The Seventh Day

by Scott Shepherd

  The still lay in ruins at Laura’s feet. Clearly she’d been fooling around and broken it. She was whimpering, the first sound he’d heard from her in weeks, and it provoked an unexpected reaction from him.

  Anger.

  Anger at Laura, at the Strangers who put them in this situation, at whatever Cosmic Fucklord that had allowed it to happen—and most of all, at his beloved wife.

  “God damn it, Naomi!” he screamed, surprised to hear the words escape his lips. But it was already too late to take them back, and impossible to stem the flow of those that followed.

  “How the hell could you just leave me with her?”

  Laura, scared and shocked by the outburst, scooted backwards as the rest of the still crashed to the floor. Another scream left her mouth, and she began to cry.

  Her sobs immediately reminded him that this girl missed Naomi even more than he did. Her tears softened his anger; concern and regret replaced it and poured over him, making him feel even worse than when he had yelled at her.

  Sayers scrambled across the trailer floor to gather the girl in his arms. She shied away, but he pulled her tight, checking her hands and arms for cuts. He was, relieved to see they were only surface wounds, but felt horrible about the words that had erupted from his mouth.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry …” he said at least a dozen times, as the sobbing girl fought to leave his arms.

  Who could blame her?

  In that moment, Sayers hated himself more than he hated surviving The Seventh Day without Naomi.

  That terrible memory filled his brain and clutched his heart as he wrapped his arms around his dead stepdaughter. The same words fell from his lips, in a steady stream of sorrow.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry …”

  But this time, instead of coming from a place of fury and frustration, they were driven by love and despair. If he felt any anger, it was from losing the young girl he had so come to adore.

  Sayers cradled her lifeless body, while he reached for the arrow still sticking out of her chest. He didn’t even have to tug; one gentle pull plucked it from her flesh, and the last of Laura’s lifeblood spilled on his hand.

  A step away. Two at most.

  That’s how far he’d been from Laura when she bolted across the lawn to try to save Joad.

  Sayers had tried to grab her. He kept telling himself that. He would continue doing so forever. But he’d been too late. In the end, that was all that mattered. He’d been too damned late.

  Too late to love her. Too late to save her.

  A huge sob exited his mouth. His body began to quake with the ones that followed.

  He was barely aware of the others circling him. Only when Aurora bent down to try and help did he whirl and cry out.

  “Leave me alone! Leave us alone!”

  And then, the two of them were. Aurora might have stepped back a mere few feet, but Sayers had never felt more by himself.

  His right hand moved to cover Laura’s mortal wound, the blood beginning to congeal around it. Sayers felt his eyes mist over and fill with tears. Then they were streaming down his face.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried. He couldn’t remember if he’d broken down after Naomi had died—the aftermath of the Strangers’ departure had produced waves of confusion and shock way before despair hit.

  But the tears now falling from his eyes were enough to fill a bucket with seven years of pain and regret.

  “It isn’t fair,” he murmured. “It’s not fair.”

  He heard another gasp.

  It wasn’t from Aurora. Or Joad and Fixer, whom he felt hovering nearby.

  It came from the girl cradled in his arms.

  But that’s not possible, thought Sayers. I saw her die in Joad’s arms.

  He stared down at his right hand, still pressed on the precise spot where the arrow had pierced Laura’s chest.

  The bleeding had stopped.

  Stunned, Sayers lifted her shirt to just above her stomach, and saw that the wound had sealed beneath his hand. In its place was an impossible scar that looked like it had been there for years.

  “Daddy . . ?”

  Sayers almost dropped her.

  Laura’s eyes fluttered open. At first, there was only confusion in them.

  Then, calmness and love.

  Sayers pulled Laura close as he heard Aurora whisper what he was feeling inside.

  “Oh my God3b… .”

  Sayers bent over and kissed his little girl a dozen times all over her forehead and cheeks.

  “Yes, Laura. Yes, sweetheart. It’s your daddy.”

  43

  There had been a difference of opinion about what to do with Primo’s body. More specifically, what was left of it.

  Already ravaged by fire from The Fixer explosion, and picked away at by the very same insects he had created, there was little to bury. Fixer had led the charge to leave it impaled on the church steeple, its soon-to-be-skeleton a warning to what awaited those who strayed off the righteous path.

  Joad didn’t see it that way. Every person, even one as misguided as Primo, deserved a decent burial. He persuaded Sayers to help him remove Primo from the steeple. Joad drew the line at digging a grave for the man on church property, even if the building no longer existed. He refused to let Primo occupy the same ground as his beloved Becky, or be housed for eternity on what he still considered sacred land. They carried the body across the street and buried it underneath six feet of dirt in the backyard of a long-abandoned house. Joad even tossed in a half-hearted prayer for Primo’s soul before walking away—not that Primo had one coming, but Joad wanted to sleep a little more guilt-free.

  Sayers waited until they had reached the church lot before bringing up the Gift. Joad had wondered when the physician was going to talk about it.

  “Father? About what happened …”

  “It’s Joad,” he said. “Reverend if you must, but Joad’s just fine.”

  Sayers leaned against what remained of the fence and nodded. “I guess what I want to know is, why now? Why am I just finding out about this?”

  “You must know it’s impossible to give you a definitive answer to that question,” replied Joad.

  “I realize that. But I figured with everything you’ve seen and your …”

  Sayers broke off again, staring past Joad at where his church once rose. Clearly the man was uncomfortable, thought Joad. He’d been through so much the past few days. They all had. The least Joad could do was help out a little.

  “My perspective?”

  Sayers nodded again, obviously grateful, “Exactly.”

  “Unfortunately, the Strangers didn’t leave a playbook. I know some people have Gifts; most don’t. None seemed to show up right away—most emerged when people least expected. Like you just experienced. I think Laura and Fixer would tell you the same thing.”

  Sayers seemed to mull that over. “But they’ve had theirs for years.”

  “Are you sure this is the first time it ever happened?

  “I think I’d remember healing someone.”

  “Your stepdaughter had been seeing your dreams for months, and she didn’t realize it,” Joad pointed out.

  “This is a little bit different.”

  Joad realized it was pointless to argue. He could see Doc was really wrestling with the whole thing. And he thought he knew why.

  “You’re thinking about Quattro, aren’t you?” Joad asked.

  Sayers’s silence and expression conveyed his relief that Joad had gotten to the heart of the matter. “Why couldn’t I save that boy?”

  “Because you didn’t want to.”

  Sayers stiffened. Joad could tell he had hit a sore spot.

  “Are you saying I killed him on purpose?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I may have been, let’s say, not in the best shape—but I did everything I could to save him.”

  “I’m sure you did,” said Joad. “I don’t doub
t for a moment that he was beyond anything your medical training taught you, drunk or sober.”

  Sayers eyes drifted to the patch of ground where his stepdaughter had come back to life in his arms. “My medical training wasn’t going to help Laura either.”

  “But perhaps what was in your heart did,” said Joad.

  He watched Sayers carefully. The physician didn’t respond for a long time. When he finally spoke, it was like a confession from the deepest part of his soul.

  “I remember I wished she were alive more than anything in the whole world.”

  “Well, there you have it.”

  “Simple as that?” asked Sayers.

  Joad smiled softly. “Simple enough for now.”

  Once again, the same old question.

  Now what?

  All four brothers were dead. For the first time since being thrown together when fleeing the Winnebago on the Flats, Joad and the others weren’t the object of a deadly pursuit. It had been less than a week, but it seemed like they’d been chased for an eternity. With the threat eliminated, they were faced with multiple dilemmas: where to go and whether it should be together or on their separate ways.

  The one place they really couldn’t head was home. Sayers’s and Laura’s had been destroyed by Primo and his siblings in a fit of rage over Quattro’s death. Aurora’s suffered a similar fate; Funland was in ashes. Fixer had been wandering the Flats for years already, and rarely had a roof over his head. Joad had finally reached Nemo, only to find it decimated; and now his actual home, his church, lay in rubble at their feet.

  “We know there must be other Remaining somewhere,” Aurora said. “We should look for them.”

  They were tending to the half-dozen horses (four jet-black, Macy, and Joad’s) by the fence. One benefit of Primo’s impromptu storm was that the water deluge had filled an open barrel once used for church donations. Joad and Fixer led each horse to drink up from the barrel. Their mounts lapped up eagerly, as if knowing they were about to hit the road again.

  “But where?” Sayers asked.

  “Maybe we should just pick a direction,” suggested Aurora.

  “Fine by me,” said Fixer. “Long as we don’t go through the Fields again.”

  Laura and Sayers echoed that sentiment. Aurora, having heard all about their travails in that mythical place, agreed. Then, she turned to Joad.

  “We’re forgetting you, aren’t we? This is your home. Your town. Maybe you’re wanting to stay here?”

  Joad, who had stayed silent during the debate, had been mulling over that question in his head. His church was gone forever, and with the exception of those standing beside him, there wasn’t another living soul in all of Nemo; there probably wouldn’t be for a long, long, time. He supposed he could stay and begin the arduous task of rebuilding his home and community.

  But for what? The off chance a few Remaining might pass through and put down stakes? What if no one came? Would he want to live in a town with all those ghosts? And no matter what, it wouldn’t be a home without his Becky—and what kind of Nemo would that be?

  Joad shook his head.

  “No. There’s nothing here for me anymore.”

  He thought Aurora’s suggestion to look for other Remaining was the best idea. His eye drifted to the western horizon. He figured it was only a couple of hours before the sun sank below it. They all agreed to spend one last night in the town Joad had spent years fighting to get back to. Tomorrow, they would rise and pick a direction.

  Figuring out a place to sleep was the next order of business. Joad’s home no longer existed. The surrounding homes had been wrecked by the ship crash, ransacked by Remaining, or just plain fallen apart. But one block away, The Famous Store was still standing.

  The Famous Store.

  Joad had probably spent more hours there while growing up than under his family’s roof. Especially when his father was around. He’d done odd jobs around the store just to avoid going home. The fact that he started making a few dollars was a perk.

  The proprietor, Old Man Perlman, had sold pretty much anything you could think of, from dried goods and children’s clothing, to souvenirs and guns. He’d even run a fairly successful pawn business, creating favorable terms for Nemo’s own, holding onto items, especially family heirlooms, a lot longer than your normal calloused pawnbroker. To top things off and totally capture a child’s fancy, there had been a small soda fountain in the back, open for a few hours after school, all day Saturday, and following church on Sunday. Old Man Perlman had served up ninety-nine-cent sundaes to any pre-teen, and Joad thought he personally bought at least ninety-nine a year. All of this was crammed into a single-story space. Joad used to marvel at how Perlman had as many items at his disposal as a big-city department store, even though his place was one-tenth the size.

  Now The Famous Store was just empty.

  The shelves were barren, the soda fountain a few broken stools leaning against a dilapidated wooden counter. Joad figured whatever Retrievers didn’t scoop up, Remaining rummaged through. But there was enough space to bed down for one night, and Joad liked the idea that his only memories here had been happy ones.

  Laura, in particular, had been fascinated by Joad’s stories about the days when sodas were sweet and a handshake was the only guarantee needed to seal a deal. She looked overjoyed when she reached under a mushy sofa and came up with a long-forgotten toy. It was one of those cymbal-clanging monkey dolls, badly mangled, its face squashed. She flipped the switch on the monkey’s back and the cymbals clashed. Laura clicked it off, turned the doll over, and slid open a slot at the base of the doll.

  Ponce de León couldn’t have been happier if he had found the Fountain of Youth.

  “Cells!” she cried, holding up two AA batteries. “And they work!”

  Fixer threw up his hands in I-told-you-so fashion. “See! I knew there were cells somewhere.”

  This was met with playful boos and catcalls. But everyone, including Joad, was happy for the girl.

  Once again, sleep didn’t come easily for him. His wounded shoulder was reason enough to keep him awake. The uncertain future and lack of game plan didn’t help either. And the losses he had incurred since arriving in Nemo, the town, his home, his love, would give him more restless nights at the end of the days to come.

  When the first rays of dawn slipped through the windows, Joad figured he wasn’t getting more than the hour or two of shuteye he must have had, but didn’t remember. He walked quietly past the slumbering others and noticed Aurora had moved much closer to Sayers. Not for the first time did he wonder if something was going on there. Nothing would have pleased him more. Joad thought it would be a good match all around: Laura would benefit from having someone like Aurora as a presence in her life, as would Sayers from the adult companionship.

  Joad slipped out of The Famous Store door, saddened that the SUPER SUNDAE SPECIAL sign had long vanished, and walked up the street. Before he knew it, he was back in the church garden. The scorched soil wasn’t visible; it was buried beneath the debris and ash from the destroyed church and spacecraft. Only the apple tree rose above it all, and Joad felt a pang in his chest at seeing that the leaves had yellowed overnight. He feared the storm, the barrage of locusts, and implosion of the church and ship had doomed the tree as well, sentencing Becky’s last labor of love to a slow death.

  But there was one thing he could still salvage.

  The packet of apple seeds.

  He looked through the rubble surrounding the apple tree trunk. But the packet was nowhere to be found. He kicked up dirt, rock, and ash; still nothing. The search became more frantic, his heart filling with woe as his efforts only produced more pain in his throbbing shoulder, and increasing frustration. He cursed at letting his temper get the better of him; he’d carried the seeds by his chest for seven whole years, only to toss them in a fit of rage and self-pity he could never take back.

  By an hour later, when Fixer appeared to say the gang was ready to go, Joa
d had turned the garden upside down and was sitting on the rocks below the apple tree.

  “What are you doing back here?” asked Fixer.

  “Nothing,” Joad answered.

  Which was what Joad felt.

  Absolutely nothing.

  When Joad arrived back at The Famous Store, Aurora and Sayers were packing up the horses. He noticed overly conciliatory they were toward each other, in that sweet way that new lovers behave. He was now more certain than ever they had gotten together. At least one good thing had come from this whole ordeal, he thought.

  Then, he glanced at Laura sitting on the store porch, and corrected himself.

  Make that two.

  Seeing her alive and well, fiddling with her ham radio and newfound cells, it was hard to believe she’d been dead to the world less than a day ago. Luckily, she’d forgotten a lot of what had happened outside the church. She remembered Joad telling her to leave the sanctuary, then, the next thing she knew, she was waking up in her stepfather’s loving arms.

  “You’ll lighten the load considerably if you leave that radio behind,” Sayers told her as he stuffed a bedroll on the extra jet-black steed they were using as a pack horse.

  “Maybe all it needed was cells to get it working,” suggested Laura. She turned to Fixer, who was getting up on Joad’s mount. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know, kid,” Fixer answered, settling onto the horse’s back. “We’ve been through this before with that thing.”

  Fixer explained that they had tried to use his Gift on Laura’s radio a few times, to no avail. There were a bunch of electrical elements to the contraption, but they worked at cross-purposes, so the charge he threw didn’t work.

  “How ’bout one more try?” begged Laura with a smile that Joad knew none of them, especially Fixer, could resist. “Just let me get these cells into place.”

  She wedged the batteries inside, then proudly held up the radio (that looked more like a space helmet). Fixer focused his gaze and bore down.