Evergreen (Book 4): Nuclear Summer

by Cox, Matthew S.

  Harper sat on the back porch watching her siblings playing in the yard while Cliff finished cleaning the bird. In a rare moment of convenience, the power decided to be working that day, so the chicken went into the oven. Carrie and Renee came over, bringing a large portion of potato salad.

  Cliff leaned out the back door. “There’s something you need to tell me.”

  Here we go. Harper stretched her legs out, toes splayed. “Yeah.”

  “Want to come inside or should I have a seat?”

  “That depends. Is this about why Eva freaked out or about Logan?”

  “What about Logan?” asked Cliff, leaning farther out the door.

  “Oops. Never mind.” Harper patted the porch beside her. “We can talk out here.”

  Cliff emerged from the doorway and sat on the step. “So what happened to Logan?”

  “Not to him.” Harper gave him side eye. “Come on. You can guess. You’ve been giving me weird looks ever since Saturday.”

  “Ahh.” He nodded. “Well, as your father, I’m contractually obligated to be completely opposed to you doing anything of a sexual nature until you’re past forty.”

  Harper chuckled.

  “However, I am not beyond reasoning that you are eighteen and this is a different world.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Just be careful, okay?”

  “I will. It felt right.” She smiled.

  “You love the kid?”

  “Yeah. I do.” She hugged her knees to her chest, smiling.

  Cliff’s mood brightened. “All right. If he breaks your heart, I’ll break his legs.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” She laughed.

  “So what happened with the rugrats?” He gestured a thumb toward the kids.

  She explained the story.

  “That explains the ’92 on the counter.”

  “Yeah.”

  He exhaled. “You really think that girl shot two men?”

  “I do. Saw it in her eyes. And she had blood on her. She totally didn’t want to do it, but didn’t hesitate.”

  “Gee. That sounds familiar.”

  She stuck out her tongue. “She’s only nine.”

  “Didn’t we have a tenth birthday for her a couple days ago?”

  “Pff. She had a birthday on the nineteenth. It’s the twenty-third. She’s still nine.”

  “That’s not how it works. Midnight on the eighteenth, she’s ten.”

  Harper fake pouted. “I still think of her as nine.”

  “Slow down there, Mom.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, yeah. She’s too little to kill anyone.”

  “I agree, but between some jackass putting a bullet into one of the kids or one of the kids putting a bullet into some jackass, I’ll take option two.”

  “Definitely.”

  “So, plane crash. Where’d you say that was?”

  Harper scratched her head. “Umm. Sounded like right outside Kittredge. The plane was halfway into a little river.”

  “Oh, that’s gotta be Bear Creek Road.” He patted his knee. “I’ll take a couple guys out there after we eat to check it out.”

  “Okay. Want me to come?”

  “If you want, but I think the kids would rather have you around. Besides, we’ll just be scraping some roadkill off the highway.” He looked up, watching Lorelei run by making a doll fly like Superwoman. “The kid’s unflappable. Damn nuclear war could happen and she wouldn’t even notice.”

  “Hah.”

  Over dinner, Cliff brought up the crash site again, mostly to muse aloud how the militia hadn’t mentioned it before.

  “They probably know,” said Jonathan. “Most of the luggage was missing. Someone already looted it, but they left behind a bunch of beer and alcohol.”

  “Strange.” Cliff stabbed his fork into a hunk of chicken. “Figure the booze would be the first thing they take.”

  “Maybe they thought the plane could explode again, so they didn’t go inside except for the cargo area?” Harper shrugged.

  “Grownups couldn’t get inside too easy,” said Jonathan. “We had to climb up this plastic stuff hanging from the doors.”

  Harper shrugged. “Pretty sure they scavenged the hell out of Kittredge since it’s so close.”

  “Without a doubt. Damn sure that plane didn’t fall out of the sky recently.” Cliff wagged his eyebrows. “In fact, might even be some people from that flight living here. Maybe in the south part.”

  She nodded.

  Jonathan re-told the story of what happened, but made Mila sound like some kind of anime ninja terminator.

  After dinner, Cliff headed out to round up some militia and go check on the site. He’d also pass along word to Walter that a ‘tribal’ type gang may have moved into the area and could be a problem. The kids’ description of being carted off to ‘work’ somewhere suggested the four men had come from a larger encampment, probably one with a farm. It didn’t seem likely anyone ran a factory or mine, so the ‘work’ in question almost certainly involved agriculture or survival.

  Harper and Carrie did the dishes while the kids plus Renee went out to the yard to play in the last of the daylight.

  “You were right. I’m sorry,” said Carrie.

  “No, it’s fine. It wouldn’t have happened if they listened to the rule and stayed inside town.”

  Carrie gave a sad chuckle. “Yes, but I should have expected kids would break a rule like that. Never had any little ones of my own. This parenting thing is new to me.”

  “Well, you should get used to it. They’re kind of thinking of you as Mom now and me as big sis.”

  “That’s flattering. You know, I’m not trying to replace your mother.”

  “I know.” Harper smiled at her. “But it is kinda nice having someone around who’s kinda like a mother… if you don’t mind it.”

  Carrie grinned. “Not at all, but don’t expect perfection. Like I said, no practice.”

  “That might not be true forever. You’re what, thirty-five? The way you and Dad ‘spend time together,’ I’m pretty sure I’m going to have another sibling sometime soon.”

  “Oh, dear.” Carrie blushed. “I’m not having this conversation with my daughter, am I?”

  “We don’t have to.” Harper offered a blasé shrug. “And yeah, I suppose I shouldn’t be making jokes about my technical parents in bed.”

  “Technically not. That’s supposed to make you squirm even thinking about.” Carrie whistled innocently.

  “I’ll get right on that. Squirming I mean.” She grinned.

  Harper sat on the back porch watching the kids chase a ball around.

  Renee’s work at the quartermaster had exhausted her, so she went inside to sleep early. Carrie sat in the living room, waiting for Cliff to return home, probably reading.

  “Harper?” asked Mila—right behind her.

  “Gah!” Harper jumped. “Where the hell did you come from?”

  “Aspen.”

  “Dork.” Harper smirked. “You know what I mean.”

  “Walked around the house. Can I sit here?”

  “Of course.”

  Mila sat next to her. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Anything. Except stuff you’re not old enough to know yet.”

  An almost smile formed on the girl’s lips. “Do you have bad dreams about shooting people?”

  “Sometimes, yeah.” Harper let a long sigh out her nose. “But I’ve had worse dreams about the one guy I didn’t shoot. Couldn’t bring myself to kill a guy even though he was pointing a gun at me. I used to be a bit of a chicken. ‘Too squishy’ as my friends would say. But, yeah… I do sometimes have nightmares about the people I’ve had to shoot.”

  Mila bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “For?”

  “Shooting people. But they were gonna hurt my friends. I didn’t wanna do it, but I had to.”

  Harper put an arm around her, pulling her into a hug. “I know exactly how you feel.”

  “Am I going to
have bad dreams?”

  “Maybe. You’re too young to be in that situation. I’d be worried if you didn’t have a nightmare or two about it. Don’t freak out if you do, though. Bad dreams are normal. Having a nightmare about something that scary only means your brain is working right.”

  “So I’m not psycho?”

  “Nope.” Harper made a face off to the side, thinking of what Renee said. “We’re just… hardened.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means we saw crap that people our age aren’t supposed to see and it changed us so we can survive it. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Mila looked up at her. “I’m sorry for not making them stop.”

  “Stop?”

  “Going to the plane. I think Jonathan would’ve listened if I demanded he not go.”

  Harper chuckled. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

  “If you want to ground me or punish me for breaking the rule, it’s okay.”

  “You’ve punished yourself enough already. But… if you think you deserve more… wear pink tomorrow.”

  “Eep. Couldn’t you just like hit me on the ass with a board or something?”

  “You’re too young to say ‘ass,’ and no. I don’t want to hit you.”

  “But pink!” Mila thrust her arms out to either side. “That’s cruel.”

  “Didn’t say you had to. Just if you thought you deserved to.”

  Mila fake wiped sweat from her forehead. “Whew. That wasn’t a big enough rule break to warrant punishment that severe.”

  “Wow. You really hate pink.”

  Mila rolled her eyes. “You have no idea.”

  “Right.”

  “Harper?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I shot two guys. I think I can say ‘ass’ now. Not like it’s an f-bomb.”

  Harper sighed. “Okay, but don’t abuse the privilege.”

  “Promise.” Mila held up her hand. “And I’ll also keep Jonathan in town.”

  “There we go. That’s the punishment. You guys should stay within eyesight of the house for a week.”

  “I think they’re gonna do that, anyway. Everyone’s freaked out.” Mila scuffed her feet back and forth. “I am, too. Being kidnapped really sucks. And there are more of those guys. They’re gonna come back for revenge, aren’t they? Should I have killed all four of them so they didn’t know who did it?”

  “No. If they ran away or surrendered and you still shot them, it would’ve been murder, not self-defense.”

  “But killing them when they come back for revenge is self-defense?”

  “Exactly.” Harper grumbled. “That makes it their choice, not yours. Let’s hope they’re not that stupid.”

  “They painted their faces with motor oil. They are that stupid.” Mila frowned.

  “Right. You guys stay near the house until further notice.”

  “Okay.”

  Harper looked over in surprise. “Wow. No protest?”

  “I’m precociously adult and brave, but not stupid.”

  “Hah! You are too much.”

  Mila smiled. “I know.”

  10

  Absolution

  After what happened at the crash site, Harper expected Madison to have a bit of a breakdown that night. Her sister didn’t really freak out, though she did seem more reserved as no trace of goofiness or whimsy showed itself. Lorelei behaved as though nothing whatsoever happened.

  Even with the window wide open, the July night made co-sleeping uncomfortably warm even wearing a nearly insubstantial nightgown. Lorelei decided even that was too hot and crawled into bed only wearing underpants. She also crashed face down on top of Harper, arms splayed out like a crime victim who’d fallen off the roof of a tall building. The kid passed out in mere moments. Never before had she been jealous of a six-year-old.

  How can such a little girl be so damn heavy?

  With Madison attached to her left arm and Lorelei on top of her, Harper felt like a hiker trapped under a boulder after an avalanche. Of course, she made no effort to escape. The little one clearly trusted her and demanded affection to fill the void left behind by her horrible bio mom.

  Never thought I’d have kids until I graduated college. She fussed at the girl’s pale blonde hair, taken by a sudden sense of inadequacy. Any little screw-up she committed could forever change the person this tiny human grew into. But… she set that fear aside after only seconds. Nothing she could possibly be capable of doing would be as bad as what the girl’s real mother did to her.

  Aside from snuggling a little closer than usual, Madison appeared to have taken the attack in stride. It could mean that after watching their parents die, pretty much nothing else could be bad enough to leave an emotional wound—short of watching Harper shot to death. Of course, it could also mean that her kid sister had broken deep down inside and the relatively happy-slash-normal version of her that had been running around for the past several months was a pretend mask.

  In a reversal that came straight out of nowhere, Mila seemed more affected by it than Madison. The creepy, overly mature little goth girl who made sarcastic jokes about death showed more emotional response than a formerly kinda spoiled suburban kid who used to freak out like being late to dance class would kill her.

  Maddie didn’t shoot two men in the head. Mila’s just showing that she’s a real person.

  Harper stopped staring at her ceiling by closing her eyes. She had no idea if ghosts or any kind of afterlife existed, but she still sent out a mental projection to the universe asking her mother to help her not screw up. The idea that Lorelei could probably watch someone blown to bits by a hand grenade, then merrily charge into the gore to pick up something pretty and shiny almost made her laugh.

  Seriously, this kid isn’t even afraid of giant bears. She yells ‘fuzzy’ and tries to pet them… ’course, she did the same to Dennis when he grew a beard.

  Worrying what to do with a small army of emotionally disturbed children, Harper drowned in anxiety and sweat until at last, she found herself lying on the floor without the crushing weight of a too-thin six-year-old on top of her. Madison and Lorelei working together in a fitful sleep might have kicked her out of the bed, but that had never happened before.

  Harper sat up and stared around at her old bedroom, conspicuously lacking a giant hole ripped in the ceiling from a chunk of debris. She gazed at the spot that had been open to the sky the last time she’d seen it. A piece of concrete the size of a Prius had landed right on her bed, smashing it into the floor, which had nearly given out and fallen into the downstairs.

  All her stuff remained as she remembered, though it had a strange blurry quality. She stood, turning in place, staring at old shooting competition trophies, pictures of her parents, the computer desk, stuffed animal army, bookshelves, dresser, the pink faerie music box ‘Madison’ gave her for her fifteenth birthday. Technically, Mom bought it, but her sister picked it out, being only seven at the time.

  “Yeah. This is definitely a dream.”

  Some of this stuff, she’d gotten back thanks to Cliff, but she hadn’t the heart to put it out on display. Partly because she didn’t really want to be surrounded by painful memories, but also she didn’t have a room to herself. Setting up all her old stuff would feel too much like creating a shrine to a life she could never get back. Or worse, denying anything happened by remaking her old bedroom.

  “Wonder where this dream is going.”

  Harper looked around for a shotgun, but in this world, it never left Dad’s gun safe unless they went to the range or a competition. In this world, no one randomly kicked in doors and tried to take your stuff. At least, that sort of thing didn’t happen in Lakewood, Colorado.

  She went out into the hallway, looking around at the house she remembered. Knowing she dreamed it steeled her emotionally, so she didn’t surrender to hope that the apocalypse had been a nightmare. This house felt unreal… but she still remembered every stain on the wall, imperfe
ction in the carpet, and all of Mom’s little bluebird paintings in silver frames.

  Is this my brain gathering up memories for long term storage? Harper went down the hall to the bathroom. Yeah, I’m not Riley Anderson. If I’ve got little people operating a control room inside my head, they’re all alcoholics by now. Sadness probably died from exhaustion.

  Madison’s toothbrush lay out on the sink counter, lazily dropped wherever it fell as she usually did when finished. A crumpled pair of leggings plus underwear sat on the rug where her sister changed. Harper imagined Mom shouting at her to pick up after herself. That finally caused a twinge of sorrow. Even if the woman shouted at them, she’d have given anything to hear her voice one more time.

  Curious about her sister, she backed out of the bathroom and poked her head into Madison’s room. Not a single spot of rug showed beneath a layer of clothes and dolls. The bed, the neatest thing in the room, remained made and unoccupied. Her sister’s room had usually been messy, but this looked extreme. A distortion of her memory, perhaps?

  “Why am I dreaming about the old house? Is this me finally coping or am I afraid I’m forgetting?”

  Harper continued to explore the upstairs, surprising herself at the amount of detail. It didn’t really feel like she had control of where she went or what she looked at. The dream took her on a tour wherever it cared to. Mostly, her mood remained wistful but in control. Remembering what once was didn’t need to make her miserable. Happiness did not dwell exclusively in the past. While she would much rather the world hadn’t blown itself apart, the notion that she’d probably come to accept things hit her.

  This dream is me dealing with crap.

  When she reached the stairs down, anxiety reared up. The calm wandering of her old house would soon turn into a nightmare of blood and violence, or so she feared. Her dream self, fully apart from any conscious control, descended to the living room. Madison’s dolls littered the floor in front of the television along with a scattering of PlayStation stuff. Still, no one else appeared to be in the house. Everything looked normal except for the windows, which had become black and impenetrable.

  She crept across the living room to the dining room.