In late summer, Elizabeth taught them how to can fruits and vegetables. Soon other cottages along the road were populated. A village formed. By the end of the year, seventy-two people, ranging in age from eighteen months to eighty-one years, had joined the community and more arrived every week.
Some of the newcomers had useable skills such as masonry and carpentry, but most professions had become obsolete with the fall of civilization. Men and women struggled to find new ways to be useful.
There were whispers about members of the community possessing unusual abilities. Somehow word had leaked out about Michael’s gardening ability, so people brought their seeds to him for a special blessing. When an important tool broke, it was brought to Red because he had the knack for doing impossible repairs.
An eight-year-old girl from a neighboring establishment could predict the weather with one hundred percent accuracy, which was useful for planning harvests and parties alike, but mostly the subject of special gifts was avoided until one late-autumn evening, it came to the forefront.
Learning to farm on a larger scale than a few tomato plants in their back yards occupied the time of dozens of people, as the town’s population grew. Their search for fuel was spreading out over an ever increasing radius, and what little they found was used to run heavy farm equipment. Keith Brown, who had been a highway worker before the plague, had taken to farming better than many, accustomed as he was to operating the heavy machinery used in road construction. Keith was hauling one of the one-ton round hay bales in the scoop of a tractor when it rolled off, pinning him painfully to the seat. He moaned pitifully as town folk gathered around, unsure what to do.
Ollie Morningside arrived on the scene. He came from a long line of farmers and everybody called him Farmer Morningside, a name he didn’t seem to mind. He had became an important resource and teacher since the plague. When he saw what had happened, his hands went to his temples. “Sweet Jesus in heaven, Keith, how many times did I tell you to use the lift, not the scoop!”
“I’m sorry…” the injured man said weakly.
“I was afraid something like this might happen,” Farmer Morningside nervously rolled up his baseball cap in his hands, his voice softening. “I told him to use the forklift.” He rubbed his head. “The forklift. Yeah, yeah, that’s what we need, the forklift.” He motioned for another man to follow him. The two of them ran in the direction of the barn, where the forklift was housed. It would take at least twenty minutes for them to get there, fuel it up, and drive it back.
“He doesn’t have that long,” Doc said, shaking his head grimly.
Blanche Erpelding paced near the accident scene. A normally vivacious teenager with cheerful green eyes, her face twisted with empathetic agony until she could take his pain no longer. Standing several paces away from the carnage, she lifted her hands with a weightlifter grunt. The bale rose off the tractor all by itself, astonishing the onlookers. The higher she lifted her arms, the higher the bale went. Her face strained until it reddened like a cherry. The bale hovered two feet above Keith’s broken body until she made a motion like tossing a bag of potatoes across a room. The huge bale landed safely away from the injured man.
Everyone rushed to the victim, except Blanche, who collapsed to one knee, panting heavily. Despite Dr. Patel’s best efforts, Keith died before the two men had returned with the forklift, but the truth had become undeniable. Certain individuals in the community had acquired unique abilities never before seen among human beings.
Up until Blanche’s heroic feat, others had been afraid to reveal their blossoming skills. Jerome, for instance, had infrared vision, but one of the most exciting gifts belonged to Nate. As long as he was touching the ground with part of his body, or touching an object that was touching the ground, he could generate electricity. He was able to power small motors by holding a plug in his closed fist.
The gift that concerned Red the most was Elizabeth’s. Come to find out she could read minds. The way he could never get anything past her, he shouldn’t have been surprised, but he felt duped. How could she have hidden something like that from him for so long? Angry, he went off to live with the priest, Father Bob Bob. Red wasn’t Catholic, but the day Father Bob arrived in town with a load of books and fishing equipment, their personalities simply clicked.
“God gives what He gives to Whom He chooses, “ Father Bob counseled. “Your wife didn’t ask for this gift any more than you asked for yours. True love comes without conditions.”
After talking it over Father Bob for several days, Red returned to Elizabeth and Michael. Elizabeth told him not to worry, his mind was pretty boring anyway, and she rarely went there on purpose, but sometimes she slid in by accident. None of it made any sense to Red, but he’d just have to trust her. Considering how strongly and negatively Red, who loved her, reacted to her mind-reading skills, she decided it was best to keep it a secret from those outside the family.
Life went on. The town continued to expand and the sense of community grew even stronger.
At the Christmas party that winter, Nate sent the town into hysterics when he lit the Christmas tree by inserting the prongs of the cord into his nostrils. Later, he powered an old CD player, causing the party-goers to weep with nostalgia as the heavenly sounds of Silent Night wafted through the barn.
That spring, the village residents discussed the strange new abilities that some of the people in the as yet unnamed community had been developing since the plague. After discussing it at some length during a town hall meeting one rainy day in April, they realized that it was only those who had contracted the plague but recovered from it who had developed the strange talents. Those few who had no talents had never gotten sick from the epidemic.
Doc’s theory was that the virus had somehow pushed their bodies into the next stage of evolution. Father Bob had a different slant, saying that the gifts were proof that God still loved his children, and that he had endowed certain ones with special abilities to ensure humanity’s survival. The town seemed divided, but Red remained silent on the matter. There were more practical matters to worry about at the moment.
A committee was formed to help with village planning. The doctor’s pharmacy and consulting office would sit at the center alongside the general store. The library would sit across the street; they didn’t have many books, much less a circulation system, but everyone contributed what they had, and there were several expeditions to surviving libraries and stores in neighboring communities for more books. One of the women, who’d been an elementary school teacher before the plague, began to organize a school, dragooning several of the other adults who’d had some expertise in various subjects to serve as teachers. The older kids didn’t grumble, seeming eager for the return of normalcy. The younger children thought the post-plague world was normalcy, and got excited about the novelty of “school”, something they had never known. Red decided it was easier that way. It’s hard to miss what you never had.
A dozen people were chosen to journey into the countryside in search of more livestock. Cows, goats, sheep, chickens and even a herd of timid alpaca guarded by a pair of vicious llamas who gave even Zena a run for her money. One older house, probably built before the turn of the last century, held a treasure trove of hand tools the likes of which only a few of the older villagers were able to recognize. Who knew what a Yankee drill was in this day and age of power screwdrivers?
Coyotes thrived in the area these days. Deer had become bold, especially the bucks in mating season. Someone had even spotted a bear with a cub. Dogs were no longer just pets, but a necessity of life. They warned of danger and also served as protection. Although Zena still deferred to Red as her master and slept at his feet, she thought Michael and his little friends were more interesting. She spent most of her days frolicking with the kids around the village.
Veronica settled on the edge of town. Her three hens and rooster had turned into sixteen, then sixty-four, and now three years later, she had a considerable flock. She ma
rried a man named Elwood, who had drifted into town during a snowstorm. Carpentry was his new trade, but he wasn’t very good at it. One day Red went to him for a new ax handle. Chatting idly as he turned the handle on his lathe, Elwood revealed that he had been the vice-president of a bank before the plague.
“Well,” Red teased. “That explains why everything you build falls apart.”
Elwood’s back stiffened. “Make your own damn ax handles from here on in, Mister So-clever-about-fixing things.”
Geez, Red thought, some people can’t take a joke. After that, Elwood turned up his nose every time they met. What an asshole, but at least Veronica remained friendly.
Father Bob conducted a June wedding for Red and Elizabeth. They adopted Michael in August, trying to make it legal by having one of the other villagers draw up a ‘certificate of adoption’, signed by Red and Elizabeth and witnessed by Doctor Patel and Veronic, at least officially. Unofficially, the entire village had shown up, both for the wedding and the adoption, bringing what passed for casseroles and ‘hotdishes’ in this strange new world. And a cake shared by all, using refined sugar scavenged from a supermarket in a larger town ten miles off.
Before the adoption ceremony, the boy had carefully broached a subject heavy on his mind. He nervously explained to them that he wanted to be their son, but in honor of his first family, he wanted to keep his last name. Red and Elizabeth said that would be fine.
After Red and Elizabeth adopted Michael according to what passed for a legal process in this strange new world, the idea spread like wildfire. Other orphaned children had been discovered, and there was no shortage of adults vying to adopt them, having lost their own children to the plague just as Red and Elizabeth had done. Many couples formed in the same way the Wakelands had, first out of necessity to provide a stable home under unstable circumstances, and the love part came later. Things would never return to pre-plague normality, but the survivors wanted to return to a sense of civilization.
Red’s vision, in a way, had started unfolding. He settled into his new life. But he still kept his eyes open for the appearance of the man from his reoccurring dream, the one with black hair, gray eyes, and a star-shaped birthmark.
Family and neighbors became the center of life in this new land without the technology and industry of the pre-plague world. It wasn’t all bad. Red felt more pride in working with his hands, living in his tiny cottage, than he had ever felt during his stint as a respected businessman living in his mini-mansion on the good side of town. He missed hot showers, the Cleveland Indians, and especially his old family, always would, but living with Elizabeth and Michael in simplicity had given life a sweetness he’d never thought possible.
A seemingly disproportionate number of educated people had been called by a mysterious force to live in this community of survivors. The town had engineers, doctors, scientists, nurses and professors coming out of the whazoo. It was like living in a sheltered cocoon where the violence of the surrounding world didn’t penetrate. That wasn’t to say the town didn’t have its share of trouble.
One evening, a gang of thugs invaded Veronica and Elwood’s homestead. Sensing trouble afoot, Red and the other villagers broke down all of the doors at once, pulled the hostages to safety, and hit the thugs with so much firepower they splattered over the walls like extra chunky salsa. The incident reminded everyone to keep up their guard.
As everyone adjusted to his or her new existence, and life became less a struggle and more of a routine, it was decided that this place, which had given them a second chance at life, needed a name and a government. Red didn’t run for office, so he wasn’t happy when his name showed up on the ballot for mayor. He almost turned down the position when he won the election, but Elizabeth talked him into taking it.
First on the To Do List was to name their new town. It was a tossup between Second Chanceville and Here We Go Again. The latter was entered as a joke, but it won by two votes. Red thought it was the stupidest name ever. A lot of people felt that way and the name was shortened to Hewego. Red thought it sounded Indian, so he approved of the change. After all, he was part Apache.
Five miles north, another town formed and named itself Last Haven. The two towns regularly interacted and it seemed civilization was on the upswing. Another year passed and the town continued to flourish. People struggled to master farming and skilled crafts. Despite many adversities, or perhaps because of them, they had grown into a tight-knit community where people helped each other without question.
Chapter 10
By late May, four years post-plague, the town had finished its gravity-fed system of interconnected wells. It had taken a year of planning, and a lake full of sweat equity, but now all the occupied homes had running water. A big celebration was held in the old barn, which now served as the branch library. A generator was brought in for the occasion. Big-band music played in the background, and a DVD player and big screen television were set up in the back room for the children.
Red had just finished enjoying a whisky sour, compliments of the chemist’s new still, with some of the guys when Elizabeth and some of the other women descended upon them, dragging them out to the center of the floor for a dance. Glen Miller’s String of Pearls echoed off the high ceiling as they swayed past aisles of books.
When he saw Nate on the floor dancing with Blanche, he gave him a secret thumbs up sign. Nate grinned.
“Ah,” Elizabeth said wistfully. “Young love. They look good together.”
“He’s been crushing on Blanche a while now.”
“I know,” Elizabeth said.
“Is it mutual?” Red asked.
“Blanche likes him, thinks he’s cute, but she has reservations about making it more than a friendship.”
“I don’t have any reservations,” Red said. “Let’s go home.” He whispered something naughty in her ear about what he planned to do to her once they got there.
“Your mind is a dirty place,” she said, giving him a playful tap on the head. “That’s why I don’t like to go in there without a broom.”
“C’mon, you like me that way,” he said, pressing his body up against hers, feeling very much in the mood.
“Before I had my ability, I never realized how much men think about sex. It’s not just you—all of them. Even the old farts. As a gender, you’re really quite brutish.”
“So, do you want to?”
“Okay,” she said. “But on one condition.”
“Name it?”
“We dance three more songs.”
“I can do that.”
During the second song, Michael and his friends came up from the back room carrying a metal box, interrupting all the adults.
“Hey,” he said. “Look what we found!”
It was a two-way radio equipped with antennas, levers and curly cords. Jerome urged them to set it on the center table.
Everybody gathered around as Blanche fiddled with the controls. “My grandpa was an avid ham radio operator for decades—he kept a filing cabinet full of fuses and wires and switches and stuff, with one drawer just for contacts he’d made around the world all written in that old-fashioned Spencerian handwriting. My dad too; he had one just like this,” she explained. “I used to play with it when he wasn’t looking.”
Static, hisses, and pops came out of the speaker, but no speech, no voices. People quickly lost interest. The music resumed. Red opened a bottle of wine and was serving it around when Blanche cried out, “I got someone!”
“Shh! Shh!” Nate said, motioning everyone to be quiet.
Blanche had tuned in, apparently in the middle of a broadcast. A man with an eloquent southern flair spoke with calm confidence. “The plague was supposed to wipe out all of humanity,” the man said. “But they miscalculated the resiliency of the human race. When their scouts first set foot on our world, they realized we wouldn’t go down as easily as they had hoped. But make no mistake about it, the Celeruns have targeted Earth, and they won’t rest until it�
��s theirs.”
Some of the partygoers giggled.
“This guy is a loon,” Jerome said.
‘Who are the Celeruns?” someone asked. “Wasn’t the plague a natural phenomenon?”
“I picture him wearing a tinfoil hat,” Nate added, causing sputters of laughter.
“Quiet!” Red said moving his ear as close to the speaker as possible. The reception was bad and the static was getting worse. “Let’s hear him out.”
“On other planets, the Celeruns have rarely resorted to violence, but make no mistake about it, they are hostile invaders. They come in phases, first the scouts, then the military fleet, and finally the mother ship. The scouts are already here. Intelligence puts the mother ship in our solar system by the end of the year…” The broadcast broke up. Blanche worked the dials and raised it again. “They destroy native inhabitants by crowding them out within two or three generations. The United States, Russia, China and the UK have been preparing for their arrival since World War II, but our governments never expected a biological attack.
“The Celeruns want nothing less than total human extinction, but we will not go down without a fight. There is still a way to keep them from stealing our planet.” The static took over, blocking out the broadcast.
“Don’t lose him,” Red said urgently. “See if you can raise him. I want to talk to him.”
Blanche clutched the microphone in her hand so hard her knuckles whitened. “Ten-four, uh, guy on the other end of the line.”
More static.
Red grabbed the mic. “Hello, hello—can you hear me?”
“Affirmative,” came the voice on the other end. “Is this a real person?”
“Last time I checked.”
“Good Lord Almighty, you are a real person. Thought I might have raised a Celerun again. They have no sense of humor.”
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