by Doug Kelly
The men brought the rainwater back to the apartment and Mary soaked pasta in the water to soften it. She opened cans of beans and fruit, which were quickly devoured. They put water into the empty cans and gently swirled it to dissolve any remaining nutrients, and drank it, then drank some more.
With food in their stomachs, they decided to finally get some sleep. Dylan leaned back on the couch and put a towel over his eyes to block the morning light. Kevin and Mary went to their bedroom, and all were instantly asleep. It had been months since Dylan and Kevin had slept inside a building.
Hours later, they heard a loud blast through the apartment’s open window, rousing everyone in the apartment from a deep sleep. Dylan was sleeping next to his rifle and instinctively grabbed for it, jumping off the couch. In a startled daze, Dylan looked around the apartment, then realized that the blast had come from outside at street level. He put the rifle back down, and gave Kevin and Mary a wave as they entered the living room.
“I’ve heard that before, mostly at night,” said Mary, sitting on a chair in the living room. “I’ve mostly stayed in the apartment for months now.” She looked at a calendar on the wall that was no longer of any use. “Just like solitary confinement. I hate it.”
Dylan and Kevin went to the window for a look outside. There was a person sprawled in the street, dead from a shotgun blast. Next to the body was a shopping cart, tipped over and empty.
Dylan pointed out the window and asked, “Have you seen that before?”
Not knowing what Dylan was referring to, she looked out the window. When she saw the body, she quickly turned her head and closed her eyes. “Disgusting. I hate it here,” she said softly to herself.
Kevin tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention and moved his chair next to her so he could face her when he spoke. “We can’t stay here. We have to go.”
With a confused look on her face, she shrugged her shoulders and asked, “Where?”
Kevin pointed toward Dylan. “With him.”
“But I don’t know him,” she said, apprehensively looking away from Dylan, “and you still haven’t explained how you got back here.”
“This could take a while,” said Dylan, lying down on the couch and closing his eyes. Kevin began to explain to his wife what they had done to get back to her. “There were four of us on the job when the pulse hit. One had a pacemaker and it must’ve failed when everything else did. He died in his sleep. Three of us got rafts and headed downstream. It was Dylan’s idea to get the rafts and travel on the Missouri River. That river got me all the way back here to you.”
Mary smiled at the thought of her husband’s return. She then asked, “Three of you? Where’s the other one?”
Kevin quickly glanced at Dylan. He appeared to be sleeping already.
“Richard was the third man. He was shot. Richard didn’t have much common sense.”
“You want us to leave with him?” Mary whispered the question as she pointed at Dylan. “Where to? When we leave the building, do we end up like the person on the street down below, like your friend Richard?”
“It’s not pretty out there. We were able to get some weapons and ammunition. If we stick together, we can help each other. That’s what has worked so far.”
Kevin stood up and walked into the kitchen. He opened the pantry door and pointed inside.
“What little food we have here is going to run out soon. When the food runs out, what will we do?”
He walked back to his wife, kneeling beside her. She put her arm around him and touched her forehead to his. “What do you want me to do, Kevin?”
“Dylan said we could go home with him. He’s convinced me. And face it, Mary, we don’t have a better option. I’ll let Dylan explain.”
Kevin moved over to Dylan’s sleeping body on the couch. He tapped Dylan on the shoulder to wake him up. Dylan was startled awake, took a deep breath, and sat up wiping some slobber from his beard.
“Sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep.”
“Asshole,” said Dylan with a laugh.
“I told her about how we got here and that you offered to take us with you.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Tell her why you have a better deal.”
Dylan rubbed his face with the palms of his dirty hands to help wake himself. He looked at Mary, smiled under his beard, and said, “Let me explain to you what I’ve told your husband. I live in a house in suburbia. I wish it was a rural setting, but it’s not, so I will have to deal with that. However, I am away from the urban area. That’s very different from where you live now.”
Mary nodded her head.
“My subdivision is located close to farmland and is next to an enormous county park. That open land is next to my house. It’s a new subdivision and not all of the lots are developed. Therefore, it has the advantage of low population density. The parkland I’m next to has an artificial lake. The lake is fed by a small stream a short distance down my street. I’ve seen deer, turkeys, geese, and groundhogs close by. I’ve seen them walking right through my back yard. That’s food and water, Mary, and let me tell you something else. I’ve been stockpiling food, the kind of food that will last for years, and seeds, too. That will give us time to learn to grow our own food.”
“Where do you live?”
“A suburb of Kansas City, on the Missouri side.”
Mary quickly stood up and ran to a closet down the hallway. She moved a stack of papers and books, and retrieved a road atlas. As she walked back into the room where she had left the two men, she opened the atlas to a page showing the route of the Missouri River from Omaha to Kansas City. She carefully traced the convoluted blue line of the river between the two cities on the map and compared the distance to the map’s key. Mary shook her head.
“Are you crazy? It’s hundreds of miles from here,” said Mary, in disbelief.
Kevin stood beside Mary and held her index finger. He traced the river on the atlas, with her finger, from Omaha back to Helena, Montana.
“That’s what I’ve been through to get back to you. Now I’m here, and we have to go. There’s no other option.”
Mary sat down in the chair again, dropped the atlas to the floor, and began to cry. Kevin gently touched her shoulder and gave her a kiss on the forehead. He then walked to the kitchen pantry and motioned for Dylan to follow him. Kevin opened the door to the pantry and leaned his hip against the kitchen countertop.
“That’s not the reaction I was expecting,” said Kevin, quietly.
Dylan whispered back, “Cut her some slack. This past day has been a shock to her. Let her sleep on it. We all need some rest. It’s probably a good idea to eat some more food now, and then try to get a good night’s sleep.”
Kevin nodded.
“Go talk to her. I’ll find some food and bring it out to you,” said Dylan.
Kevin groaned. “Cold beans and dry pasta.” He rubbed his stomach sarcastically as he left the kitchen.
Dylan walked into the pantry. He looked at the shelves and was impressed at the amount of food he saw. Kevin was serious when he said that they stocked up on food when it was on sale. There were a lot of canned items and plenty of dried goods like rice, pasta, and beans. They would have to take as much food as possible when they left Omaha. The more food they had with them, the less time they would have to spend scavenging for it. He got a chair and closely surveyed each item, to begin prioritizing what food to take. He reached back behind each row of cans and boxes. He turned a small stack of cans around to read the labels, but discovered that it was actually a stack of canned cooking fuel. Dylan grasped one can and used a spoon to pry open the lid. He could still smell the gelled alcohol in the can. He lit a match and placed it in the can. A small translucent blue flame instantly appeared. Dylan placed the blue flame under a pot of water, and within minutes, it was boiling. Dylan found a jar of spaghetti sauce and ten minutes later, he had three plates of hot spaghetti with red sauce. Dylan walked back into the living room w
here Kevin and Mary were talking. They turned to see Dylan approaching with two plates of spaghetti.
Dylan leaned over in front of the couple and held the plates in front of them. “Here you go. Two plates of hot spaghetti with a tangy marinara sauce.” Two confused and curious stares greeted him.
Mary was the first to take a plate. “It’s warm. The plate is warm.”
With a skeptical look, Kevin took the remaining plate. His expression changed and he looked back up at Dylan. “How did you do that?”
“Cooking fuel. It was in the pantry.”
Mary slapped her forehead and laughed. “I forgot about that. It was left from our camping trip.” Her mood was elevated now. She seemed much happier.
Dylan went to the kitchen and brought back his plate so he could eat with the others.
“Dylan,” said Mary, with an apologetic tone.
“Yes.”
“Kevin talked to me some more about the trip. I’m okay with it now. He told me about your family. I understand why you want to get back as soon as possible. They have to be worried about you.”
Dylan was rapidly eating the hot food while she spoke, and he replied, “That settles it.” Dylan spoke to the couple while chewing a mouthful of food. “Pack only essential items, and let’s get a plan for the food in your pantry. We need to take as much food as possible.” He wiped the spaghetti sauce from his beard with a dirty forearm.
Kevin and Mary got out their suitcases and a large duffle bag. Kevin quickly stuffed his clothes, including winter clothes, into the duffle bag. He then joined Dylan in the pantry to help with a plan for the food.
“What do you think?” asked Kevin, staring into the pantry with Dylan.
“Dried food first, and then cans. Dried goods are the lightest.”
“We’ve got to bring our winter clothes, so the suitcases are full. How can we move it all?”
Dylan leaned on the kitchen counter with his elbows. He slowly tapped on the counter as he thought about a solution. He closed his eyes and concentrated. A few moments later, Dylan stopped tapping and opened his eyes, then darted to the living room window and looked outside. “Look, it’s still there.”
“What?”
Kevin looked out the window and saw the tipped-over shopping cart on the road. The dead body was near it from earlier in the day. Dylan told Kevin he was going to move the cart inside and would find a dark corner in the lobby to hide it. In the morning, they would use the cart to push the food as far possible, back toward the buried rafts.
Dylan went to the street with his rifle slung across his shoulder. He walked past the dead body and tried not to care. It had been a close-range shot to the chest. The image was gruesome. Dylan put the cart back on its wheels and pushed it forward. The cart appeared ragged and abused. It was painted black and had some long pieces of different colored strands of yarn tied to the handle. It was ugly, but it worked.
He pushed the cart into the apartment’s lobby, broken glass crunching under its wheels. The corridor to the right was dark and farthest from the light filtering through the broken front doors. As he got closer, he could see the building’s freight elevator in front of him. He tilted the cart to the floor and, as he bent over, he noticed something on the floor at the end of the dark hall. The shape was familiar. As he moved closer, he could see that it was a moving dolly. Dylan realized that if they put some of the food items into boxes, they could get it all moved out of the apartment by using both the cart and the dolly.
Back in the apartment, Dylan set his rifle against the wall and took a quick peek out the window again. “Hey, the cart works and I found a moving dolly by the freight elevator. Put anything that won’t stack on a dolly into garbage bags. Keep the individual bags light enough to carry.”
The threesome bagged, boxed, and stacked the remaining food in the pantry. They were going to be able to take it all.
Dylan was the first to wake the next morning. He peered out the window to see what the world looked like today. The sky was clear and there was a breeze. He noticed that the body in the street had been moved. The clothes were ripped off the corpse and it was left in pieces. It appeared that animals had devoured it. Dylan suspected dogs. He knew there are going to be a lot of feral dogs from now on. He quickly glanced back at his rifle for comfort.
From the other room, Dylan heard Kevin say, “It’s moving day. Let’s get going.”
Still standing by the open window, Dylan cupped his mouth and loudly replied, “Waiting on you.”
Dylan turned his head to look out the open window again. He wanted to take a deep breath of the outside air because of the lingering stench inside the building. Dylan looked back out the open window and his eyes met the eyes of a man staring up at him. He was a large man covered in filth, standing in the middle of the street. He looked like he had been living in dirt and garbage. Dylan ducked from view and ran to Kevin’s room. He knocked on the closed door and told Kevin that there was a strange man outside who must have thought he was yelling at him. Kevin dismissed the event and told him they would be going outside fully armed. He told Dylan that they were leaving town and he just did not care anymore. It was not his neighborhood now.
The threesome emerged on the street in front of the apartment building. The dolly was loaded, but Dylan was still experimenting with how to manage the suitcases on the cart. He balanced a suitcase on top of the cart, and then placed another down below. He was circling the cart like it was a masterpiece and he was the artist. He tried to push the cart forward and the suitcases slipped off.
“That’s not going to work,” said Dylan, as he shoved the suitcase back onto the cart.”
He circled the cart again tapping his forehead with his finger as he thought.
“Mary,” said Dylan, kneeling close to the cart, “help me with these pieces of yarn tied to the handle. We can tie them together and use it to hold the suitcase still.”
Mary began to pick away at the knots holding the long pieces of yarn to the cart.
“Oh, I forgot something,” said Mary, standing up as she spoke. “The cooking fuel and matches are in a small bag in the kitchen. I didn’t want to put them in a bag with food.”
“I’ll go grab it, I’ve got the key,” said Kevin.
Dylan laughed and rolled his eyes. “You locked it? Do you think you’re coming back?”
“Shut up, old man.” Kevin shook his head, embarrassed, and jogged back into the apartment’s lobby.
Mary removed the pieces of yarn, tied them together, and then Dylan tied the yarn to the suitcases.
“Let’s take this for a test drive,” said Dylan. “Hold this for me and cross your fingers.” Dylan handed her his rifle. He slowly pushed the cart around and everything seemed stable. As he started to push at a slow jog, the bottom suitcase started to shift. He slowed down and pushed it back toward Mary. “Look,” said Dylan, kneeling in front of the cart, “this piece needs to be tighter, and then we’re good to go. Come over here, I might need your fingernails again.”
Dylan had his back turned and did not see her set the rifle down. Side by side, they were both kneeling low by the cart with their backs to the morning sun. As Dylan shifted the bottom suitcase back and tied the last strand of yarn tighter, he saw a large shadow cover both of them. Instinctively he stood up and spun around, grabbing for the rifle, but it was not on his shoulder anymore. Mary screamed, and the shot of adrenalin could not take away the sick feeling overcoming his body now. In front of them was the large man he had seen from the window earlier that morning. He was holding Dylan’s rifle. Mary had left the rifle on the ground and walked away.
“That’s what’s left of my brother over there. I recognize his clothes,” said the large man, angrily. He was directing his anger at Dylan.
Dylan held up his hands and inched away from Mary. He wanted to move so the large man would turn his back to the apartment building. As Dylan spoke, he took small side steps and the man began to rotate, keeping Dylan directly in fron
t of him.
“I don’t know anything about your brother,” said Dylan, trying to stay calm.
“I saw you looking out the window at me.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder at the apartment building, not looking back as he spoke. “You’ve got his cart. We had food in it. Where the hell is it?” He pointed the rifle at Dylan.
“Hold on, just calm down,” said Dylan, holding his hands higher. “We’ve got a lot of food. Just take our food and leave us alone.”
The crazed look never left the large man’s eyes, but he lowered the rifle. “I think I’ll take your food and your woman, too,” he said with a sneer.
The big man turned back around toward the cart, but did not have time to react to Kevin’s pistol leveled at his head. Kevin had heard his wife’s scream, so he ran back to the street and saw the man with Dylan’s rifle. Kevin had silently crept, with his pistol ready, toward the man. As soon as the man turned, Dylan had gone flat on the ground and, at point-blank range, Kevin pulled the trigger. Brain matter followed the bullet as it exited the exploding skull. The morning sunrise illuminated a halo of pink mist and the man’s ominous shadow disappeared as rapidly as his dead body hit the street.
Dylan jumped back up and stepped away from the dead body. He paced back and forth by the cart rubbing his face and head with shaking hands.
“How did this happen?” asked Kevin.
Dylan did not say anything.
“I was my fault,” Mary said, as she began to cry. “I put the rifle down and walked away from it. That man came out of nowhere…it’s my fault…I’m so sorry.”
“I gave her the rifle. I shouldn’t have done that.” Dylan walked over to Mary and put his hand on her shoulder. She could feel his hand trembling. “Don’t blame yourself. Let’s forget about this and get out of here.”