First Days After

by Jay Vielle

  “Let us in,” they yelled. Jake walked forward.

  “Hi,” said Jake. “Listen, we don’t know much about who you are, where you’re coming from, or what your intentions are, so please be patient for a moment.”

  They looked perturbed at that, exchanging glances. Jake walked up closer to the doors.

  “Can you hear me?” Jake asked.

  “Yes, we can hear you. And we still want to come in.”

  “I understand. But it’s a bit complicated. We,” Jake faltered, unsure of what to tell them. I looked around the group. So did Jake. Everyone was nervous. Jake’s struggled for something to say. Melanie Richmond stared at Jake as if to will him to speak. Orville and Longaberger just looked at the floor. “We,” he stammered again, unable to bring forth the right thing to say. The people outside began to look at Jake with gazes that seemed to turn from pleading to impatient to perturbed. I decided to jump in.

  “We’re not sure we should let you in,” I said. “We don’t know what’s been happening outside, we have kids in here that we’re trying to keep safe, and, well, frankly, we don’t know who you are.”

  Just then, Tanner Heffner spoke up.

  “I know who they are,” he said. “They’re my family.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Almost as if on cue, everyone in the massive group of about forty people turned and looked at Tanner Heffner with their jaws agape.

  “Tanner!” the woman outside yelled. “Tanner, it’s us!”

  “I see you mom,” he yelled.

  Longaberger turned to Lou Orville and whispered, “What the fuck do we do now?” Orville shrugged, wide-eyed.

  “That’s your family?” I asked Tanner.

  “Yup. My mom, my dad, and my little brother, Will. He’s an eighth grader. They went to get him when the bombings started and told me to stay put here at Hunter’s Run.”

  “Did you tell anybody that?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Glen knew.” I turned to look at the massive Glen Billings, football lineman and gentle giant who was Tanner’s best friend.

  “You knew?” He nodded quietly back.

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “What was I gonna say? We have been busy here getting things ready and prepared, storing food, gathering weapons. It’s been non-stop for a day and a half. We didn’t know what happened to Tanner’s family, and his phone hasn’t worked since the bombing.”

  While I was incredulous that we were all discovering this now, in this awkward moment, I supposed that the entire country at some level was experiencing this kind of uncertainty. Some things worked, some things didn’t. Some power was on, some was off. Some people left school the minute the bombs started. Others had nowhere to go. It only seemed reasonable that parents who would have been at work with kids in different schools would have gone to collect the youngest first. Who knew what they were facing out there? Why did it take them a day to collect Tanner? It seemed we were about to find out. Jake moved towards the door and started to push it.

  “Stop! What are you doing?” yelled Lou Orville.

  “I’m letting them in. It’s Tanner’s family,” said Jake.

  “They could be contaminated,” said Longaberger.

  “He’s right, Jake. How do we know they aren’t a danger to us all?” Wes Kent asked, suddenly coming out of his quiet funk. “We discussed this.”

  “We discussed hypothetical strangers, Wes. These aren’t strangers. They’re…us,” said Jake. Wes Kent approached the doorway.

  “Why are you waiting until just now to get your son? What happened to you since yesterday,” asked Wes.

  “We were surprised—like everybody was. We went to pick up Will first,” Tanner’s father said, gesturing at his youngest son. We were on our way here last night when our car just stopped. I couldn’t get it to start again. We saw and heard people walking nearby, sneaking around. We decided to spend the night in the car and come here when it was light again. Then for some reason, the car started up again, and we drove here.”

  “How do we know you’re not contaminated with radiation?” asked Kent.

  “They might not be, actually,” jumped in Al DeFillipo. If they were here in Emmitsburg all day, and the bombs dropped in DC yesterday, and an EMP went off last night, there isn’t time for the fallout to make it here by then. Most likely.”

  “Most likely,” said Wes, frowning.

  “Look, until we know more about what hit where, there’s no way to be sure.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But it’s unlikely.”

  “Unlikely,” Wes echoed again. “That’s not good enough. If we bring them in here, in our survival stronghold, and they end up contaminating it, we will have killed dozens of people. Unless you are carrying around a Geiger counter, I say we can’t let them in.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Tanner’s father, Scott Heffner yelled. “My son’s in there. I’m looking at him. We have been a part of the Hunter’s Run family for years. How can you keep us out?”

  “Hunter’s Run is over,” said Wes Kent. That was before--before the “event” happened. Now it’s something else. And until we know you’re safe, you can’t be part of it.”

  “Wes, are you out of your mind?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah, gotta agree with Jake. We know these people. It’s kind of a dick move, Wes,” I added.

  “Dick or not—Jake Fisher, you yourself talked Lou out of scouting the area yesterday saying that he shouldn’t risk contamination because now he was part of something bigger. Well, now that a hard decision has to be made, you suddenly don’t have the balls to make it. You want to risk all of us for what? To be some kind of Lady Liberty? The wretched, poor, huddled masses weren’t radioactive then. The world has changed now.”

  Jake was stunned into silence again. I turned and looked at him, aghast at what I’d just heard.

  Al DeFillipo chewed on his lip and turned to me with an uncomfortable look. Al had flip-flopped his position, and his body language clearly showed he wanted to let the Heffners in.

  “Wes,” Jake said.

  “No, Jake. This isn’t your show. It’s our show. These people are not coming in.”

  “Seriously, Fisher. Leave the doors closed,” said Longaberger.

  “Mr. Fisher, that’s my family,” Tanner said. Jake turned around to look at the group. They were a mix of looks. Some wore the same visage as Kent, Longaberger, and Orville. Adamant. Negative. Exclude rather than include. Others looked guilty. Eyes cast down. Shame in their faces. But only Jake, Al, Maureen and I seemed to think that the Heffners should be allowed in.

  “Are we seriously not going to let these people in?” I asked. A prolonged silence hung in the air. The group looked back and forth. Some faces were certain with their decisions, and their faces showed it. Others were uncertain, and their faces showed that. Then, suddenly, Jake stepped towards the door and reached. Lou Orville grabbed Jake’s bicep. Jake turned and looked back in Orville’s eyes. The look on Jake’s face was one of cold fury. Like a controlled mayhem held precariously on a leash was about to be let go. Jake looked down at his bicep being held by Orville. He closed his eyes and took a breath.

  “Not your call, Jake,” said Lou. “Don’t erase all the good you did today with one bone head move.” Wes Kent and Mark Longaberger walked up alongside Orville. The three of them abreast made a statement, and I could see Jake calculating in his head what the consequences of violence would be over this. Kent was a little younger than Jake by maybe seven years or so, and Orville and Longaberger were in their 20’s in their peak. Jake clearly had a middle-aged man’s ‘dad bod,’ but was far from over the hill for a man in his mid-forties, but many was the day I’d see him limp into work with athletic tape wrapped around a wrist, or an ankle, or sporting a knee brace. Jake had taken a pounding in the past twenty years, and his body wasn’t what it used to be. He closed his eyes and his hand fell softly away from the door. As it did, Mrs. Heffner began to cry.

  “
I’m sorry Tanner,” said Jake. “I’m so sorry.”

  Tanner Heffner’s lip began to quiver, and his face contorted, looking like he would begin to cry.

  “Fuck all of you cowards,” he said, and stormed out the door and into the arms of his mother, who embraced him through tears. Tanner’s father, Scott, turned red-eyed towards the mob of people who barred his entrance and began to shake with anger.

  “God damn all of you,” he said. “This place was like extended family. You’ll regret this.”

  “No, we won’t,” said Kent. Just then, Maureen Kelly went running up to the doors with a bag. When it became obvious that the group was not going to allow the Heffners in the school, she had walked back and grabbed several food items and several water bottles and put them in a sack. Now she brought that sack past the group and to the doorway. She opened the doors and handed the sack to Tanner.

  “I’m so sorry,” Maureen said. “I feel horrible. Take this. I wish we, I’m so sorry,” she said, starting to cry. She touched hands with Tanner’s mom as she went back in and the metal on metal sound of the door slamming shut had a finality to it that made several people start.

  “What do you think you’re doing,” said Longaberger. “That was our food. We didn’t say you could do that. You can’t just give away our food stores.”

  “Get out of my face, you heartless bastard,” she said. “You may have just condemned that family to a slow death, and you’re worried about a couple of meals and some water. How dare you!”

  Maureen Kelly was in full blown sob mode and ran off towards the cafeteria. Al DeFillipo and Jada Allen went running after her. A few other women and a handful of students with disgusted looks on their faces walked after them.

  “Women don’t understand,” said Orville. “Too soft. Wanna save everybody.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You were right,” Wes Kent said to Mark Longaberger. Longaberger nodded dismissively. “Those people don’t understand anything about where their food and shelter comes from. They’d have let that family in, and they would have cut into the food stores and maybe made everyone sick with radiation poisoning. You were smart.”

  “No, you were assholes,” I said. “Easy to condemn someone from this angle. I pity you when it’s your turn.”

  “It’s not gonna be my turn,” said Longaberger.

  “No? Didn’t you want to do recon yesterday? Look around outside? Wouldn’t that make you ‘Radioactive Man’ then? Should we not let you back in after that?” Longaberger swallowed hard and looked nervously at Lou Orville, who had initially suggested the recon walk.

  “As unpopular as it is to say, Eddie,” Wes started, “We don’t need three more mouths to feed.”

  “That’s because your mouth is already fed,” I answered.

  “Yes, it is. Because I worked for it all day yesterday. I’m not surprised someone like you wouldn’t understand working for something and wanting to keep it,” said Wes.

  “Whoa--Someone like me?” I asked. Jake’s eyes narrowed, and he turned intently to listen.

  “You Mexicans just flood in here and expect things to be handed to you,” he said.

  “Jesus, Wes,” said Jake. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m American, you asshole,” I said.

  “Your parents, then.”

  “My parents are Peruvian,” I answered.

  “Same difference. Mexican. Peruvian. You people immigrate here and expect everything to be handed to you from the government without doing anything to get it. And to make matters worse, you’re a bleeding-heart homo.”

  “To make matters worse?” I was incredulous at this point.

  “You people have about a million names for yourselves. How many letters are there now? LGBTQ, and whatever the hell else you want to label yourselves. You want to give a handout to everyone, just cause nobody liked you in high school. It’s no wonder this country got blown to smithereens, with people like you running it.”

  That’s when Jake stepped in.

  “Okay, Wes, that’s enough stupidity for one day. The number of things you just said that were inaccurate, wrong, and just flat-out stupid are almost too many for me to correct. For starters, Eddie’s parents are college professors, which makes them smarter and more educated than you. And they came here for jobs that were offered to them, not for a handout, you ass. Second, he went to high school here. Here. He’s a goddamn alumnus—which makes him not one of ‘you people’ but one of ‘us people.’ Lastly, the fact that he’s gay literally has nothing to do with the fact that you just shut the door on a family from this community whose kid goes to school here, and who worked for six hours yesterday to make sure you had that food you so desperately wanted to hang onto. You’re doing the white privilege thing even in a survival situation. It’s unbelievable.”

  I could not have been more proud of Jake just then, listening to him. He was getting himself a little worked up, and I hadn’t seen him like this before.

  “I am ashamed of myself for letting you turn those people away, and if they haven’t left the area by nightfall, I’m going to find them and let them in,” Jake said.

  “You are like hell,” Lou said.

  Jake turned on him and poked him hard in the chest.

  “No, I am. And you are going to shut the fuck up. None of you here seems to get it. We survive together or we die separately. We have no idea what’s going on outside this building. It could be a few damaged cities, or it could be the fucking Fallout Apocalypse. But one thing’s for sure--to survive, we need to put the ‘civil’ in ‘civilization’, and I will not let you treat anyone else like that.”

  “Oh yeah,” said Lou. “What are you gonna do?” He emphasized the you, as if to remind Jake that he was shorter, smaller, and older than the hulking football coach.

  “Try me and find out, Lou,” said Jake. “If size were all that mattered, we’d be dodging dinosaurs right now. You may be bigger, stronger, and younger than I am, but I didn’t get this limp and these scars from playing pattycake for the past twenty years. Whatever happens to me, I’ll make goddam sure you face the rest of the fucking Apocalypse without a top row of teeth or two functioning hands before I’m done. The same goes for you two as well. The three of you just made a decision for nearly forty people. That won’t happen again. We’re going to establish some actual legitimate leadership right now—one that we all agree on like the goddamn democracy we’re supposed to have here—and then we’re going to find that family, and let them in.”

  Jake stormed off, and the crowd of now thirty or so people still at this end of the building all looked at each other with wide eyes and slack jaws. I smirked. A big, loud smirk, sprinkled with an approving nodding of my head, and slowly walked after Jake. As I walked away, I smiled and raised my eyebrows at Kent, Orville, and Longaberger.

  “Gentlemen,” I said, offering a mock good-bye salute, and headed back towards the cafeteria.

  ---------------------------------------------

  There was a great deal of chatter going on in the cafeteria when I arrived. There was no sign of Jake. People were discussing what had happened in little pods and groups scattered about the cafeteria and the main rotunda at the school’s entrance. Most were appalled at our not letting the Heffners in. Some, however, agreed with Orville, Longaberger, and Kent. Clearly the opinions were not one-sided. I saw Jada Allen looking distraught at a table by herself near the window.

  “Jada,” I said. “Did you see where Mr. Fisher went?”

  She pointed down the hall. I figured he went back to his classroom. He was pretty worked up. I followed down there. His room was down the main corridor, then to the left, then once more to the right. The two-story academic wing of the building was just two squares on top of each other with a hallway and staircase in between, and Jake’s room was on the first floor. Mine was right above his on the second. As I rounded the second corner, I heard something that sounded like growling, followed by a large bang. I peeked into Jake’s room and s
aw him throwing a chair.

  “Dude, you alright?” I asked. He turned at hearing my voice, and for about two seconds the look on his face was frightening. The only word I can come up with to describe it is ‘feral.’ It was dark, vengeful, and profoundly committed. Committed to what—I didn’t know—but there was a kind of decisiveness there that unnerved me. Jake and I have been friends since I returned here several years ago. I had always found him kind, helpful, insightful, and in no way threatening. What I was looking at now was the opposite. I was honestly scared, though I tried not to show it. He took a deep, tight breath in, closed his eyes and exhaled for about ten seconds.

  “Jake?”

  “Yeah, Eddie. I’m okay.” He leaned on a desk, head drooped, eyes closed, arms tensed.

  “You’re not really selling me on that,” I said. He smiled slightly.

  “I’m mad at myself,” he said. “I should never have let that go down. I was caught off guard. Wasn’t ready.” His lips began to quiver and for a second it looked like he was about to cry. I felt very uncomfortable. He’d obviously left to be alone, and I had invaded that sanctum. He sniffed, fighting tears back with some effort.

  “Still processing Laura,” he said.

  “Oh shit, Jake. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s alright. It’s not like everyone else hasn’t lost everything too. It’s just that she and I had unresolved things. Issues. Stuff we were trying to work out. Things had been strained since the boys went off to college. We were talking on the phone when, well, you know when.” I stuck my tongue between my teeth and nodded.

  “Yeah. I know when.”

  “I wasn’t ready for that. To process the fact that my wife was in Washington when it got bombed. I’m also worried about my sons. I checked my phone—it had been plugged in here, and now with the power on, thought it might be charged and have some messages. The boys have not called.”

  He took another deep breath and visibly tried to steady himself. I could see some tears forming.

  “They’re down in the Shenandoah Valley at college. They should have been far from any of the bombings, but I just haven’t heard from them. I don’t think they even know about their mother,” he said, coughing through some of his tears.