Doom Days

by Beaman, Sara

  He and Scout were there now, pawing through for items they could donate to the Halcyons.

  “I’ve read the books,” Beck complained as he hefted a box of canned vegetables onto his shoulder. “They didn’t actually deliver the soup to people. People came to the soup. Formed lines, even.”

  “We’re just going to drop off a couple boxes,” Scout said. “It’s a gesture. If they need more, they can come pick it up themselves.”

  Beck gave Scout a put-upon sigh. They headed outside.

  On the spiral auto ramp leading towards the exit, they heard their horses raising a fuss. The noise quickly drummed from a nicker to a panicked neighing. A gust of wind carried the smell of smoke.

  “Aw shit, they’re burning something again,” Beck said. “Please tell me you don’t have a secret apple orchard too.”

  Scout inhaled through his nose. His brain did a dizzying flip between hesitation and motion—he dropped the box and began to run and said, “That’s plastic”, which meant that something manmade was burning, and the biggest manmade things around were buildings.

  Scout barely got twenty feet ahead before Beck overtook him.

  When they rounded the corner towards the front of the bank building, fire—so fat with fuel that the flames burned blue—was licking up the side of the stone exterior. Smoke deepened into black-orange over the plywood boards fastened over broken windows. The plastic tarp over the revolving door was already a bubbling, melting drip.

  “Shit-shit-shit!” Beck said.

  “Like we talked about, come on! Come on!” He grabbed Beck’s arm and yanked him back in the direction they’d come.

  One of the first things Scout had done when he moved into the Park was prepare for the idea that someday it might burn down.

  Inside the underground garage he grabbed the fire extinguishers which could handle gas fires and thrust two at Beck, who turned and ran. Scout grabbed another two. Then, on impulse, he dropped them and raced back into the storage room. When he found what he needed, he retrieved the fire extinguishers and started running as hard as he had in his entire life.

  By the time they were back in front of the building, the Halcyons had gathered.

  Wicker baskets of blackberries were spilled around their feet. Anders was closest to the fire, with James and Izza behind him. Cal and Kathy had Sampson’s thin arms clamped tight to keep him away. Everyone except Cal looked genuinely panicked.

  “We have some rainwater, we could carry it over in buckets,” Anders started to say.

  Scout dropped one fire extinguisher and ran towards the fire. If it spread inside, things would get messy. He pulled the pin and aimed the cone at the base of the flames over the plywood barriers. Foam arced, splattering the burning wood with meaty thumps.

  In his peripheral vision, he saw Beck let loose against another section of the building. Then Anders stepped between them. He’d picked up the fire extinguisher that Scout had dropped. He focused his stream on another boarded-up window. The fire made the ointment on his facial burns glisten; it must have stung like a bastard to be so close to the heat.

  Izza Halcyon stepped up next to Anders, struggling to carry Beck’s second canister, but her aim was perfect.

  Scout shut them all out of his mind. He strode away from them, methodically dousing patches of fire. As he moved, his boots crunched over broken glass. He figured he easily stepped over three bottles’ worth.

  Anders noticed the shards too—Scout caught the look on his face when he stumbled over a cracked bottleneck. The expression started as irritation, which turned into surprise, which quickly hardened into something markedly less uncertain.

  Butane, maybe, Scout thought.

  Butane burned blue, and there were plenty of discarded tins of it scattered around the Collapsed world.

  “Still, what a fucking waste,” he said out loud.

  “What?” Anders said. His fire extinguisher died to a limp spatter. He looked for more fire, found none, and let his arm sag against his side.

  “It’s a waste,” Scout said, louder. “A canister of butane would feed all of you for a day, if you found the right buyer. Maybe two.”

  Beck and Izza were walking towards them. Izza was rubbing her biceps, and Beck was carrying both of their extinguishers. She said, “What are you talking about?” She noticed the hard look of understanding on her brother’s face. “Anders? What is he talking about? What happened?”

  The rest of the Halcyons began to edge closer. James had taken control of his son. He was staring at his father. Cal was watching the scene unfold with careful attention.

  When Scout didn’t say anything, Izza whirled on Beck. “Is he saying we did this? We didn’t do this! We were out in the field behind the old Jade Palace, picking blackberries. We didn’t do this!”

  “All of you?” Scout asked.

  Izza’s mouth snapped shut.

  Scout said, “All of you? All of you were picking blackberries?”

  “All except me,” Cal said. In a split second he went from bystander to playmaker, striding forward with a soulful look at the burnt boards. “I’ve been feeling mighty poorly lately. Must have picked up that cold you’ve been fighting, Scout. On my honor, son, it’s a good thing I was here. I was able to call back and get my boys to come and pitch in. Would have been a shame for something like this to spread. Were you cooking?”

  Anders made a sound in the back of his throat, more an emotion than an actual noise.

  “Anders,” Cal snapped. “Tend to your mother. She looks frightened out of her wits.”

  “We’re all frightened out of our wits!” Anders said. “This can’t go on—they were going to help us—we’re only hurting ourselves if we—”

  Cal grabbed Anders by the arm. To most people it may have looked like Cal was just pulling on Anders’ sleeve, but Scout saw Anders flinch in real pain. Cal was digging his fingers into Anders’ strangle runner burns.

  In Scout’s mind, he saw the marks on Anders’ back. Saw the blood on Sampson’s face. Saw the blackened boards; the missing batteries; the torched wildflowers.

  Enough.

  In any bad confrontation, you came to a line on the ground. If you were lucky, the line was so wide that it took the better part of a lifetime to reach the edge of it; but sooner or later the grey ran out and you were left with a decision.

  Scout said to Beck, “Death to all grasshoppers.”

  “Locusts,” Beck said. “Grasshoppers are good.”

  Scout said, “I’m confused, Cal. Are we pretending you didn’t just try to burn down my home? Or are you hoping we can fertilize this moment with bonhomie?”

  “Because I suck at pretending,” Beck said.

  “Slow down, now,” Cal said. “That’s a serious accusation. Unless you can—”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Scout said. “Don’t waste the oxygen. I’m more curious than anything else. What did you think this was going to accomplish? Did you think I’d feel threatened? Or was it because you felt threatened? Were you retaliating because Anders told me where the batteries were?”

  Scout realized pretty damn quickly that, in fact, Anders hadn’t mentioned his confession to his father. What happened next, happened fast.

  Cal turned and slapped Anders open-handed across the cheek. Anders stumbled into Izza. James tried to step between the two of them and Cal, infuriated, reversed the slap into a backhand. James retreated with a hand over a bloody nose.

  Then Sampson flew at Cal. Flew. His feet actually left the ground by the time his small fists sunk into Cal’s round gut. Cal grabbed a fistful of Sampson’s hair and wrenched the boy’s head to the side. Sampson started falling. The grip Cal had on Sampson’s hair went tight and Sampson screamed in pain.

  Two gunshots rang out.

  Scout—who’d fired the first shot into the air with the pistol he’d hidden in his back waistband—jerked in surprise at the second.

  Isaac and his daughter Veneranda were about twenty yards off. Randa’
s arm was still in the air and she was staring at her father for the next order. Behind them were three town guards.

  Isaac took his time leading his party over.

  “Nice timing,” Scout said.

  Isaac shrugged. “Not really. Randa saw the smoke from her post. Thought maybe we’d check it out. Guessing this means we have a deal?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

  “What deal? Isaac, you have no place here,” Cal said angrily. “We’re outside town and this is a family matter.”

  “No, Cal. This is a business matter. Boy,” Issac added, and went over to Sampson. He dropped to eye level. “You okay?”

  “I fell,” Sampson said automatically.

  “Lot of falling in your family, as I remember. Maybe Mr. Johnson can help you with that. Go on, Scout. Handle this. I’ve got an engine to repair.”

  “What does he mean? What business?” Cal demanded.

  “He means,” Scout said, “that the Park’s just been annexed.”

  “Annexed?” Cal said, and even Beck gaped a little.

  “Annexed. They’ll get a cut of our scavenged meds every year, starting with a boxful of Clindamycin. And we’ll get their help when the trash is too big to move ourselves. Don’t look so surprised. Did you think I was going to actually wait an entire week just hoping you’d start playing nice and return what’s mine? A smart scavenger always has a back-up plan.”

  “This is unacceptable! My family has rights,” Cal yelled, and spun on Isaac. “This is our home now. We built a home here—we worked hard and fixed it up! You’re the one who’s said time over time in that sanctimonious tone of yours that any family who puts the work into fixing up—”

  “Who are you kidding?” Scout interrupted. “You didn’t fix up anything. You sat around and pointed your fat fingers and waited while your kids did it for you. They’re the ones who’ve worked hard. That’s why you left town, the way I hear it. You wanted to sit back and not work and let your sons and daughter put food on the table. So I guess one thing is true—your family does have rights. Anders.” Anders was watching the scene unfold with a dumbfounded look. Scout snapped his fingers at him. “Anders. The only way I can afford Isaac’s benevolence is with a whole mess of medical supplies. I can do it, but I need to grow my business. I’ll give your family twenty percent of what we score. Beck and I keep forty apiece. We can reevaluate shares in a year, if all goes well. All you got to do right now is agree to show me that miserable bastard’s backside. I want Cal gone.”

  “You ungrateful little deviant,” Cal said furiously. “I fed you at my table!”

  “Who elected Anders boss?” Izza said sharply. “Just because he looks better in a hand towel doesn’t mean I can’t do what you do with your maps and phone books. That’s right. I said hand towel, Scout Johnson. Anders and I are a team and he tells me everything, so don’t you go favoring him.”

  “He’s testing our family,” Cal said, bodily moving between his children and Scout. “He’s tempting us. Trying to divide us!”

  Beck and Scout walked around Cal. Beck said, “I’m open to the idea of Izza finding more aggressive and private ways to convince me you deserve more than twenty percent. Perhaps followed by pancakes.”

  “Oh, aggression, I have no problem with,” Izza said. She faced Scout. “And I’m serious. I can do the work.”

  “I wouldn’t dare doubt that,” Scout said, and felt a slow smile tug at his scar. He untucked his bang from behind his ear. “James. Kathy. Sampson, you too, of course. If Anders and Izza will speak for you, you can stay. But—”

  “I will not allow this!” Cal shouted.

  “Mr. Halcyon,” Isaac said. “If Scout is ready to shake hands on the matter, then he has the support of Thorn Creek, which is about as much allowing as we need. You’re welcome back to your old town house, provided you resume your old job. Or you can find another part of the country to settle in. Either way, your time right now might be better spent packing.”

  “No,” Kathy Halcyon said. Sampson was pressed up against her waist. Her hands hovered over his head, above where Cal had torn some out hair at the roots. She said, “No. I’ll go pack for him. He’s not welcome inside my home anymore.”

  They were bold and unexpected words, and she was clearly scared out of her skull. And for reasons Scout couldn’t understand, he suddenly felt sort of responsible for her.

  Scout said, gently, “If that’s what you want, Mrs. Halcyon. Cal, looks like you’ll be walking back to town with Isaac, if that’s okay with Isaac.”

  Isaac gave Scout a small smile. After a moment, he held out his hand.

  Scout shook it.

  Epilogue

  Scout stood on his roof and sipped on a hot coffee that Izza had made for him. It’d been a thank you for letting her mother stay and don’t you go expecting this every day, Scout Johnson.

  When footsteps sounded behind him, Scout couldn’t place them.

  It was weird to think that he had enough people in his life that he’d have to guess.

  Anders sidled up next to him. The young man put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He said, nervously, “Hello.”

  “Hello,” Scout said.

  Things got quiet for a while. It was a strange moment. One of those times where it was frighteningly easy to say things that you barely ever admitted. Not just easy: expected.

  Which was why Scout said: “You told Izza I saw you in a towel.”

  When Scout looked over, he was satisfied—and amazed and lost and maybe even scared as all hell—to see that a bright red blush was spreading across Anders’ face.

  Scout smiled into his coffee’s steam.

  Veneranda and the Spy by Daniel Wood

  Veneranda left town early in the morning, heading for her spot. She wanted to be alone.

  Mrs. McTeague had been at her again, caught her late last night near town green, hanging about the trading post with Missy Jensen, trading jokes and trying hard not to look too long into Missy’s eyes.

  Gotta be careful, Ven, her father’s voice echoed in her head. Ain’t a ton of people in town who’d understand that kinda thing. Take it easy, take it slow. Keep secrets safe.

  David McTeague had been asking after Veneranda, his mother said. Wouldn’t she like to come by the house of a Saturday, like she’d done with her daddy when she was younger? Only no need to bring Isaac ‘round, this time. Mrs. McTeague was sure he had plenty of work, what with the council and his shop and harvest time coming hard and fast and the tractor had slipped a belt or a piston or some such thing.

  Veneranda trip-slid carefully down a short hill of scree and discarded roofing tiles, making for the line of brush at the edge of town’s perimeter. Hard to come back up that way; she’d need to circle around from the south, come nightfall, past the southern watchpost. David would have watch then; he’d keep his mouth shut, for her.

  Veneranda checked her rifle’s strap, tightened it a hair, then shoved through the initial layer of brambles and scrub and into the wild. She found the traces of the outriders’ footpath, what had once been what they called a ‘greenway’ according to her father. Here and there she could still see traces of the old asphalt, black scales within the green verdure.

  Veneranda hadn’t corrected Mrs. McTeague out by the trading post last night. The tractor had a cracked cylinder head, she knew. Her father needed to machine a new one. And no, she wouldn’t like to come around that Saturday nor any other. David McTeague had tried to kiss her once too often, most recently in the shadow of the haywain. She’d had to bring her rifle butt ‘round and crack him hard in the ribs, to show him what was what.

  David McTeague knew who was boss, least where Veneranda was concerned.

  But she’d said nothing of the sort to Mrs. McTeague, there in the pool of light cast by the Post’s kerosene lamp while Missy looked on and giggled. She’d simply smiled as best she knew how and offered how her father needed all the help he could get and it’d be best for all i
f she kept her place there. And why, now she thought of it, the next weekend was her rotation with the outrider crew! It simply wouldn’t do for the crew to go out a gun short, just so she could enjoy a hot meal.

  Veneranda kept to the outrider path long after she needed to, just to be certain no one on Watch would see her leaving. There were still some paths she knew, through the wild, that no one else had found, but they were growing fewer as the outriders grew bolder. Sometimes she even revealed them to the Watch herself if there was a pressing need. That was why she’d been allowed to join the Watch so young. She’d never leave, if she had her way.

  That Veneranda, she’d heard the older women in town whisper to one another. Isaac’s daughter, first child born in Thorn Creek. A girl like that would be quite a catch, for the right young man. Roughing with the Watch, running about the wilds like a hellion, that ain’t the thing for a girl of fifteen to be doing anyway.

  Veneranda had thoughts about what a girl of her age ought to be doing. A majority of those thoughts involved not getting married. The rest involved Missy Jensen.

  Veneranda reached the first clearing. There had been houses here once; most had gone down hard and fast, the way most of the shitty buildings from before had done. Her father had views about construction. Most of them involved long, rambling rants about cinderblocks and fiberglass and black mold.

  Through the first clearing, down the dirt track that led ‘round Farthing’s Bend, the old ruins that her father said were once a church. Mega-church, her father had actually called it, but Veneranda didn’t know what the difference might be. Pass through the north edge of the ruins, real careful, as sometimes there were squatters and at other times the hunters had been known to set snares in the area. Over the empty space of the parking lot, fast trot now, wouldn’t do to be seen by prying eyes from the woods. Not that there were likely to be any; prying eyes, that is.