After the Day- Red Tide

by Matthew Gilman

  Everyone ate quietly and finished their plates. Fatima wished she had a bottle of red wine. As a doctor she always thought the notion that pregnant women shouldn’t drink was total crap. If there was ever a time when a woman needed a drink to relax and enjoy herself a little bit it would be while she was so uncomfortable. She remembered the studies in Europe where it was common for a woman to have a glass of wine for almost every meal throughout the day and yet their children were healthier at birth and later in life than American babies. She knew there was a difference between having a glass of wine and binge drinking. Plus, being raised Muslim, alcohol was never an option. After coming to America everything was an option and she sampled many things that were not allowed to her before. The pleasure of a glass of wine was something that she quickly learned to enjoy and missed with the collapse of the world around her.

  “I wish I had something to wash that down.” Fatima said.

  “I might have something.” Isabel said leaving the table and going into her backpack. She pulled a bottle out. Recycled like the rest. The label rarely stated what it carried inside.

  “Is that?” Fatima said.

  “Somebody found a small batch of concord vines not far from here and brought them to Odin. Tastes more like grape juice from when I was a kid but better than nothing.” Isabel said taking two glasses from the cabinet and placing them on the table.

  “Are you sure you should have some?” Isabel asked.

  “Is my doctor going to tell me otherwise?” Fatima said resting her hands on her belly.

  They both laughed and Isabel poured the glasses.

  Fatima smelled the sweet scent of the wine and tasted the purple liquid. It had a taste like grape jelly. She exhaled and relaxed back in the chair.

  The women chatted about the wines available from Odin. It was the first time that Fatima had forgotten about their past.

  “Have you had the maple syrup wine?” Fatima asked.

  “Oh my god it’s so good, that buttery aftertaste. Did you try the dandelion wine?” Isabel said.

  “He can’t keep it in the store. If you’re not there the first few days when it’s done you can’t get your hands on it.”

  “If that man wasn’t here I don’t know what we would do for fun.” Isabel said.

  “Have more kids.” Fatima said.

  They broke into laughter. It was one of the happiest moments in the house since John had left. Fatima always had the stress of taking care of the kids by herself in the back of her mind and the new help around the house was a blessing. Fatima finished her glass of wine.

  “It’s about time to check on the chickens.” Fatima said. As she tried to stand it happened. Her water broke.

  Isabel stood up and realized what was happening.

  “Holy crap, you’re, it just, we are having a baby!” Isabel came around the table and helped Fatima outside. People quickly learned that it was easier to bury the after birth than clean it up inside without sanitation materials.

  Setting down a clean blanket, Fatima lay down and prepared herself for the coming pain.

  “We need a clock. On John’s side of the bed a pocket watch. We need to time the contractions.” Fatima said as the first contraction could be felt in her belly and back.

  Isabel ran inside and came back out. The kids waited on the porch watching. Little John was taking care of his sister who was now walking around. It was not the ideal situation for child care but there were few options these days.

  The contractions came quickly. This would be Fatima’s fifth child. She didn’t know how the labor would go but with her daughter it was quick compared with little John.

  In an hour Isabel was timing the contractions at two minutes apart.

  “Already?” Fatima asked.

  “That’s what I’m getting.” Isabel replied holding her hand.

  “I guess this is it.” Fatima said. “What did you put in that wine?”

  Isabel snickered to herself.

  Fatima started to feel the urge to push. She knew it was time. She pushed with the next contraction. On the second push her baby was crowning and Fatima had to do little to finish the birth. Isabel cut the umbilical cord and tied the end connected to the baby, a little girl. She placed her on top of Fatima, skin to skin. A few minutes later Fatima pushed out the placenta and Isabel helped her to the cabin when Fatima was ready. Isabel ended up doing the stitching where Fatima had torn during the birth. The biggest concern now was infection.

  Fatima took what antibiotics she had, raw garlic and a few other herbs to boost her immune system. Isabel kept a steady supply of fish coming in from the river and she surprised the cabin with new recipes almost every day. Soon, Fatima was on her feet again and helping out with the chores around the cabin. By the time she was back to normal snow was on the ground and John wasn’t home yet. She hadn’t heard from him. She wondered how long she would have to wait. She pondered how old the newest member of their family would be when he did come home.

  Borrowing a pair of snow shoes Isabel left the cabin and Fatima hugged her, thanking her for her help. It was difficult seeing Isabel leave, but she had her own family that she had not seen in a long time.

  Chapter 14: Midwest United States

  Riding south, Chris went in the direction he swore he would never go. Having exhausted the northern region he had no other options. He remembered the days of the Lord’s Army and how he ended up leading people to Fort Custer. Now he traveled back to the town he never wanted to go back to. He was sure things were different now. Less people, large empty areas. It couldn’t be any different from the rest of the areas he had been to.

  He rode into the city and noticed nature was reclaiming what it once owned. Trees were squeezing their way between slabs of concrete and buildings had started collapsing in on themselves. This was especially true for the older un-kept buildings but others were doing well with copper or tin roofs that lasted decades on their own. Chris stopped at the library to find a few new books to read at night. He was tired of L. Ron Hubbard and wanted something that didn’t sound like a written self-help commercial.

  He stepped in the building that was holding up fairly well. The sign next to the door stated it had won a National Library Award years before The Day.

  He searched the shelves and found a book with a cover that reminded him of himself, a man riding a horse into the sunset. It wasn’t a western, instead a post-apocalyptic novel set in the near future. He found it amusing that somebody wrote about the life he lived now. He stashed the book by a guy named Rawles into his bag and moved on to other aisles. He had been given a list of books to find by several people in town and tried his best to find the smallest, lightest, most comprehensive books he could find. He found an herb book by John Lust and a few books on organic gardening that he thought may be useful.

  He turned the corner to the next aisle and found two dried pools of blood that had been there for a few years. He recognized it from the houses he went into over the years and had violent ends waiting to be found inside. The dried specks of blood on the spines of some of the books told a tale of murder, another forgotten event that Chris couldn’t bother himself with. He didn’t find anything else worth grabbing and left the library.

  Riding his horse he traveled south. Many houses had burned down. Lawns were overgrown and he thought about how a city inspector would have a fit these days.

  “I don’t take orders from stupid anymore.” The words escaped from his lips.

  In the distance he spotted a man crossing the street. He stopped his horse. The man stopped. They looked at each other from a hundred yards away.

  Chris raised his hand as a gesture of hello. The man raised his and they approached each other.

  The man was sporting a full beard several inches long. A rifle slung over his shoulder. His clothes appeared fairly new and he had a satchel that appeared empty.

  “Hello,” Chris said about thirty feet away.

  “Hello,” the man said.
/>   “My name is Chris.”

  “I’m Tom,” the bearded man said.

  “Nice to meet you, Tom.” Chris felt awkward. “Mind if I get off my horse?” Chris asked.

  “Still a free country, I think.” Tom said.

  Chris dismounted and approached Tom with his hand out.

  Tom gripped his hand and shook it.

  “Passing through?” Tom asked.

  “Looking for people.” Chris said. He felt it wasn’t a good time to bring up the Chinese or anything like that.

  “It’s been awhile since I’ve had company.” Tom said. “You had dinner?”

  “Nope, that sounds good.” Chris followed Tom to his house. The lawn no longer existed. Every inch of the lawn and surrounding area was a garden. No grass to trim instead everything was edible.

  “This is amazing.” Chris said. “How did you do this without anybody trying to take it from you?”

  “Who says they didn’t?” Tom said. He hung the rifle next to the door. Chris recognized it as a SKS, the predecessor to the AK-47.

  On the wood stove Tom had dinner cooking in a Dutch oven.

  “Care for a drink?” Tom asked.

  Chris saw Tom pull out a bottle of Jaeger Meister.

  “Oh, god yes.” Chris said

  They did shots and shared stories. Chris talked about the Lord’s Army and how he now was recruiting for the militia. Tom told him about the days at the hospital before he returned home and went into hiding.

  “There was this doctor there, Persian, beautiful girl, way out of my league. But I wonder what happened to her.”

  “Fatima?” Chris said.

  “Yeah, you know her?”

  “She’s married to a buddy of mine, third kid on the way.” Chris said.

  “Did she ever find her boys?” Tom asked. “She had two sons when the shit went down. I never saw her again.”

  Chris felt bad to tell him.

  “She found them but it was too late.”

  Tom took a drink.

  “Fuck,” he said finishing his glass before refilling it. “We all lost someone.”

  “Some more than others.” Chris said.

  “True.” Tom said. “Tell me about this town you come from.”

  Chris told him about the market and the community that formed around it.

  “I can take you there if you would like.” Chris said.

  “I don’t know. I have everything I need here.” Tom said.

  “There are plenty of single women.” Chris added.

  “I’m not good with women.” Tom said.

  “These days you don’t have to be. It’s weird when women don’t know how long they will live they become very direct with their intentions. It doesn’t take much to get their attention.”

  “Are you serious?” Tom asked, skeptical.

  “I get laid just for showing up for a night.” Chris said taking a sip of Jaeger.

  “Sounds like Dr. Strangelove,” Tom said. “Well shit, when do we leave?”

  The next morning Tom and Chris woke up with their hangovers. Chris readied his horse to leave.

  “Hey Chris,” Tom said. “Before we leave I need to show you something.”

  Chris worried what the secret might be. He thought about Candice and hoped he would not have to shoot Tom as well, he liked Tom.

  Tom took him to the basement door of the house next door. Tom unlocked the shutter style doors and pulled them open. Walking down the stairs Tom lit a candle and showed Chris the rows and stacks of food he had stored away.

  “It’s no wonder you are doing so well,” Chris said. “If you had this at the market you would be rich.”

  “What is rich these days?” Tom asked.

  That was a good question.

  “I guess this. You could trade for whatever you wanted.” Chris said.

  “Any ammo for my 7.62?” Tom asked.

  “I’m sure somebody has it.” Chris said.

  Tom pulled a mountain bike with an attached trailer out of the shed.

  “I found this by a house that burned down a few miles away from here.”

  Tom loaded it up with boxed and canned food. Tom told Chris how the life span of canned goods extended by years when they were stored in a cool dark place like a basement. He locked everything and set up booby traps just in case. Then they went on the road. They traveled through town and Tom was surprised at how dead it was these days. He never traveled more than a few miles away.

  They rode for two days and then reached the market. Everyone seemed to recognize Chris but nobody knew the bearded man that he brought. Chris had told him not to trim the beard, women seemed to like trimming and shaving it, like unwrapping a present.

  Tom was able to trade a few cases of food for a couple boxes of 7.62 surplus ammo that was at the market. He was happy to no longer have the weight on the trailer and finally have more bullets for his hunting rifle.

  That evening he found a woman who was the local hairstylist. She cut and trimmed his beard. When it was short enough she pulled the straight razor out. He relaxed and she spent an hour removing the thick stubble from his face. Looking in the mirror he saw the man he recognized from before The Day. Women were watching from around the room to see who this new man was and how handsome he might be. He was in great shape having taken care of himself for the past five years.

  Chris had told him about the mead store a few doors over and he brought his bike and trading supplies with him to buy as much liquor as he could carry. In the store sat tables and some women were already there. One caught his eye, a blonde, curvy with green eyes. She had full lips and bright white teeth. Her blouse was tight advertising the cleavage of her large breasts. Her smooth legs were crossed under the table as she watched him walk in. She was drinking a Riesling wine that the brewer had made with some local grapes someone had found. When she winked at him, he thought he might pass out.

  He went to the bar and started negotiating the trade. He was able to get a case of mead and a few bottles of the Riesling for the rest of his goods. Then, he went to the blonde.

  “Hi,” he said with no plan to follow it up with.

  “Tom.” she said.

  “Word gets around.” he said sitting at the table across from her.

  “I didn’t know you were here.” she said.

  “Do I know you?” he asked.

  “It’s been a few years. We worked at the hospital together.” she was mentioning a former world.

  “Kara?” he said suddenly recognizing her. She had lost weight but most people did on their post-modern world diets. He noticed she was no longer wearing a wedding ring.

  After saying her name the other women in the bar gradually filed out and left realizing their chances of getting a man were shot down. It was the experience of people in town that when two people recognized one another from before The Day it was inevitable they would get together.

  “How have you been?” she asked. “You look like you have been doing well for yourself.”

  “Well, the hermit life has its ups and downs.” he said.

  “I bet it gets lonely.” she said sipping from her glass.

  “Very,” he replied.

  They talked for an hour at the table. She had a house in town and worked scavenging around for items to trade. Her husband had died after he went out trying to get food a few days after The Day. He locked himself in his car and was shot trying to hide from a man with a gun.

  Tom’s story wasn’t much except for the garden and the supplies.

  “You know, I feel like we are wasting time here.” she said grabbing his hand.

  His heart raced.

  “It’s been a long time.” Tom said. He didn’t know if it was a warning or an invitation.

  “So why wait.” He stood up and he followed her out. The bartender smiled as they left.

  Tom followed her back to her house and spotted some dirty looks from some of the women they passed along the way.

  “What’s thei
r problem?” he asked her.

  “They didn’t get the new guy.” she said turning around and kissing him at her door. “Come in,” she said.

  When they stepped inside Tom was nervous.

  “You know, back when we worked together, I used to check out your ass at work all the time.” she said.

  “Really?” he asked.

  “Oh yeah,”

  Tom thought for a minute.

  “I thought you were gorgeous,” he said. “I loved your breasts in those scrubs.” He smiled surprised he was able to get the words out.

  She pulled her shirt up over her head.

  “You mean these?”

  All talking stopped.

  The next morning the neighbors would complain at the market about being woken up repeatedly throughout the night. Kara packed the few things she had and grabbed her bike from behind the house. She would leave with Tom that afternoon back to his house two days south. They would have their first child ten months later.

  Chapter 15: New York City

  The cool wind blew over the river. Many of the men grew impatient, playing cards and reading the same books for the third or fourth time. The weeks had continued on but John would not budge from the harbor. Many had started to call him general. He didn’t like it. He knew he was playing that role and in all intents and purposes there was nobody above him in rank. Supplies ran low and the thought of the Chinese fleet showing up was starting to sound more like fiction than fact.

  In the distance a rumble brewed, the high pitched squeal that had not been heard in years. Everyone looked up. They checked the sky, glancing at the birds and clouds, then seeing the reflection of sunlight, a jet. John figured it was a MiG, soviet model sold to the Chinese, although he would not be surprised if there was a Russian pilot like they had done in the Korean War. Could the Russians really pass up the opportunity to help invade the United States?

  People stood around in awe of the jet circling the city. John was the first to move. He cranked a hand siren and people moved to their positions. Many of the forces were still in the Chinese uniforms and climbed onto the Chinese tanks. The American tanks on the opposite side of the bridge were left on the shore and covered in any materials they could find to hide them. Tree branches, boxes, lumber, sheets, anything that could be used to hide the form of a tank with U.S. markings.