The Pulse Effex Series: Box Set

by L. R. Burkard

  “Yay, we get to play in the safe room!”

  As they busied themselves looking through the toys, I sat by unhappily, obsessed with what my mother had told me. If I’d been alone, I’d have had a pity party, probably a good cry, too. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry for myself, or for my father. Maybe for the whole family. I felt burdened.

  I replayed scenes in my head where my dad was testy and difficult, wondering now if it was all because he knew Lily wasn’t his. I recalled a particular day when he’d had to hold the baby for my mother. I remembered noticing it because he didn’t usually hold her. And when he did on that day, he didn’t look down at her or enjoy her like a normal dad. I thought then that he was such a loser of a father, but now I’m thinking he couldn’t bear to enjoy the evidence of his wife’s infidelity!

  Lexie came in, looking at me appraisingly. “I have a few minutes,” she said, coming and sitting beside me. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Lexie, wanna play with us?” Laura asked. Lexie shook her head.

  “I need to talk to Andrea.” I appreciated her so much right then. Making sure the kids weren’t listening, I told her my conversation with my mother. She listened, frowning and nodding. Then, since I’d put Lily on the rug with a toy, she gave me a big hug.

  This made the kids notice. Lainie shouted, “We forgot to let Andrea choose the game! Do you want to choose the game?” I’m sure she thought that choosing the game would bring instant satisfaction to whatever ailed me.

  “No, it’s okay, you go on playing,” I said, forcing myself to smile. I turned back to Lexie, grateful for her support. She said she was sorry and she’d be upset too, if it were her mom. She said she’d pray for me, and I thanked her. Surprisingly, I did feel better. It was good not to bear that knowledge alone.

  After Lexie went back to chores, I sat and reflected on things. I’ve never given a lot of thought to what constitutes moral behavior or not; but I am ashamed of my mother and saddened about it. In fact, now that I think about my dad’s anger, his always being on edge with my mom, I am sure he knew about Lily. I feel sad for him in a whole new way.

  Chapter 13

  SARAH

  Richard and I were strangely silent that night as we sat at Martha’s kitchen table after dinner, our stomachs so full they ached. We were grateful beyond words for their kindness, these two, whose last name, we now had learned, was Steadman. To me they were like angels! They had asked us to wait while they spoke privately in the parlour.

  They’re deciding if we can stay,” Richard said, tilting his head in their direction.

  “How do you know?”

  He shrugged. “What else?”

  When the older couple returned, Martha’s eyes were crinkled happily. “Well, if I can convince this old geezer to keep you two on, I guess I can convince anyone of anything.”

  Richard and I smiled. I bit my lip to be sure I wasn’t dreaming. “You’re going to keep us?” Richard asked.

  “On a trial basis,” Tom said. “Martha here thinks I need the help, what with chopping wood for the stoves and all. And you’re a strong young man, by the looks of you.”

  “We’ll get more weight on you,” Martha added. “That’ll help get your strength back.” She looked at me. “And Sarah can help me with woman’s work. God knows, there’s plenty of it. We live like Pioneers, but if that’s okay by you two, then you’re welcome to join us.”

  Richard and I looked at each other. I think we were trying not to burst from relief. “I’d LOVE to live like a pioneer with you!” I blurted, unable to hold in my joy.

  Martha smiled regally. “That’s fine, then.” She patted my hand. “We’re going to get along just fine, you and I.”

  “C’mon,” growled Tom, to Richard. “I’ll show you how to spot the mines.” His gruffness held no worry for me, now. Martha and Tom may have lined their yard with mines, and they had shotguns and knew how to use them, but they didn’t frighten me anymore.

  “Don’t be too long,” called Martha, to their retreating figures. “The one thing these two need now,” and she turned her gaze upon me, scrutinizing me up and down, “is a BATH.”

  I almost couldn’t breathe. The idea of a bath was so wonderful that I was afraid any sound I made might break this magic spell, make them change their minds, throw us out.

  “Follow me,” she said. We went back through the hallway, turning off to a living area that had a wood-stove. An old-fashioned porcelain tub was right beside the stove, off to one side. “This is where we take our baths, now,” she explained. “The bathrooms are too cold.”

  I met her eyes. “What do you do for….”

  She smiled. “A toilet? Oh, we have that covered, too.” She said, “I’ll show you later; unless you need to...”

  “No. I’ll take a bath, first!”

  “We don’t fill the tub—it takes too much water. You’ll get just enough to sponge yourself off good. And one container to rinse with. Tom and I use the same water, except for rinse water. You and Richard will have to do that, too. But you can go first.” She smiled again. “It’s always ladies first, in this house.” But then she stood, surveying me, a small frown forming on the delicately lined face.

  “On second thought, you’ll each need fresh water. Just this once. How long has it been?”

  I tried to remember my last bath. It was at the library. We fully intended on bathing once things warmed up some, but even now in May, ponds and streams were far too cold.

  “After the pulse there was a fire, and we had to live in the library with the rest of the people from our apartment building. I haven’t had a bath since then.”

  Martha’s eyes widened. “Oh, my! I’d better heat extra water up! Only Tom can lift the big hot pot if I fill it, but he’ll be back to help.”

  She stopped, surveying me. “Are those the only clothes you have?”

  “I have one change in my backpack. But they’re not any cleaner than what I’m wearing.”

  “Oh, dear. You’ll have to wear something of mine until we can get your clothes washed and dried. I’ll show you how to wash them, and then you’ll take the bath.”

  I followed her up a narrow staircase to her and Tom’s bedroom, where she looked through her closet and found a housedress and robe for me. The housedress was something grandmas wear. Normally I wouldn’t have put it on for anything. But I wanted a bath and I longed for clean clothes.

  Martha didn’t leave the room as I changed, and I didn’t complain. We were still strangers, why should she trust me in her bedroom? But she tsk, tsked as I undressed, saying, “Why, you’re nothing but skin and bones! We’ll have to do something about that.” I could only smile at her gratefully.

  “And why’s your hair so short? It’s a boy cut.”

  I explained about the lice.

  She showed me how to scrub my clothes on a washboard in that big metal sink in the kitchen. I could see why she had two kettles constantly going; the needs for hot water were many. I was pretty exhausted despite that hearty breakfast, and after I’d washed only one shirt, she took over for me. “I’ll do it for you this time. Afterwards you’ll do your own.”

  “Thank you.” I was really grateful, too. It was hard work!

  Richard and Tom returned, and Martha ordered Richard to hand over his dirty clothing, too. “Tom will find you something to wear in the meantime,” she added, seeing his face.

  I could understand Richard’s hesitation. It felt vulnerable, taking off one’s clothing, even if they provided others. They were offering us much, but we had to give up something to accept it. We had to abandon distrust. I’d give up just about anything to get in that tub with clean, hot water; but Richard seemed to find it difficult to relax. He said he could live with dirty clothes but Martha nipped that idea in the bud.

  “Not under my roof, you can’t.” Richard left the room with Tom and came back in Tom’s larger-sized clothes, which drooped on him. I didn’t dare laugh, although I wanted to. Richard hadn’t
laughed at me in my housedress.

  When I was finally soaking in the tub with sudsy water almost to my knees, I felt more than just dirt washing away from me. I was ready to welcome Martha and Tom into my heart like family. A little food, a little water—and they owned me! I guess it didn’t have to be that way. But here’s the thing: I wanted to be owned.

  When Martha returned, I was already changing back into the housedress and robe. I’d noticed the two windows in the room were boarded up from the inside. Martha had placed curtains over the boards. She saw where I gazed and said, “Yes, I’m afraid we’ve had to board up the house.” Her expression was grim. “I don’t think it will last for long, us having to live this way. Sooner or later there will be order.”

  “You think so?” I asked, hopefully.

  “History proves it,” she said, shrugging. “Order has always been restored, though it might be a brand new order.”

  “You mean a new government?”

  She nodded. Brightening, she said, “Alright then, let’s get the boys to empty out this tub.” She peered into it. “Usually I use this water to wash the floors. But I think you’ve given it enough use.” She smiled at me. “Doesn’t that feel better, now?”

  I smiled back at her. “You have no idea.”

  For a few days Richard and I lived happily, almost in a dream, with Martha and Tom. We could have stayed with them forever. But it was not to be.

  It was only the fourth evening with them. I was sitting in the little room off the foyer where we first saw Martha with her shot gun. I was resting, waiting for Tom and Martha and Richard to finish up whatever they were doing so we could sit in the kitchen together. The kitchen was the cheeriest room in the house so we gravitated to it. That’s how we spent our evenings. Richard and Tom discovered they both liked chess, while Martha and I would work on a crossword on a card table, or continue kitchen stuff while we chatted, like soaking oats for the following day’s breakfast. But as I sat there waiting for the others, the door opened, and I heard footsteps in the hallway. I assumed it was Tom or Richard, who were more often outdoors than either Martha or me. Richard had memorized where every mine was hidden, but I didn’t dare go near the front yard. I figured I’d get about five feet and then blow myself to smithereens. Anyway, as I rested with my eyes closed, I suddenly felt something cold against my head and I jerked my eyes open, sitting up abruptly.

  A strange man was staring at me, and he had a pistol pointed at my head.

  “Who are you?” he asked. “And where are my parents?”

  Chapter 14

  LEXIE

  I want to do something for Andrea to cheer her up. I would be just as upset as she is if I found out Justin was my half-brother! The only thing I can think of is to organize a game night and make sure Jared comes. I’ll sit him next to Andrea. She likes him, and she’s always enjoyed having a guy’s attention.

  That large plume is still visible in the sky, though it’s finally getting fainter. The council decided we need to keep as much water available as possible in case we’re attacked with arson. So we’ve all been tasked with filling every container available with water. From our 55 gallon tanks in the barn and basement, to the smallest plastic containers, everyone has to keep them filled and ready.

  Andrea and I spent about an hour filling everything we could find in the garages and the barn that would hold water. Then, I had to babysit Justin while Mom did the same for anything she could spare from the kitchen and dining room. We even emptied clothing bins from the attic and filled them with water. I will never forget after this that water is heavy! It was odd to see a line of people waiting for a turn at the well pump.

  But will all this effort help? I guess we’ll find out. A second precaution was to turn up the lawn in front of the house—grass will burn, but dirt won’t, so we want dirt. Our oldest and only working tractor is small, but Dad had a man on it until it ran out of diesel. We can’t use it again until a team goes and hunts out more fuel. But most of the front is already turned up. It looks just as if we were gonna plant it, only we’re not. It’s kind of sad and bare.

  But there is one fat row of forsythia that the men transplanted across the front, even across the gravel driveway. Jared didn’t like it, but he was outvoted. Forsythia is a tough bush. No one knew if it would survive being transplanted right now while it’s in bloom; it’s probably the worst time to pull up the roots for any bush. But dad said it would be a living roadblock, and we needed it as soon as possible. I think he really fears that we’ll be attacked by these roving bands of military, whoever they are. They move in trucks, so the harder we make it for trucks to enter the property or get near the house, the better it will be for us.

  So now we have a second line of defense against vehicles. It’s closer to the house, and if they’ve got tanks, it won’t stop them—but Dad hasn’t heard reports of any tanks. (Thank you, Lord!) And the men are hauling more downed trees and other debris to put in front of the bushes, like they did near the street. My mother isn’t thrilled about how unsightly the property has become—she likes things pretty. But she isn’t complaining—it’s safety first, these days.

  What used to be our attic we now call the watchtower. There is no tower but it’s more fun than just calling it an attic lookout. So we have two people positioned up there day and night, as well as on the hill, and we have two at our east border and sometimes two at the west. It’s hard to get enough people for lookout duty because it’s boring. You’d think that would be a good reason for Dad to let me do it! But he doesn’t think so.

  I’ve pointed out that good lookouts are hard to come by. Blake is often on duty with Mr. Prendergast, who falls asleep on the job! And two other lookouts were caught sleeping while on duty, too. “You need to let me go with Blake,” I told my father. “I won’t fall asleep, at least.” But he still won’t let me. Actually, I don’t think he puts much stock into the lookouts keeping us safe. I’ve heard him say often that, “Our only hope is in God.”

  I know what he means. It’s like this verse I have underlined in my Bible: Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it, labor in vain. Unless the LORD watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. I know that’s true, but we still keep “watchmen” and I could be one. I could be a good one who wouldn’t fall asleep.

  EVENING

  I learned two things tonight! One is, I hate Andrea Patterson and I’m sorry my family ever helped hers and took them in! The second is, I hate Blake, too! I can’t believe I wanted to marry him! Even as I write this I am reeling and feeling disgusted. I hate them both!

  Here’s what happened: I went through all the work of arranging a surprise for Andrea. I had to clear it with my folks because we seldom get a whole evening without chores. I brought a bunch of games upstairs, a card table and chairs. I put them in the kids’ room, because it’s bigger than mine. I wanted the kitchen but Mom and the women were doing a bunch of baking—they bake in large batches once or twice a week. I made special snacks. I got Jared to agree to come, though he’d smiled a little (in his creepy way, if you ask me), when I told him it was a surprise for Andrea. I didn’t tell anyone what she was upset about and I didn’t tell Andrea about the surprise; only that I’d arranged some free time for us and she was to meet me in the kids’ room at 7pm.

  So I was getting the snacks I’d prepared—buttery popcorn, packaged cookies from storage, and a cheesecake my mom made with homemade cheese. Lots of sweet stuff—I was going to say, “Sweets for the sweet” to Andrea, as I presented the tray of goodies, anticipating a huge grin from her.

  But Justin got into the flour and was covered in white; Mom made me put down my tray and clean him up. Fortunately, he did not spill much flour because flour is precious. (All food is.) But I ended up having to give him a sponge bath, and then changed him into clean clothes. I was aggravated, but since we had the rest of the night off, I swept up the floor and cleaned up my brother and didn’t complain.

  I pictured Andrea
upstairs with Blake and Jared, happily talking away, as they waited for me. Finally, I grabbed the tray and hurried to join them. I expected to find them sitting at the table, talking and joking.

  I wish I had. When I got to the room, I hesitated at the door, grinning. I was going to enjoy Andrea’s delight. When I pushed it open, I saw Jared hadn’t arrived yet. Andrea and Blake were standing close together and, to my astonishment, I stood there and saw Andrea lean up and kiss my boyfriend. ON THE MOUTH. She kissed him! Right before my eyes!

  As soon as she did, they both saw me. I said nothing, just turned and ran downstairs. It was all I could do not to drop the tray. I wanted to throw it at them. Instead, I dumped it heavily on the counter and my mother turned to me in surprise.

  “Lex, for goodness’ sake!”

  I rushed past her, already crying, unable to even mumble an apology. Vaguely, I knew Andrea and Blake had followed me. I heard Blake’s voice—“Lexie!”

  I didn’t answer, but headed for the door. I needed to be alone. The barn beckoned to me as the best place at that moment, so I hurried towards it. I’d have preferred to be in my bedroom but there was no way I was about to face Andrea or Blake. How could I ever talk to them again? How would I continue to share my room with Andrea? I wanted her out! If she wouldn’t leave, I figured I could move to the barn. I’d use the loft. Or sleep with the kids in their room. But Andrea should be the one to leave since it is MY room.