by Dave Conifer
“Not much. You talked a mile a minute, and then you crashed on that cot right where you are now,” Matt told him. “There, now you’re all caught up. It was all over in about three minutes.”
Nick kicked the covers off. “You look good with a beard. Do we have meetings today?”
“I know I have a meeting,” Matt answered, scratching his fuzzy cheeks and chin. “You usually ship out to the camp on days like this.”
“What time is it?” Nick asked, before he remembered how difficult a question that was in these times. “I mean, you don’t think I’m late, am I?”
“Nah,” Matt told him. “We haven’t even gone to breakfast yet.”
“I’m good, then,” Nick said, sitting up in bed despite the throbbing in his head. “I won’t be doing breakfast, but I’m fine. You can go now.”
“Are you okay, Nick?” Matt asked. “I mean, really okay?”
“Yeah,” Nick answered. “I already told you I’m good.” Now he was annoyed.
“Where did you get that stuff you were drinking?” Matt asked.
“I don’t know,” Nick said. “I, I mean, I got it from somebody I met out at the camp.”
“This was a close call,” Matt said. “It’s a good thing we found you instead of anybody else. I mean, you heard what Grover said the other night. Alcohol is a no-no. It’ll get you kicked out, Nick. You can’t do this anymore.”
“Grover,” Nick muttered.
“We found the bottles,” Matt continued. “One was empty and the other wasn’t open yet. We got rid of those before anybody found out, so don’t worry. Did you have more than two?”
“No, that was it.” So there was one left. He thought now that there had been three. “Thanks, but I wasn’t worried, Matt,” Nick said.
“Well, you should be,” Matt told him. “The rest of us are, I can tell you that.”
“Okay, okay, I get the message,” Nick said.
“You got any more of it hidden away in here?” Matt asked again.
“No,” Nick said, knowing but not caring that it was a lie.
There was no conversation for a few minutes. Nick wondered if Matt had gone back to sleep. They should get out of bed, he thought. It would be a bad idea if they missed breakfast, even if he wasn’t planning on eating. “So how’s everything else going?” he asked. “Any progress on your subcommittee?”
“It’s going pretty good,” Matt answered immediately. “We have general plans set up. We’ll be out at Tabernacle with you soon. Looks like we’re going to siphon some builders off of your subcommittee to start building.”
“Hmm,” Nick said. “Probably not me. You’ll need somebody who can build the small stuff. When it comes to carpentry, I’m more of a ‘nail two boards together’ kind of guy.”
“Well, we need a whole new building,” Matt said. “It’s not exactly the delicate small stuff.”
“Oh, okay. That’s what I’m doing anyway,” Nick said. “Building cabins. So it might be me you get, after all.”
“We still need a lot of equipment and chemicals before we can get started though,” Matt continued. “I don’t know how it works, but they say it’s on the way. I guess there’s a subcommittee that goes out into the world and finds stuff we need.”
“Yeah, everything’s a subcommittee around here, huh?” Nick answered. “It’s not a bad way to do things, I guess. Maybe this one’s called the “Go out and Steal It” subcommittee.”
“How do you think Sarah and Dewey are doing, Matt?” Nick asked.
“I have no idea,” Matt answered. “Just like everybody else. All we can do is hope.”
There was more silence, but then Matt spoke again. “Crystal talked about something at the last meeting that I can’t stop thinking about,” Matt said.
“Crystal?” Nick asked. “Isn’t that Grover’s wife?”
Matt smiled. “Yeah, that’s her. She’s on Water Supply with me. In fact, it seems like she’s in charge of it now, even though we picked somebody else.”
“Being in charge seems to run in the family,” Nick said.
“We were talking about chlorine, and the chemist said we can find it pretty easily out there,” Matt said. “So right after that, Crystal asks what we’ll do in a few years when we can’t find it easily? Like, can we make it ourselves? And it got me thinking. That question can apply to anything. Right now, if we need it, it’s usually out there for the taking. Especially by us, because we have the people, trucks and guns we need to go get it and bring it in.”
“But eventually it’ll all be gone,” Nick said, finishing the thought. “I was thinking the exact same thing when I got out to Tabernacle and saw the mountain of building materials they heisted from every Home Depot within a hundred miles. It’s all well and good, but eventually all the Home Depots will be looted, and probably burned to the ground. They probably are already. Then what?”
“Exactly,” Matt said, sitting up far enough to prop himself up on an elbow. “Do we start over, like we’re back in the Fourteen Hundreds, and learn how to make all these things again?”
“Why Fourteen Hundreds?” Nick asked. “Humans were making a lot of things by then that I myself don’t know how to make. We might have to go a lot further back than Fourteen Hundred. I mean, we’ll figure out how to cut down trees for lumber soon enough. We’ll grow food. Some of this isn’t that hard. But how about glue, and insulation, and sandpaper, and a million other things I saw out there at Tabernacle?”
“Exactly,” Matt agreed. “I mean, you know when sometimes they get into one of those places out in the jungle where they find tribes that are completely backwards, and all, that are living like it’s the Stone Age? If I was there I’d feel real advanced and superior, you know? With all my modern technology and all? But really, I’m no more advanced than they are. I don’t even know the difference between steel and iron. I have no more idea how to build a cell phone or a car than they do. I just learned how to use them. Just like they could, probably.”
“I’m getting a visual of a cave man on a cell phone,” Nick said. “If my head didn’t hurt so bad I’d laugh.”
“But you know what I’m saying,” Matt persisted.
“I do, and that’s how I look at it, too,” Nick said. “You and I, and everybody else in this building, how advanced are we, really? How about the generator, and the power tools we’re using out at Tabernacle? How about nails and screws? Where are we going to find somebody who knows how to get minerals and ores and stuff out of the ground and make stuff out of metal?”
“And then build electronics and tools out of them.” Matt nodded. “I see I’m preaching to the choir, then. You’re further along this path than I am.”
“It worries me too,” Nick said. “I always end up at the same place. Maybe in a year or two we get the power back on and everything can go back to normal. But unless that happens, I think we’ll be going backwards for a long time.”
Fifteen
“Are they coming this way?” Sarah asked. “Can you see what they’re doing?”
“I can’t see them from here,” Dewey said. He crawled out from under cover toward the lake, bad leg and all. After watching the lake as he lay flat on his stomach, he crawled back to give his report.
“They haven’t moved much, but, like, they’re still watching for us,” he said. “The boat’s parked at that dock thingie now, and they’re all standing on it. The dock, I mean. They’re all looking this way.”
“How many of them do you think there are?” Sarah asked.
“It looks like four, maybe,” Dewey answered. “It could be five. Four on land, and at least one in the boat.”
Sarah thought for a moment. “If they’re staying where they are, we have time to get to the house,” she concluded. “It’s not like they can call the police or send out a text about us.”
“Okay, but, like, what do we do after we get to your house?” Dewey asked.
“It depends on what we find there,” she answered. Or who
we find there, she wanted to add, but didn’t. “Are you up for this? Otherwise, you could stay here and I could come back.”
“No, I’ll go with you,” Dewey said.
Sarah was glad for that. If they got separated, or something unexpected happened, meeting back up could get complicated. Maybe even impossible. Without another word they brushed themselves off and emerged from their hiding place. Since Sarah knew the way, she took the lead.
The absence of destruction, except for the overgrown lawns and runaway landscaping, and the trash that was everywhere, gave her comfort as they walked along the narrow asphalt streets. Once again she acknowledged that Grover Monroe had called it right when he insisted that they move away from densely populated areas. For the most part, the houses looked to be largely intact, although they’d clearly been abandoned.
“I thought you were rich,” Dewey said again as he looked over the modest houses. This time Sarah only snorted. They turned a corner, both of them looking warily around in all directions. There didn’t seem to be anybody around. On the other hand, she reminded herself, they definitely saw somebody out on the lake. They had to come from somewhere. This wasn’t a ghost town yet.
“Well, we’re home,” she told Dewey two minutes later. “This is my street. And don’t say it again,” she warned. Dewey looked at her quizzically without a word. “See the blue house up there on the right? With the white shutters? That’s it.” She slapped at her breast bone with her palm. “I feel like I’m about to faint.”
“Should we take a break?” Dewey asked.
“No, that would make it worse,” she said.
“Is that your car in the driveway?”
“It’s Eli’s,” she said. “A Dodge Avenger.” The trunk, the hood and the passenger door were all open. They both knew it was no more than a pile of useless metal and plastic now, anyway. “He loved that car. Loves, I mean. If he was here, he wouldn’t leave it like that.”
Both of their heads were on a swivel, looking for danger, but Dewey could barely keep up with Sarah as she approached the car and looked inside. As expected, it had been searched. An owner’s manual, registration and insurance cards, and the usual glove compartment detritus was scattered on the floor and across front seat. She pushed the door closed, grimacing at the sound it made as it slammed. No use calling attention to themselves.
“Should we go inside?” Dewey asked.
“Of course. I live here, remember?” Sarah replied. “Besides, we need to get out of sight.” She marched to the front door, which was slightly ajar. That intrigued her, because the front door of most houses were closed. After exchanging nods with Dewey she pulled the gun out, took a deep breath, and slipped inside. She held the gun at shoulder height, ready to fire. Dewey was right behind her. “Let’s make sure we’re alone first,” she whispered.
Dewey nodded again. They crept from room to room, watching in all directions as they moved. All they could hear was their own soft footsteps as they passed through the living room and into the dining room and kitchen without finding anything of note. Everything was so undisturbed that Sarah didn’t think any looters had bothered to come inside.
She stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “He’s not here,” she whispered. “We’d know by now.” She let her face fall on Dewey’s chest because she didn’t want him to see her cry. The impact on her bruised face sent stabs of pain through her face, but she ignored it. He awkwardly pulled her closer. Her sobs lasted less than a minute. It was silly to think he could have made it back from Boston. He’d have been too smart even to try. She’d known that all along, at some level. “We need to check upstairs,” she said firmly, pulling away. Her footsteps on the wooden stairs were loud enough to give her away if anybody else was there, but neither gave it any thought because they were sure nobody was.
“This is Ashley’s room,” she whispered. They went in, poked around, and returned to the hallway. After Sarah announced that the next room was Jenny’s, they checked that one out, too. Finally they entered the master bedroom. Each was as undisturbed as the others.
It was a real letdown for her that Eli wasn’t there, but she tried to act as though it wasn’t. Moping wouldn’t do them any good. “Before we leave I’m going to change my clothes, I think,” she said. “Three months straight is enough for one outfit, don’t you think?”
“I’ll go back downstairs,” Dewey said.
“You can look through Eli’s clothes if you want,” she offered. “But he’s about a foot shorter than you. It might be a waste of time. His shirts might fit you.”
“I’m good like this,” he told her. “I think I’ve had these jeans on since a month before the EMP. I’ll wait downstairs,” he repeated.
“Should I get some clothes for the girls?” she asked. All at once the gravity of what she’d done that night when she jumped off the bus finally hit her. She staggered to the bed, now covered with a thin layer of dust, and collapsed onto it, not caring what the impact did to her wounds. Dewey winced, as if he was expecting her to cry again, but this time she didn’t. Instead, she stared silently at the ceiling. “Why did I do this? Why would I do this?”
“Do what?” he asked.
“Risk our lives looking for my husband when we both knew he wasn’t going to be here,” she said. “Nick told me it wasn’t worth it, that he wouldn’t be here. I should have listened.”
Dewey came to her and touched her shoulder. “You were, like, trying to get your family back together. It’ll be okay.”
She put her hand on his. “Only if I can get back to them. My girls are all alone now. They need me.” She looked him in the eye. “Can we make it back? I never even thought that far ahead. It’s not going to be easy. I’m just realizing that now.” Her eyes closed tight. “Why did I do this to them? What are they thinking right now?”
“They’re not alone,” Dewey said. “They’re safe, with people who’ll take care of them and stuff. Like, Nick wouldn’t let anything happen to them.”
“That’s not enough,” she declared. “We need to get back, and we have to leave right now.”
“All we have to do is go back the same way we came,” Dewey said. “We can fix this.” She didn’t react. “Only, like, I don’t know where the bus was going that day when we got off. That could be a problem.”
She put her hand on her side, now throbbing, and carefully sat up. “I do,” she said. “Nick told me. I don’t know how he knew. Southampton Middle School. It’s on Route 206, just north of Route Seventy. We were pretty close when we jumped off.” She looked at Dewey. “God, I miss Nick. Funny, I haven’t given him a second thought since we got off that bus. Or anybody else. I feel like a monster, Dewey.” Dewey looked like he was finally out of words.
“We have to start back now,” she said. “We can get there in a couple days if we push it. I just want to grab a few things to take back.”
Something caught her eye on the dresser by the window. She tried to focus on it, but her eyes were too wet. “Dewey, what’s that on the dresser over there? Is it a ring?”
He picked it up and brought it over to her. It was a silver pinky ring, one that Eli wore often. Not all the time. Wouldn’t he have taken it with him on a business trip? She thought so. But that would mean--.
“He’s not here,” Dewey said, interrupting her thoughts, because he knew where she was going with this. “We should leave.”
He was right, and she knew it. She slipped the ring onto a finger and slid off the bed and onto her feet. The gashes on her side were aching again. She wondered if she’d torn them open. Unlike Dewey’s, her wounds had never seen a stitch. “I’ll just grab a few things and then we’ll go, okay?”
Dewey intervened a few minutes later when he saw the growing pile of clothing, shoes and knick-knacks in the hallway upstairs. It was far too much to lug back with them. He convinced her to leave everything but the boots and a few sweatshirts. They jammed it all into a pillow case, took one last look around the bedrooms, and walked ba
ck down the stairs.
The front door flew open and slammed into the foyer wall just as they finished a last-minute search of the kitchen. “Hey! Who are you?” A burly man demanded from the doorway. “What are you doing here?” In his hand was a baseball bat, which he brandished menacingly as he bellowed at them. He seemed as surprised as they were as he moved toward them.
Like every other man Sarah saw these days, his hair was wild and greasy, his graying beard scraggly and matted. His clothes, oddly, were far cleaner than they should have been. She understood why; there were plenty of clean clothes in all sizes available in this neighborhood.
“Stop!” she replied, trying not to show her fear. “This is my house! A better question is what you’re doing here.” She was already sizing up the situation. The bat was probably the only weapon he had. “Who are you?”
The expression on his face was off, somehow. He didn’t seem right. “Shut up!” he barked. He raised the bat so high it scraped the ceiling before bringing it down with a crash, shattering the obsolete lamp on the table by the door. When he did it a second time, the table itself suffered the same fate as the lamp.
“Dude,” Dewey said. “Like, it’s cool, really. We were just leaving. Right, Sarah?”
“You ain’t going anywhere!” The man thundered. This time the wall was his target. The bat broke through the sheetrock, chunks of which crumbled and fell to the floor. He charged across the room at Dewey with heavy, plodding footsteps, raising the bat as he approached.
The bat was already on its way down with a woosh by the time Sarah had pulled the gun out and let off three rounds. With a bloody spray they tore into the man, one in the head and two in the chest. The bat fell from his hand and struck the floor as Dewey twisted out of its path. The intruder’s body flopped awkwardly before coming to rest next to the bat, his maniacal expression unchanged in death.
“Thanks,” Dewey gasped to Sarah from where he’d landed, several feet from the body.
Sarah backed away from the dead man as she put the gun away. “Dewey, does this guy look like one of the people we saw down by the lake?”