He sighed. “And they mostly did.”

  They were all quiet for a while, thinking of those who’d died. Juliet crawled over to Abby and put her head down. Noah continued his story.

  He’d camped out by his truck for a week, regaining his strength. Found a sturdy stick to use as a crutch. Saw no signs of choppers or anyone else. He finally decided to try to drive, to go up to see what had happened at Martin’s place.

  It wasn’t anything special. Just the same thing, a different place. The house, the barn, the family—all gone. Obliterated. He stayed there for another three weeks. By then, he was fairly well recovered and not in too much pain. He headed for the city.

  He stayed out in the suburbs, moving only at night, scavenging what he could and where he was able. He spied on the troops; learned their numbers, their movements. He considered trying to infiltrate and then . . . what? He didn’t know. He might be the last person on earth, he was so isolated. Except for the enemy. Always, there was the enemy.

  Two weeks ago, he woke up and made plans to move that night, as he often did to keep under the radar. He packed what little gear he had with him and filled some water bottles. He lay down and tried to sleep before nightfall.

  And jumped up, fully awake.

  There had been something nagging at him, something still just hovering within his subconscious. He thought of that last day, the bombs, the running, the screaming. Death.

  And then, there it was. He remembered Abby climbing the hill, pulling Juliet behind her, looking back one last time.

  “So, here I am.”

  For two years they lived in the cave, the three of them. They watched constantly for patrols but never encountered any, neither in the air nor cross-country. Either Colonel Barton had forgotten about them or he believed them all to be dead and no longer a threat. Regardless, they had some measure of peace for many months.

  Juliet continued in her lessons, mostly taught by Noah as Abby still had little patience with sitting still for any length of time. She took Juliet out in the woods often, though, to practice her defensive skills as well to teach her more about tracking and trapping. And shooting, of course. Juliet loved her weaponry.

  In fact, for her ninth birthday, Noah gave her a shotgun. It was remarkably similar to Abby’s and Juliet was thrilled beyond measure. She gave him a big hug and planted a loud kiss on his cheek. He looked over at Abby. She smiled, but said nothing.

  Later that night, she went to him.

  The next year seemed to fly past. They watched, still, but were more relaxed. Juliet thrived. Once in a while they drove around the area, still at night, on scavenging trips. They managed to keep themselves clothed and fed. They saw no signs of anyone else.

  They never talked about the years they’d spent in exile, even though they were still refugees of a sort. In many ways, it was an idyllic existence.

  While their first winter had been rather mild, this second one came in early and harsh. Snow would have been welcome, as it acted as additional insulation for the cave, but the bitter winds only teased them with a remote promise.

  The temperatures dipped below freezing on many nights; during the day, the sun barely warmed at all. Finding firewood became a full-time job. Game was scarce, even the animals had sense enough to stay out of the cold and hole up somewhere.

  It began innocuously enough. Juliet sneezed. And sneezed again.

  As night fell and the temperature dropped, her fever rose. Noah was worried but tried not to show it. He kept Abby busy, warming broth, fixing cold cloths—those were easy to come by, and keeping the fire going. He dug into his stash of medicines, which were running low. If Juliet didn’t start to improve soon . . . After four days, the fever broke. Juliet sat up for a few minutes but fell back upon her pallet weakly. Abby was so relieved, she almost cried. She held the girl and stroked her hair.

  The worst was over.

  A week later, Juliet was moving around the cave easily. She was anxious to be outside, but Abby wasn’t taking any chances. There was no reason to go out, it was warm and dry here, and the wind stopped at the entrance. She urged Juliet to wait and tried to distract her as much as she could.

  And then Noah sneezed. He was hit hard. Within hours, he was nearly unconscious.

  Abby continued to put cool cloths on Noah’s forehead as he tossed and turned in semi-delirium. He muttered a few words now and again, mostly indistinguishable, and tried several times to raise his weakened arms to fend off imaginary attackers.

  Juliet sat nearby, waiting to assist if needed, clearly upset. She knew enough of what had been going on to know this probably wasn’t going to end well. She felt sad for both herself and Abby, as Noah had come to mean a great deal to them. She silently wished she could do more to help.

  The night wore on, the stars began to
twinkle their last few blips before becoming invisible in the lightening sky. The darkness grew briefly, as Abby and Juliet watched and waited.

  Suddenly, Noah bolted upright and looked at both girls through clear eyes for the first time in nearly a week.

  “Abby, I love you. I want you to stay here, and be safe, for as long as it takes. My notes are in my pack; you might be able to use them someday. I hope they’ll help in some way to stop this; it needs to end, and soon.

  “Juliet.” The girl flew into his arms, and Noah held her one last time. “My little girl,” he said quietly. She began to sob.

  Noah took Abby’s hand and squeezed, as he lay back on the pallet. One last breath, and he was gone . . .

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Abby bit down on a stick of pine; it tasted terrible but Holy Mother, the pain was incredible . . . Nothing in her life had prepared her for this, not books, not her imagination, certainly not stories from any parents she had known. She wished Millie were here, or Emmy, or anyone at all. Besides Juliet. Juliet was here, had always been here it seemed, but the ten-year-old could only do so much.

  That’s it, she thought. Changed my mind. Not doing this. Of course, like countless mothers-to-be in the history of mankind, she had no choice at this point. That’s all there was to it, and Abby knew it.

  Her body shuddered, seeming to have a life of its own, and Juliet steadied her with a hand. Abby grunted again and felt something wet and heavy slide out onto the pine needles between her feet. A lusty cry sprang up and echoed in the woods.

  Abby leaned back against the pile of blankets and gathered up the infant, holding it to her breast; it was a tiny girl, perfectly formed, and Abby let out a sigh of both relief and exhaustion. Juliet handed her a piece of twine, with which she tied the cord, then Juliet herself made the cut. Within minutes, the afterbirth was expelled and Juliet placed it in a bucket to be checked.

  Half an hour later, cleaned up and made comfortable with Juliet’s considerable assistance, Abby examined her new daughter more closely. Juliet cuddled next to her and they both marveled at her deep blue eyes and fuzz of blonde hair.

  “Little Emmy,” said Juliet quietly, tracing the baby’s soft cheek with her finger. She leaned down and kissed her forehead, carefully.

  “EJ,” corrected Abby, gently. “There was only ever one Emmy . . .”

  Abby dozed, content to let Juliet finish cleaning up the birthing site and gather everything for the return to the cave. EJ slept quietly as well, a small furrow between her pale eyebrows as she appeared to be puzzling over her entry into this strange world.

  Soon, Abby awoke and rose to her feet with Juliet’s help. The girl looked like she’d fall over with the weight of the pack she carried, but she was tough and strong after all these years. The two made their way carefully through the forest, taking their time, allowing Abby to set the pace.

  Juliet settled Abby in the cave and did a quick reconnaissance around the immediate area; she started the fire and began dinner preparations as Abby watched and made the occasional suggestions. Then she fell silent for a few moments, as she gazed at the baby.

  “She has Noah’s eyes,” said Abby. She hadn’t spoken his name aloud since he’d left them, and vowed never to do so again.

  EPILOGUE

  “Jules, Jules! Where are you?” The small blonde girl raced through the thicket, searching for her friend. She stopped abruptly as a hand reached out and yanked her into the undergrowth. She landed with a thump on her little rear end and glared up at her captor.

  “C’mon, Jules, why’d you do that, huh?” She rubbed the affected part of her anatomy, still frowning.

  Juliet grinned down at EJ, extending her hand to pull the child to her feet. “That’s what you get for racing around here like a herd of buffalo, making enough noise to wake the dead.”

  “Well, if I was making that much noise, at least I’d get to see everyone that you and Mommy are always talking about, right? Besides, there’s no one here but us, hasn’t been for years and years, my whole life!”

  “Not so long, little one. You just turned five, after all. And it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”

  “Huh,” said EJ, scowling and looking so much like a miniature Abby that Juliet found it difficult not to crack a smile. “You think because you’re all grown up and stuff that you can be the boss of me! But you can’t, so there!” She put her little hands on her hips and glared some more.

  This time Juliet did laugh. “So what’s so important that you had to come running after me like your tail was on fire?”

  “Tail? I don’t have a tail, Jules, you’re being silly! Anyway, Mommy said to come get you for dinner. I helped her cook and everything!” EJ tugged at Juliet’s hand. “Come on!”

  The two girls walked hand in hand back to the cave where they’d been living for so long, one tall and graceful, a young woman, long braid falling over her shoulder; the other a tiny, trusting soul who had known only love in spite of living in a world that consisted of just two other people, a dangerous world in which anything could happen at a moment’s notice.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Born in St. Louis, Missouri, Robin graduated from Parkway Central at the end of her junior year and went on to college . . . five times. Nearly 30 years later, on a whim, she looked over her transcripts and re-enrolled, completing not quite sixty hours of credit in just over one calendar year. Her degree, from Columbia College, is a combined major of psychology, sociology, and criminal justice.

  Robin's writing career began at the age of eight, when her grandmother insisted she read Gone With the Wind before taking her to see the movie. Inspired by Margaret Mitchell, she began scribbling little booklets of stories, and was the editor of her elementary school newspaper and a columnist in high school. She submitted a short story to Seventeen magazine and was promptly rejected, but still keeps a copy of the manuscript in her desk.

  Robin has worked as a snack bar cook, a salad prepper, a camp counselor, a waitress, a receptionist, a housekeeper, a freelancer, an editor, and an employment consultant and manager. She's also been in car sales, skin care sales, cookware sales, advertising sales, and MLM. She's owned and operated an entrepreneurial conglomerate, a cleaning service, an old-time photography studio, a bookstore, and a publishing house.

  Several years ago, Robin and her husband Dennis moved back to St. Louis after many years in Columbia, Sedalia, Colorado Springs, Durango, and Granbury and Tolar, Texas. They live with their youngest son, a dog, a cat, and a puppy.

  For special bonus material, stop in and visit Robin’s website!