Before the plague, Red had taken Zena on a walk once, but that had been the extent of his pet-owner responsibilities. Ironic that the animal that he had once despised was now the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Yeah, girl,” he said scratching her ears. “If I had known then what I know now, maybe I would have taken you on two walks.” She rolled over to show him her spotted flesh. “Good grief girl—have a little modesty.” Her ears perked up, but she remained on her back, tail sweeping the floor in hopeful expectation. “All right, all right.” The faster he rubbed her belly, the faster her back leg kicked. Silly dog.
Finally, she jumped onto the couch to lay over his legs, tongue hanging out, and panting hard from the heat. Red rubbed her ears and told her that ponies didn’t make good lap dogs. She gave a loud yawn, totally disinterested in his opinion.
Chapter 3
The red line on the thermometer hovered around 98 degrees. Opened windows offered little relief. “I’d pluck out my left eye for air conditioning,” Red muttered, but the upcoming winter was a bigger concern than the heat.
When civilization disintegrated after so many people had died, the power stations failed, shipping ceased and fuel became inaccessible. The gas fireplace in the center of the living room was now useless.
Last season, he got by with a kerosene heater, but that kind of fuel hadn’t been used much prior to the plague, so there wasn’t much of it around where he lived. During the winter he had scrounged for cans of fuel around residences and businesses, but had since exhausted the feasible search radius. Unfortunately, Red had lost his four wheeler in an ambush shortly after he’d run into the alien. Just a couple of miles from home, as he was carefully navigating between a Winnebago and a UPS truck, left abandoned athwart the freeway, three guys in Hawaiian shirts burst out from the back of the UPS truck. Their clothes were bright and cheerful, but the men were not. One stood in front of the four wheeler, forcing Red to slam on the brakes. The other two yanked him off the four wheel.
In hindsight, he should have said the hell with it, and run over the bastard. While the three men got busy beating the crap out of him, Zena showed up out of nowhere. Worried the fierce dog might be part of a pack, the men took off. Getting jacked was one of the many hazards that came with traveling by motorized vehicle, but it wasn’t as dangerous as walking.
In the early days after the fall of civilization, Red had spent a lot of time in his car, expanding his search radius, looking for fuel. He was always excited when he found a stash because that meant he could look for even more fuel. It took him a while to realize the insanity of scavenging for fuel, so he could scavenge for more fuel. With all the vehicles and litter clogging the streets, walking was the easiest way to get around anyway, but it came with its own set of dangers. Regardless of the mode of transportation though, the time to leave Brookhaven had come. The decision to downsize, leaving the house where he’d raised his children, wasn’t easy, but he needed to be practical.
Leisurely walks were a thing of the past. Although the plague had affected animals, they hadn’t died in the same numbers as humans. The zoo animals had escaped, so there were now lions and tigers roaming the streets. Black bears and wolves had come down from the north looking for food, but the biggest danger was wild dogs. They roamed the streets in packs, bringing down anything that moved. Fortunately, Zena was a big deterrent to hungry animals. She had defended him against the packs more than once, but his main concern had shifted since the incident at Schlotz’s Grocery.
Removing his pistol from the kitchen drawer, he double-checked the chamber, giving it a spin before clicking it into place and sliding the barrel into his shoulder holster.
Zena’s tail wagged as she patted her front paws on the ceramic tile at the front door. Red raised the pitch of his voice to intensify her anticipation, “Does Zena want to go for a walk?”
The dog was a sucker for a stroll, but this was much more than a mere walk, it was the next chapter of their lives.
Chapter 4
Out in the garage, he filled the Radio Flyer wagon with survival gear—a tarp, blankets, matches, candles, batteries, flashlights, lighter fluid, various knives, cans of dog food, two manual can openers, sealable plastic bags, other essential supplies, and Miss Buttercup. He wasn’t looking to move far away, but he needed a smaller house, one that was easy to maintain, easy to heat, preferably with a body of water nearby.
He contemplated going back into the house, but didn’t think he could handle separating from it again without having a breakdown. Pulling out the picture of his family that he always carried with him, he ran his fingers lovingly across the edges. That day at Cedar Point had been the last happy day they had enjoyed together. In the roller coaster car ahead of him, his daughter screamed, while his son held his hands straight up in the air. Far below Piper sat on a bench licking ice cream cones with Grandpa and Grandma, while in the seat next to him, Kay white-knuckled the grab bar. She gave a cheeky grin and warned him to hold on tight, this was going to be one helluva ride
The top of the Millennium had felt like the top of the world. As the coaster hung suspended over a death-defying drop, Red had a rare epiphany. Life was fleeting. Every day surrounded by those he loved was a special gift to be cherished. Too bad he didn’t hang onto those thoughts when they returned home. Some people looked back at their lives, saying they wouldn’t change a thing. Not Red. If he had to do over, he would have worried less, complained less, and loved more.
As he was walking away from the house, he stole a glance back. He’d carried his babies through that front door when he brought them home from the hospital. The yard had hosted many games of tag and Frisbee. Oh, yeah, and that lovely water balloon fight with Kay. His eyes flooded, so he turned his gaze toward the road ahead.
“Let’s go, Zena.”
She wagged her tail, but a questioning look lingered in her dark eyes as if she sensed this walk served a different purpose than their previous strolls. They worked their way through Brookhaven Estates, while Zena explored the bases of trees and shrubs. Red looked around as she sniffed a hydrant.
Grass was knee high everywhere. Fierce storms had torn off shingles from the roofs and dropped trees. Windows were broken. Tree limbs were scattered everywhere. With no one to tidy up, the ugly got uglier every time he went out.
Kay would have been livid to see the neighborhood in such a state. Appearances had always been important to her. She and the kids had died in the early stages of the plague. In hindsight, that was a good thing, because unlike later victims, his family had had the dignity of medical care and drugs to ease their suffering.
By the end, hospitals were overrun and the staff was dying off as fast as the patients. Knowing he’d provided proper funerals for Kay and his children gave Red solace. Red knew from scavenging the stately homes of Brookhaven that a lot of people had been denied that luxury. The forgotten corpses of entire families were rotting behind closed doors. The thought made his skin creep, so he forced his mind to more pleasant subjects like food. The idea of fresh produce made his mouth water. He hoped to meet a survivor with gardening know-how.
In some ways the pandemic had liberated him, showed him what mattered and what didn’t. Before the plague, he had been against all processed food. No red meat or white flour entered his digestive tract. A bag of chips was a sin. His cupboard had been full of things such as flaxseed oil and vegetable-based protein drinks. He never used a germ-infested public drinking fountain and avoided public restrooms. If a jug of juice had expired the day before, never would it pass his pristine lips, but the post-plague Red didn’t sweat the small things. If it tasted okay, then it was okay to eat. Death was preferable to life as it was now anyway—so what did he care?
Perhaps the dreams were part of the changes he felt within. Once or twice a week, he floated off into a world in which the earth tilted and nature gave birth to new creation. Survivors sought one another out, sharing what they had, helping one another to make peace
with the world. The vision was so vivid he wondered if it held a message about the future. He had tried to squash the seed of hope it gave him, but that seed had sprouted into a sapling. If he were smart, he’d uproot it before it became an entire tree.
Chapter 5
Red planned his route to ensure that he’d pass the only other inhabited home in the neighborhood. Sixty-year-old Mrs. Jenkins was homesteading there with thirty-year-old Elizabeth Wilder and an eight-year-old boy named Michael Penn. None of them were originally from the neighborhood, but they’d somehow come together after the plague, and once upon a time it had seemed like a good idea to join them.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Jenkins turned out to the bossiest woman he had ever met. Adding to the charm was Elizabeth’s constant crying. More disturbing yet was the boy’s incessant rocking back and forth. The only time he stopped rocking was to wrap his arms around Zena’s furry neck where he’d sob himself to sleep. Zena didn’t seem to mind; she missed kids, and Michael was the only one available.
Unable to stand the nagging, the crying or the rocking for one more day, late one evening, Red sneaked out of the house like a criminal and returned to his own place, leaving the two women and the boy to fend for themselves. That was two months ago and he hadn’t spoken to any of them since. Red felt ashamed whenever he thought about what he’d done. Today he planned to inform them about his move out of the neighborhood, telling them to pay him a call if they ever needed anything, but the truth was that it wasn’t out of any sense of altruism. He simply yearned to have his departure acknowledged. Red stopped the wagon in the street, debating if he should disturb them or simply go on his way.
Mrs. Jenkins’ two-story home was long and wide. Six grand pillars held up the roof over the front porch. The shrubs were nicely pruned. That kind of stuff mattered to Mrs. Jenkins. She was a stickler about tidiness and had treated him like the hired help—expecting him to be the handyman, landscaper, painter, and water boy.
The old woman acted as if men were made of stone. They weren’t supposed to hurt, cry, or have feelings. She didn’t seem to notice or care that he was in deep mourning, too. He tried to gather the courage to approach the front door, but the memory of how he had abandoned them stood in his way.
Zena’s ears perked straight up when the front door swung open. She stiffened and a growl began in her throat but it transformed into an eager whine. A gaunt boy with straggly blond hair burst onto the porch.
“Zena!” the boy cried, running down the sidewalk with arms wide open.
Red squinted, wondering if this excited boy could possibly be Michael. The kid had never uttered a single word during the two weeks he had known him.
Zena’s eyes lit in recognition. Her tail wagged furiously as she braced herself for the reunion with Michael, as the boy flung himself around her muscular neck. Red looked down at her with a half-raised eyebrow, wondering if she was okay with all of this. Her big wet tongue slid across Michael’s cheek again and again. Apparently, yes.
Elizabeth came out the front door and walked down the driveway with hands shoved deep into her jeans pockets. Her angular face showed traces of Asian ancestry. A glittery comb held back her silky black hair. She had full lips the color of red wine, which offset a smooth porcelain complexion. Red wondered why he hadn’t noticed how attractive she was before. Maybe because it was the first time he’d seen her without bloodshot eyes or a puffy face from all the crying.
She stopped at the curb about ten feet from where he stood, biting her lower lip, surveying the contents of the wagon.
“What are you doing with all of that stuff?” she asked casually.
“I’m moving to a smaller place.”
She traced an invisible arc on the ground with the toe of her sneaker. “Michael and I were thinking about moving someplace smaller ourselves.”
Michael stated bluntly, “Mrs. Jenkins died last week.”
Even though he had admired the strength she had showed in adversity, the news of the older woman’s death barely stirred his blood. Red had seen so much death, felt so much pain, he’d gone numb inside. Personally, he wouldn’t miss the old lady much, but Elizabeth and the boy wouldn’t have survived without her. Who would be responsible for them now? He certainly didn’t want the job.
“I-I’m sorry,” he murmured, unable to look at either of them.
“Please, Mr. Wakeland,” she said. “Take us with you.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
Her dark eyes searched his face, but he didn’t want to give her any sign of encouragement. He purposely met her hopeful gaze with a blank stare.
“Can’t we go with you and Zena?” Michael pleaded. “I don’t eat much.”
The boy’s presence was a reminder of the children he had lost, like a knife twisting in his gut, but at the moment Zena was running happy circles around Michael’s legs. She paused to nuzzle his pockets, which he had filled with cat food treats. Michael scooped some out, and held it on open palm while she ate. When she finished, Michael knelt on one knee, hugging her with all his might.
Zena was big enough to take it and looked up at Red with a glint in her eye. If dogs could speak, she’d ask Hey, Dad; look what I found! Can we keep him? Her tail wagged in ‘bull in a china shop’ sweeps.
“You’d prefer to be all alone rather than put up with us?” Elizabeth asked testily. “Are we really that bad?”
“No. It’s just that I may not be coming back.”
“This place has no hold on us,” Elizabeth said. “So we’d be fine not coming back to it.”
“We already tried living together once, but it didn’t work out.”
“I know my crying annoyed you,” she said without apology. “But the well of tears has run dry. And Michael’s beginning to adjust—he only does the rocking thing just before bed.”
“But…”
“If you’re waiting to find companions without baggage, you’re dumber than you look. Anyone that’s lived through the plague has seen terrible things. We’re all messed up. And just so you know, you weren’t exactly the ideal roommate. You scream weird shit in your sleep, scaring the rest of us half to death, and you act like a big grumpy ass half of the time.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Yuh-huh,” Michael chimed in.
“Who asked you, runt?”
“You’re doing it right now,” Elizabeth said.
“Doing what?”
“Acting like a big grumpy ass. You also smell like a wet dog.” She cupped a hand to her mouth, whispering aside, but plenty loud enough for everyone to hear. “No offense, Zena. We’d be lucky if Red smelled half as good as you.”
“If I’m so loud, mean and stinky,” Red raised his voice, feeling highly offended, “Why do you even want to come with me?”
“That’s a good question,” she said, glancing back up at the house, then muttering at the ground. “Maybe I don’t.”
Michael grabbed a wad of Red’s shirt. “Puh-leez, Mr. Wakeland! I promise to be good. And I’ll try not to rock back and forth anymore. And if you want, I can wash Zena every day, and give her walks, and brush her hair!”
“Okay,” Red snarled, cursing his bleeding heart. “Get your stuff, but don’t expect me to carry anything for you.”
The pair raced to the house. A few minutes later, they came around from the back with two shopping carts full of belongings. Michael had several large coffee cans filled to the rim with jewelry. Not the imitation stuff, but engagement rings, necklaces worthy of the most blowsy of Cartier and Tiffany’s creations, loose gems glittering red and green, blue and purple, Rolexes, and tennis bracelets loaded with diamonds. Even a tiara.
“Holy crap, kid,” Red said, raising his brow. “Did you rob a jewelry store or what?”
“It never hurts to plan for the future,” Michael said, holding one of the containers defensively against his chest.
“I guess not,” Red laughed.<
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The three of them looked like vagrants, pushing and pulling everything they owned down the street. Together they went shopping for new real estate.
Chapter 6
“I know where we should go,” Michael said.
“Oh, you do?” Red raised an eyebrow.
“Sure. My granny gave me the address.”
Elizabeth replied gently, “Sweetie, your granny is with your mom and dad.”
“I know that,” he said, annoyed. “She’s dead, they’re all dead, but they talk to me in my dreams.” He pointed north. “It’s near a forgotten little farm town, kind of off by itself in a field. There’s a fireplace that burns real wood and a well with a hand pump that still works.”
Red exchanged a doubtful glance with Elizabeth, who shrugged.
Not having a destination in mind, nor even a vague direction, Michael’s suggestion at least gave them a place to start.
“I’m all yours, boy. Lead on.”
They hadn’t been walking long when a pack of dogs emerged through a hedge of boxwoods. Elizabeth pulled Michael into a protective hug, eyes wide, unsure what to do.
“Get behind me,” Red ordered Elizabeth. She pulled Michael with her and did as told. Red removed his gun from its shoulder holster and aimed at the lead dog, a Doberman who was sniffing the air and licking his chops.
The Doberman stood its ground, growing deep in the back of its throat. Among the pack was a variety of breeds, including standard poodles, fur now roped into dreadlocks, golden retrievers, mongrels and even a couple of small Schnauzers and a Yorkie. Some were still wearing their collars and owner’s ID tags. Pets that had once had their meals handed to them on a plate now had to learn to fend for themselves like every other survivor. Zena stepped in front of Red, ruff bristling. The pack hesitated until the Doberman lunged straight for her. The two rolled around in the street in a frightening frenzy of barking and flying fur.
Red the First Page 2