Winter Fall

by Byron Tucker

  Smart kid. “Yes. But with it getting colder, we'll have no choice but to start burning wood soon, especially in the shop, as I have no other source of heat in here.”

  “I can't imagine the raiders making it all the way out here in the boondocks.”

  “It's the lack of food, it's making people increasingly desperate.”

  Jimmy looked at him with a forlorn expression. “There's not much of a country left, is there?”

  “Not since New York and Washington got taken out with nukes. There is no more United States left, just pockets of civilization here and there.”

  “I heard on the radio recently that George Barnes has named himself President and is trying to set up a new government in Atlanta.”

  He put his hands on his nephew's shoulders. “Don't believe the reports you hear on the shortwave. Sure, the southern states may be okay for the short term, since they still have power and such, but unless they're able to get a steady supply of food shipped in from the Southern Hemisphere, they'll be doomed as well. I know your dad has mentioned the possibility of going south, but I managed to convince him that going there as refugees is not a good idea at all.”

  Jimmy cast his gaze downward. “Dad says that we can't stay here forever, that the food you have will run out at some point. He's really bummed about not being able to go back to Chicago to get Grandma too.”

  Ryan took a step back, biting his lower lip. Facing the truth could be difficult even in good times, and in times such as these...

  He put his hands on his nephew's shoulders. “I know your father isn't ready to admit to himself, but Grandma is most likely no longer on this earth. We can only hope she's had a peaceful end. We're just going to have to accept that and move on.”

  Jimmy looked him with a horrified expression. “But why couldn't we have driven down and gotten her? That's what Dad keeps saying.”

  Ryan shook his head slowly as he thought about the growing rift between him and his brother. If only I could get him to understand. “You see, Jimmy, ever since the military abandoned Chicago, that whole city has been a lost cause. No power, no water, no food. You've heard the reports – half the city is a burned-out wasteland now. And you know very well that any attempt to go down there would have been a suicide mission. I just wish I could get your father to understand that.”

  Jimmy looked at his uncle for a few quiet moments before replying. “Yeah, I believe you. It just sucks. All of this. I guess the end of the world is no fun, huh?

  Having a desire to keep Jimmy's spirits from sinking further, he said, “Never mind about all of that. We need to focus on the here and now, nothing more. You go ahead and put that stuff on, so I can show you how to use a crossbow.”

  Jimmy flashed him a warm smile. “Just give me a few here.”

  Figuring the boy would like a bit of privacy, Ryan stepped out of the shop, stealing a glance at the leaden sky. He felt a drop of something cold on his cheek. Then another one on his nose. Looking straight ahead, he saw small, white flakes drifting down. A few seconds later, some larger flakes drifted into view and before he knew it, the flurry turned into a heavy snow shower, quickly coating the ground in a thin layer of white. I guess winter's arrived.

  He chuckled to himself, as he had always thought of winter as his favorite season. But this was going to be a volcanic winter, a whole different beast.

  Jimmy came striding out of the shop, clad in black leather from head to toe. He wasn't wearing a hat, but he had found a spare strip of leather and looped it around his forehead, tying it in the back, presumably to keep his long, straight hair out of his face. Looking around him, he asked, “Wow, where did this snow come from all of a sudden?”

  “I don't know, but it'll be good to get this ash covered up.” Ryan ran his hand down the front of the heavy riding jacket Jimmy had zipped up, his mind flooded with fond memories when he was with Lacey and they would ride bikes together on the open road. Fun times, fun times...

  If there was one thing that he envied his brother for, it was him having a partner for life. Before all of this happened, he'd always held out hope that Lacey would dump that asshole in Santa Barbara and come back to him someday, or that he'd find someone else, but now...

  “You look good in my old riding clothes,” he finally said.

  Jimmy looked a bit embarrassed. “Feels kinda weird if I say so myself. It's nice and warm, though. I could stay out all day wearing this stuff.”

  He patted his nephew on the back. “Good. We're going to hunt us some small game.”

  A few minutes later, Ryan managed to find his Mini-Bow, a compact, easy-to-shoot kit that was perfect for beginners to cut their teeth on. It responded well to accurate shooting, so if Jimmy had any sort of innate skill, it would come through on this thing. He grabbed a stack of paper targets and urged Jimmy to follow him down the trail leading away from the house and shop. Once they had gone about two hundred yards or so, Ryan located a tree with a nail on it and hung one of the targets on it. Pointing to Jimmy, he said, “We'll start out at thirty yards, which is about where the big pine tree is back there.”

  Jimmy laughed. “There's no way I'll be able to hit that target from that far away.”

  “You might be surprised at what you can do.”

  Ryan demonstrated how to use the bow, firing off a couple quick shots, one of them missing the target entirely, but the other hitting pretty close to the bull's eye. He handed the bow to Jimmy and said, “Now, you try.”

  Crouching behind Jimmy, he threaded a new arrow and took aim, coaching him how to use the sight. He pulled back on the string, using considerable strength. “Okay, not too much tension. Once you've got the bull's eye in the cross-hairs, just let it rip. Just remember to be absolutely still when you shoot.” Resting his hand on Jimmy's shoulder, Ryan noticed him holding his breath and tense his muscles as he focused on aiming for the target. He let go with a sharp twing! and when Ryan looked up, Jimmy's arrow occupied a spot on the target even closer to the bull's-eye than his own arrow.

  As Jimmy turned to look at him with an open-mouthed expression, Ryan said, “Amazing! Your very first shot, and you hit the target spot-on. Damn!”

  Jimmy laughed, pulling out another arrow to shoot. “Looks like I've got the skills, huh?”

  “I say you do. But let's see if that wasn't some fluke shot. Try again.”

  Jimmy took aim at the target, once again tensing his body. But before he got a chance to shoot, Ryan whispered, “Hold up. Look about twenty degrees to your right, on the ground. Do you see it?”

  After a couple of seconds, Jimmy said, “What's that, a wild turkey?”

  “You're right. It's the type of small game we need to be hunting for.”

  “Should I go for it, see if I can nail it?”

  Ryan watched the lone turkey move slowly between two trees, estimating it to be forty or more yards away. He was tempted to take the bow from Jimmy and shoot it himself, since he probably had a better than fifty-fifty chance of hitting it, but he didn't want to spoil it for his nephew. “Yes, if you think you can hit it, go for it.”

  Ryan held his breath while Jimmy took aim on the turkey, pulling back on the string as far as it would go. A couple of seconds later, he let go, and the arrow hit the turkey dead-on, causing the large bird to fall over dead instantly.

  Ryan felt another surge of excitement for him. “Hey, you just made your first kill. Congratulations!”

  Jimmy set the crossbow on the ground and let out a chuckle. “I guess we know what we're going to have for dinner tonight.”

  Ryan began walking toward the downed turkey. “Come on. I'll show you how to clean and dress a bird, so it can be baked in the oven. It's about time you've made yourself useful around here.”

  Jimmy smiled as he kept pace beside him. “Anything to keep me out of that house.”

  Ryan nodded, realizing Jimmy was absolutely right.

  Chapter 14

  Sam threw the magazine aside in disgust. Since it sta
rted snowing, it had become too dark inside to be able to read, even sitting next to the window. He stood up and realized that it was only halfway between breakfast and lunch. Despite lunch still being a couple hours away, Irene was slaving away in the kitchen, cutting up a bunch of vegetables and chunks of thawed-out beef to put into a stew pot.

  Ever since they'd started holing up in the house when the ash started falling, Irene had taken on the role of cook, spending hours each day in the kitchen. She didn't do it out of some imagined duty of being the woman of the family, but to have something to do. It was an activity that wasn't too tiring or stressful for her, but one that passed the time.

  She prepared breakfast, lunch and dinner for five hungry mouths, day in and day out. Of course, Irene enjoyed cooking and baking, and she took delight in Ryan's immense stores of basic food stuffs, drawing on them to cook up an incredible variety of meals for the five of them. It was no wonder he was envious of her. Unlike him, she had a purpose, a job to do, the ability to exercise her need to take care of her family.

  So where does that leave me? It was a thought that weighed on his soul, pressing down upon him with increasing force with each passing day. Never in his whole life had he felt so incredibly useless. He'd always been a doer, an achiever. In school, college, career. He had worked hard and made something of himself, pulling down a comfortable six-figure income to support his family. Throughout the years of being married to Irene and raising those two wonderful, beautiful children, he felt proud of being able to provide for them, like any respectable father should. But now, with Chicago pretty much a non-city, and the bank he used to work for shuttered, Sam had nothing. No more job, no more career, no more raised-ranch home in the 'burbs where crime was low and the schools were good. All of that was gone.

  Not to mention his dear mother, who had likely passed away when Chicago disintegrated into a burned-out wasteland. He'd yet to forgive himself for failing to go against his brother's advice and making the effort to go down to get her while he still had the chance.

  Gone. He tumbled that word in his head a few times, trying to fight the tears that came far too often. Sometimes he cried during the day, at times like this when he was reduced to watching Irene play chef in the kitchen. The tears came at night too, when he buried his face into his pillow, hoping that Irene wouldn't be awoken by his sobs. But there was no denying the hard, cold fact that everything he had worked for in his whole life was gone. Gone for good. Gone forever. Gone, gone, gone!

  He felt like hitting something. He needed to do something, like going outside like he told Jimmy to do earlier. He grabbed Ryan's heavy jacket from the coat hook by the front door and shouted to Irene, “Hey, I'm going out to check on Jimmy,” and let himself outside without waiting for a response.

  He stepped out onto the narrow porch, taking some solace in watching the snow fall. It was so quiet, so peaceful, the whiteness covering up the dirty-looking ash that still lay everywhere. But it also served as an unwelcome reminder of the long, harsh winter that was sure to come.

  He heard the sound of voices coming from behind the house. Curious as to what his brother and son might be up to, he walked around the side of the house, wishing he'd thought to replace his slippers with real footwear. He pulled up to a quick stop when he saw Ryan stringing up a wild turkey with an arrow stuck through its breast.

  “You shoot that, Ryan?”

  Beaming with pride, Ryan pointed to Jimmy filling up a large pot from the outdoor tap. “No, he did. His very first lesson, and he shot himself some dinner. How about that, huh?”

  Sam glanced over at his leather-clad son, the memories of his brother's wild motorcycle-riding days rushing to the fore. Speaking in a raised voice, he said, “What in the hell are you wearing?”

  Jimmy stopped and turned to face his father, grinning with self-pride. “Uncle Ryan gave this to me, since I don't have anything warm to wear.”

  Sam looked at his son for a couple of moments, becoming less pleased by the second. It was an unwelcome reminder of how his brother used to be, riding that noisy bike with that skanky girlfriend of his – what was her name? Lacey, that was it, going around drinking, smoking and probably doing some illegal drugs for good measure. He took in a deep breath. “I want you to get out of those clothes. You don't need to be going around looking like a motorcycle freak like my brother.”

  Jimmy looked at him with a genuinely confused expression. “What do you mean? There's no motorcycle around here for me to ride.”

  Ryan intervened by stepping between him and Jimmy, facing him. “I decided to let him have my old leathers. How else is he going to keep warm this winter? And besides, this will give him extra protection when he's out bow hunting in the woods. I tell you what, this boy's got some talent with a crossbow.”

  Sam stared at his son, disgusted with how he had that strip of leather tied around his forehead, not to mention the thuggish fingerless gloves he wore in addition to the chaps draped over enormous riding boots. “Jimmy,” he began, “You look like a goddammed freak, just like your uncle did back in the day after he quit his company. I advise you to go inside and get changed into some normal clothes.”

  “But I don't have anything warm to wear,” Jimmy protested. “All I have is that thin jacket and those cheap sweaters we got at Wal-Mart.”

  “There's that big overcoat that Ryan lets us use by the front door. Wear that.”

  Jimmy looked at him with an incredulous expression and said, “You mean the one you've got on right now?”

  Sam pointed angrily at the back door of the house with a rigid finger. “Go inside, take those dammed things off and help your mom in the kitchen.”

  “Mom doesn't need my help. She's got Eliza, who has to stay inside.”

  Sam refused to budge. “Inside, now. Dad's orders.”

  In a huff, Jimmy turned away and stomped to the house, ripping off his headband in a fit of disgust. Once he had slipped inside, Sam turned back to his brother and looked him over. “What in the hell were you thinking, putting him in your motorcycle leathers? That's the last thing I want my son to be exposed to.”

  Ryan seemed merely concerned, as opposed to being angry. Taking a moment to put both his hands on Sam's upper arms, he locked his gaze onto him and said, “You know the old saying, denial isn't just a river in Egypt? Well, you've been in denial for over two months now.”

  “I have not!” Sam exploded, tearing himself away from his brother's grasp. “I'm well aware of the reality of our situation. But there are some things I will not compromise, such as my son's moral integrity. Hell, he looks like a criminal in that outfit, as if he could be in a gang of hoodlums.”

  Ryan adopted a look of raw anger. “So what else do you propose for keeping your son warm when he goes hunting for game? Oh, I have a brilliant idea, let's fire up the truck and head down to the Wal-Mart for some winter clothes for Jimmy. Hell, I bet they have a Volcanic Winter sale going on right now, fifty percent off, come and get it while supplies last!”

  Sam actually had to stifle a chuckle. He certainly had a point there. There was no more going down to the store to get whatever you needed. You had to make do with what you had, or do without. Holding up his hands in a conciliatory gesture, he said, “I get your point. I just don't like my son looking like you did back in your riding days. You were hell on wheels.”

  “Well, you're going to have to get over that, as that's what he's got. Besides, do you see my hog anywhere? No, I've sold it years ago. I figured that Jimmy should have my old leathers, since I've got a couple decent winter outfits for myself, and that coat is yours. We don't have much for Irene and Eliza, but there's little we can do about that. That's the thing about prepping, you never think of everything.”

  Sam let out a sigh, trying to fight off the unwelcome sense of guilt seeping in. “Well, you didn't think to prepare for five people. You prepared for one, two at the most. You bringing us here was a last-minute decision, and you know it.”

  Ryan stared
at the ground for a few moments before replying. “Well, when it came down to crunch time, I couldn't let you guys fend for yourselves. I had no choice but to let you come here.”

  “The problem is that we're draining down your reserves like crazy. You're burning your precious propane just so my wife can have an easier time of it cooking on the range, and keeping the house nice and toasty without worry of smoke affecting Eliza. Face it, Ryan, we can't go on like this forever.”

  Ryan took a step closer to his slightly shorter brother. “Listen to me. You're family, so you just can't think of yourselves as being a burden. We've enough food on hand for many, many months for all of us, and that's with zero input.” He pointed to the dangling turkey that was nearby. “Hopefully, with your son's help, we'll be able to bring in a decent amount of game before winter truly sets in.” He paused for a moment, as if he was thinking of what to tell him next. He looked up into Sam's eyes. “There's a reason I haven't been burning wood, or running the chainsaw, or shooting.”

  “You want to keep a low profile?”

  Ryan nodded. “Yes, exactly. I haven't mentioned it to you before, but I've been hearing reports of looters going from house to house for food, shooting anyone they see on sight. That's why I've put all that brush at the bottom of the driveway as well. We can't let outsiders find out about us.” He pointed to the motorhome, which hadn't been moved since the day they arrived. “And to tell you the truth, we really should put that thing in the shop. It's sticking out like a sore thumb.”

  Sam laughed. “How in the world would we get it in there? You don't have a door big enough for it.”

  “We'll cut one out. Drive it in, and put it back. It's just two-by-fours and sheet metal panels. It'd just make me feel better if we didn't have it sitting out into the open.”

  Sam looked at the motorhome, briefly recalling their mind-blowing escape from the exploding supervolcano. “Yes, I agree. It'd be good to keep it out of the elements as well. Hell, with it in the shop, perhaps Irene and I can move back into it, give you your bedroom back. It's eating me up to see you sleep on the couch of your own house.”